Chapter 146: A Miraculous Shot in a "God-Tier Drama" - Part 106!

Why didn't Baoqiang use the red-tasseled spear from the novels?

According to his own explanation, "That thing doesn't feel right in my hand; what I practiced at the Shaolin Temple is the Shaolin staff technique!"

Look at how robust that reasoning was. At that moment, Wu Xiang was filled with extreme emotion—this kid was simply too honest and straightforward!

"Qiangzi, my boy, we are filming a movie here. If you actually injure someone, your older brother here will have to pay for their medical expenses, you see. No, this won't do. What did we discuss beforehand?" Wu Xiang tried to direct the scene and talk things through patiently once again, but he certainly didn't expect the response.

"Brother, did I cause trouble again?" As soon as Baoqiang heard the situation was serious, his face immediately took on an expression as if he were about to cry.

"..." Wu Xiang was utterly speechless. This kid was truly still a child.

That's right, Baoqiang was basically a child at this point; he wasn't even eighteen years old yet, and his innocent little heart was remarkably pure.

Wu Xiang felt a bit embarrassed to keep pushing him, but the scene still had to be filmed.

"Director Wu, why don't we do it this way? Let's put some powder on that staff, and then have Qiangzi execute a routine. Afterwards, we can coordinate by arranging a few people—just like we did earlier with the back view—shooting from that kind of angle, and keeping the camera further back. I reckon that should be about right." Wu Wu proposed a decent suggestion.

That powder was something frequently used in martial arts dramas: whenever some grand master made a move, a puff of smoke would appear—just that stuff. But Wu Xiang knew that later on, that trick became extremely rampant in domestic television and movies, almost reaching the point of being completely free of charge. No matter what action took place, he would just add this powder. Even if someone broke wind, he would still add this powder!

This was an anti-Japanese war drama. Although this production of theirs leaned slightly toward the exaggerated side, they couldn't go completely over the top like that!

In fact, the original version of *Drawing Sword* genuinely was an anti-Japanese supernatural drama, possessing every single element of future anti-Japanese fantasy shows: martial arts existed, the tactics were flexible, unpredictable, and elusive, and they won almost every single battle. Right? It fit all the criteria. It was just that they hadn't taken things quite to such absurd extremes; their martial arts occasionally failed them, and they hadn't come up with such a mind-bogglingly brilliant creative concept as ripping invaders apart with bare hands.

Wu Xiang felt that once that powder was added, their production would instantly take on the heavy flavor of a martial arts television series, bringing it that much closer to becoming a pure fantasy drama.

"We are not doing it that way!" Wu Xiang rejected this rationalization. "Tell me, younger brother, can't you just perform according to my requirements? Can't we slow it down a bit? Can't we avoid actually striking them?"

Because it was a staff rather than a saber, Wu Xiang had previously thought they could film a few "full-contact" shots to emphasize a sense of realism, but Baoqiang was making genuine contact.

"Brother, I've let you down. Sob, sob..." Damn it, he actually started crying.

At less than eighteen years old, seeing Baoqiang's tear-streaked face and all those wrinkles forming, Wu Xiang's heart felt thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Brother isn't scolding you, brother isn't scolding you. Brother just means... slow down, take it slower..."

Baoqiang stopped crying and nodded fiercely to show that he understood.

"Action!" At Wu Xiang's command, Baoqiang brandished his staff and stepped forward once more.

"Hiya!" Baoqiang swung his long staff.

... "Yata!"

"Hiya!" Baoqiang let out another loud roar.

... "Dame!"

***

"Cut!" This time, Wu Xiang couldn't bear to watch any longer. The moves just now were simply too damn slow; without needing a high-speed camera, the actors naturally possessed their own built-in slow-motion attribute.

"Can't you speed it up a bit?"

"Mm!" Over there, another nod.

"Action!"

"Hiya!" "Yata!" "Dame!..."

This time Wu Xiang didn't even need to shout; the entire bunch of "little Japanese soldiers" simply scattered and ran away!

"Wu-san! You cannot treat us like this! You are indirectly harming us! Harming our bodies! Insulting our dignity! Striking a blow at our determination to contribute to Sino-Japanese friendship!..."

