Chapter 120

Pig Cage Alley is a type of architecture, also called Tongzi Building, commonly found in Fujian Province.

The Longchang Apartment in Modu is precisely such a building, with a history nearing one hundred years.

After decades of wear and change, it stands starkly "out of place" beside surrounding modern urban structures.

Within the courtyard, the entire apartment resembles a cylindrical, Roman amphitheater-like Tongzi Building.

The center is a spacious yard, like a large square.

It is completely surrounded by five-story buildings of earthy gray, forming a "city under siege."

Standing in the courtyard and looking up, one feels like a frog at the bottom of a well.

The Pig Cage Alley in Kung Fu was filmed at this very location.

Undeniably, everyone who has seen the film remembers this peculiar landmark vividly.

Especially the move "Falling from the Heavens Palm Technique"—it is unquestionably the film's iconic scene.

To create the film's authentic atmosphere, half a month before shooting began.

Zhou Xingchi had all the extras live here exactly as scripted.

Actors, to understand a role deeply, immerse themselves in the character's life.

This is what we call method actors.

For instance, before filming Red Sorghum, Gong Huang lived on location for over two months.

To perfect a single scene of carrying water, she practiced for over a month.

When her right shoulder wore raw, she switched to the left; when the left wore raw, she switched back.

Gong Huang also used this method to enter her role in The Story of Qiu Ju, learning how to dye fabric.

For The Story of Qiu Ju, she learned Shaanxi dialect—and now she can converse with Shaanxi people without issue.

The most extreme case was Zhang Zhen, who, to portray the character One-Line Tian in The Grandmaster.

Became a disciple of the eighth-generation master of Baji Quan to study Neijia Quan.

Before taking the disciple oath, the master asked Zhang Zhen: "Are you truly training, or just faking it for the movie?"

Zhang Zhen answered: "Truly training."

Then he trained for three years.

Before the film was even finished, he had become a martial artist.

In December 2012, at the "Baji Quan Championship" held in Xidu, Zhang Zhen won first place, the national competition's top prize.

Outsiders joked that his true profession was martial artist, and acting was merely a side job.

Returning to 2003, very few actors in today's film industry reach this level.

Kung Fu followed Hollywood's production process—a rarity in China.

Today's scene is a major one, depicting the conflict between the three hidden masters of Pig Cage Alley and the Axe Gang.

This scene is the prelude to the one Cheng Chen filmed yesterday; because it's a large-scale sequence, it was moved to today for concentrated shooting.

Shooting began smoothly, and Cheng Chen learned much from it.

Especially when Zhou Xingchi stepped onto the set, one thing was certain.

Zhou Xingchi's acting is truly exceptional—he becomes an entirely different person when in performance mode compared to his private self.

It's impossible to believe they are the same person, even though they share the same face.

In short, he never breaks immersion.

Beyond his absurdist antics, exaggerated appearances, and avant-garde, sometimes illogical dialogue.

These are all hallmarks of his films, but they are merely surface traits.

He is a filmmaker who, from the perspective of ordinary people, remains utterly pure.

The ordinary people in his films are cynical, nihilistic, and bored.

Yet they crave dignity; they strive to realize themselves, even as the world grows bleak, never stopping;

No matter how hard the journey, they never turn back.

A Xing in Kung Fu is like this, Xing in Shaolin Soccer is like this, Yin Tianchou in The King of Comedy is still like this.

Focusing on ordinary people and fully revealing the depth of comedy is the foundation of his work.

All of this stems from his early experiences, so when portraying these roles, he does so effortlessly and smoothly.

What Cheng Chen learned from him is to resonate with the character, deeply experiencing their joys, sorrows, anger, and happiness.

Even though Zhou Xingchi perfectly embodies the role, under his own obsessive, almost insane standards, he still demands multiple retakes.

The industry calls this: "Save a take!"

So, the phrase Cheng Chen hears most often from Zhou Xingchi on set is:

"Cut! Save a take."

Cheng Chen also noticed something else: whenever Zhou Xingchi deems a take "saved,"

he performs the same scene from multiple angles, using different expressions and states.

The earlier dialogue scenes, though uneven, proceeded smoothly.

