Chapter 88: The Official Start of Filming

Page (1/3)

(Thanks again to Brother Xuji for his generous reward. Much appreciated. Also, Black Car urgently needs everyone’s support—please give more recommendations, favorites, and Sanjiang votes. Black Car will add an extra chapter tonight! Please support, thanks a lot!)

Location: Imperial Palace bedroom. Characters: Young Emperor Wu of Han, Liu Che; young Chen Ajiao; Princess Liu Piao; Liu Che’s mother, Queen Wang Zhi.

“Sister, why do you think Zhi’er is so obedient? I truly adore him. Look at these two children, they’re a match made in heaven.”

“Your Highness, you flatter us too much. Zhi’er is dull and foolish, how can he compare to Ajiao’s cleverness?”

“I don’t like hearing that. Let me ask Zhi’er myself. Zhi’er, come over here!”

“Aunt, you called me?” A mischievous little boy scampered over.

“Do you like Ajiao? Are you willing to marry her?”

The child replied instantly, “I do! If I can marry her in the future, I’ll build her a house of gold!”

Princess burst into delighted laughter. “Such a good child!” she exclaimed, utterly pleased.

Queen Wang Zhi smiled as well, but Chen Ajiao’s eyes were blank, as though she had no idea what they were talking about, and as if it had nothing to do with her at all.

“Cut! Okay.” The scene was finished; Wu Xiang didn’t fuss over the details.

This “Golden House for the Beauty” story actually originates from unofficial history. It tells how Princess Liu Piao wanted her daughter to become empress, so she promised Ajiao to Liu Che early on. At that time, Liu Che was still called Liu Zhi, which means “wild boar.” Even a legendary figure like Emperor Wu of Han had his dark past.

Of course, childhood nicknames are often unflattering—they bring luck, so to speak. In this scene, the main character was Liu Piao. She was a scheming woman whose machinations greatly contributed to Liu Che’s later rise to power. Wu Xiang included this twist from unofficial history in his script.

Wen Zhengrong played Liu Piao. Wu Xiang valued her mature looks and reliable acting, and remembered she was famous for playing villainous roles.

However, Wen Zhengrong felt a bit tricked. That tall bamboo pole of a director had promised her a substantial part, yet here she was playing this role.

Queen Wang Zhi was played by Chen Shu from the Central Academy of Drama. Chen Shu wasn’t famous yet, but her mature features, especially her alluring brows and eyes, gave her the qualities of a classical woman—Wu Xiang thought she fit Liu Che’s mother perfectly.

How did Chen Shu get introduced? Naturally, it was Zhang Jingchu’s doing.

Wu Xiang’s production was a major one, and a historical drama needs plenty of actors. Zhang Jingchu, formerly from the directing department at the Central Academy, was given the role of assistant director and tasked with recruiting actors.

In the industry, casting is the assistant director’s job, though the final say lies with the director—and sometimes the investors. There are plenty of tricks in this process, and all sorts of unwritten rules. But Zhang Jingchu was straightforward; she cared only about the money. Wu Xiang offered her two hundred yuan per actor, just like her previous brokerage days.

As for the two children, Wu Xiang found them strangely familiar.

“Where did these kids come from?” Wu Xiang asked casually before filming began.

“The girl was brought by her mother; the boy was recruited in the capital, he’s quite lively,” Wang Hongzhi replied.

“What are their names?”

“The girl is Yang Zuo; the boy is Zhang Yishan.”

Wu Xiang felt like calling Teacher Song Dandan over to shoot “Home with Kids” instead.

Page (2/3)

A brief rest, and then the next scene was about to begin.

The setting remained the same, but props were swapped—a shabby table, two broken baskets on the floor, stalks of wheat hanging on the wall. In an instant, the once-palatial bedroom transformed into a rustic farmhouse.

What were they filming next? The Wei family!

In a drama about Emperor Wu of Han, how could the Wei family be absent? Wu Xiang’s focus was on the northern campaign against the Xiongnu, so the Wei clan was absolutely central.

“Get ready, everyone!” Wang Hongzhi now acted as a stage manager, leading two beauties dressed in coarse cloth. Their natural elegance shone through—none other than Li Bingbing and Zhang Jingchu.

