Chapter 123: Zhou Xingchi

The soul of an action film lies in the action.

Some directors crave the thrill of fists landing hard; others prefer fluid, elegant movements.

Many films have become classics precisely because of their action sequences.

But many have also died because of their action scenes—for example:

Hollywood's *Mulan*!

It's said this Hollywood epic cost 1.4 billion, with a galaxy of stars joining the cast.

Yet after its release, the highly anticipated annual blockbuster suffered a catastrophic collapse in word-of-mouth, plummeting at lightning speed.

It abused Chinese elements, brimmed with narrative and character flaws, and featured crude, pitiful war and action scenes.

Specifically, the action sequences were stiff and lifeless, utterly devoid of appeal throughout.

Of course, in the context of online big-budget films, the quality was still decent…

As a director, Feng Dapao knew better than anyone how vital a skilled action choreographer was to an action film.

The action choreographer controls the very essence of a Kung Fu film—a truth that never grows outdated.

So how could he not be stunned by the sight before him: a group of senior action choreographers gathered around Cheng Chen?

Like elementary students, they designed fight sequences according to Cheng Chen's ideas.

Then they brought their designs to Cheng Chen, like submitting homework, waiting for his review.

This…

Never mind how Cheng Chen knew action design at all—just the fact that these arrogant Gang Sheng martial arts masters showed him such deference made Feng Dapao, even as a witness, refuse to believe his eyes.

As is well known, action choreographers, due to their martial training, are mostly short-tempered.

They'd clash with directors on the spot, leaving them humiliated—Feng Dapao had experienced this himself.

In his eyes, action choreographers were a bunch of unruly, uncontrollable types.

Now seeing them obedient, docile, like well-behaved children, Feng Dapao felt deeply unsettled.

"Is there no law? Is there no justice!"

Feng Dapao sighed inwardly.

Just as Feng Dapao's thoughts drifted far away, the office door suddenly opened.

The newcomer was Zhou Xingchi; he scanned the room.

His gaze locked onto Cheng Chen, and he walked straight over and said:

"Ah Cheng, how's the action design coming?"

"Hmm, Director Zhou, take a look."

Cheng Chen handed Zhou Xingchi the latest drafts of the action sequences.

Hearing their exchange, Feng Dapao froze in place, utterly stunned.

He thought either his ears were broken or his eyes were deceiving him.

Zhou Xingchi had just bypassed Yuan Baye entirely to ask Cheng Chen about the action design?

And Yuan Baye still stood there, smiling cheerfully.

The entire Yuan Family crew stood calmly in place, showing no sign of offense…

This… the world is insane—mice serving as bridesmaids for cats!

Zhou Xingchi quietly flipped through the storyboards; the room was so quiet a pin could be heard dropping.

After about ten minutes, Zhou Xingchi slammed the storyboard shut, smiled, and patted Cheng Chen's shoulder:

"Hard work—I'm very satisfied."

Hearing Zhou Xingchi's words, Cheng Chen nodded, but inwardly thought:

No wonder everyone says Zhou Xingchi has low emotional intelligence—this isn't something one person could pull off alone.

Without Yuan Baye and the Yuan Family crew refining and designing behind the scenes, he could never have achieved this alone.

To praise only him in front of everyone would surely breed resentment.

Cheng Chen immediately smoothed it over, saying:

"This is all everyone's work—I merely stood by and watched; I didn't do anything hard."

Hearing Cheng Chen's words, Zhou Xingchi looked up at him, then suddenly realized.

"Enough, my Action Director Cheng—don't deny it. Without you, we'd all have been scolded to death by Director Zhou today."

Yuan Baye knew Zhou Xingchi's nature—he was utterly absorbed in work and never noticed such details.

He kept work and life strictly separate; he knew perfectly well who had contributed the most in work.

Hearing the action sequences were approved, the Yuan Family crew sighed in relief.

"I always said Ah Cheng is a talent—I even wanted to bring him into our Yuan Family crew."

"Too bad he's a Heavenly King singer; the action choreographer job has no future, hahaha."

Yuan Baye draped his arm over Cheng Chen's shoulder and laughed to the group.

"No, Brother Baye, I only stumbled into these designs with everyone's help—I'm just lucky Director Zhou noticed them."

Cheng Chen waved his hand, modestly saying.

"Young man, excessive modesty is arrogance. Two days ago, I told Director Zhou we should add your name to the Action Choreographer credit."

Yuan Baye chuckled.

