Chapter 3: Invincible Hero, Heavenly Treasure General

After passing the director’s audition, Yan Li’s role was firmly secured.

With Wang Decai’s help pulling strings, Yan Li quickly signed the official contract with the crew and received part of his payment.

Remembering Wang Decai’s crucial role and knowing he’d need favors later on set, Yan Li immediately arranged to treat him to dinner.

In the drama “Heroes of Sui and Tang,” the role of Yuwen Chengdu had limited screen time, but it was still passable.

Ignoring female roles, he couldn't break into the top five male roles; rounding up, he was barely the tenth male lead—going any lower would be impolite.

Regardless, this role paid per episode officially.

“Heroes of Sui and Tang” had 40 episodes total; Yan Li’s scenes added up to 15 episodes, at 800 yuan per episode, totaling 12,000 yuan.

That was a lot of money!

At the turn of the century, many ordinary people earned only a few hundred yuan a month; extras on Hengdian earned just 20 to 30 yuan per day, some even less than 15—12,000 yuan was more than they’d make in a year.

This was the most money Yan Li had ever earned in his life.

Before, when running auditions in Jingcheng, he mostly played bit parts or doubles—exhausted after a full day’s work, he’d feel guilty spending even a little on the bus ride back to school.

Indeed, the relative who’d once urged him to apply to Beijing Film Academy was right: acting paid well.

He hadn’t even made it big yet—just landed a small role—and already earned this much; if he ever rose to fame, it would far surpass him taking over his family’s small restaurant back home…

Today there was a night shoot, so Wang Decai had to stay on set; the dinner invitation was postponed for two days.

With no filming duties for now, Yan Li collected his script and went to the makeup room to change clothes.

Afraid of running into Wang Xiu’s older sibling… sister?—he asked around first; luckily, Wang Xiu was away on errands, which eased his nerves.

Removing makeup was much faster than applying it; soon he was done, changed into his clothes, and strolled back to the inn.

On the way, he bought some food so he wouldn’t need to go out for dinner, then found a bank and exchanged some cash.

Back in his room, locked the door, Yan Li took out the red paper he’d casually bought at the convenience store and folded it into an envelope.

Then, from the cash he’d just withdrawn, he counted out 2,000 yuan and slipped it in; after a moment’s thought, he gritted his teeth and added another 1,000.

This red envelope was for Wang Decai!

Wang Decai had helped him land this role—this wasn’t something a single meal could repay; a red envelope was a token of gratitude.

Whether he accepted it or not was one thing; the gesture had to be right.

Besides, he’d need Wang Decai’s help again in the future—this was an investment. Today’s 3,000-yuan envelope might earn him a role worth tens of thousands tomorrow.

You must give to receive!

Even his family’s small restaurant needed to spend on good ingredients to make money—you couldn’t be stingy and expect success.

The crew had only paid him 4,000 yuan so far; he had little cash left and needed to keep some for living expenses, or he’d have gladly given a 5,000-yuan envelope.

After securing the envelope, planning to give it at the right moment, Yan Li picked up his script and began reading carefully.

He knew well: while connections mattered in acting, the key was having real skill.

Only when you could act well did connections matter; relying solely on favors or system intel might get you opportunities, but you still wouldn’t be able to seize them.

Though Yuwen Chengdu was a minor role, it was an opportunity many of his classmates could only dream of—he couldn’t waste it.

————

Yan Li had never read the script for “Heroes of Sui and Tang” before.

When the drama had held auditions in Jingcheng, Yan Li had casually submitted his materials.

At first, he hadn’t taken it seriously—he even thought Hengdian was too far, less convenient than nearby sets around Jingcheng.

Later, through the system’s monthly 【Monthly Intelligence】 report, which hinted at future events, he learned this drama might become popular, and only then did he start paying attention.

Leveraging this intelligence, Yan Li met Wang Decai and learned about him.

Then, tailoring his approach to Wang Decai’s preferences, he gradually built a relationship and secured the role of Yuwen Chengdu.

But as a minor supporting actor, still new and with no contract signed yet, he had no right to get the script in advance.

Still, even without reading it, Yan Li knew the character of Yuwen Chengdu.

As a child, he’d listened to many of Shan Tianfang’s storytelling sessions and had read some books like “The Romance of Sui and Tang,” “The Rise of Tang,” and “The Tale of Tang.”

Yuwen Chengdu, the second greatest warrior of Sui and Tang, the Heavenly Treasure General of the Sui Dynasty, wielded a golden phoenix-winged spear, rode the legendary five-spotted dragon steed—he was invincible, unmatched in strength.

Among all Sui-Tang generals, only Li Yuanba, the greatest warrior, surpassed him; Yuwen Chengdu had only lost once, at Siping Mountain, to the third-ranked warrior, Pei Yuanqing.

That was only because Yuwen Chengdu had exhausted himself defeating the fourth, fifth, and sixth-ranked warriors one-on-one—Pei Yuanqing’s victory was not honorable.

As for Qin Qiong, Yuchi Gong, the Five Tigers of Wagang, and others—they couldn’t match Yuwen Chengdu’s strength even with one hand.

To play such an invincible warrior—even though Wang Decai had told him he was a villain—Yan Li was thrilled and eager.

A badass villain who crushes the hero underfoot? That’s way more fun to act!

Besides, a pure brute like Yuwen Chengdu—how bad could he really be?

But after reading the script, Yan Li realized he’d underestimated the screenwriter’s lack of morals.

Did this damn screenwriter even read “The Romance of Sui and Tang”?

Being a villain was fine—some villainous exaggeration was normal—but this script turned Yuwen Chengdu into a caricature.

Despicable, arrogant, cowardly, constantly spouting trash talk, yet never winning a single fight—this wasn’t the Heavenly Treasure General, this was a clown.

What made him most baffled was the scene where Yuwen Chengdu leads a line to throw Li Rongrong into the well.

Yuwen Chengdu throws the screenwriter’s child into the well? How could they treat him like this?

He was nothing but a scumbag—calling him a scumbag was even too generous; most Japanese villains in anti-Japanese war dramas were less hateful.

Yan Li scratched his head, staring at the script, feeling a tiny twinge of regret.

After all, he was a graduate of Beijing Film Academy—he knew roles had no hierarchy, good actors could play both heroes and villains, and he didn’t mind playing villains.

But this was his first real acting role—he was young, and to start with something so extreme was psychologically jarring.

Fortunately, Yan Li had decent mental resilience; the contract was signed, the money was in hand—regret was useless now.

Besides, from another angle, such a revolting character, though unpleasant, was memorable to audiences—a good thing for an actor.

“I’m an actor—this is all pretend…”

Yan Li muttered a few times to calm himself, then picked up the script again and silently began memorizing lines—starting with the most disturbing part.

He wanted to toughen his resolve—tackle the hardest first; once that was mastered, everything else would be easy.

“I, Yuwen Chengdu, hate wasting things—I always finish every grain of rice in my bowl.”

“Heh, she asked if I dared—do you dare?”

“Fine, follow my order—line up outside.”

“Fuck, this screenwriter’s a real bastard…”

(End of Chapter)