Chapter 98: The

Hengdian, Qin Palace

One of Hengdian’s famous film and television sets, built in 1997 for Chen Da Dao’s film “Jing Ke Assassinated the Qin King,” covering over 800 mu.

Since its completion, the Qin Palace has become the primary filming location for domestic TV dramas set in the Qin and Han dynasties.

“Emperor Wu of Han” is no exception; most of the entire series was filmed in Hengdian, with only a few scenes shot in Zhuozhou and Henan Province, while battle scenes were filmed on the grasslands of Chishi City in Inner Mongolia.

Yan Li’s portrayal of Huo Qubing features many standout scenes on the grasslands, but he also has substantial scenes in Hengdian, so he first reported in for duty there.

Due to the SARS outbreak, Hengdian currently has few tourists, and the number of active crews and extras is limited, with some shops even closed.

Compared to a year ago when Yan Li filmed “Heroes of Sui and Tang,” it feels far emptier and more desolate.

Yan Li brought Lin Jiachuan to report in at the “Emperor Wu of Han” crew.

In such a large crew, the director Hu Mei and the producer are rarely seen unless actively filming, but Yan Li has connections within the crew—Associate Director Li Xing personally arranged his accommodation.

He was pleased: a private room.

He was disappointed: it was just an ordinary hotel room, nothing like the lavish luxury he imagined for a major production.

Still, the conditions were vastly better than the small guesthouse he stayed in a year ago—air conditioning, bathroom, TV—all basic needs were met.

In truth, with his current net worth, Yan Li could easily afford a better hotel.

But he felt doing so would be ostentatious and make him seem out of place in the crew.

After all, the producer, director, lead actor, and lead actress all stayed comfortably—why should a supporting actor go out and book a luxury hotel? Yan Li didn’t want to invite trouble.

So unless the conditions were truly unbearable, he’d just make do.

Fortunately, “Emperor Wu of Han” was still reliable; while the conditions weren’t great, they were acceptable, and Yan Li was satisfied.

Not only did Yan Li get a room, but the crew also arranged one for Lin Jiachuan, knowing he was his assistant—though he didn’t get a private room, sharing with another crew member in slightly worse conditions.

Lin Jiachuan didn’t complain; if a millionaire like Yan Li could endure it, what did an assistant like him matter?

Yan Li sent text messages to Dong Xuan and Qin Lan to let them know he was safe, rested briefly, then went out to dinner with Associate Director Li Xing.

He’d just arrived—he needed to feel out the crew, gather intel, and also try to secure a role for Lin Jiachuan.

“No problem, I’ll take care of it.”

Li Xing agreed readily; he wouldn’t have the authority to make such promises for the leads, but Yan Li’s group didn’t ask for much—just a few lines and screen time.

“Emperor Wu of Han” has dozens of episodes and countless speaking roles; even minor parts were often filled by extras—giving one to Lin Jiachuan was nothing.

“If you can ride a horse, even better—I’ll assign you as Huo Qubing’s deputy. He needs someone beside him anyway; you just follow him, and you’ll have each other’s back.”

Li Xing even offered a thoughtful suggestion; Yan Li thought it was good, but Lin Jiachuan couldn’t ride a horse.

Filming was about to start—would there be time to learn now?

“Emperor Wu of Han” isn’t “Heroes of Sui and Tang”—horseback scenes are real, especially for the generals, who must meet certain riding standards.

One of Yan Li’s main advantages in landing the role of Huo Qubing was his solid horsemanship.

“Just start training. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll fight to get you off the horse scenes—when Huo Qubing rides, we’ll switch to another deputy.”

Though this deputy has his own shots and lines, he mostly serves as background to Huo Qubing—easy to fake.

“Thanks, Brother Li.”

Yan Li and Li Xing clinked glasses, then probed for crew gossip; Li Xing, who got along well with Yan Li, shared some insider info.

For example: Hu Mei despises actors who are late or leave early; Chen Baoguo has a bad temper—be careful during filming; the producer has a relationship with a female actress—don’t provoke her.

The information was so rich, it rivaled half a spy network.

Watching Li Xing talk so fluently, Yan Li felt a spark of admiration.

In future, when he invested in and produced films, he couldn’t personally oversee every project—he needed trusted people to manage or hold the line.

They had to be someone Yan Li could rely on, with real ability, who understood the inner workings and hidden tricks of a crew, to avoid being fooled and to carry a project.

Such talent was hard to find.

Lin Jiachuan wasn’t cut out for it; Zhou Yiwei and Zhang Songwen were barely adequate—they could help monitor the crew to prevent shenanigans, but couldn’t independently lead a project.

But Li Xing had potential.

Yan Li had connected with him through his system and knew him fairly well—he had minor flaws, but was generally reliable.

No one’s perfect; Yan Li hired people to get work done, not to find moral saints. As long as they met his standards, minor flaws didn’t matter.

His interpersonal skills were fine, and his abilities were strong.

