Chapter Thirty-Six: First, Let’s Talk Huang Hanbo Into Limping Along

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(The third update is here. Black Car is off to write more now, aiming for even more tomorrow. I’ve already seen calls for more, and I promise to surpass expectations. Please watch Black Car’s performance—thank you all!)

The Spring Festival of 1999 came later than usual, so not long after the holiday, it was already time to return to school. The days of leisure left for Wu Xiang and his friends were few, as preparations for Wu Xiang's second film had already begun.

The film adaptation of "First Intimate Touch" had actually entered partial pre-production some time ago, and now it was simply a matter of picking up where things had been left off. This wasn't difficult—especially with Hao Yi, who was responsible for art direction, having already finished all the necessary illustrations. And as a low-budget romance film, much of what was needed was already at hand. Take the locations, for example: with all the McDonald’s in Yanjing, finding a setting was easy. As for cinematography and other tasks, having completed one film already made everything simpler.

The most critical matter now was casting.

“Hey, you lot, stop chatting and look at the mud by the stairway! And the garbage over there! You’re supposed to be helping with cleaning, not holding a meeting!” The dorm supervisor of the Film Academy’s girls’ dormitory scolded Wu Xiang and his 307 roommates, and she was right; the boys were indeed slacking off.

The girls’ dormitory?

Yes, the girls’ dormitory—but don’t get the wrong idea. The school was strengthening its hygiene standards, launching a patriotic health campaign at the start of the semester, aiming to ensure all students enjoyed a healthy, clean, and tidy environment… (The official document went on for thousands of words, so let’s dispense with it here.)

Thus, Wu Xiang and his band of men found themselves with the rare opportunity to enter the girls’ dormitory for the first time. There was no other way—hard, dirty work fell to the men. The Film Academy was full of beautiful young ladies—well, except for the “Four Big Pillars” and “Eight Great Generals” from the class of ’97—but who could bear to see them toiling?

Still, work was work, but no one could forget the film. Wu Xiang took advantage of breaks to discuss casting with everyone; admittedly, their last conversation had gotten a bit too lively.

“Don’t worry, you can count on us,” said Huang Huanbo, who, despite his looks, was quite good at handling people; he managed to placate the dorm supervisor well.

“You said it, not me. I’ll be back to inspect later…” With a few stern words, the supervisor moved on to check elsewhere.

“Alright, let’s continue,” Wu Xiang said, seizing the opportunity to get back to business.

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The 307 crew busied themselves with the appearance of work, all ears for Wu Xiang’s ideas.

“…As I said before, the key to our film lies in the casting. Since I’m the author, I’ve made some changes. There are four main roles I have in mind: the protagonist, Lightly Dancing, who are a pair; then there’s Little Fish, who’s the second female lead; and Atai, who you all know. Little Fish is a new addition—not exactly new, but I’ve expanded the role of Lightly Dancing’s best friend from the book so she’s now Little Fish…”

This change was one of Wu Xiang’s own. The role of Little Fish was based on the character played by Shu Qi in the original film version of “First Intimate Touch.” Wu Xiang borrowed the idea but developed the character further.

In fact, he thought the adaptation in the original film was a good and worthwhile experiment, but the character wasn’t explored in depth. Especially Atai’s transformation—it felt baseless in the original movie; suddenly, Atai was devoted to Little Fish for no apparent reason. A good idea, but poorly executed—a promising meal left undercooked.

Wu Xiang wanted to take this good idea and push it further, so he changed the character and made her Lightly Dancing’s close friend. This introduced another love story without disrupting the main plot.

The original film’s failure, or rather its lackluster reputation, was, in Wu Xiang’s view, due to its being a mess—too many plot elements, like the 3D technology subplot, which was over the top. Too many characters, too—like Tian Hairong, who played a wealthy woman who vanished from the story for no reason. It was unnecessary and baffling.

A film has limited screen time, so you must be clear about priorities—otherwise, things get chaotic.

Wu Xiang felt this chaos was the main problem, but he didn’t have a perfect solution. After all, a romance film focused solely on two people wouldn’t succeed; you needed other dramatic conflicts, related to or contrasting with the main story. That was his initial idea, even before writing the novel—he’d always envisioned making the movie one day.

Originally, Wu Xiang thought he could make Little Fish a well-rounded character, but he realized it was difficult. The novel “First Intimate Touch” is told in first person, entirely from the protagonist’s perspective, which is why the novel is short yet impactful.

But in a film, things are different. Wu Xiang could easily add the story of Little Fish and Atai, making the movie richer—this was the unique power of cinema.

“You’ve explained all that, but why have you got Kun playing the lead and me as Atai?” asked Huang Huanbo, who was a little frustrated after hearing about Wu Xiang’s casting plan.

Anyone who’s read “First Intimate Touch” knows the protagonist is a bit of a nerd, with an average appearance—he even jokes about it himself. Atai, on the other hand, is a playboy—not because of money, but because of his glib tongue.

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But here was the problem: could Huang Huanbo’s looks compare to Chen Kun’s? Obviously not—Chen Kun was far more suited to play a playboy.

“That’s where you don’t understand,” Wu Xiang replied, already prepared for this. “This is all about dramatic conflict. Look—your looks are so bad…”

“If you say that again, I’ll hit you!” Huang Huanbo interrupted before Wu Xiang could finish, though he was laughing.

“Alright, not bad looking, but still not as handsome as Kun, right?” Wu Xiang continued, and when Huang Huanbo fell silent, Wu Xiang went on, “The protagonist may be witty, but deep down he’s reserved—introverted. If you played the lead, you wouldn’t capture that introversion; just look at those laughing eyes of yours! How could anyone believe you’re reserved? Am I right?”

Wu Xiang was clearly seeking agreement, and the group responded with laughter.

“You brat, I…” Huang Huanbo was at a loss for words.

Wu Xiang clapped him on the shoulder. “But imagine if you played Atai. Atai wins girls with his clever tricks, right? That suits you—you can make up for your looks with your other qualities. I have Kun playing the lead—so handsome, yet he doesn’t get the girl. But you, not as handsome, end up getting the girls. What a vivid contrast, what a perfect way to highlight your characters’ traits! Honestly, I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have found you two for these roles. It’s a perfect match!”

Huang Huanbo was momentarily speechless, tears welling in his eyes. He knew Wu Xiang was buttering him up, but there was no way to refute it. What made him even more conflicted was that, deep down, he was tempted—if he played this role and later became popular with the ladies, how wonderful would that be?