Chapter 111: A Simple Life Is All That Matters

Chapter 111: Keeping Life Simple Is Enough

The filming of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" took place across numerous locations, sending the crew on a whirlwind journey. Naturally, Zhang Le, as the director, was constantly on the move. Among the actors, Yang Xin’er undoubtedly had the busiest schedule, traveling to Wudang Mountain, the Shunan Bamboo Sea, the vast desert, Huangshan, and more—no location was left untouched.

Of course, even if Yang Xin’er’s character didn’t require visiting so many outdoor sites in the film, as the producer, she naturally accompanied the crew. Although her producer credit was largely nominal.

She could have chosen not to follow along, but she did. More than simply following the crew, it was more like accompanying Zhang Le.

The constant travel was exhausting enough, but the greatest fatigue came not from the physical toll but the mental strain of delving deeply into her character’s psyche.

“It’s finally over. From now on, I’ll avoid roles like this—they’re just too draining. The body gets tired, but the heart even more so,” Yang Xin’er said to Zhang Le. Then, wrapping her arms around him from behind, she added, “I know you enjoy making commercial films, so why did you take on something so artistically demanding this time? It’s not just martial arts you’re portraying—it's emotions, intellect, desire. Your work is about culture and humanity.”

“You’re right. Making films like this is exhausting,” Zhang Le smiled wryly. “I’ll stick to commercial blockbusters from now on. Directors who win awards may have higher status in the industry, but those who make money are always more welcomed. Honestly, I’m not confident about the box office for this one.”

He hadn’t realized how demanding it would be. Even with the original film as a reference, Zhang Le found himself utterly drained—mentally and emotionally.

Before filming began, Zhang Le had done extensive research, replaying the original countless times in his mind and studying every review and article he could find. He thought the shooting process would be smooth. But when it came to the actual work, he struggled.

He had to admit he had overestimated himself. He lacked the “diamond drill” skills but had taken on a delicate porcelain job.

This film wasn’t just about vivid characters, intricate plots, or fresh and elegant cinematography—it was rich with cultural depth.

The original director had ingeniously woven traditional Chinese martial arts into landscape culture and calligraphy, threading it through the entire story. Chinese calligraphy emphasizes softness and strength, while the landscapes evoke a sense of freedom.

These were areas where Zhang Le felt deficient. He had done so much homework, fearful of turning a classic into a flop.

Zhang Le was a determined man. If he was going to make this film, he had to do it well. Not necessarily better than the original, but certainly not worse. Having the original as a benchmark, to fall short would be failure—something Zhang Le simply wouldn’t accept.

As a result, filming was slow, many scenes were endlessly refined. His pursuit of perfection nearly broke the crew—they were on the verge of collapse.

During shooting, Zhang Le was strict not only with himself but with everyone—from crew members to actors. Nearly all had been scolded by him, even international star Li Jie was not spared.

Yang Xin’er wasn’t exempt either, but she understood Zhang Le and bore it silently. She didn’t want to act in films like this again, nor did she want Zhang Le to make them. Not because she couldn’t take the hardship, but because she felt deeply for him.

She saw how much Zhang Le had poured into this project. She would rather he made simpler films—after all, life is better when it’s simple. Complexity often steals away simple joys.

She didn’t want to affect Zhang Le’s mood, so she only spoke her mind when the film was nearly wrapped.

“Human nature is too complex, and few truly understand it,” Yang Xin’er sighed. Then, looking at Zhang Le, she smiled and said, “You lack confidence in the film’s box office. I’m different.”

This film had an enormous budget, nearly breaking domestic records. Of course, compared to Hollywood blockbusters costing hundreds of millions, it paled, but domestically, it was truly a major production.

Less than abroad, but more than at home.

The entertainment industry was rife with gossip. When Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er’s “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” began shooting in July, it stirred quite the buzz. But more than four months later, the excitement had faded.

Zhang Le and his team kept a low profile; the wrap-up was quiet, with no wrap party or media announcements. It seemed everyone had forgotten the film even existed.

During the shoot, Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er seemed to vanish from the media spotlight. Their return to public attention wasn’t because of the film but because their names appeared on the list of performers for the upcoming Spring Festival Gala.

This time, they wouldn’t be performing a duet.

Both would sing solo pieces on the gala stage. The program team hadn’t revealed what songs they would perform, but those close to Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er knew their gala songs would be new releases.

What kind of new songs would remain a secret until the night, but given Zhang Le’s musical talent, they were unlikely to disappoint.

The Spring Festival Gala was criticized every year, yet it remained the most-watched show.

Though Zhang Le and Yang Xin’er had been quiet for months, their popularity hadn’t waned; in fact, their long absence had heightened anticipation.

With filming wrapped, Zhang Le was busy with post-production, and Yang Xin’er took no other projects. She needed to rest and recover. Having immersed herself so deeply in portraying Jade Fox, she needed to unwind.

To ease Zhang Le’s hectic schedule, Yang Xin’er gradually took on household chores. But there wasn’t much to do—washing and mopping were mostly handled by their part-time housekeeper. Yang Xin’er mainly cooked and washed dishes.

Unfortunately, cooking was not her forte.

Graceful in public, but clumsy in the kitchen—this was the truest description of Yang Xin’er.

“I’ll take over,” Zhang Le said with a smile. Seeing the kitchen descending into chaos, he couldn’t help but intervene.

“I’ll assist you,” Yang Xin’er replied with a smile, not refusing.

“No, better you go read or look over the scripts I’ve been writing these past days,” Zhang Le chuckled. “The kitchen smoke isn’t good for your skin.”

“Am I useless?” Yang Xin’er suddenly asked, not turning away as she used to.

“Why do you ask that?” Zhang Le looked at her with curiosity, noticing her downcast expression.

“You work all day and still cook for me when you get home, while I just watch helplessly,” she said. “I really want to cook a meal for you, even if it’s just one.”

“Silly girl!” Zhang Le tapped her forehead, then took the apron she had just put on and tied it around Yang Xin’er. “Then tonight, Chef Yang is in charge. I’ll be your assistant.”

“You’re so sweet!” Yang Xin’er smiled, glancing around the kitchen, a little bewildered. “Where do I start?”