"No, Brother Baye—I still want to act. I don't want everyone to start inviting me to be an action choreographer."

Cheng Chen groaned.

"Hahaha! You little rascal…"

Seeing his pitiful expression, everyone burst into loud laughter.

Watching Cheng Chen laughing and chatting with Zhou Xingchi and Yuan Baye and the others, Feng Dapao felt a bitter pang in his chest.

He suddenly remembered the question he had just asked Cheng Chen:

"Bro, I feel like you're not exactly welcomed on set, right?"

If there had been a crack in the ground, he would have immediately sharpened his head and crawled right into it.

……

Feng Dapao stayed on set for about three or four days.

After finishing his scenes with Cheng Chen, he officially wrapped.

This was also Cheng Chen's final scene, and the crew held a simple wrap ceremony for both of them.

Feng Dapao still had scenes to direct, so he left first, making plans with Cheng Chen to meet in Jingcheng.

Seeing how well Zhou Xingchi and Yuan Baye treated Cheng Chen on set.

Feng Dapao secretly resolved to get closer to Cheng Chen…

Although Zhou Xingchi wanted to shoot Kung Fu quietly, life rarely goes as planned.

Some reporters, out of nowhere, swarmed the set demanding to visit.

Though the crew officially declined interviews, the reporters refused to give up, forcing them to reluctantly agree.

Zhou Xingchi had no time to deal with the reporters, so he delegated Cheng Chen—who had already wrapped—to handle them.

The reporters excitedly bombarded Cheng Chen with questions; he avoided answering anything about the production.

The reporters, frustrated, turned to personal questions about him:

"Cheng Chen, what have you learned from your first film collaboration with Xing Ye?"

"Well, I've learned a lot from Director Zhou—he's a master.

Both my acting and my perspective have improved significantly. The crew is highly professional, and Director Zhou is a great person."

"What's your response to Huang Xiaoming and Deng Chao claiming you're just a singer, not an actor?"

This was clearly an attempt to stir trouble. Cheng Chen smiled at the reporter and said:

"Isn't my presence in Director Zhou's film proof enough?"

This was a powerful rebuttal to Huang and Deng's earlier remarks.

You said I'm just a singer? But now I've starred in a Zhou Xingchi film—and earned the approval of a director of his caliber.

What about you?

……

After the crew wrapped, Zhou Xingchi unexpectedly invited Cheng Chen to dinner.

They dined at a private restaurant in Modu, keeping it low-key.

Off-camera, Zhou Xingchi spoke little; they ate and talked.

They discussed film creation, art, literature, and more.

The public perceives Zhou Xingchi as quiet, focused on creation, poor at speaking, and disliking socializing.

But after truly interacting with him, you realize he becomes extremely talkative on topics he cares about or finds interesting.

He also sees issues from angles unlike most people's, often offering uniquely insightful perspectives.

"A Cheng, have you ever thought about developing in Gang Sheng?"

Zhou Xingchi suddenly asked.

Lai Shuiqing had asked Cheng Chen the same question.

If this had been decades ago, he would have answered with a firm yes.

But now…

"I know Gang Sheng's entertainment industry is declining—perhaps you're hesitant.

Let me put it more bluntly: you have real acting talent. Would you consider joining Xin Hui?"

Join Xin Hui?

Xin Hui was Zhou Xingchi's company—was this an invitation from him?

If this were a greenhorn newcomer, he'd accept without a second thought—this was a dream opportunity!

Just look at Lin Yun in the future: a girl with zero acting experience, terrible skills, and messy hair, who starred in The Mermaid and then had her fate completely reversed.

But in truth, Cheng Chen isn't just a Heavenly King whose footsteps make the music industry tremble—he also possesses the memory of a future saturated with information.

Joining Xin Hui is unnecessary. Not to mention he already runs Xinghuo Entertainment.

Though Xinghuo Entertainment today can't compare to behemoths like Xin Hui,

Cheng Chen believed it was only a matter of time.

Cheng Chen looked into Zhou Xingchi's eyes and said slowly:

"Xin Hui doesn't need a second superstar."

Zhou Xingchi froze slightly, then burst into laughter.

"You're interesting—I'm growing to admire you more and more," Zhou Xingchi said, laughing.

Cheng Chen's meaning was clear.

Xin Hui already has you, Zhou Xingchi. My joining would just be frosting on the cake—meaningless.

Cheng Chen's words sounded arrogant at first glance, but he was already a household name in the music world by his twenties, an undisputed Heavenly King.

