Chapter Six: The Current State of Survival in the Martial Arts Profession

The only one who had not spoken yet was Liao Xin, the youngest among them. He was not only gentle in appearance but spoke softly and slowly:
“I may be young, but I’m already twenty-five. I’ve been following you brothers for seven or eight years now. I may not talk much, but I know what’s going on! We’re all honest men here, each of us striving for a better life. I agree with Brother Chengzhi—there’s no need to bring up these matters anymore!”

Liu Qingshan felt a slight sense of surprise, for as soon as Liao Xin spoke, the topic was abruptly dropped. Perhaps sensing Liu’s confusion, Ma Shengli restrained his laughter and explained, “Don’t be fooled by Liao Xin’s age; he’s the strategist among Third Brother’s group. His words carry weight!”

Seeing Liu Qingshan looking at him, Wu San smiled and nodded, “Liao Xin is clever and level-headed, good at making judgments. Our stable lives today owe much to his advice.”

“That’s because you brothers lifted me up. I once wanted to end my life, but Third Brother saved me,” Liao Xin suddenly revealed.

Upon inquiry, it turned out that he had failed by just a few points to get into a university in the capital. Having always been proud and ambitious, he couldn’t accept the setback and contemplated suicide. It was Wu San, passing by their town, who rescued him. Unexpectedly, this frail scholar refused to leave afterward, choosing instead to roam the world with them.

Their entry into the film industry as stunt performers was also due to his suggestion, plus the support of someone willing to help. In just a few years, they had made a name for themselves.

“That person we call Uncle Ping—a senior from the stunt world who spent some time in Hong Kong, working as a stuntman. Later, when film cities began to appear on the mainland, Uncle Ping took the lead, and a few of them returned to set up the first professional stunt company in the country, with a resounding name—Xuanwu Stunt Company!”

Wu San’s explanation enlightened Liu Qingshan; Xuanwu Stunt was indeed renowned across mainland film cities.

Back then, Hong Kong’s various ‘family teams’ were prevalent; whenever Liu Jia Liang, Yuen Hapeng, Hung Jinbao, or Chan Lung had work, their respective teams—Liu’s, Yuen’s, Hung’s, Chan’s—never lacked jobs, and their incomes remained stable.

But Uncle Ping and his mainland stunt colleagues belonged to no family team, joining the industry as freelancers. Unless exceptionally competitive and hardworking, it was hard for them to stand out.

Mainland stunt performers had martial skills but lacked experience, so their pay was only a third of what Hong Kong stuntmen earned.

According to the local stunt actor association, a stuntman would earn over a thousand yuan a day, with double pay for hours exceeding eight.

Such high costs made it unaffordable for many small and mid-sized crews. Thus, mainland stuntmen, who frequently got jobs, offended many peers at the time. They believed that without intervention, these ‘quality and affordable’ mainland colleagues, working for a third or even less of the pay, would soon become the backbone of the Hong Kong stunt community.

So, facing exclusion, Uncle Ping returned to the mainland to develop his own path. Fortunately, within a few years, Hong Kong’s film industry declined while mainland productions flourished.

Those like Uncle Ping, who had experienced real Hong Kong kung fu cinema, became highly sought-after on the mainland.

They might just be stand-ins or minor extras, but no one could ignore them. Even if they directed only a few minutes of fight scenes, those shots brought to life countless brilliant productions.

Wu San’s group had received help from Xuanwu Stunt Company, enabling them to enter the industry smoothly.

Even more remarkable, Uncle Ping managed them with a light hand, allowing them to use Xuanwu’s branch name to find work everywhere, charging only a minimal annual management fee.

If any accidents or lawsuits occurred, Xuanwu would even provide support and manpower.

Though Wu San never explained the deeper relationship between them and Uncle Ping, Liu Qingshan could sense it was unusual.

“There must be a lot of your people in this crew?”

Wu San answered, “Counting all of us, about twenty, but that’s our entire roster!”

Liu Qingshan asked, “Why not recruit more?”

“Shanzi, you don’t know—this line of work has a very low threshold. Most come from martial arts teams, academies, or sports colleges, already possessing some skill, but they’re like blank slates with no filming experience. Mainland stunt teams usually ‘board the train before buying a ticket,’ so the quality is mixed. Following Liao Xin’s advice, we’re strict about who we take in.”

Liao Xin continued,

“The income for stuntmen is probably the highest among backstage crew, but performing dangerous moves requires careful design and thorough protection. Most often, only more professional teams get the jobs. New stuntmen struggle to find gigs, and to make ends meet, some even perform in nightclubs. There were cases offering a hundred yuan a minute for a special act where patrons could vent their anger by punching them.”

Wu San picked up, “Liao Xin means that, for money, these people mingle with all sorts of unsavory characters, which makes them hard to manage. If someone like that joins the team, sooner or later bad habits will spread!”

“So, they urgently need a set of techniques like the Thirty-Six Hands of Flowery Fist to consolidate their position. Brother Shanzi, you understand now?”

Ma Shengli’s words struck at the heart of the problem.

Liu Qingshan understood well. The Thirty-Six Hands of Flowery Fist, whether in its ingenuity or spectacle, was vastly different from today’s popular martial arts moves.

Far more authentic than flashy routines, it was practical for self-defense in real combat.

For example, a dangerous high-altitude stunt, executed with the footwork of the Thirty-Six Hands, could greatly enhance a performer’s ability to protect themselves, while making the move look more refined.

“That’s good, saves me from having an unclear role in this crew!”

Liu Qingshan’s eyes brightened, quickly finding his place.

The others understood his meaning, and Wu San nodded repeatedly,

“You could serve as our stunt group’s martial arts instructor. I can use this position to negotiate higher pay for you with the crew!”

Liu Qingshan shook his head,

“Teaching you is a matter between us privately. Besides, why should the crew pay me extra? Let’s wait until they see my skills before discussing pay. For now, shall we go meet the assistant director?”

He knew well that, as an extra, he wasn’t qualified to meet the director himself.

As for the assistant director, it wasn’t someone with true directorial authority, but one of several deputies responsible solely for recruiting extras and handling miscellaneous tasks.