This was Wu Xiang’s arrangement. Zhang Jingchu was cast as Wei Zifu from the start. The previous suggestions about Zhao Wei as Little Swallow were mere whims. Wu Xiang had considered Hai Qing for Wei Shao’er, Zifu’s sister, but she declined. Luckily, Li the “Royal Sister” stepped in.

This character was crucial—not only was she Wei Zifu’s sister, but she was also the mother of the Champion Marquis, Huo Qubing.

Wu Xiang’s version of “Emperor Wu of Han” aimed for novelty, especially with Wei Shao’er. Historically, she had an affair with Huo Zhongru, a minor official in Ping county, resulting in the birth of Huo Qubing. Wu Xiang intended to dramatize this episode, believing it to be essential for box office success.

Historical dramas, if filmed strictly by the book, step by step, would attract no viewers.

The records exist already—why watch them acted out?

To draw an audience, you must add intrigue—unofficial history, stories omitted from the official record.

This is called deep excavation and artistic adaptation. Wei Shao’er was often overlooked, so Wu Xiang saw great potential for dramatic development.

The less the official records say, the more space for creativity!

Actors took their places, two cameras were set up—one focused on Wei Shao’er, the other on Wei Zifu.

“Can we dim the lighting?” Wu Xiang consulted the cinematographer, Ning Hao. Division of labor was important; Wu Xiang wanted darkness to show the Wei family’s decline, but actual effect depended on Ning Hao’s expertise.

“Certainly!” The cinematographer’s job is to control color and light—it sounds simple, but there’s much more to it.

“Good, let’s begin!” Wu Xiang signaled.

“...Sister, you... this…” After some dialogue, Zhang Jingchu’s gaze fell on Li Bingbing’s belly, clearly referencing the unborn Huo Qubing.

“None of your business! Huo Zhongru, you bastard! I was so wrong about you! In the future, my son…”

“Cut!” Li Bingbing was delivering her lines when Wu Xiang called for a retake.

“Bingbing, you’re holding back a bit here—don’t hold back, let it out!” Wu Xiang offered some direction, sensing her emotions weren’t intense enough, lacking the grit.

“Got it.” Li Bingbing replied, resetting her posture.

“Alright, same scene, let's try again.” Wu Xiang called, and filming resumed.

“Sister, you… this…”

“None of your business!” This take had more force. “Huo Zhongru, you bastard! I was so wrong about you! In the future…”

Page (3/3)

“Cut!” Wu Xiang called for another retake. “Once more!”

“Sister…”

“None of your business!”

“Cut!”...

Wu Xiang halted for a third time, making Li Bingbing uneasy.

A brief pause was needed; Wu Xiang decided to explain the scene.

“Bingbing, why do you always hold back?”

Li Bingbing was embarrassed. “I just feel that, wearing these clothes, I shouldn’t be so aggressive.”

This was Li Bingbing’s issue. She’d acted in plenty of period dramas, like “Palace of the Daming Dynasty,” but never played an abandoned woman. Her past roles were all rather formal—lines, movements, all strictly regulated. In “Palace of the Daming Dynasty,” she was a princess.

That’s fine—etiquette is important, and we are a nation of propriety. But Wu Xiang didn’t want that now.

“You think ancient people wouldn’t speak as freely as modern ones, right?”

“Yes,” Li Bingbing answered honestly.

Yet what Wu Xiang said next opened her eyes. “We’re acting in ancient times, but our drama is made for a modern audience.”

That was the key!

“Oh…” Li Bingbing was momentarily stunned, then visibly relaxed. “I understand now.”

Wu Xiang felt she was ready. “Good, one more take—action!”

“Sister, you…”

“None of your business!” Now Wei Shao’er was truly gritting her teeth. “Huo Zhongru, you bastard! I was so wrong about you! If my son achieves greatness, I’ll make sure you’re thoroughly humiliated!”

…That’s the feeling Wu Xiang wanted. He aimed to portray Wei Shao’er as an independent, strong, single mother!

Admittedly, it had a modern touch, but that was sure to resonate with audiences. No matter how low women’s status was in history, if what’s portrayed feels good and satisfying, that’s what matters.

“Okay! That's a wrap!”