Chapter 9: An Unexpected Opportunity

Qian Yangqiu immediately understood what the other meant. Originally, Wang Qisheng, who played Li Xian, had fallen ill and was on leave, undergoing emergency treatment in the capital.

This man and Qian Yangqiu were on good terms, and his acting was exceptional. Accepting the role, even reluctantly, was due to Qian Yangqiu’s personal connection. Since they were close, and the man was currently unwell, it was convenient to replace him now—there would be plenty of opportunities to collaborate again in the future.

Crucially, replacing him wouldn’t cause any resentment; inviting him in the first place was already a bold move on Qian Yangqiu’s part.

“I think this plan could work, but I should give my friend a heads-up over the phone,” he said.

“There’s no rush. We still don’t know how well Liu Qingshan can act! Besides, this isn’t a small matter—we should let your junior know ahead of time,” came the reply.

“It all comes down to Liu Qingshan’s acting. Zhao Gang won’t be a problem, and switching to the Crown Prince Li Xian role even gives him more scenes.”

“Still, you should let him know in advance. He spent more than a month memorizing his lines!”

“Let’s set it aside for now. The priority is to find a chance to see Liu Qingshan’s acting.”

“There shouldn’t be much issue. Hu Jinghui is a martial artist, so as long as the actor has real skills, imagine the sensation once this character appears on screen!”

“How sensational could it be? There aren’t many fight scenes in our show.”

“That’s not how you should look at it! Don’t forget, even those with no martial arts background noticed his genuine skill just from those few steps earlier. And nearly four meters of city wall—without wires, he scaled it in a few strides, and his landing was just as impressive. Using him as a gimmick will make our show much more marketable when it’s released.”

“Haha, Yanping, you! You always act carefree, but you have plenty of clever schemes in your heart.”

“I’m just looking out for you. Aren’t you the youngest renowned director in the country right now? Your first time handling such a big production, I dropped everything and rushed here. Big productions are new opportunities—you wouldn’t want it to be superficial, would you? Creating a hit is your only way forward, am I wrong?”

“Yes, this opportunity is important to me, but do you really think Liu Qingshan alone can guarantee a hit when it airs?”

“Of course not. Hu Jinghui only has a handful of scenes in the whole show. But there’s a new trend—hype, you know?”

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What Zhu Yanping called hype was nothing new by 2004.

Compared to the extreme tactics that would follow in later years, today’s hype was just small-scale. The most famous top ten hype incidents in film history wouldn’t even start until two years later, with “The Banquet,” where Shao Shanshan suddenly appeared.

She demanded credit in “The Banquet”—a trivial matter, but she blew it out of proportion, linking it to copyright and so on. In truth, she was merely the lead actress’s “body double,” but she rode the film’s notoriety and the lead’s aura to fame.

Her methods weren’t sophisticated, but she was honest; her tactics became the prototype for all similar incidents to follow.

Zhu Yanping had no knowledge of all this; his suggestion came from sensitive intuition, not something an ordinary person could have devised.

Qian Yangqiu instantly sensed the difference, his eyes lighting up. “I know a bit about hype, but is it really useful?”

“Whether it works or not, we won’t know until we try! I just thought of Wang Qisheng’s illness as an opportunity—why not bring Liu Qingshan in and test it out? If you’re worried about Wang Qisheng, I’ll personally cover the advance payment to him.”

“That’s unnecessary, and it’s not much money anyway. The main thing is our relationship. Next time, I’ll give him a role.”

“Good, so my crazy idea didn’t hurt anyone.”

“He’s not coming because he’s ill in the first place! By the way, Yanping, why are you so eager to help Liu Qingshan?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice—he’s young but extraordinary. Surely I’m not the only one who sees it? When he scaled the wall with his face covered, his aura was obvious—do you think that’s something ordinary people have?”

“I can see he’s not simple, but as for the aura you mention, honestly, I didn’t feel anything.”

“That’s understandable—you don’t practice martial arts, so you can’t sense the air of a master. My advice: just take it as a suggestion, and later ask some other martial artists if they felt the same.”

“Is that kind of latent aura really important?”

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“Absolutely. It’s a kind of commanding presence only true masters possess. Take me, for example—even after another twenty or thirty years of training, I couldn’t cultivate that aura.”

“Haha, you’ve actually made me more curious. I’ll ask around tonight!”

Whether Zhu Yanping’s talk of aura held any truth, just Liu Qingshan’s impressive skills alone gave Qian Yangqiu reason to befriend him early.

Meanwhile, Liu Qingshan himself knew nothing of this, still surrounded by his future colleagues in the stunt team, explaining the intricacies of his boxing skills.

In fact, he only knew this particular style; with other forms, his prowess would be greatly diminished. Even when adapting the thirty-six moves of flowery fists into weapon routines for practical use, he was outmatched by many on the team.

This was clear from how Wu San and others often helped him answer questions—though only they themselves knew, outsiders noticed nothing amiss.

The main issue was Liu Qingshan’s lack of experience. Compared to stunt professionals who regarded fight choreography as their daily focus, his range of martial arts moves was far less varied.

Such eclectic knowledge couldn’t be gained from a training room; only through diligent practice and learning from many sources could one accumulate real breadth and depth.

Assistant director Zhao Gang was in charge of the city wall shoot. After receiving Qian Yangqiu’s instructions via walkie-talkie, he relayed them through the loudspeaker to all departments.

Everything was ready; Liu Qingshan was in position. At the call of “Action!” he sprang forward.

Just like during rehearsal, the actual shoot was flawless. When the director shouted “Cut, that’s a wrap!” on the other side, less than ten seconds had passed.

“This shot will be replayed in slow motion when it airs, and there’ll be a close-up of your whole figure. Do you know why?”

This was the first thing Qian Yangqiu quietly said to Liu Qingshan when he came over to bid farewell.