Chapter 39: Become a Child Star and Debut!
Guandong, Gunma Prefecture, Akina Mountain.
Akina Mountain is, of course, the famous Akina Mountain, but Shengzai wasn’t here today for racing.
There were no AE86s or tofu shops here—after all, this world wasn’t Daxiahu, but my child’s universe.
It turned out that the path of the prodigy child star, Ma Jianai, was quite unconventional.
Since a few days ago, when Shengzai told Jianai he had come to a realization and wanted to try becoming an entertainer.
Ma Jianai then wheedled her mother into talking to the director, and after more than ten days, secured Shengzai a minor role.
Since Shengzai said he didn’t need payment—just wanted to gain experience—and given Jianai’s prodigy status, the director reluctantly agreed.
Shengzai was still a child, so even as a cast member, he required a guardian’s presence.
Originally, Youzi was supposed to be that guardian, but Youzi had been busy finishing her manuscript and had no time, so she asked Jianai’s mother to help.
“Shengzai, I already asked the director for you—your scenes are minimal.
Just hold the bamboo sword, look determined, and swing it wildly in front of you.
You’d better perform well; this opportunity was hard-won for you by Jianai. If you let her down, she won’t take you to act again.”
A little girl with wine-red hair, dressed in a white little dress and a beret, stood before Shengzai with her hands on her hips, instructing him in her acting experience with the air of a senior.
“Alright, everyone prepare—next scene coming up.
Jianai, and you, little boy—Shengzai-kun, it’s your turn.”
At the director’s command, the crew sprang into swift action.
Shengzai was quickly dressed in kendo gear and handed a bamboo sword.
“Hey, didn’t I say the prop bamboo sword should be small and hollow?
This kid’s about five years old—how’s he supposed to swing a sword nearly as tall as he is?”
The movie Shengzai and the others were filming was titled “Protecting You from This Moment On,” a romance.
The plot was a cliché: the female lead runs away from an arranged marriage and meets her destined soulmate.
Jianai played the young female lead, who ran away and got lost in the deep mountains, then encountered a boy living with his grandfather in the mountains after being attacked by a wolf.
Since she was the young female lead, Jianai had many scenes and lines in this film.
But Shengzai’s role as the kendo boy? He’d appear in barely this one scene.
Because it was a low-budget film, after his character fought the wolf and fell off the cliff, he vanished from the story.
He wouldn’t reappear until years later—as a handsome young man.
According to the script, Shengzai only needed to grip the bamboo sword, make a determined expression, then charge at the wolf and swing wildly—then the scene was over.
For a newcomer extra, the acting demand was low.
Plus, Shengzai’s appearance was quite impressive, so the director had agreed to his cameo request.
“A bamboo sword? For my debut, it’s surprisingly fitting.”
While the director was scolding the prop team for their carelessness and considering removing Shengzai’s sword swings in post-production, he suddenly noticed Shengzai on the other side had already gripped the solid bamboo sword with both hands.
And the stance he took looked surprisingly authentic—he froze in surprise.
“Shengzai-kun, can you even lift that bamboo sword?”
Seeing Shengzai’s grip, the director’s eyes lit up.
“No problem. It’s not polished, but I’ve taken kendo lessons.”
Hearing Shengzai had trained in kendo, the director grew even more pleased. “Can you swing this sword?”
“Huh! Huh! Huh——!”
Shengzai didn’t answer. Instead, he gripped the bamboo sword—nearly as tall as himself—and began swinging it through the air.
“Excellent! I originally cast you only because of Ma’s influence.
But now, no one else could be more perfect for this role.”
Watching Shengzai swing the sword, the director beamed with satisfaction and praised him freely.
For young children, you can’t demand high acting skill—prodigies like Ma Jianai are rare.
Shengzai’s kendo skill matched the role perfectly; the rest of his acting didn’t matter anymore.
After all preparations were complete, the actors took their positions.
Soon after, another actor appeared—besides Shengzai and Jianai, the two tiny performers.
Because it was a low-budget film, they couldn’t afford elaborate special effects. At this tech level, digitally creating a lifelike wolf wasn’t impossible—but the budget didn’t allow it.
So to complete the scene, a police dog resembling a wolf was brought out by the crew.
“Jianai, don’t be afraid. This dog is a trained police dog—it’s just been made up to look like a wolf.
Later, our crew outside will direct the dog to charge at you. Shengzai-kun, just swing your wooden sword to drive it off.”
Despite the director’s reassurance, Jianai still panicked when she saw the dog, painted to look like a wolf.
It wasn’t strange—both were only five or six years old, and the wolf-like police dog, even on all fours, stood nearly as tall as they did.
For children, such a massive creature charging at them? Not being terrified was already a miracle; not bursting into tears was a bonus.
“Shengzai-kun, don’t be afraid—just imagine it’s a big dog charging at you.”
Before filming began, the director reminded Shengzai once more.
In this scene, Jianai was the runaway girl—fear of the wolf was natural.
But Shengzai, protecting her, couldn’t show fear. For a child, that wasn’t easy.
The director had considered cutting away from Shengzai’s face—using close-ups of the wolf or just shooting his back.
But Shengzai’s kendo had impressed him—he was clearly talented. Not giving him screen time would be a waste.
(End of Chapter)
End of Chapter
