Chapter 103: So Much Effort

Lai Shuiqing represents the majority of Hong Kong directors’ style: one word, fast.

As long as it meets the minimum requirement.

Just move on.

Rarely do they make actors repeat a simple shot multiple times—close enough is good enough.

Efficiency is always prioritized.

Director He is much like Zhang Da Huizi—he prioritizes the final result.

After drinking a few sips of hot water, Yun Zhong’s Embroidered Uniform Guard team enters; Zhang Zongzhou steps forward to act with them, and Li Luo observes their performance closely—the actor playing Zhang Zongzhou is undoubtedly a seasoned veteran.

He performs with effortless grace.

In presence alone, he completely overwhelms Yun Zhong and the other two actors.

His line delivery has excellent rhythm.

Fortunately, I’ve memorized the script thoroughly, so handling it isn’t a problem.

After finishing this scene, several actors return to the resting area with charcoal stoves and heaters; no sooner do they sit than assistants rush over to drape thick down jackets over them.

Hot water kettles follow right behind.

Those who don’t want water are offered hand warmers as well.

This isn’t about putting on airs.

When shooting heavily, they work nonstop for over ten hours—workload is already intense, and most actors must diet to maintain their figures; they simply don’t have the energy to fuss over such trivial matters.

“Hao Ge.”

Li Luo leans over and asks quietly: “How much does your assistant make a month?”

“No no no.”

Sun Hao nearly chokes on his water, waving his hand urgently: “Just call me Sun Hao.”

“Monthly salary.”

He thinks for a moment, then nods: “Around a thousand, maybe a bit more—it’s provided by the company, so I’m not exactly sure. By the way, where’s your assistant? Why don’t you have anyone looking after you?”

Though his appearance is ordinary, Sun Hao debuted as a singer.

He even appeared on the Spring Festival Gala.

Despite being significantly older, he has little film experience, so he genuinely dislikes being called “Ge” by the male lead—it gives him the creeps.

Sun Hao himself also finds it strange.

This lead actor always goes alone, never accompanied by anyone.

Two pretty girls showed up a couple days ago.

He thought they were assistants.

Only today did he learn they were classmates from Beijing Film Academy.

“Hmm.”

Li Luo shakes his head: “I’m freelance—no agency, and I’m still looking for an assistant.”

Even three thousand would seem cheap to him.

Having someone act like a personal attendant—handing you water when you’re thirsty, bringing meals when you’re hungry, handling all the little chores—surely saves a lot of effort.

Thinking of this, he feels a surge of interest.

As long as the salary is covered.

Meals, lodging, transportation—all covered by clauses in the acting contract, part of the production’s expenses; he doesn’t pay for any of it.

Last year he didn’t hire one because he only had one drama.

It wouldn’t make sense to hire someone for months and then fire them.

Another thing.

Good assistants aren’t easy to find.

Especially for freelance actors—trust matters more than work ability.

He files this thought away for now—definitely won’t ask Xu Qing or Yu Feihong to help; that’s like planting a spy beside him—he won’t do anything so foolish.

As Li Luo thinks, the other actors exchange glances.

They grow a bit curious about him.

A freelance actor landed the male lead?

What a powerful background he must have!

For the next several days, the crew doesn’t go anywhere—they just stay inside the Zhang residence.

To cut costs,

scenes must be shot as uniformly as possible.

On TV, scenes separated by several episodes are filmed back-to-back on set—but as a wuxia drama, after over two weeks, Li Luo still hasn’t touched a sword hilt.

At first, it’s an overwhelming amount of dialogue scenes.

All kinds of conversations.

Yet through these scenes, he fully immerses himself in Zhang Danfeng’s world.

Even when not filming, he habitually walks the small square steps.

His footwork is steady and balanced; no matter how fast he walks, his upper body remains upright and still, shoulders and head never wobbling—his posture and bearing radiate calm elegance.

This is the effect of physical training.

Not everyone of status in ancient times walked this way.

But walking like this gives the audience the unmistakable impression that he’s not a modern man—it’s precisely that slightly stiff, refined air they want.

Little by little, he shapes the aristocratic demeanor of Zhang Danfeng.

Not just Li Luo—all other actors gradually slip into this state; now, regardless of their foundation, they’re at least willing to put thought into it.

Even if their steps aren’t graceful,

they still hold their heads high and shoulders back, projecting vitality and spirit.

Since the era of traffic-driven actors, many can’t even walk the small square steps.

They can’t even maintain basic posture.

They act exactly as they behave in daily life.

Even when portraying noble young masters,

they sit improperly, stand improperly, walk improperly.

Not only do they hunch and slouch, their shoulders remain hunched, and their walking is swaying and unsteady—so painful to watch.

