Chapter 11: Turbulence

Chen Er sighed after listening: “Senior Huang Lei is such a good person! I heard the Camera Academy never lends equipment to our students.”

Wu Shixian patted Chen Er on the shoulder: “First, you must win Huang Lei over with your talent—otherwise, even he might not make an exception.”

Chen Er nodded silently at this; he realized he couldn’t just study blindly in school—he needed to start accumulating inspiration and creating right now. With Wu Yuchen as his classmate and roommate, Chen Er naturally felt motivated and spurred on.

At that moment, Wu Shixian asked Wu Yuchen: “You’ve already secured two of the three main roles—what about the female driver? Any leads?”

For this female lead, Wu Yuchen required beauty, a strong presence—not weak—and solid acting skills.

She would be assaulted by the robbers precisely because she was beautiful.

That she ultimately dragged everyone on the bus to their deaths proves she had a fierce inner spirit, so her demeanor couldn’t be frail.

As for acting, no need to mention it—the female driver is the core character; the better the acting, the better.

If Huang Lei agreed to join the crew, Wu Yuchen would accept Sun Li as the female lead.

As long as Huang Lei was on set, there’d be no worry about equipment usage time—he could personally train Sun Li, and Wu Yuchen would be fine with it.

But since Huang Lei hadn’t joined yet, Wu Yuchen wouldn’t consider any first-year freshmen.

Thinking of this, Wu Yuchen glanced at Wu Shixian: “I have a lead—a second-year girl from the Central Drama Academy.”

The original actress who played the female driver was a classmate of Duan Long, now in her second year at the Central Drama Academy: Gong Beibi. She was also the wife of the fat man standing before him—they met while filming “Car 44” and married.

Since then, Gong Beibi had become Wu Shixian’s go-to female lead—she also played the female lead in “Waiting Alone,” and her acting was quite solid.

Now Wu Yuchen could use her as a benchmark.

Only Xiao Taohong in her class was better than her—but Xiao Taohong, sigh…

For third-year students at the Central Drama Academy, Zhu Yuanyuan and Liu Mintao—Liu Mintao is out first; her face is naturally frail and sorrowful, and she’s always cast as the pitiful victim in tragic roles.

Zhu Yuanyuan? She’s even less suitable than Gong Beibi.

The fourth-year girls at the Central Drama Academy are all unsuitable—one of them is Hu Jun’s wife, a stage actress.

He didn’t consider anyone from Jingying either—not because he was unwilling to spare face for his alma mater, but he instinctively felt their acting was inferior.

So his top candidate for now remained Gong Beibi—and as for her marriage to Wu the Fat Man, perhaps his interference could bring it forward by a few years?

…

The next day, right after class, Wu Yuchen was called over by Huang Lei.

“I’ve borrowed the camera for you under my name—when do you need it?”

Wu Yuchen calculated his preparations and said: “How about this Friday?”

“Fine. Come pick it up then—take good care of it!” Huang Lei warned.

“Senior, rest assured—I’ll return it in perfect condition!” Wu Yuchen patted his chest.

Huang Lei nodded, surprised at how quickly the boy moved, then continued:

“As for post-production, come find me after you’ve shot the film.”

“You said you’ll start shooting Friday—have you found everyone yet? Who are they?”

Wu Yuchen answered honestly:

“The male lead is Duan Long from the second-year acting class at the Central Drama Academy. The robber is Sun Honglei from the first-year class. For the female driver, I plan to cast Gong Beibi from the second-year class at the Central Drama Academy.”

Huang Lei’s brow immediately knotted. He waved his hand to interrupt:

“Wait!”

“You’ve cast everyone from the Central Drama Academy?”

“You’re not even considering a single Jingying student?!”

Seeing Huang Lei’s expression, Wu Yuchen felt trouble brewing and quickly explained:

“Senior, I first went to ask Senior Fu Dalong from our second year, but he’s off working elsewhere!”

“That’s why I…”

“But you can’t leave not a single role for Jingying students! You call me senior—I helped you borrow the camera and equipment—and this is how you repay me?”

“What, are you looking down on your own seniors and seniors-in-classes?”

Huang Lei himself was a 1990 graduate of Jingying’s Acting Department. After graduating last year, he entered Jingying’s master’s program and became a teaching assistant for acting—so whether as a student or a teacher, he felt deep loyalty to Jingying.

Wu Yuchen muttered: “But Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige also prefer Central Drama Academy actors…”

“Hey! Don’t learn bad habits from the good ones!” Huang Lei snapped, his tone tinged with irritation.

Still, Huang Lei knew the Central Drama Academy actors had superior fundamentals—directors naturally wanted the best performers for their films.

But he was now a teacher at Jingying—he had to fight for his own students’ opportunities. If Jingying directors kept relying on Central Drama Academy actors and never gave their own students a chance, the gap would only widen.

“Those two guys—Duan and Sun—I won’t interfere. But you must cast one of our own as the female lead!”

Wu Yuchen couldn’t help but smile bitterly—this was an unexpected twist, throwing his plans into chaos.

But Wu Yuchen understood: from Huang Lei’s perspective, fighting for his students’ chances was entirely justified. And using Jingying’s equipment to make a film without casting a single Jingying actor was indeed ungracious.

He quickly ran through possibilities in his mind.

Yuan Li from the fourth year—good acting, decent appearance—but she was a bit crazy, and Wu Yuchen didn’t want to deal with her.

Xu Jinglei from the third year—her acting was definitely insufficient, and her appearance and demeanor didn’t fit…

Liu Lin—the one who played Xiao Gu in “Parents’ Love”—she had solid acting, but her appearance was lacking. She also appeared in last year’s film “Midnight Song,” playing a student. She had a broad face and was slightly overweight—simply put, she wasn’t pretty enough.

Then Wu Yuchen asked Huang Lei: “Senior, what if I ask Senior Liu Zi from the third year?”

Liu Zi had decent acting, acceptable looks, and her demeanor suited the role—Wu Yuchen thought she’d be sufficient.

Huang Lei fell silent for a moment, then said awkwardly: “She’s out filming.”

This was one difference between Jingying and the Central Drama Academy: at the latter, professors strictly controlled student leave—if the project or script wasn’t good, even third-year students might be denied permission.

But Jingying relaxed its rules from the second year onward—students were encouraged to seize opportunities, rarely blocked, and some even left as first-years. But this also meant Jingying students often ended up in terrible dramas—many never even got broadcast.

Both systems had pros and cons: Central Drama Academy students had stronger fundamentals, but some spent four years without filming and fell behind; Jingying students had more opportunities, but often got stuck in bad projects and picked up bad habits—whether they could train themselves out of it depended on them. In practice, most couldn’t.

Both modes have their pros and cons; students from the Central Drama Academy have stronger foundational training, but some waste away during their four years without much filming experience; students from the Beijing Film Academy have more opportunities, but they often end up in terrible dramas and pick up bad habits—it all depends on whether you can train yourself, and in reality, most fail to do so.

(End of chapter)

(End of Chapter)