Chapter 446

“Hug me, just hug me once.”

On the set of “Journey to the West,” Wei Ming was forced to hold Zhao Zifeng while watching Biaozi and Yanzi try on their makeup; honestly, this little fat girl really had a sturdy build.

Next up, they were about to film a scene featuring the couple.

Since many interior scenes were shot in batches, they had to film a sequence set in the Wansheng Dragon Palace—modified from the East Sea Dragon Palace.

Biaozi demanded his character have high combat power, so Wei Ming chose the Nine-Headed Demon for them.

Even Sun Wukong couldn’t defeat the Nine-Headed Demon alone; he had to call upon Erlang Shen for help—and still, the Nine-Headed Demon slipped away from both powerful warriors, one of the few villains in “Journey to the West” neither subdued nor killed.

Moreover, in this script, the two of them had a love triangle with the White Dragon Horse; “The Pen’s Affection” had already been released, and Wang Bozhao, who played the White Dragon Horse, had become an instant star.

The film did well at the box office; many people came just for Gong Yu’s period costume look, but Gong Yu had little screen time—Wang Bozhao’s character Zhao Xu zhi was the soul of the film, giving this newcomer a huge boost; had he not already promised the role, he wouldn’t have bothered with such a minor part.

Zhao Zifeng was now nearly one year old, tall for her age, and could walk while holding on to things; Wei Ming played with her outside.

The little girl occasionally hugged and kissed Wei Ming, filling him with joy—he wondered when Xue Jie and Lin Jie would give him a little cotton-padded jacket like this.

When the Nine-Headed Demon and Wansheng Princess appeared, Zhao Zifeng stared at her parents with unfamiliarity, not recognizing them at all; when her mother reached to hold her, her first instinct was to hide in Wei Ming’s arms.

Director Yang Jie and others laughed along; it took a long while before Zhao Zifeng accepted her mother’s new look—but her father? Still rejected outright, even after Wei Ming explained the Nine-Headed Demon wasn’t an insect but a bird; even with nine bird heads, he still looked awful.

Biaozi’s appearance wasn’t as refined as the original, but he radiated sheer menace.

Wei Ming also noticed two young men behind Yang Jie; one was a Hong Kong action stuntman he’d previously worked with, Lin Di’an, a disciple of Xu Xiaoming and the very person Wei Ming had sincerely invited to mainland China as action director.

The twenty-year-old Lin Di’an hadn’t wanted to come—he wasn’t afraid of hardship, but ATV was about to film “Chen Zhen,” which would surely be a massive hit, and he didn’t want to miss such a rare opportunity.

His master, Xu Xiaoming, persuaded him, emphasizing the monumental significance of “Journey to the West”—if the series succeeded, it would greatly benefit him.

Lin Di’an thought, what benefit? He planned to enter the film industry later, so he used a pseudonym for this project and dared not publicize it in Hong Kong.

Still, this film was a collaboration between ATV and mainland China; as an ATV employee, helping out was only natural, especially since the pay was quite generous.

But he signed only for six months—he’d return to Hong Kong afterward, afraid that if he stayed away too long, people would forget him.

During those six months, he had to serve as action director, teach wirework techniques, and train the “Journey to the West” crew’s own martial arts team.

After arriving, he found the large crew overwhelming for one person, so he called another helper from Hong Kong—the young boy beside him, even younger than himself.

Wei Ming recognized him: Three-Eyed Kid.

Qian Jiale was only seventeen; his brother Qian Xiao-hao had started at Shaw Brothers and was now an actor, but still a nobody.

His brother used his limited connections to get his younger brother into the stunt world; his first film was “Project A,” but when Cheng Long got injured, the project halted, forcing him to find other work.

Qian Jiale, new to the industry, took any job offered, and was recommended to Lin Di’an, who brought him to the mainland.

With trepidation, this future top action stuntman of Hong Kong became the assistant action director of “Journey to the West.”

When he first arrived, he kept staring at Zhao Debiao; he’d seen “Heroes Born in Ancient Times” and heard from Lin Di’an how fierce Biaozi was—now seeing him in person, he truly radiated a ruthless, bandit-like aura, as if even Sun Wukong and Erlang Shen would be crushed under him.

Qian Jiale was already designing the major divine-mortal battle sequence.

“Ah Le, come here—I’ll introduce you. This is Wei Ming; you call him Teacher Wei—he works at a university.” Lin Di’an enthusiastically introduced Wei Ming to Qian Jiale; hearing Wei Ming was the series’ chief consultant was one reason he’d agreed to come to the mainland.

Teacher Wei was his strongest connection on the mainland; even in Hong Kong, this connection might prove useful.

Wei Ming smiled and asked them how they were adjusting to Beijing.

It was fine; though Beijing’s bustle couldn’t match Hong Kong’s, their income allowed them to live like royalty in Beijing—a luxury two Hong Kong newcomers couldn’t dream of back home.

Lin Di’an knew Wei Ming loved treating people to meals; sure enough, after Biaozi finished makeup, Wei Ming invited them to dinner at Donglaishun to discuss the action choreography for “Journey to the West.”

With Qian Jale on board, Wei Ming felt they could raise the difficulty of Sun Wukong’s movements—he doubted Qian Jiale would struggle.