After finishing the Zhang residence scenes,

the crew heads into the woods outside Zhuozhou.

After enduring summer’s heat, Li Luo now experiences winter’s bitter cold—the snowy mountain scenery quickly loses its charm; the northern wind gives this true southern man a harsh lesson.

After the scorching summer, Li Luo also experienced the bitter cold of winter; the thrill of snow-covered forests quickly faded, and the northern winds gave this true southern man a harsh lesson.

Now out in the wild, the cold wind feels like knives scraping his skin.

Especially at night.

The howling wind chills everyone on set to the bone; during breaks, the fire pit is always surrounded by people.

Fortunately, Li Luo’s physique is strong.

Even in just a few thin costumes, he can withstand it.

After finishing several dialogue scenes, the first action sequence finally arrives—the plot: Zhou Shanmin wrongly believes Zhang Danfeng is responsible for the massacre at the Golden Knife Village and relentlessly pursues him to avenge his father’s death.

“Like this, then that, then again like this.”

“Like this, then that, then like this again.”

“Strike.”

“Dodge.”

“Switch hands.”

After the martial arts instructor demonstrates, he stops and asks: “Understood?”

After demonstrating a series of moves, the martial arts director stopped and asked, “Understood?”

Li Luo and Kou Zhanwu nod simultaneously.

“Zhanwu.”

Standing nearby, He Qun warns: “You’re a professional martial arts performer—be careful with your force!”

He Qun, standing nearby, reminded him, “You’re a professional from the martial arts team—be careful with your force!”

Kou Zhanwu nods confidently, then glances curiously at He Qun: “Director, you’ve never seen Li Luo’s skills, have you?”

Kou Zhanwu nodded as if it were obvious, then turned curiously to He Qun: “Director, you’ve never seen Li Luo’s skills, have you?”

He Qun exhales white mist: “Why?”

He knows Li Luo has acted in two wuxia dramas, but he also knows that even the most spectacular martial arts on screen are achieved through choreography and editing—actors just need to look convincing.

He knew Li Luo had acted in two wuxia dramas, but he also knew that no matter how miraculous the powers looked on screen, they were all choreographed moves and editing—actors were lucky just to look convincing.

Kou Zhanwu lets out a low warning cry and swings a punch toward Li Luo.

The sudden move startles He Qun.

Even if it’s just practice-level force, to an outsider it looks exactly like a real strike.

Even if it was just the force used in routine choreography, to outsiders it looked no different from real combat.

“Thud.”

Their arms connected with a soft thud.

Li Luo firmly blocked the opponent’s swinging arm; their movements didn’t stop—they swiftly exchanged several moves following the martial arts coach’s choreography, then Li Luo twisted his wrist and flung Kou Zhanwu’s arm away.

His left hand shot forward, fingers locking firmly onto the other’s elbow.

“Is it like this?”

Li Luo Shunshi lifted upward, smiling at the martial arts coach: “Is this how it’s done?”

“Loosen up—loosen up~”

Kou Zhanwu’s toes lifted with the upward motion, quickly warning: “It’s just choreography—you don’t need to use real force!”

They’d practiced this many times before.

He knew Li Luo’s strength wasn’t weaker than his own—if Li Luo truly went all out, he wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

A reverse joint lock like that—

Even a iron-clad man couldn’t endure the pressure.

Fortunately, Li Luo wasn’t reckless—he instantly released the tension.

Other actors wouldn’t dare play like this, but he and Kou Zhanwu often trained and practiced moves together; these motions came naturally to them, and a little flair wasn’t a big deal.

“Correct.”

The martial arts coach paused, then nodded firmly.

It had been called intensive training.

In reality, it was just a group of actors loosely working out together, playing on treadmills and such.

He knew Kou Zhanwu came from a martial arts team.

He hadn’t expected.

That the lead actor could handle a few moves too.

The previous moves had left He Qun dazzled; he laughed and slapped Li Luo on the shoulder: “Looks like Ma Zong really got me a good actor—good job. Get ready, we’re starting the next take.”

In some situations, you must use a stunt double.

Don’t steal someone else’s livelihood.

Two stunt performers, dressed appropriately, crouched inside a large dug-out pit.

They laid down cardboard.

Sprinkled dirt, then snow.

Only when it looked nearly identical to the surrounding snowfield did the prop crew stop.

The entire process had taken half an hour.

Never mind the cold—they probably had numb feet from crouching inside.

Once everything was ready,

At a shouted command, under the pull of steel cables, the stunt performers burst upward from underground, kicking and punching through the air, radiating fierce energy.

But upon landing, they all screamed about cramps.

Those nearby rushed over to help restore circulation.

