In her previous life, Chen Zhen could be described as idle and aimless. During her free time, she devoured countless online novels, making her thoroughly familiar with the concept of the golden finger. Of course, back then, she never dreamed such a thing would happen to her. As a reader, she often complained that authors gave their protagonists golden fingers that were too powerful, making the main characters overpowered and robbing the entire story of much of its fun.
Now, she certainly wouldn't complain about a golden finger being too powerful. At the very least, she needed unlimited wealth. If this mysterious force was bold enough to grant her cross-time trade, Chen Zhen wouldn't even consider it too little. And if there was a system involved, that would be even better—unlocking more features step by step as she approached her goals...
Unfortunately, compared to the golden fingers of countless characters in novels, hers was utterly meager, possessing essentially only one function.
Activating it was simple: just close her eyes and focus. Chen Zhen named it the 'Performance Space.' Whenever she mentally resolved to enter it, she'd instantly find herself in a pitch-black void. Countless DVDs fluttered around her, and she could select any at will with a mere thought.
These discs weren't exhaustive. Chen Zhen didn't possess the entire global film library spanning the next decade or two. Most discs came from movies, TV series, stage plays, and other performances she had watched. A small portion came from works she had long heard of but never had the chance to appreciate. In short, the entire library contained no films she hadn't seen or had no recollection of; it was primarily based on her own memories.
Benefit #1 of Chen Zhen's golden touch: Re-watching old favorites to her heart's content.
With a random swipe, she selected the 1998 blockbuster Titanic. An IMAX-sized screen instantly materialized before her eyes, skipping straight past the opening credits to begin playing the epic masterpiece from the very beginning.
The space's time flow was approximately three times slower than the outside world, meaning Chen Zhen had four or five hours to leisurely enjoy the film. But she didn't watch it from the beginning. Instead, she fast-forwarded directly to the scene where Rose and Jack were bobbing in the water, rewatching the heart-wrenching confession once more.
Then she murmured, "Begin simulation."
With a splash, Chen Zhen plunged into the water.
The heavy Edwardian costumes became even more cumbersome when wet. Though the water wasn't cold, the vast studio required fans to circulate air. A gust blew past, sending shivers through her. She lay sprawled on the wooden planks, too weak even to pull herself up.
"Pretty cold, huh?" " young Leonardo—Leo—leaned over the edge of the plank to speak to her, his strikingly handsome face mere inches from hers. "Damn, I'm freezing too. Thank God James finally decided to shoot in warm water. Otherwise, we'd all catch pneumonia."
Surrounding them was a large group of actors, bobbing up and down in the warm water. with seven or eight cameras of various sizes trained on the large pool. The dolly tracks along the pool's edge, the underwater cameras at the bottom, and the crew moving back and forth outside the pool vividly—or as Chen Zhen suspected, perfectly—recreated the Titanic filming set. In the distance, she could even see the "King of the World," James Cameron, and another man discussing something with solemn expressions.
This was the second function of the golden touch: recreating the filming set.
Chen Zhen, of course, had taken Kate Winslet's place here. She flashed Leonardo a hurried smile but offered no reply before a loud command echoed from afar: "Attention! Scene 293, Take 6, Second Shot. Action!"
"I'm cold," she urged herself to immerse quickly, tears streaming as she delivered her lines, "I'm cold, Jack."
"Listen to me, Rose," Leonardo's performance mirrored the film perfectly, "You're going to be okay..."
The five-minute dialogue scene wrapped quickly. The director didn't call "Cut." When Chen Zhen's timer reached zero, she returned to the performance space, now furnished with a sofa and basic furniture. She sat down and replayed the scene she'd just acted.
The iconic moment reappeared on the large screen, but Ruth's face had been replaced by Chen Zhen's.
Golden Finger Function Three: Transforming the filming scene into a finished film.
This wasn't merely rewatching raw footage—it was the final product complete with editing, post-production effects, dubbing, and color grading, indistinguishable from the theatrical release. In other words, Chen Zhen was viewing the "What If Jenny Jane Starred in Titanic" version. If she wished, she could perform the entire film from start to finish and then watch the theatrical cut.
Jenny Jane was a German beauty, and at this point, her figure was more slender than Kate Winslet's—who was nicknamed "Fat Kate" (though this moniker was unfair; Winslet's physique during Titanic was actually quite standard, just appearing heavier on camera). Her on-screen presence was more stunning, yet as Chen Zhen watched her own performance, her eyebrows furrowed.
"The acting is exaggerated and stiff, unnatural. My delivery skills are still poor," she critiqued her own performance. "Fail, I suppose."
This was only natural. No one could land a leading role in a blockbuster right off the bat. For most actors, such an arrangement felt like forcing growth. While some prodigiously talented individuals might shine brightly and skyrocket to fame, acting was ultimately a skilled trade. One had to undergo rigorous training and achieve proficiency before advancing to higher roles. Without sufficient practice, even donning an imperial robe wouldn't make one look like a crown prince.
