Chapter 482: Foot Soldier

Is there?

How can you say there is?

As soon as the words left his mouth, Peng Haoxiang felt a bit of regret.

But Fatty Peng is Fatty Peng; whether it’s his brain or his crotch, he’s always been a quick-draw artist. He immediately adjusted his tone and said naturally, "...It seems there really is a little bit of that, actually."

Connecting the beginning and the end, it sounded just like a single sentence.

However, Peng Haoxiang noticed out of the corner of his eye that Du Qifeng beside him had smiled at him.

Old ghost.

Peng Haoxiang cursed again in his heart.

Then he said, "Then, let's try another take in ten minutes. Chen Nuo, Sister Hong, you two rest for ten minutes first, then we'll go again. Hey, you, hurry up and arrange the cleanup, reset the plates."

"Okay, Director." An assistant director in charge of props responded and left.

Hui Yinghong said, "Then I'll go out and prepare too."

"Okay, Sister Hong."

Then he saw Chen Nuo follow Hui Yinghong out as well.

Only then did Peng Haoxiang breathe a slight sigh of relief.

There were still some idlers watching the scene who hadn't left, so he waved his hand and said, "Scatter, scatter, nothing to do here, hurry up and go!"

A crew member in his fifties, face full of a grin, walked up: "Director, can we watch the playback again? I didn't get enough of it just now."

Peng Haoxiang frowned, feeling a bit displeased. This man was a veteran of Milkyway Image; although he was a bit annoying, he couldn't say it directly, so he could only force a smile and respond: "Watch it later, hurry up and get to work."

The crew member still didn't leave, smiling cheekily: "Just one more time, Director."

At this moment, Du Qifeng spoke indifferently: "Watch what? Ah De, why don't you go home and watch your wife? If you want to watch, you watch, did you pay for it? Get going."

Once these words were out, the set went quiet. The crew member named Ah De gave a sheepish laugh and turned to leave, and the others also scattered instantly without a word.

This corner suddenly became quiet, leaving only Peng and Du with their respective assistants.

Peng Haoxiang sat back in his chair, looking at the monitor, and didn't speak for a moment.

After about ten seconds, Du Qifeng suddenly said, "Xiang Zai, if you're feeling uncomfortable, just think about how many people want to sit in your seat, and you'll feel better."

Peng Haoxiang laughed, "Du Sir, how could I be uncomfortable? Did you misunderstand?"

Du Qifeng smiled and said, "I'll tell you the truth, actually, in that scene just now, I was the same as you; I didn't see anything either."

"You don't need to say that, Du Sir, I really am fine."

"Xiang Zai, let me tell you this, I'm not comforting you; if I didn't see it, I didn't see it. But I also don't think it's a big deal."

As he spoke, Du Qifeng pressed his fingers together and made a gesture of two parallel lines in the air, "Look, people are all parallel lines to each other; actually, directors and actors are the same. Just like this, we are here, they are there, quite a distance apart. Although we are together now filming, our frequencies are still on our own channels. We might be thousands or tens of thousands of kilometers apart. In this situation, either you go closer to them, or they come closer to you. This is what we call 'breaking in'."

Peng Haoxiang nodded.

"But your situation is quite rare. The man has won three European Best Actor awards, two Oscars, and is an executive producer; there's no way to make him come closer to us, so we have to be the ones to go closer to him."

"Did you see just now? He was already in character. I heard Wang Jiawei say it before, but now that I've seen it with my own eyes, I know how exaggerated it is. An actor with this kind of talent—I've been filming for so many years, and I can count the ones I've seen on one hand. Someone this young? I haven't seen a single one. No wonder his achievements are so high now. This is a gift from heaven; you can't envy it."

"So actually, it's nothing. In this process, Xiang Zai, you can learn a lot. Just like that scene earlier, Wang Jiawei would definitely be able to see it. But you couldn't. However, if you get closer to his frequency by filming his scenes, who knows, after you finish, you might be able to see it too."

"Xiang Zai, you're lucky. If I were twenty years younger, sitting in your seat, by today, I might not be Du Qifeng, but Wang Jiawei."

"You think Wang Jiawei was born Wang Jiawei? Isn't it just that he was fed by good actors?"

Ten minutes later, filming resumed.

Huang Zhiming, the cinematographer who shot "Running Out of Time" and "Infernal Affairs," was the director of photography for this film, and he would personally handle all the male lead's scenes.

"Go early, don't keep Ah Yuan waiting too long."

"Got it."

Starting over, this time in the lens, Chen Nuo didn't rub his eyes, nor did he turn his head; the original expressions and movements were all deleted, leaving only that complex look as he stared at the plate in front of him.

"Mom, when are you going to quit your job?"

"Quit what? What would I do if I quit? What about the money you were swindled out of before, who's going to pay the monthly interest?"

Chen Nuo raised his voice a few decibels and said, "I'll earn the money myself, I'll pay it back myself."

"You'll pay it back yourself." Hui Yinghong put on her shoes, turned back, and said, "Don't move after you finish eating, leave it on the table for me to wash when I get back... buying plates every month. I'm leaving."

Click.

The door closed.

Peng Haoxiang suddenly understood.

Except for that smile Hui Yinghong shouldn't have had,

compared to the first time, this scene on the monitor seemed less "dramatic," but a thick, dusty, real-life atmosphere came rushing toward him.