But when filming the sequence where the three masters use their techniques to repel the Axe Gang, something went wrong…

"Cut! Hong Wu's fingers—these movements don't feel right, too rigid and mechanical.

I think these moves… should be completely scrapped and redesigned."

Zhou Xingchi suddenly called stop, thought for a moment, then said.

Hong Jinbao turned to him sharply and said:

"Director Zhou, didn't we already agree on this? Now changing it suddenly—our schedule…"

"That's my problem. We can shoot other scenes first. These movements aren't what I want."

Previously it was only provisional, but now it's clear it didn't meet expectations—redesign it.

Zhou Xingchi said with a blank expression.

"Didn't meet expectations?" Hong Jinbao was famously hot-tempered in the industry.

After all, the incident where he pointed at reporters' noses and yelled at them was still widely talked about.

You must understand that martial arts choreography is a highly specialized and tedious process.

Now Zhou Xingchi says he's scrapping it all—this truly enraged Hong Jinbao.

"Yes, didn't meet expectations—tear it all down and redesign everything."

Zhou Xingchi nodded.

"Slap!"

Hong Jinbao threw the script onto the ground and walked away without looking back…

Everyone was startled by the commotion, not daring to breathe.

Of the entire crew, only this senior could stand up to Zhou Xingchi.

Cheng Chen stood silently to the side, watching it all.

In fact, the two had clashed multiple times on set before.

But back then, they were minor issues—arguing a bit was normal.

This kind of intense confrontation was the first time.

From these several clashes, Cheng Chen could also see some underlying problems.

Zhou Xingchi was too serious in directing, even obsessive at times, which made him prone to tunnel vision and lowered his emotional intelligence.

Often, the same words could be accepted if expressed differently.

But his conversation with Hong Jinbao was far too direct and blunt.

Of course, it's not bad for a director to speak directly—indeed, the director is the top authority on set.

Using an authoritative tone is understandable…

But Hong Jinbao was also a senior in the industry, with high status, strong pride, and a volatile temper.

When accumulated friction became too much and the words were too harsh for him to accept, his emotions would boil over…

Actually, quarreling with Hong Jinbao was minor—something far worse happened on the set of Shaolin Soccer.

Because certain details of the film didn't meet his standards, Zhou Xingchi literally "fought" with Li Li on set.

In Zhou Xingchi's view, he'd rather offend one person completely than compromise on the film.

He truly treated the film as a perfect work of art, more obsessive than any first-time director by a hundredfold.

These factors created Zhou Xingchi's current deeply contradictory situation.

To audiences, Zhou Xingchi had reached "deified" status—his works were unmatched.

Some viewers still found his films endlessly entertaining after watching them over ten times.

But among actors and crew who had worked with him,

he was seen as an oddball, doing everything in his own peculiar way.

A female boss at a Gang Sheng entertainment company once evaluated him thus:

"He's extremely talented, but his interpersonal skills might be lacking…"

After this remark, the label "low emotional intelligence" stuck to him.

…

Seeing the situation escalate, Cheng Chen made no comment.

Since history had already set its course, what else could be done? Just welcome "Yuan Baye" to the scene.

Zhou Xingchi walked over, picked up the script Hong Jinbao had thrown on the ground, frowned, and said:

"Switch scenes—shoot the dialogue scene first."

Today's schedule included one action scene and one dialogue scene.

Since the action scene was paused, just shoot the dialogue scene instead—it's the same actors anyway.

And the dialogue scene would now feature Cheng Chen and Zhou Xingchi's scene together.

This was Cheng Chen's first time acting opposite Zhou Xingchi since joining the crew.

So, he felt nervous and uneasy.

As if sensing Cheng Chen's inner unease, Zhou Xingchi smiled and said:

"Don't be nervous—just act according to your own understanding.

No matter how you perform, I can adapt.

I'll improvise a lot too, so just keep up."

Cheng Chen nodded firmly.

Improvisation was one of Zhou Xingchi's acting traits—he had too many wild ideas in his mind.

He often came up with better ideas mid-shoot, or achieved better chemistry with co-actors, and would then abandon the script.

This was also the original source of his absurd humor.

