Chapter Ninety-Four: I Want Ten Thousand Men

Thanks again to Brother Leesen2004 for the extra tip—much appreciated! The “Black Car” shoot is finished in three chapters at last; I’m rolling on the floor begging for recommendations and bookmarks!

Clatter, clatter... hey-ha!

“How is it? Does it work?” Wu Xiang, wrapped up like a mummy, was shouting toward Huang Haibo, who was now racing across the grasslands on a Mongolian horse.

There were no stirrups on that horse, and Huang Haibo still had not fallen off.

Dalada-dala... Huang Haibo came riding back, standing tall in the saddle with effortless style, though his face did dampen the overall effect a little.

“It works! It’s really okay! I can get leverage through both legs now. It’s not as comfortable as stirrups, of course, but it’s miles better than before!”

He spoke, but did not get down from the horse.

“That’s great! Good. We’ll use this method. Call the costume workshop and have them make the pants this way!” Wu Xiang was overjoyed. At last, this technical problem had been solved by a liberal arts major like him.

“Hahaha, this is fun. You just can’t go too fast.” Huang Haibo still had not dismounted, because getting off by himself was a bit troublesome.

Why was that?

Because Wu Xiang’s solution was, in essence, to fasten Huang Haibo to the horse.

After Wu Xiang had fallen and been injured, he had gone to the hospital, and several people had gone with him, including Zhang Jingchu. When Zhang Jingchu arrived on the grassland, the wind there was fierce, so she had already bought a windproof jacket. Down jackets and the like were useless in that weather; a windbreaker was just right.

Wu Xiang had been hurt badly. By the time he woke up, who knew how long had passed. The first thing he saw was Zhang Jingchu sitting by his bed, idling away the time by opening and closing the hook-and-loop fasteners on her sleeves over and over.

When that fastener was pulled apart, it made a ripping sound. One side was some sort of soft fiber, the other was a strip of hard little hooks packed densely together. Wu Xiang did not know what it was called, but the moment he saw it, a thought struck him: this thing could be tremendously useful.

Without stirrups, you could not ride properly simply because you had nothing to brace against. The way the legs exerted force was different from riding with stirrups, but if there were a device like this, and if it were made large enough, it could generate enough pulling force. Wouldn’t that let you brace yourself?

So Wu Xiang found someone to test it. The thing was simple enough that anyone with a little sewing skill could make it.

And so a pair of pants was made. At first glance it looked ordinary, except that the crotch and the inner thighs were made of that soft fiber; naturally, the other side was sewn onto the horse gear. No matter how closely you looked, nobody could tell.

The method was there, but it had to be tested. If you went straight into filming without testing it, wouldn’t that be courting disaster?

Who would test it? Wu Xiang was out of the question now, so Huang Haibo had to go.

This thing was a little troublesome. It was difficult to get on the horse, and difficult to get off it too. It was not easy for one person to complete the whole process, though someone helping would make it better. But once you were seated, nothing was visible. Still, from Huang Haibo’s actual experience, and from the cavalry camp instructor’s warning, this thing, though good, had its limits: the horse could not run too fast, or there would be danger. And in fact, the thing held quite a bit of force. If you really fell off the horse, then it would be even more dangerous.

That was why one had to train in horsemanship, especially when stirrups were involved. Wu Xiang discussed it with several instructors and focused the riding lessons on how to get free of the stirrups in a fall. That skill would keep you from getting caught and dragged if you were thrown from the horse, or else it would be far too dangerous. And this same principle could be applied to removing the hook-and-loop fastener. Though it was much more troublesome to pull free than a stirrup, once you had the experience, it was at least far better than having no practice at all when danger came.

This was a film shoot, after all, not the real thing. Safety came first.

Besides, the horse’s speed could not be too high. The faster it went, the riskier it became. But that part was easy; it would not affect the overall effect. Even if you ran slowly, there were ways to make it look fast on camera.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Wu Xiang was the sort who never forgot the well-digger once he had had a drink of water. He gripped Zhang Jingchu’s hand tightly and shook it hard several times.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zhang Jingchu pouted and was about to flare up, but she could not bring herself to do it. Wu Xiang was already miserable enough—after a fall like that, he was in no condition to endure more.