Although during the communication process before filming, everyone agreed that the initial life scenes must capture a sense of real life to allow the audience to immerse themselves.

Before filming, Peng Haoxiang was full of confidence. After all, he was a director who had filmed several movies and won screenwriting awards.

Filming life?

Who couldn't do that?

But now he knew that if his scenes had five parts reality, it could be called a sense of life; seven parts, and it was called especially lifelike. But in reality, life is reality, and reality is life. Where is there any distinction between five parts and seven parts?

As a former brain-damaged patient who had also endured heartbreak and being deceived by friends, Xie Jiajun was unlikely to have a delicate and sensitive heart. If he were wallowing in sentimentality all day long like a literary youth, how could he possibly survive?

His mother gave him money to buy a birthday gift for his daughter; he might be moved for a moment.

But rubbing his eyes, shedding tears, and clenching his fists in anger?

Absolutely impossible.

So the first take of movements was all just acting.

The purpose of acting it out was to explain it to the audience.

Just like a writer writing a novel, sometimes a piece of dialogue is completely redundant; writing it out is just to explain it to the reader.

But in reality, no one will explain things to you.

Don't understand?

Then just be a loser.

This kind of shitty world where you become a loser at the drop of a hat—that is life.

"Cut, we've got it!"

Once a plate is shattered, it can never be pieced back together, nor can it ever be a plate again.

But people are different.

No matter how broken a person is, as long as they are willing, life can go on.

Xie Jiajun's profession is a "foot soldier."

Not the kind that carries a gun, nor the kind that is uncensored.

It is the most basic delivery boy, which has existed in Hong Kong since the 1950s.

In this day and age, if this weren't a script written by a Hong Konger, it would be absolutely impossible to assign such a profession to the protagonist.

A "foot soldier" is different from a "cyclist" who rides a bike or a "rider" who rides a motorcycle; they walk the streets and alleys every day carrying takeout, delivering food to customers on foot. It is the lowest-earning branch of delivery boys. Their monthly income isn't even enough for food, so how could they possibly save money to pay off debts? Let their mother quit her job?

Xie Jiajun knew he had to find another way.

"Want to make money? It's very simple." Lin Xue was chewing on a cigarette in the alley behind the tea restaurant, his apron dirty, his face oily and shiny, "There are so many horse tracks in Hong Kong; just win a few races and you can get rich."

Chen Nuo blinked hard and said stutteringly, "B-but, I don't know how to gamble."

Lin Xue spat, wiped the oil off his face, wiped it on his apron, and said, "What's there not to know? Uncle can teach you. But horse racing has risks; you have to think it over."

"I..." Chen Nuo looked conflicted.

Lin Xue laughed and said, "Actually, if there were no risks, everyone would be rich; how would it ever be your turn? To tell you the truth, Ah Jun. This time, I have a brother who pulled some strings and got exclusive inside information on a race tomorrow."

Chen Nuo was stunned: "What inside information?"

Lin Xue smiled, leaned in mysteriously, and said, "Do you know 'Flying Dragon'?"

"Flying Dragon?"

Lin Xue nodded and said, "Yeah. Flying Dragon, this horse has lost five races in a row recently, and in every race, it ran to the very end. Do you know what the odds are in the horse racing guide today? Come, bring your head over, I'll tell you."

Chen Nuo leaned his head over, and Lin Xue covered his ear and started whispering.

At this moment, his expression had a clear rhythmic change in the close-up shot. His eyes blinked faster and faster, with more and more force, and his head was also trembling slightly.

Finally, Chen Nuo turned his head, opened his mouth wide, and said to the messy hair, "Uncle, really?"

After finishing, Lin Xue blew a smoke ring: "It's definitely not a hundred percent sure win." As he spoke, he patted his shoulder, "Ah Jun, life is a gamble; whether you can win or not depends on your own judgment. Uncle won't make the decision for you."

"I."

Chen Nuo spat out one word and then tightly closed his mouth.

In the lens, his gaze flickered, slowly becoming determined, his cheeks bulging as he clenched his jaw.

"Cut! We've got it!"

"Alright, alright, we're done filming, let's go." Several young people wearing work badges began to take down the police tape blocking the alley entrance. One of the youths, whose forehead was covered in acne, looked up and saw an old woman with white hair standing in front of him, and couldn't help but advise: "Grandma, we're done filming, the people have already left, you should go quickly."

"Ah?" The old woman looked at him blankly.

"We're done! They've already left! Don't wait! Go back and eat dinner! Grandma." The youth with acne shouted loudly.

"Gone, gone!"

Hearing him shout like that, the old woman didn't have much of a reaction, but the crowd that had been watching suddenly scattered like birds and beasts, leaving one after another. Chattering and noisy, one could hear among these people some speaking Cantonese, and quite a few speaking Mandarin.

"Waited so long and didn't see anything; don't even know where they left from, sigh."

"It's fine, I heard they are going to film at the racecourse in Shatin tomorrow, let's go a bit earlier."

"Two pretty ladies, where are you two from?"

"We are locals from Hong Kong. Who are you?"

"I knew it as soon as you spoke Cantonese. Haha, pretty ladies, my name is A Hui, everyone calls me Handsome Hui. Are you two pretty ladies here specifically to see Chen Nuo?"