Those Japanese international students were genuinely furious. Although they were actually wearing quite thick protective gear, Baoqiang's staff was just too damn formidable. That was truly authentic Shaolin Temple kung fu; it wasn't just for show.

With all these heavy accusations being hurled their way, how could Wu Xiang possibly endure them? He was practically on the verge of becoming a sinner who sabotaged diplomatic relations.

With no other choice, Wu Xiang had to offer apologies and explain things properly, but as for the root cause of the trouble—sigh~

"Apply the powder!" Let's turn this into a fantasy drama; whatever happens, happens!

Consequently, the anticipated "full-contact" shots vanished. In the end, to ensure a semblance of authenticity, they devised a special shot where Wu Wu stepped in to play a minor Japanese soldier—naturally seen only from the back, because he had to step up; the shot was simply too dangerous. Even though it was just a back view, it required acting out the moment where Baoqiang landed a staff strike directly onto the soldier's head.

None of those Japanese international students dared to film this. How could they manage without a professional stepping in? If anything went wrong, losing a few teeth would be the least of their worries.

"Hiya!" Baoqiang let out another explosive roar and swept the staff horizontally across.

"Ah!" Over on Wu Wu's end, it looked as if his head had been twisted completely sideways, and at the same time, he spat out a mouthful of blood.

"Holy crap! Did he actually hit him?" Wu Xiang, watching through the monitor, was startled. Wu Wu was one of their own people, after all.

"It's fine, it's fine." He hadn't actually been hit, but it looked so convincing just now that Wu Wu felt this role belonged to him—he had experience and could dodge quickly, whereas anyone else might have had their jaw sent flying. "Your staff technique is pretty good, kid."

Wu Wu meant this sarcastically, but Baoqiang didn't see it that way at all. "Big brother! You noticed it too? This is genuine Shaolin staff technique!"

Seeing Baoqiang looking so delighted, Wu Wu didn't have the heart to say anything else. Meanwhile, Wu Xiang secretly wiped away a sweat; not only had he wasted a considerable amount of Yunnan Baiyao powder, but he had also managed to film the most "supernatural" sequence in the entire movie.

Actually, filming such action sequences followed a set routine: the person delivering the blow and the person receiving it had to coordinate. For instance, when a punch came flying, the head would dodge along with it so that practically no damage was inflicted. Anyone who watched professional wrestling knew this; looking at those massive hulks and physiques, during daytime matches, the vast majority of the time they didn't even scratch their skin. Therefore, this sort of thing was easy to handle, except that Baoqiang was simply too earnest...

"This Baoqiang still needs nurturing, but with that honest and sincere streak of his, playing the role of Wei Heshang should be quite feasible." No rule stated that Wei Heshang had to be played exactly like the portrayal by actor Zhang Tong, and Wu Xiang found a justification for himself. Baoqiang's true fame stemmed from his unpretentious, down-to-earth side; it was just that he was still too young right now and needed further refinement.

Let's take it slowly. Of course, these were all of Wu Xiang's rosy aspirations—he wanted to take things slowly, but certain people had no intention of doing so.

"What is going on with you? Why have you abandoned me here in the middle of nowhere, leaving me to fend for yourself after bringing me to this wasteland? Don't you know you're supposed to take responsibility for me?!" If this remark had come from Hai Qing, it would have seemed quite reasonable, but these words were spoken by Gao Yuanyuan herself.

Wu Xiang felt his face flush slightly at that moment. He admitted that his thoughts had wandered a bit, but the crucial point was that there were other people present as well—Yan Ni was right there too.

***

"I haven't abandoned you, have I? Didn't I bring you here to teach you about acting and let you experience real life?" Seeing that Yan Ni was on the verge of laughing, Wu Xiang naturally had to explain himself clearly.

"What do you mean by teaching me acting? Is making me stand there every single day crowing like a rooster supposed to be teaching me? Is having me wake up early to run supposed to be teaching me? Letting me experience real life—what kind of real life am I experiencing here? Coming to a place like this, I feel like I've been sent down to the countryside!" Gao Yuanyuan was furious. When she originally agreed to act in Wu Xiang's new production, she truly came with the mindset of learning, but she never expected that upon arriving at this anti-Japanese war drama shooting base, Wu Xiang would completely ignore her and run off to film!