What would his status be when he reached Zhou Xingchi's age?

Xin Hui might be powerful, but it belonged to Zhou Xingchi—what could Cheng Chen truly gain by joining?

After hearing Cheng Chen's reply, Zhou Xingchi didn't press further. They finished a simple meal and parted ways.

Before leaving, Zhou Xingchi gave Cheng Chen his personal contact information and told him to call whenever he had time.

After spending this time together, he had a good impression of Cheng Chen.

In a certain sense, Cheng Chen reminded him of himself—thoughtful, driven, and utterly focused during filming.

But there was one thing Cheng Chen did better than him: Cheng Chen took the time to appreciate the scenery beyond the set.

He couldn't do that.

……

After wrap, Cheng Chen didn't return immediately to Jingcheng; instead, he headed to Tangren's headquarters in Modu.

Today, Tangren's headquarters was holding an audition.

Yes, the audition for Immortal Sword I.

It was already mid-October.

Immortal Sword I was originally scheduled to start shooting at the end of December, but now, apart from the male lead Li Xiaoyao and the female second lead Lin Yueru (both pre-selected by investors), most of the main cast and even many supporting roles remained undetermined.

This delay drove Cai Yinong to fury, but Director Li Guoli refused to budge, determined to find the right actors.

To be fair, the slow casting process for Immortal Sword I was partly due to Cheng Chen.

He, as an investor, had claimed two major roles at once, which infuriated Director Li Guoli.

You, Old Cai, quietly locked down two lead roles—why not just pick all the actors and then call me in to direct?

But resentment aside, the work still had to be done—who was the boss after all?

So during casting, Li Guoli kept his eyes sharp, determined to pick only truly outstanding performers.

This left Cai Yinong, as boss, helpless; she couldn't just use her authority to force through more roles.

If the director quit, it wouldn't just be about casting anymore—they'd have to find a new director.

Besides, the director's careful casting was for the sake of the drama's quality.

Thus, after all this delay, time had slipped away, and with this pace, it was uncertain whether shooting could even begin in December.

Learning that Cheng Chen was filming in Modu, Cai Yinong asked him to come to Tangren as well.

She also wanted Li Guoli to test Cheng Chen's acting, to ease his lingering resentment about Cheng Chen being a "funded actor."

……

"Director, good morning. I'm here to audition for the role of Zhao Ling'er."

"Hello, teachers. I'm here to audition for the role of Tang Yu…"

"Hello, teacher. I'm here to audition for the role of Anu."

From morning until afternoon, Li Guoli took off his glasses, exhausted, and said helplessly to Cai Yinong:

"These actors aren't very good."

Cai Yinong nodded, half-joking:

"They're not great. Cheng Chen will be here soon—Director Li, would you like to test his acting?"

Hearing this, Li Guoli frowned and said:

"Director Cai, you've already assigned the roles—no need to test him."

Besides, he's an investor. If he fails the audition and gets rejected, won't that be awkward? Will you still keep him or not?"

Cai Yinong sighed helplessly—this Old Li was too serious.

She'd only made a joke to lighten the mood, and he took it as a matter of principle.

The moment she finished speaking, the audition room door opened again.

Cheng Chen walked in, smiling:

"Director Cai, Director Li, Director Wu, sorry I'm late."

Cai Yinong stood up immediately, smiling:

"Not late at all! I was just talking about you with Director Li—turns out, the moment you're mentioned, you show up. Haha."

Cheng Chen smiled without replying, turning his gaze to the man in the middle and saying:

"You must be Director Li. I'm Cheng Chen. I'm new here—I hope you'll give me your guidance in the future."

"Director Cheng, you're too kind."

Li Guoli replied indifferently.

But beside him, Wu Jinyuan introduced himself:

"Director Cheng, hello. I'm Wu Jinyuan, one of the directors of Immortal Sword I."

Immortal Sword I had four directors: Li Guoli, Wu Jinyuan, Liang Shengquan, and Mai Guanzhi.

Among them, Li Guoli was the Dazongyan and executive producer.

Wu Jinyuan himself was no ordinary figure—he had previously directed My Date with a Vampire 2 and A Step into the Past.

Cheng Chen shook his hand politely:

"Director Wu, please give me your advice."

"Director Cheng, are you here again to recommend actors for the crew?"

The moment Cheng Chen finished his pleasantries, Li Guoli suddenly spoke up.

Cheng Chen's brow twitched slightly—did Director Li have a grudge against him?

……