…

"Alright, ready for action!"

"Start!"

Cheng Chen, with a slicked-back hairdo, strode arrogantly over to Zhou Xingchi and Feizai Cong.

The two of them were suspended high up, looking utterly miserable.

"Today we lost dozens of brothers—all because these two impersonated our Axe Gang!"

Cheng Chen shuffled down the stairs, his tone brimming with rage and grief, pounding his chest in agony so intense it turned to fury.

If not for that servant he had just killed with a single pipe strike.

His words and performance might truly make someone believe he was a supremely benevolent and compassionate leader.

But… the servant's blood had not yet dried.

"Not bad."

Zhou Xingchi, hanging upside down, watched Cheng Chen's performance and murmured inwardly.

Contrast and Black Humor always accompanied Zhou Xingchi's films.

Thus, the more exaggerated Cheng Chen's grief, the greater the irony, the stronger the dramatic tension.

When Cheng Chen waved his hand, ordering his men to deal with Zhou Xingchi and Feizai Cong.

Zhou Xingchi immediately demonstrated his miraculous lock-picking skill, escaping his handcuffs in the blink of an eye.

Zhou Xingchi's performance was effortless, with not a trace of artifice.

This deeply lifelike and natural acting made the audience slip into the role without effort.

"Pretty good."

Cheng Chen clapped his hands; though he wore a cynical grin, his eyes betrayed mockery.

Things were finally getting interesting, even though killing them would be as easy as crushing an ant.

But that would be boring—pigs and dogs can be raised, so why not put these two boys to use?

Cheng Chen immersed himself in Chen Ge's world, his entire demeanor turning sinister.

"Chen Ge."

Zhou Xingchi looked at Cheng Chen with reverence.

"We really wanted to join the Axe Gang, that's why we pretended—give us a chance, okay?"

Zhou Xingchi pleaded.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Cheng Chen fiddled with his pipe, as if killing were as ordinary as eating or drinking.

"This kid's good—he can switch between control and release so smoothly opposite Zhou Dao."

"Not entirely—he's trembling slightly in his arm."

"But he hid it with the pipe-fiddling—a clever move."

"Hard to believe he's a newcomer—looks like another dual-domain Heavenly King is rising."

"Didn't expect this Mainland kid's acting to be decent, but it's not as amazing as you claim—mediocre at best!"

Behind the monitor, a crowd gathered—some praised, others sneered.

During this period, many Gang Sheng artists held a psychological advantage over Mainland actors.

Though they didn't say it aloud, they all felt, to some degree, superior.

This stemmed from entertainment development.

At its peak, Gang Sheng entertainment was called the "Hollywood of the East."

Compared to the fledgling Mainland entertainment industry, it was far ahead.

But this superiority gradually vanished as Mainland entertainment boomed.

Eventually, in later years, many Gang Sheng artists flocked to the Mainland to develop their careers.

And once there, these former big stars or Heavenly Kings all sighed:

"The Mainland's pay is terrifyingly high."

After all, in Gang Sheng, especially in TVB dramas, bosses wanted artists working 24/7.

And their pay was less than half of what some Mainland actress earned.

Yeah, less than half of Shuangzi's…

In TVB dramas, attentive viewers often noticed the exact same house appearing across different series.

The exact same costumes worn by different artists.

And that rooster bowl, unchanging across dynasties, always resting firmly on every table—everything felt so "deja vu."

Enough digression—back to the set…

"I've got thoughts of killing people every day."

Zhou Xingchi said to Cheng Chen with seriousness.

Cheng Chen glanced at him, clearly not believing him:

"Kill someone for me first."

His gaze shifted to Feizai Cong beside Zhou Xingchi.

He meant for Zhou Xingchi to prove it by killing his companion.

Here, Cheng Chen was still shaping Chen Ge's image as an ultimate villain.

You say you think about killing every day? Then kill your best friend right here!

If you don't kill, you're lying to me—and liars die!

Standing across from Cheng Chen, Zhou Xingchi froze, then smiled bitterly.

He hadn't expected that before filming, he'd been told to improvise—yet this guy had immediately gone off-script.

Threw him a curveball… kind of interesting.

…