What angered Gao Yuanyuan the most was the feeling that she had been hoodwinked. Wu Xiang had painted such a rosy picture beforehand that she immediately agreed. Yet this guy was so utterly stingy! He only offered a rate of three thousand yuan per episode, and the crucial point was that as the female lead Tian Yu, she didn't even appear in very many episodes!

"That really was teaching you." Wu Xiang gave a quite solemn reply.

"You! Is this any way to teach someone?!" Gao Yuanyuan desperately wanted to scold Wu Xiang: You total fraud!

Yet shouting that might make them sound too intimate, which would clearly be an inappropriate choice of words.

"Acting, you see—acting first requires mastering rhythm. What is the rhythm of acting? It's connected to breathing. Whatever emotions you need, whatever rhythm you require, that dictates the breathing you need, and you use that to assist your performance. Therefore, you must possess a healthy body; only with a good physical state can you control your breathing, allowing you to grasp your performance, rhythm, and everything else. Vocal training and running are just the foundations. How can you manage without foundations? This is straight out of the Beijing Film Academy textbooks written by the masters, not something I made up off the top of my head." Wu Xiang actually managed to spout out quite a set of professional terminology, and believe it or not, it sounded remarkably convincing.

*What a joke, I, Wu Xiang, am also formally trained! Even if it wasn't in the acting department.*

"You—what masters? I'm the Gao and Li families then!" Gao Yuanyuan's anger subsided slightly, as that little speech had genuinely stunned her, but she couldn't let this scoundrel Wu Xiang off the hook so easily.

"..." Wu Xiang wanted to laugh, because that reference to "masters" had nothing to do with surnames; it simply meant experts and specialists in the field. This wasn't Gao Yuanyuan's fault—she had achieved fame too early in life, and formal study was a luxury for her. Therefore, he couldn't laugh; he had to hold it in. "Sister Yan understands, right? She's also from a professional background. Didn't the two of you chat and exchange notes?"

"Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle..." Yan Ni had long since been unable to contain her laughter. "We exchanged notes, and Sister Yuanyuan and I get along wonderfully, but whatever little knowledge I have in my head—how could I possibly teach her? It has to be you, the great director, to do that."

"In that case..." Wu Xiang felt he needed to say something profound to let Gao Yuanyuan figure it out herself, so that he would finally get the chance to resume filming. "Acting is actually a matter of imitation most of the time. You have to establish that kind of image within your mind. Once you have the image, then you can talk about controlling your limbs and expressions. It won't work if you don't have an image in your mind. For example, if I asked you right now to portray a cat, give it a try."

"I am not going to play a cat! I came here to play the female lead! I'm not some stray cat or dog!" Fine, Gao Yuanyuan had misinterpreted the point once again. What Wu Xiang was describing was actually an important element in acting; the vast majority of performances originated from that very method.

As for the cat, Wu Xiang's thought had simply been inspired by the musical *Cats*; he harbored no notion of stray animals, but she hadn't seen it that way at all.

There was a slight communication barrier to contend with. One had to remember that Gao Yuanyuan's primary profession at the time was shooting commercials, and acting was genuinely just a side gig for her—no, wait, she was acting as a vase, though a much better-looking one than an ordinary vase.

With no other options left, Wu Xiang simply gave up. "Alright, in that case, we won't establish the image of cats and dogs; we'll establish the image of human beings. Didn't I mention experiencing real life to you earlier? That is precisely establishing an image. Look around this place; there are many local villagers here. They experienced that exact era just like the villagers in the television drama we're filming. Go and ask them, chat with them—isn't that experiencing real life? Immerse yourself in the mindset of that past era, listen to their stories, and then comprehend the psychology of the people back then. Wouldn't you have a clear image in your mind then?"

Believe it or not, what Wu Xiang said made a lot of sense.

Gao Yuanyuan wasn't particularly angry anymore, but she still didn't want to let Wu Xiang off so easily. "Then how am I supposed to know which local villager has a story and which one doesn't?"

"Just ask." Wu Xiang directly offered a very straightforward solution. It was simple enough, really—finding some elderly grandfather or grandmother would settle the matter. Of course, that was just Wu Xiang's perspective.

"I'm not going! If you want to go, you go yourself!"

As expected, women were unreasonable most of the time; twisting arguments and making a fuss was something they excelled at.

Left with no alternative, Wu Xiang had to go ask himself.