Qian Jiale knew Wei Ming was the screenwriter of “Project A,” Cheng Long’s friend, and a world-famous literary giant; he never expected such a big figure to have zero pretensions.

When Wei Ming toasted him, Qian Jiale downed it in one gulp, slapping his chest and speaking like a native Beijinger: “I’ll make this film great—Teacher Wei, just watch!”

Wei Ming smiled warmly; a seventeen-year-old youth, touched by even a little kindness from a superior, easily got carried away.

It was noon; they had more work in the afternoon, so they didn’t drink much—just experienced authentic Beijing hotpot mutton.

In the evening, Wei Ming and Biaozi went to Changping and witnessed the sixty-thousand-yuan set go up in flames.

For this shot, Li Hanxiang and Beiyingchang deployed every available camera, capturing every angle—this scene couldn’t afford a single mistake.

Old Li’s gaze was resolute, but the Beiyingchang crew’s faces were full of anguish—this was all money.

But there was no choice; this wasn’t Beiyingchang’s Ming-Qing street, which could be reused for any Ming-Qing costume drama—“Teahouse” and “Camel Xiangzi” could be recycled endlessly—but this set could only be used for this film.

After burning the Old Summer Palace, the crew took a short break before heading to Chengde Mountain Resort; Wei Ming also prepared to depart for Sichuan.

Today, the Ministry of Culture had called him—perhaps word had come from Venice; he planned to go, but as he stepped out of the Overseas Chinese Apartment, he saw someone waiting at the gate.

“Teacher Wei! Teacher Wei!” The man held a net bag full of fruit and canned goods; he grinned, revealing a mouth of rotten teeth.

Old Sun, the gatekeeper, told Wei Ming: “He’s been here for three days, waiting for you.”

Wei Ming rarely stayed at the Overseas Chinese Apartment; Feng Xiaogang had come three times before finally catching him.

In his past life, Wei Ming had little contact with Feng Xiaogang—if he had, he’d have hated him; Feng was infamous for stepping on the low and kissing the high, his tongue sharp and cruel—he never spoke well of anyone beneath him.

Precisely because they weren’t familiar, Wei Ming’s tone was neutral: “May I ask your name? What do you want?”

Wei Ming glanced at his watch—implying: keep it brief, I’m busy.

Feng Xiaogang hurried: “Teacher Wei, I want to join you.”

“Join me?”

“Yes, let me introduce myself—I’m Feng Xiaogang, you can call me Xiao Feng. I worked in the military in art-related roles and could also write articles. Recently, I want to switch to film and television. A former comrade told me you’re becoming a director and are recruiting talent. I thought, what perfect timing—I’m willing to be your servant.”

No wonder he was called “Feng Pants”—even before fame, his posture was extremely humble. Wei Ming narrowed his eyes: “You’re Qiao Feng’s comrade?”

“Yes yes yes! Brother Qiao Feng!”

Wei Ming stayed silent; Feng Xiaogang grew uneasy—had his gift been too meager?

After a pause, Wei Ming said: “Do you know where I’m going to shoot? Sichuan—possibly for months. You’re in the military, bound by discipline—can you afford to be gone so long?”

“No problem—I’m administrative staff, few duties. I can take leave, use all my vacation days. If that’s not enough, I’ll quit outright. I truly admire you and want to learn from you—I’ve read every one of your novels, every single one of your articles.”

Wei Ming, a meticulous man, blurted out: “What article did I write in the December 1981 issue of ‘Beijing Literature’?”

Feng Xiaogang’s eyes darted: “I remember—it’s about your experiences in Japan!”

Damn, he actually knows something!

Indeed, not everyone can be a good lackey.

Wei Ming added: “My crew doesn’t really need more servants—we’re already fully staffed by the film studio. Adding you would be overstaffing.”

Hearing this, Feng Xiaogang rushed to flatter more—but Wei Ming continued: “Fine. I can make you a set assistant, but you’ll also help the art director, and if there’s a background role, you’ll have to play it.”

With that face, he was perfect for playing a village rogue or village guard.

Feng Xiaogang was overjoyed, nearly prostrating himself.

“As for your job, I’ll apply to transfer you over to help.”

Feng Xiaogang happily wiped the rear fender of Wei Ming’s motorcycle with his sleeve—Teacher Wei was truly a great benefactor! He even wanted to adopt him as his father!

But he dared not truly leave the military; without an official unit in this era, life was unbearable—he still hoped to transfer into a film studio.

“Alright, I have to go now. Also, I won’t buy your plane ticket.”

Oh wow, Teacher Wei even flies!

“No problem, no problem—I’ll take the train. Trains are steady.”

“Good. When you get there, find the crew yourself at the Emei Film Studio in Chengdu.”

“Got it, got it! Teacher Wei, go ahead—I’ll take these fruits!”

Wei Ming waved him off and was already gone.

Feng Xiaogang looked at Old Sun, left the gift with the guard, and attached a note with his name and unit.

Feng Xiaogang felt the sun had brightened—he was full of hope for the future.

Wei Ming, meanwhile, felt a mischievous curiosity: he wondered what kind of interesting chemistry would emerge when Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, and Feng Xiaogang were all in the same crew.

At the Ministry of Culture, Minister Zhu and Film Bureau Director Shi were both present.

“The Witness” had been submitted to the Venice Film Festival; they’d watched it and responded quickly, sending a fax to sincerely invite the film to participate.