Chapter 9: An Actor Who Thinks While Acting Is a Good Actor

Although the previous scene had left him somewhat frustrated, overall, Yan Li was still quite pleased.

Because in that scene, he hadn’t strictly followed the script.

Witnessing Xie Junhao’s portrayal of Yang Guang had deeply moved Yan Li.

In the original script of “Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties,” Yang Guang was just as one-dimensional as Yuwen Chengdu—a decadent, tyrannical ruler.

Evil for no reason, evil for evil’s sake, merely serving as a foil to highlight the heroes’ nobility and advancing the plot as a tool character.

But Xie Junhao, without altering the plot, uncovered deeper layers of Yang Guang, making the character vivid and rich, even reducing his villainous aura and endowing him with unique charm.

Yan Li had wanted to imitate him at the time, but found it extremely difficult.

On one hand, his own character design and plot constraints limited him; on the other, Yang Guang was the main antagonist with substantial screen time, offering room for development.

But Yuwen Chengdu had little personal screen time and mostly existed as a supporting villain—no matter how skilled, you can’t cook without rice.

More crucially, Xie Junhao was a Golden Horse Award-winning actor with the confidence to argue with the director.

Yan Li was just a minor supporting actor, a newcomer, ranked at the bottom among the cast—changing even a single line of dialogue could invite a furious scolding.

So for these past days, even when Yan Li had ideas, he dared not speak up, and simply acted obediently.

Only today, while filming scenes centered on Yuwen Chengdu and Yuwen Huaji, after persuading Yang Shulin—who played Yuwen Huaji—and having a rough sense of the director’s temperament, did Yan Li dare to cautiously broach the subject with the director.

Yan Li did not alter the plot or character design!

This was crucial—just like Xie Junhao’s portrayal, it built upon the original script, enhancing the character through performance.

Fundamentally, his Yang Guang was still the decadent tyrant, only less stereotypical, more logical, layered, and charismatic.

If he had turned Yang Guang into some sympathetic “good guy” with justifications, overturning the script, the director certainly wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Even Xie Junhao had to tread carefully—how much more so Yan Li?

Yuwen Chengdu remained the same despicable villain in the script; only minor adjustments were made to certain lines and details—a subtle refinement.

The previous scene was just like that: Yan Li made almost no changes, merely polishing the dialogue slightly and adding more performance interaction with Yuwen Huaji.

The changes were small, but made the dialogue and pacing smoother, and Yuwen Chengdu’s sudden cowardice more comical.

An actor who thinks while acting is a good actor!

This was what Yan Li’s teacher at Beijing Film Academy had taught him, profoundly influencing him—he was famously known in his class as a student who deeply pondered his craft.

But while such behavior was encouraged by teachers in school, no one in the real world would indulge you.

Yan Li’s most vivid memory was during his sophomore year, when he and his roommate Zhang Songwen auditioned together and barely landed a speaking extra role.

The scene involved two tavern patrons chatting and gossiping, but after rehearsing, they felt the script’s dialogue and the director’s requirements were flawed—their costumes clearly marked them as wealthy young masters, yet their lines sounded like street vendors, utterly inconsistent with their status.

So they revised the lines and performed them as wealthy young gentlemen when filming began.

The assistant director flew into a rage, scolding them harshly; had Zhang Songwen not held him back, Yan Li might have fought him then and there.

But from then on, Yan Li understood one truth: if you lack status and fame, you have no voice on set.

When joining “Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties,” Yan Li kept a very low profile, originally planning to stay silent, do exactly as told, take his pay, and leave.

Which actor hasn’t done bad scripts and bad roles? He was a newcomer—just being cast was a blessing; what right did he have to complain?

But fate brought him face to face with Xie Junhao.

Watching the stereotypical villain Yang Guang come alive under Xie’s performance, Yan Li looked at his own Yuwen Chengdu and found him increasingly unbearable.

Moreover, Director Hu Mingkai’s relaxed attitude toward actors made Yan Li eager to try.

From script to finished film, creation isn’t just the job of writers and directors—actors are also part of the creative process.

The script only provides dry lines and descriptions; the actual impact depends entirely on the actor’s interpretation.

The same scene and character, played by different actors, yield entirely different results—that’s why distinctions exist between ordinary actors, good actors, and even film champions.

The director’s role in this is also crucial.

Every director has a different style: some demand rigid adherence to the script, not a single word changed; some provide a framework and direction, then collaboratively refine with the actors; some let actors run wild and judge afterward.

Director Hu Mingkai of “Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties” leans toward the third type, relatively tolerant of actors’ moderate improvisation.

Today's test proved this: as long as the final result was good and didn't disrupt the overall direction, Hu Mingkai didn't mind actors' small ideas.