What came next was waiting. On one hand, they had to wait for everyone’s riding skills to improve; on the other, they had to wait for the costume workshop to produce the pants according to the new specifications; and then there was the matter of waiting for the arrival of the main force.

As for the riding, there was nothing more to say. The costume workshop side was fine; it was only a matter of adding one extra step. The pants had already been made earlier, but had not been released because Wu Xiang had run into difficulties. Sending them over was pointless if he could not use them. Better to wait until the problem was solved. Otherwise, where was he supposed to put so many clothes and trousers?

The troublesome part was the horse tack. In pursuit of realism, they had deliberately avoided using the later saddle design. They used pads made mainly of cloth and synthetic leather instead, though they were still fixed onto the horse’s back just like a saddle. Otherwise the scene simply could not be filmed. So they had to sew them in.

As for the main force—that truly was a main force.

Ten thousand men. Wu Xiang had asked Commander Huang for ten thousand men.

When Commander Huang—oh, Uncle Huang—heard that number, he was a little stunned. Was this guy trying to get himself killed?

“Why do you need ten thousand men?”

“Without ten thousand, I can’t get the effect I want.”

“Do you know how much trouble it is to mobilize ten thousand troops? What rank of person would even have to speak to make that happen?”

“I don’t know. But you have to handle it. I already told you before that I wanted a division, and that was still far too few.”

“Who in the world would dare say they can make that happen? What if I can’t?”

“If you can’t, then we’re all finished. I can’t pay back the money from that regiment you already lent me, because I won’t be able to finish this film. Uncle Huang, you don’t just have to make this happen—you have to make it happen fast. If summer passes and my shooting schedule gets delayed, the investment will keep growing, and the profits will get smaller and smaller.”

That was the conversation between Wu Xiang and Commander Huang. It was practically a threat. In any case, whether it could be done or not, it had to be done—and quickly at that.

And that was not all. They were filming cavalry combat, so he also needed to borrow a unit with plenty of Mongolian soldiers. Otherwise, the schedule would slip even further.

Wu Xiang had said his piece and left it there. He had no idea, being up in Inner Mongolia filming, that Uncle Huang was nearly driven crazy by the request.

Ten thousand men. And not just ordinary people—troops. How many men were there in a medium-sized military exercise? And this brat wanted ten thousand from him. Did he think he was a division commander or an army commander? Even if he were, he still would not have the authority to send people off on a whim.

Commander Huang was at a loss. But the project had already been invested in; if he now said no, he would offend everyone on both sides. So he might as well do what he could not solve himself and look higher up.

The head of August First Studio was at army commander level, a general—albeit a general of the arts—but he did not have anywhere near that much authority. In the past, when films like The Great Decisive Battle and several other war pictures had been shot, they had mobilized huge numbers of people, even more than this. But those productions had the support of the higher-ups. This time was different. This was a privately financed film.

It was like a state-owned enterprise back then and a private business now. Could you still use state-owned resources the same way?

Still, this could not simply be refused. The earlier Great Flood had been quite a success and earned a great deal of money. August First Studio had been losing money for so many years that it was finally seeing daylight. This Wu Xiang was actually a rather good director. Especially with his earlier film, First Intimate Encounter—there had been no way for August First Studio to get a foot in the door there. If they had the chance, could they just watch a far greater opportunity to turn a profit slip away?

So this production had to be supported, and supported vigorously.

They would have to look higher up. No matter what, those ten thousand men had to be borrowed.

Wu Xiang had no idea that his matter had actually disturbed several big shots at the top. But even if he had known, he still would have done it. He had already sunk so much money into it; if, in the end, he could not film what he wanted, how stifling would that be?

In truth, ten thousand men was not impossible. Wu Xiang knew that Director Zhang Yimou had once filmed scenes in Golden Armor covering the city with a sea of gold, using more than twenty thousand people. No need to think twice about it—they were all troops.

If Director Zhang could borrow twenty thousand, why couldn’t Director Wu borrow ten thousand?

That was how Wu Xiang thought about it. Right now, the fellow really was brimming with confidence. He simply did not know that, within domestic films financed by private investors, mobilizing ten thousand troops had never happened before.