Chapter 77: Preparation for

They didn’t talk much on the call, mostly just catching up on recent studies and life, deliberately avoiding any mention of Jiang Qin.

Overall, Ceng Li’s attitude was certainly no longer as close as before—she no longer called him Zhudong . But Wu Yuchen wasn’t disappointed; reestablishing contact was already a good start.

Wu Yuchen knew it was impossible for Ceng Li to suddenly accept being with him. She was still innocent, had no exposure to the entertainment industry’s realities, and her moral boundaries hadn’t sunk so low.

But people’s views change with their environment. Isn’t the essence of romantic relationships precisely this tug-of-war?

If he did nothing and waited for her to come to him, that would be the end—given enough time, they’d truly forget each other.

Wu Yuchen was prepared for a long war: as long as he kept himself in her heart and kept other men out, time would eventually work its magic.

He simply wanted to fulfill Zhang Wuji’s uncompleted dream!

During this period, besides handling his romantic affairs, Wu Yuchen devoted most of his energy to “The Night the Comet Came”—a low-budget film that, at current China wage levels, could be shot for 100,000 to 150,000 yuan.

With “The Two of Us” already completed, he had nearly three months free; now he had both time and money, so naturally he wanted to shoot the film during this window.

But when he actually started, he realized that although shooting might be short, the pre-production phase was surprisingly draining.

First, he planned minor adjustments to the script: the plot remained unchanged, but the original film’s opening was too meandering, leaving many viewers confused in the first ten minutes—some even cursed it as trash and walked out.

Wu Yuchen made this film to make money, so while preserving its sci-fi and suspense elements, he needed to restructure the opening—even as exposition, it had to be engaging enough for audiences to accept and endure.

Storyboarding took some effort, then came casting. It wasn’t difficult: most of the eight roles could be filled by undergraduates from Beijing Film Academy and Central Academy of Drama, and they were cheap.

With his reputation from winning the Berlin Short Film Golden Bear, nearly all these students were eager to accept his invitation—even those with other gigs turned them down.

The problem lay in the actors’ comprehension: their academic performance was generally poor, especially in science subjects, so upon first reading the script, they were all baffled.

Take Jiang Qin: after Wu Yuchen explained the script to her at length, she still didn’t fully grasp the entire plot.

In the end, Wu Yuchen gathered all eight selected actors together, spent half a day explaining the script, then had them take it home to study on their own—he told them to come back anytime over the next two weeks with questions, and to fully understand the script, at least their own character’s arc, within that time.

Thus, after juggling these few tasks, the pre-production phase had already taken nearly half a month—much longer than the actual shooting time.

As for the eight actors chosen for “The Comet,” four men and four women, Wu Yuchen deliberately gave each character a Chinese name resembling an English one, making it easier for foreign audiences to remember.

The female lead, Amy, a dancer, was naturally cast as Jiang Qin—her appearance and physique suited the role perfectly. He’d already pushed her once in “The Two of Us”; now that the role fit, he naturally chose her again.

The male lead, Rod, also the most handsome of the four men, was played by Huang Haibing, a senior at the Central Academy of Drama—he had no commitments before graduation and immediately agreed.

The male actor Mike, Fu Dalong: Wu Yuchen had missed him last time due to scheduling, but now he finally got him; after reading the script, he became very interested.

Mike’s girlfriend, Li Na, played by Gong Beibi from the Central Academy of Drama, had the perfect urban professional look and solid acting skills. She’d lost the lead role in “Car 44” before—this time, he’d give her another chance.

Anna, an obsessive enthusiast of Chinese feng shui culture, was played by Liu Mintao from the Central Academy of Drama. Yeah, this role suited her well.

Li Wei, Anna’s boyfriend, was played by Sun Honglei. He chose Sun Honglei over Duan Long simply because the character was a lawyer—Sun was older and looked more mature.

Wei Wei, the male lead’s ex-girlfriend, working in education, needed to be attractive; Jiang Qin recommended Chen Shasha, whose acting was solid enough—Wu Yuchen tested her and accepted her.

The final role, Chamberlain, a computer engineer, was a supporting part but crucial: after the comet passed, he brought back a box that, when opened, triggered “Schrödinger’s Cat.”

Moreover, the role required an actor who looked mature and steady, so Wu Yuchen, with his teacher’s help, contacted Jiang Wu from the Class of 1990—the only actor not currently a student.

Jiang Wu happened to be in Beijing with no commitments; after reading the script, he found it interesting and immediately agreed.

After news of “The Comet” project spread, Xu Jinglei, the so-called Xu Cairen, even came to him voluntarily, trying to compete for the female lead—but Wu Yuchen would never give that role to anyone else; it was for his girlfriend Jiang Qin.

As for Wang Shuo and the Beijing circle, he had no intention of joining that scene—he could rise on his own; why bother clinging to them?

The film was scheduled to start shooting on May Day, perfectly timed to finish during the holiday—no need for the actors to take leave from school.

The original “The Comet” was shot by a new director with eight ordinary minor actors, completed in five nights.

Now, with Wu Yuchen’s thorough preparation, he wouldn’t take longer than they did.

For salaries: seven student actors received 2,000 yuan each; Jiang Wu received 8,000 yuan, since he already had some fame—he’d won the “Chun Cheng Silver Cup” and appeared in “To Live.”

Notably, another thing happened: when he went to withdraw money from the stock market, he discovered his Changhong shares had surged dramatically!

After returning from Berlin and splitting the money, he’d invested 800,000 yuan in Changhong stock at around 8.5 yuan per share; over the next month, he checked the price two or three times at the exchange, but it barely moved, peaking at only 9 yuan.

But by late April, the price shot up rapidly—he only then realized that in 1996, China’s stock market had no daily price limits; with 15% daily increases, within a week the price soared to 14.5 yuan, turning his 800,000 yuan investment into 1.36 million.

Wu Yuchen promptly withdrew 160,000 yuan; though that sum might still rise significantly over the next year, money meant to be spent should be spent.