Chapter 4: Don't Talk About Acting, Treat This as Life

The convoy gradually followed the packed gravel road, slowly entering Plan Valley. Some of the people inside naturally noticed the newly arrived convoy today.

Along the way, Zhuang Lin observed that almost everyone in Plan Valley wore ancient-style clothing; not a single person wore modern attire as far as the eye could see.

Perhaps only the safety helmets worn by some workers at the construction site looked somewhat out of place, but there was no obvious modern engineering equipment—mostly wooden tools, levers, pulleys, and rolling logs resembling ancient implements.

“This place has been inhabited for over half a year now. The earliest residents trained while living here, and their attire was a basic requirement. Since this is an ancient society operating perfectly, it cannot rely on the conveniences of modern technology!” Zhou Xianglin patiently explained the details to Zhuang Lin. Some people working in the fields along the way warmly greeted the convoy.

To be honest, at this moment, not only Zhuang Lin but also others arriving here for the first time felt as if they had accidentally stepped back into ancient times.

The atmosphere and ambiance alone showcased the depth of the endeavor, making Zhuang Lin even more eager to see how the plan would unfold.

While Zhou Xianglin was proud, he also sighed inwardly.

Unfortunately, this is a therapeutic project, not a film production. Cameras cannot be installed because recording devices leave too many traces, risking exposure and causing psychological effects on the actors.

However, Zhou Xianglin, who had won many awards, now focused more on creating art. Sometimes he felt that having cameras would actually tarnish this artistry.

“By the way, Teacher Zhuang, what do you think of this place?” Zhou Xianglin asked with a hint of pride.

Zhuang Lin smiled and sincerely praised, “Just thinking about performing here for the next few years is truly refreshing!”

This compliment pleased Zhou Xianglin greatly, but as he smiled, he suddenly stopped and looked seriously at Zhuang Lin, who instinctively halted as well.

“Don’t say it’s acting, or you’ll bind yourself. Teacher Zhuang, treat this as life! If it weren’t for Hongyu knowing me, I’d really want to live here with you all…”

Zhuang Lin was slightly stunned but nodded earnestly.

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Plan Valley is not huge but certainly not small. From the script framework Zhuang Lin had seen, there should be hundreds of households living here.

A large portion of them are genuine families living here for authenticity, also considering the emotional needs of the actors.

Many have already undergone substantial training, and today is likely the arrival of the final group.

After the convoy finished unloading, dusk began to fall.

The simple dinner was made from vegetables, rice, and poultry produced within the valley.

Light seasoning brought out the natural flavors, and hunger made the meal highly satisfying, leaving a good impression on the newcomers.

After resting a night in scattered houses, early the next morning, a large group of new arrivals, including Zhuang Lin, woke and headed to a large building near the water source at the back of the valley.

Compared to other dwellings, this building was much larger, with a neat, spacious, and bright stone-floored hall that could accommodate dozens of people.

When Zhuang Lin and his companions arrived, the plaque above the building made it clear: this was to be his main performance venue.

Ningxin Study!

Originally, there was no need for a school here.

But since the plan required perfect operation for several years or more, although the actors had generous treatment, educating the school-age children became a major issue.

Though selection was carefully done to avoid many problems, how could a perfect ancient society lack children of all ages?

Those young actors, and even newborns possibly born here later, all needed schooling.

They couldn’t wait until the plan ended and then fall far behind their peers or become illiterate.

It was inappropriate for families to teach at home, and it increased the risk of revealing the truth.

Thus, the school emerged naturally, at least to ensure children could read, write, and perform simple arithmetic—often called “numeracy” in ancient times.

The wide range of subjects taught could be justified by pushing the historical timeline back; during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, the Hundred Schools of Thought flourished.

While scholarship should be rigorous, with Liu Hongyu—the key figure—overseeing, excessive precision would only bring trouble to the planning team.

After all, many in the planning team also needed to act.

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In Zhou Xianglin’s words: “We need a logically coherent ancient society, where the background can be freely assigned, not pure archaeology!”

Zhuang Lin’s thoughts were fleeting; soon he had no time to ponder further.

“Clap, clap, clap, clap...”

A middle-aged woman dressed in simple deep-colored clothing clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention. She was clearly one of the trainers.

“Come, come, teachers, look this way—come here!”

She was properly dressed, her hair simply pinned up, and her bright, smiling face radiated energy. She wasn’t just going through the motions; she genuinely embodied the image of a dignified ancient woman.

“Don’t be nervous, teachers. Listen carefully. We’ll first select costumes, then arrange training in batches. The subjects depend on your roles and include appearance, gait, embroidery, farming, and so on…”

Her voice was strong and enthusiastic, and as she spoke, her gaze swept over Zhuang Lin several times.

“Who is Teacher Zhuang? Please step forward!”

Zhuang Lin hurriedly walked out.

“That’s me!”

The woman stepped forward and appraised him.

“I noticed you just now. Indeed, you are Teacher Zhuang. Everyone, from this moment, you must address Teacher Zhuang as Master Zhuang, and use respectful language. The script framework mentions this; everyone understands, right?”

“Yes.” “Got it!” “Oh, so he’s the master?”

“I thought he’d be an old scholar!”