Doing stunt work and doubling—

It’s truly hard.

Li Luo, sitting inside a nearby tent, blinked.

This Zhou Shanmin was even more formidable than Tu Xingsun—he could not only burrow underground himself, but drag others down with him to fight.

Truly admirable.

Though absurd, he had no intention of saying anything.

One shouldn’t reach too far.

After the stunt scenes were finished, under the assistant director’s call, he and Kou Zhanwu rubbed their hands, stood up, stomped their cold feet, then strode out of the snow-shelter tent.

Because of the freshly fallen snow, mist floated gently over the forest.

The temperature was cold.

But the air was crisp and refreshing.

The crunch of snow underfoot echoed as several people followed the tracks ahead, distant shouts echoing between the trees.

Adding a sense of vast emptiness.

“Hua Jie.”

The tall young woman in the middle paused slightly, smiling at her companion: “You didn’t need to come with me—I’ve joined sets before.”

The woman wore a long black down coat.

Her skin was unusually pale.

It mirrored the surrounding snow.

The moment her exquisite face broke into a smile, the pristine mountain snowscape instantly became her backdrop.

“It’s fine.”

The shorter, middle-aged woman with short hair shook her head: “I’m free anyway—came to see how this set is going.”

As they walked, figures ahead became visible.

Familiar lights and cameras

Came into view.

“Hua Jie.”

The down-coated woman smiled faintly as she continued forward: “It’s not that simple, is it?”

Her agent was always thoughtful and often accompanied her to sets, but she knew the woman had important work to do these past two days.

The purpose of this visit was worth pondering.

“Alright, you’ve figured me out,” the woman called Hua Jie smiled: “I wanted a chance to meet the actor you’re sharing scenes with.”

“I heard some rumors—he’s going to rise fast.”

“Help me introduce myself later.”

At this, the down-coated woman immediately knew who her agent meant.

On this set,

The only person who could be considered her scene partner was one person.

“Introducing you won’t be a problem.”

She stopped, lips pressed together as she gazed ahead: “But I don’t even know him.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the filming location.

Over twenty people surrounded a patch of snow; in the center stood two men—one tall, one short—the tall one in front, the short one behind, both gesturing, poised to act.

Looking at the man standing in front,

The down-coated woman’s eyes lit up—she’d worked with many male actors.

His appearance and bearing ranked among the best.

In ancient costume,

He exuded a true swordsman’s aura.

“You’re here?”

“Three, two, one—go!”

No sooner had the urgent shout ended than the man in the white robe executed a graceful over-the-shoulder throw, flinging the short, rustic-looking man behind him; together, their motion looked effortless.

“Thud~”

The latter flipped over and landed solidly on the snow.

Several stunt technicians immediately pulled the wires, dragging the flailing short man backward several meters through the snow before stopping his momentum.

The emphasis was pure power.

Throwing a man flying.

The tall man casually shook his cloak, clasping his hands behind his back, standing sideways.

He lifted his chin slightly.

His sharp gaze pierced straight through.

Directly aimed at the position where the down-coated woman stood.

She froze, breath catching.

Instinctively stepped back half a pace.

So handsome!

“Perfect!” The clean, crisp movements thrilled He Qun; he immediately clapped and called out: “Li Luo did well, Kou Zhanwu worked hard—next take!”

So beautiful!

Seeing Fan Bingbing suddenly appear before him, Li Luo thought of those three words.

Jin Suo had just shed her baby fat.

Her face still carried a touch of innocence.

But even then, her beauty was ethereal and refined—among all the actresses he’d seen so far, her looks were unquestionably among the top.

He quickly lowered his gaze and stepped forward to help Kou Zhanwu up:

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The latter thumped his chest a couple of times and said dismissively, “With my build, I could take seventeen or eighteen more falls without issue.”

Li Luo teased, “Then how about seventeen or eighteen more?”

“Get lost.”

Kou Zhanwu quickly shoved him away, alarmed: “I’m the one who should be getting thrown around.”

While the two were bantering, someone noticed Fan Bingbing arriving at the set; with the female lead appearing, greetings erupted everywhere, and the entire crew was involuntarily thrown into a break.

Li Luo brushed the snow off Kou Zhanwu’s coat.

The two went over to join the commotion.

“Hi, Li Luo.”

Seeing them approach, Fan Bingbing greeted them earnestly: “I’m truly sorry I didn’t arrive sooner to join the cast. I’m very glad to have the chance to work with you. Please give me your guidance in the future.”

“Hi, hi.”

As Li Luo shook Fan Xiaopang’s hand, a small thrill ran through him: “Sister Bingbing, I grew up watching your TV shows.”

“Sister?”

Fan Bingbing tilted her head, her face full of confusion.