This gave Yan Li room to apply his ideas for Yuwen Chengdu.

Yan Li clearly understood that Yuwen Chengdu’s character couldn’t be redeemed.

He couldn’t change the plot or character design, had little screen time, and carried the massive burden of being the “number one villain” who also had to queue for the female lead—he had no power to cleanse this character.

So Yan Li’s expectations weren’t high.

Just add a few flashes of brilliance, make the character less monstrous, elevate his depth, and ensure he wasn’t just a pure stereotype villain tool.

For this, Yan Li had spent days pondering and finally came up with a solid idea.

While studying at Beijing Film Academy, Yan Li had audited a screenwriting class in the Literature Department, where he once heard a crude but effective method to instantly enliven flat characters.

That is: give a good character a small flaw to make him relatable; give a bad character a single virtue to reveal a glimmer of humanity.

People aren’t purely black or white; absolute goodness or absolute evil feels fake. Add a touch of gray, and they instantly become complex and real.

But Yuwen Chengdu was evil to the core.

Bullying the weak, craving fame and profit, arrogant and violent, lecherous and shameless, betraying his lord… finding any virtue in him was difficult.

Could he really portray him as frugal with food and caring for his men?

Even if that made some sense, Yan Li couldn’t develop it—could he ask the director to shoot another scene where he queues up with his men?

So after studying Yuwen Chengdu’s script, Yan Li turned his attention to the father-son relationship between Yuwen Huaji and Yuwen Chengdu.

Filial piety is one of the most valued virtues in Chinese culture—perhaps the most important, since “filial piety stands first among all virtues.”

No matter how wicked a villain may be, if he is filial, many people still regard him with higher esteem—at least they feel he still has some humanity.

Moreover, the original script left a bit of room to explore the Yuwen father-son dynamic.

For instance, Yuwen Chengdu obeyed his father, and Yuwen Huaji trusted and relied on his son—this offered a clear opening for characterization, without disrupting the plot or offending the director.

Also, during this time, Yan Li had grown close to Yang Shulin, who played Yuwen Huaji, and could count on his support.

Portraying filial piety isn’t something one actor can do alone—it requires interaction and exchange with the parent to spark authenticity.

With this in mind, Yan Li’s spirits rose. He bought a plate of fried rice and returned to the hotel.

While eating, he studied the script, pondering how to interact with Yuwen Huaji on screen, how to highlight filial piety within limited conditions, and how to persuade Yang Shulin or the director, and so on.

Until dawn, mindful of tomorrow’s shoot, Yan Li finally fell asleep with his mind full of thoughts.

The next morning, barely light, Yan Li woke to his alarm, got up, went to the bathroom, then opened his system half-heartedly—today there were only five pieces of intelligence.

【Daily Intelligence 1: Actor Yang Shulin greatly appreciated Yan Li’s performance yesterday, believing this young man has a clear sense of purpose, dares to think and act, and is a promising actor.】

【Daily Intelligence 2: Director Hu Mingkai neither liked nor disliked Yan Li’s behavior yesterday; he cares only whether filming proceeds smoothly (Note: Hu Mingkai values directorial authority—mind your attitude in communication).】

Seeing these two pieces of intelligence, Yan Li felt reassured.

He had been uncertain before, fearing they might secretly disapprove of him; now it seemed things were going well overall.

In the future, he should get closer to Teacher Yang and be more deferential to Director Hu, mindful of his tone and boundaries.

【Daily Intelligence 3: The lunch box supplier for “Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties” has slightly spoiled pork in stock, posing a slight risk of diarrhea (Note: Take Smectite Powder to treat).】

Hmm, maybe I can eat out for lunch today—also buy some medicine; I might not need it, but I can use it to win favors.

【Daily Intelligence 4: Today at 14:30, the Brazil vs. England quarterfinal of the World Cup, Brazil plans to use a 3-4-3 formation, with starting eleven: Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Ronaldinho…】

Yan Li: “...”

Where did this intelligence come from? Had he glanced at a sports headline yesterday without noticing? Or did someone on set discussing a match trigger the system?

As someone neither a head coach nor a journalist, Yan Li couldn’t interpret or act on this intelligence, so he simply dumped it into the [Trash Bin].

Better yet, give me a betting odds intelligence on which team will win—I could at least buy a lottery ticket.

【Daily Intelligence 5: Qin Lan, who has no scenes today, declined her companions’ invitation to shop, and plans to go to the small grove, hoping to chance upon Yan Li again—if she meets him, it means they are truly destined.】

Yan Li paused, then remembered who Qin Lan was, and fell into thought.

Is this girl imagining something strange…?

(End of Chapter)