The crowd responded with a few remarks but quickly quieted as the trainers began their work.

Curtains hung to create small cubicles, serving as temporary changing rooms.

“Come, come, everyone prepare to change!” “Mrs. Gu, Uncle Liu, this way.”

“Old Li Si… this way.”

“Teacher Zhuang, please come with me!”

“Oh, okay!”

Zhuang Lin replied and followed the woman into one of the tents; the light dimmed inside. Several open boxes lay on the ground, and wooden racks hanging with clothes stood nearby.

With her help, a proper straight-hemmed robe was dressed on Zhuang Lin. She praised how suitable it was, easing the embarrassment he felt about needing help dressing.

When everyone emerged, they looked refreshingly different to one another.

Then came the tedious training, not just one day but many days.

Sometimes everyone trained separately on various skills; other times they gathered together. Training would last at least half a year, gradually adapting them to life here, either alone or with family, just like the earlier residents.

Zhou Xianglin’s work was extremely demanding. Although he delegated authority, he supervised every detail and rarely appeared at the school training grounds.

However, he met with Zhuang Lin in the evenings. Whenever Zhou was uncertain, besides consulting the planning group, he often discussed it with Zhuang Lin.

Sometimes Zhou found Zhuang Lin mysterious. Why was he undocumented? He seemed knowledgeable about politics, military affairs, astronomy, geography, and history—both ancient and modern, domestic and foreign. Just like his character, he appeared to master all schools of thought, with boundless imagination...

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Training blended with adapting to valley life, from recognizing and using ancient artifacts to cultivating manners and habits, all step by step.

Zhuang Lin, coming from a truly information-driven society, found many things refreshed his understanding.

For example, he had thought ancient people simply knelt to sit before chairs became widespread, at most with a cushion underfoot.

Here he learned about the “zhi zhong,” a small one-legged stool that supports the body while kneeling, making the posture easier and naturally upright.

All training proceeded in an orderly fashion amid some chaos.

At times, the trainers’ voices echoed constantly.

“Hey, hey, don’t walk like that! You’re wearing short clothes; do you want to find a pocket in your jeans?”

“Pay attention to details and habits. You can walk with hands behind your back, clasped in front, or swing arms naturally!”

“Be natural, understand?”

“Teacher Zhuang, you’re natural enough, but you can’t walk like them. Your clothes—deep robes and straight hems—are long gowns. You must walk the small square step…”

“Some also need to pay more attention to kneeling posture. Using the zhi zhong helps straighten your back; pure kneeling is tiring!”

“Also, if I catch anyone sneaking packaged candy, I’ll report you to the director—no joke!”

...

The trainers’ words seemed to linger constantly, even dulling the beauty of the scenery.

At other times, encouraged to integrate into valley life, Zhuang Lin and many others found the charm here—not just the scenery but the people!

Sometimes, a few would sit in a courtyard watching a skilled basket weaver at work, witnessing art being born from nimble hands.

Sometimes, men and women crowded into a yard watching a woman mark cloth with lime or charcoal, slowly cutting and sewing a fine garment.

Sometimes, gathering mulberry leaves to feed silkworms was fun.

Sometimes, Zhuang Lin and others went into the mountains with experienced locals, collecting pine resin, cutting bamboo, or hauling loads. The mountains held precious flora and fauna, exposed iron ore, mountain salt, and various rare stones and minerals.

All these experiences opened Zhuang Lin’s eyes wide!

Zhou Xianglin and Liu Shihao were right.

No expense was spared, no cost too great, all to operate perfectly and self-sufficiently!

Many households entering Plan Valley were no ordinary folk; a significant number were inheritors of intangible cultural heritage at the highest level.

In this era and place in China, the concept of intangible cultural heritage inheritors had not yet been established.

These master artisans outside were in a dark age before dawn.

On one hand, although the Chinese people here hadn’t endured the devastating hardships of Zhuang Lin’s hometown in recent times, the products of rising productivity challenged these long-standing craftsmen.

Before the Breaking Delusion Plan began, many artisans here had already taken other jobs; few who depended solely on their skills saw much hope.

To them, the tide of progress would inevitably crash and bury their old ways on the shore.

Plastic factory products and other new goods made these artisans realize their crafts might no longer be needed.

Here, Zhou Xianglin spared no effort to find suitable people, and Liu Shihao trusted and supported them without hesitation.

There was enough farmland and plenty of space.

Various crops could sustain them, mountain foraging was easy, clothes and fabrics could be made, embroidery experts abounded, woodworking and blacksmithing skills were solid, pottery and porcelain making were well within reach, and even brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones could be produced!

Though just a few hundred households, this was truly a land of extraordinary talents!

Zhuang Lin realized that even after the Breaking Delusion Plan ended, this place and its people would remain treasures, while he himself was among the least remarkable.

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This training life was intense, fulfilling, and carried a hint of thrill!

The actors gradually became familiar with the earlier arrivals and, like them, slowly integrated into the community here.

With time passing, a subtle tension began to rise; everyone knew the plan’s start date was drawing near.

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P.S. I’m surprised to have a sponsor so soon—thanks to the supporter “Fate’s Wheel Who Loves Pranks” for the generous reward!