Clearly, Li Xing’s position as Associate Director on a major production like “Emperor Wu of Han” indicated he was highly valued by Director Hu Mei; his detailed knowledge of crew dynamics proved he had real skill.

Yan Li marked Li Xing’s name with a checkmark, planning to keep in touch—if an opportunity arose, he’d recruit him.

Though Li Xing was favored by Director Hu Mei, that didn’t mean he had a chance to rise.

Hu Mei was just a director, and with her pace—only one film every few years—her income and career growth were limited.

But if he followed Yan Li, it would be different: if he proved capable, he could quickly become producer or even director, rise rapidly, and earn far more.

Of course, without knowing Yan Li’s backing, choosing to follow him carried risk.

Who knew if he’d go bankrupt after two films and become penniless? At least Hu Mei offered stability.

How Li Xing chose was, in a way, a test for Yan Li—he had no interest in subordinates who just coasted.

…

The second afternoon after arriving at the crew, Yan Li began filming.

On a long street, Yan Li wore armor, his long hair tied in a crown, a crimson cloak billowing behind him, riding ahead with seven or eight knights, galloping down the street, drawing gasps from the onlookers.

“Who’s this noble young master? How wild!”

“You don’t know? When the Emperor was young, he was just like this.”

“…”

When speaking of Huo Qubing, one cannot avoid mentioning Emperor Wu’s favoritism toward him—treatment akin to that of a biological son.

Huo Qubing earned Emperor Wu’s favor for many reasons.

For instance, his exceptional military talent and brilliant battlefield records; his natural alignment with the imperial and crown prince factions, unwavering loyalty, and trustworthiness.

Another key factor was Emperor Wu’s deep personal admiration for Huo Qubing’s personality.

He believed, “This boy resembles me”—in Emperor Wu’s eyes, Huo Qubing was his own self on campaign, the supreme general he had raised, and every glory and triumph of Huo Qubing was also his own achievement.

Their relationship became a celebrated story passed down through history.

Later emperors were influenced too; whenever they encountered a talented young general, they wondered if they’d found their own Huo Qubing, lavishing attention and nurturing him.

“Emperor Wu of Han” captured this essence in its portrayal of Huo Qubing.

It highlighted from every angle Emperor Wu’s special regard and deep trust in Huo Qubing.

After reading Huo Qubing’s script, Yan Li could only think one thing—

It’s fucking awesome!

Aside from a few scoldings from his uncle Wei Qing, Huo Qubing does whatever he wants, says whatever he pleases, living with wild, unrestrained brilliance.

Thank goodness he exits early—otherwise the plot would be impossible to sustain; he’d dominate everything, turning “Emperor Wu of Han” into “The Biography of Huo Qubing.”

…

Later, Yan Li switched locations to film scenes with his aunt, Wei Zifu.

Lin Jing had gotten along well with Yan Li during the initial shoot; yesterday, when he reported in, she’d come over to greet him, and now seeing him, she teased him with a smile.

“Big nephew’s here.”

Yan Li was speechless; sometimes filming brought this awkwardness—because of the role, he was inexplicably a generation younger.

Chen Baoguo, who played Emperor Wu, was roughly his father’s age; Lu Jianmin, who played Wei Qing, was over ten years older—he could accept that.

But Lin Jing was only a few years older than him.

Yes, Yan Li had been fooled by Lin Jing before—they weren’t the same age.

She’d claimed to be born in 1980; Yan Li had sensed something off—someone that age should’ve been in his year or two years ahead, yet he’d never seen her at school.

Later, after digging into her background, he understood.

No wonder he’d never seen her—she was six years ahead of him, a 1994 graduate of Beijing Film Academy, classmate to Jiang Qinqin.

As for the 1980s birth year? Also fake—standard practice.

Actors, especially actresses, often alter their age to extend their careers or gain more role options.

Not to mention, Yan Li had examples right around him.

Qin Lan was born in 1979, but her agent always listed her birth year as 1981 on her resume; Dong Xuan had considered doing the same but ultimately didn’t.

A single year difference—70s versus 80s—could cost you many opportunities.

While many altered their age, few went as far as Lin Jing.

Her resume became riddled with holes: born in 1980, yet a 1994 Beijing Film Academy student—that meant she entered university at age 14, and she also had experience as a flight attendant—who’d hire a child as a stewardess?

Though Yan Li now knew the truth, they were still colleagues—he wouldn’t expose her secret, and continued treating her as his peer.

Lin Jing didn’t overdo it; after a few jabs, she turned to gossip about him.

“Are you really dating Li Bingbing?!”

Earlier, when Yan Li was linked to Li Bingbing in rumors, his casting as Huo Qubing brought the “Emperor Wu of Han” crew significant exposure—and everyone now knew the rumor.

In less than two days, three people had directly or indirectly asked him about it.

Yan Li even felt that if he didn’t get involved with Li Bingbing, he’d be wasting all the spit he’d used to explain the rumors…

(End of Chapter)