Chen Zhen's performance was passable. In her previous life, she'd studied acting for four years at drama school, gaining some training. But after graduation, she'd wasted a decade without considering acting at all. Now, she'd only resumed practice for less than a month. Her acting was still rough, but at least the lead's presence remained, and the tragic atmosphere came through. If they'd cast a random extra instead, they'd probably end up with a comedy—the actor wouldn't even get through the lines.
After rewatching the footage twice, Chen Zhen couldn't bear it anymore. She tossed the remote and said, "Simulate the scene," returning to the Titanic set. Leo smiled at her again, "It's cold, isn't it?"
"Whatever," she snapped back, then lowered her head to focus. No matter how many times they simulated this scene or how she reacted, Leo only had those few lines.
This time, upon hearing the familiar "Action," Chen Zhen muttered again, "Memory injection."
With a thunderous roar, a flood of hazy, complex memories surged into her mind. It felt like reliving Rose's entire life in a dream—the boy from a family that had fallen on hard times, the stifling, tense environment of her upbringing, her mother's obsession with money and status, and the dazzling, fireworks-like romance between her and Jack...
She was so cold, trembling uncontrollably—from the chill and from fear. She strained every ounce of strength to gaze at her lover. "Oh Jack, Jack, I'm so cold..."
"Listen to me, Ruth." Leonardo gripped her hand, his eyes still gleaming. "You'll be safe..."
Golden Finger Function Four: Simulate Character Memory and Emotion. — In Chen Zhen's view, this was the core capability of the Golden Finger.
An actor's performance style can be broadly categorized into 'method acting' and 'expressionism'. Which approach is superior remains entirely subjective—it's like saying, "Whether black cat or white cat, the one that catches mice is a good cat." However, most academies teach expressionist techniques, as the methodist approach demands higher innate talent—something not easily imparted through instruction alone. This golden finger allowed her to fully immerse herself in any role, naturally embodying the character's emotions within the scene. In essence, it transformed Chen Zhen into the world's purest, most versatile methodist actress—capable of both intense release and controlled restraint. —Of course, within the acting space, she was the only person in existence.
She had attempted to summon this golden finger in reality but failed. Chen Zhen couldn't simultaneously read a script and simulate a character's memories and emotions. Yet this golden finger wasn't entirely incapable of influencing reality. When she simulated scenarios within the acting space and then returned to reality, emotional traces lingered in her heart, fading only gradually over time. In other words, by carefully selecting roles—like portraying characters from films she had watched in her past life—she could employ method acting to perform most scenes. This was Chen Zhen's strongest asset in her quest to dominate Hollywood. Otherwise, she wouldn't have pursued this path at all. She would have simply spruced herself up, saved money for college courses, and focused on landing a future law school golden snob to marry. Or else, she could have sought other jobs after graduation.
So far, she had only discovered these four functions within her acting space, all centered around one goal—helping her deliver better performances. For Chen Zhen, her golden finger was exclusively activated in the realm of acting, and it came with numerous limitations.
After rewatching the scene with added emotion, she remained unsatisfied with herself—even without being the director, she could sense that the emotional performance felt a bit too "loose." It clashed with Leonardo's performance. If before she'd been too restrained to fully engage emotionally, now her emotions overflowed, throwing off the rhythm between her and Leonardo.
Thus, while this fourth function was central, it couldn't instantly transform Chen Zhen into a master of method acting. Authenticity was one thing; excellence was another.
After four more attempts, Chen Zhen finally achieved a performance in this pivotal scene that satisfied her. She waved her hand, activating the combination of Effect Three and Effect One: "Side-by-side playback."
Two frames appeared on the screen: the original Kate Winslet and the spatial version of Jenny Jane, both delivering the same line: "Oh, Jack..."
Though Titanic is a timeless blockbuster, it doesn't demand exceptional acting from its leads. In other words, the film doesn't rely on stellar performances to drive box office success—above-average talent suffices. Thus, Chen Zhen believed Jenny Jane's portrayal could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Winslet's. —Though the actress was an Academy Award winner, her performance in Titanic was limited to this level, as the film offered little room for her to showcase her full range.
...Yet Chen Zhen still sensed a subtle dissonance in Jane's version. It was this slight discord that made her instinctively feel the original performance was more natural and superior.
Where exactly was the problem?
After watching and comparing the scenes three or four times, Chen Zhen finally concluded: The problem lies in bloodline and temperament.
Jane is a German beauty, while Kate Winslet is a British rose. For the role of Ruth, a British aristocrat, the latter possessed a natural, superior fit. Her pure aristocratic English and inherently classical aura served as the perfect finishing touches, greatly enhancing Ruth's charm. Though Jenny Jane underwent excellent makeup, her American roots gave her an inherent urban vibe—fundamentally at odds with the character of Ruth.
Even with divine intervention, one cannot transcend inherent limitations... Chen Zhen couldn't help but sigh deeply: How incredibly difficult it is to carve out a place for oneself in the entertainment industry!
Within the acting space, Chen Zhen could still hear external sounds—phone rings, mobile alerts—as she reviewed her performance multiple times. When the alarm clock chimed, she logged out, downed last night's extra-strong iced coffee, tidied up, and cycled off to work.