Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Genius Zhang

Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Genius Zhang

Zhang Yue positioned himself with the utmost clarity within the film crew. He was now an actor, not the director of this movie. He watched more, listened more, did more, thought more, and analyzed more. When something was unclear, he would ask, but he rarely expressed his own opinions. Only when Director Chen sought his thoughts would he occasionally share his views and suggestions.

Unless the matter directly concerned his own role, which he would discuss with Director Chen, he maintained this attitude in all other matters.

Zhang Yue was a director, and a precocious one at that—a director whose very first film had become a classic. In the eyes of many, such a high-spirited young man should be brimming with sharpness, perhaps even arrogance. Yet to everyone’s surprise, Zhang Yue was amiable and approachable on set, never displaying any trace of superiority or conceit. He gave the impression, even, of being a newcomer actor rather than a renowned director.

The most important thing is to know one’s place.

As a director, Zhang Yue certainly possessed unique advantages in performance, but theory and practice always require a process to align. Knowing how to act, being able to act, and acting well are three very different things.

If he chose to do something, he wanted to do it to the best of his ability. This was Zhang Yue’s principle. Since he had accepted this role, he would give his all to portray it well.

To truly live, one must immerse themselves completely in their art; sometimes, madness leads to genius.

Zhang Yue’s rapid improvement in acting astonished everyone around him. Along with their shock came delight. Yet even as he honed his craft, Zhang Yue never forgot the true purpose behind taking this role.

He carried memories from a previous life, his mind brimming with countless classic films. If he could not share them with this world due to limitations as a director, it would be unbearably stifling.

It is no use sitting on a treasury if one cannot move its riches; one cannot simply remain a permanent guardian.

The world of true scholars is difficult for ordinary people to comprehend.

Zhang the Scholar’s talents astounded all. In the short time he spent with the film crew, both his acting and directing skills improved rapidly.

The character Zhang Yue portrayed, Ma Cheng, was wild and rebellious, dashingly handsome, highly skilled in combat and firearms, and willing to risk his life for his brothers. He and Ye Tianlong, played by Zhou Run, were sworn brothers, their bond forged through years of life-and-death struggles.

Ma Cheng was not a good man, but his complexity made him impossible to dismiss—he was, in fact, likely to be well loved by audiences. At least, Zhang Yue himself had been drawn to the character from the moment he read the script.

Reading the script, Zhang Yue was reminded of “A Better Tomorrow”; looking at Ma Cheng, he thought of Mark Gor. Indeed, with a tweak to the ending, Ma Cheng might even steal the limelight from the protagonist.

In the movie’s current ending, the protagonist Ye Tianlong dies saving Xiao Ran, while Ma Cheng and Tan Bin perish together. If, however, the ending mirrored “A Better Tomorrow”—Ma Cheng leaves but returns unexpectedly and dies, Tan Bin is killed by Ye Tianlong, and Xiao Ran arrests Ye Tianlong—then Ma Cheng would certainly become a legendary character.

Of course, Zhang Yue kept this idea to himself. Voicing it would be pointless, and might even create friction between himself and Zhou Run.

After all, Zhou Run had invested in this film; he would hardly pay out of his own pocket only to have another character upstage his protagonist. Besides, Zhang Yue’s role as Ma Cheng was already quite prominent; if the ending were changed, his character might easily overshadow the lead.

Moreover, the film’s tragic ending would not be popular with foreign audiences. Most importantly, if the movie became a hit, the lead actress would become the main star, but there would be no sequel—an unexploited potential and a clear loss for any investor.

“Ah Le, you’re just in time. I wanted your opinion on something,” Director Chen called out to Zhang Yue.

“What is it, Director Chen?” Zhang Yue replied with a smile.

“We haven’t reached an agreement on the ending—Zhou Run and I. We’d like to hear your thoughts,” Chen said, glancing at Zhou Run beside him.

Zhang Yue seldom commented outside his own role, but Chen, as the director, knew well that Zhang Yue kept his opinions to himself out of discretion, not ignorance.

Zhang Yue’s talent could only be truly appreciated with time. Now, less than a month into the production, he was already being called “Genius Zhang” on set—a nickname that had even spilled over onto the internet.

Of course, Chen and Zhou Run sought Zhang Yue’s perspective not just because he was a genius scholar, but because he was an accomplished director who knew this film inside and out.

“Are you thinking of making this into a film series?” Zhang Yue guessed.

“Director Chen only brought up the ending, and Ah Le immediately caught on. The title of genius is well deserved,” Zhou Run laughed. “If both the protagonist and supporting male lead die, there’s no way to make a sequel. If the movie’s a hit, not being able to film a sequel is a loss.”

“But the protagonist is a criminal. If he were to live happily ever after with the heroine, it would be a matter of values—a lot of people wouldn’t accept that. Everyone must answer for their actions,” said Chen. “This ending is the best. The male and female leads—a thief and a policewoman—in love, but can this love have a future? Forcing them together would be too contrived.”

“Ah Le, share your thoughts. I know you’ve considered this,” Zhou Run said.

“We could film two endings,” Zhang Yue suggested with a grin. “As for which one to use, you can decide once the whole film is complete.”

“But the alternate ending must be reasonable,” Chen insisted.

“I do have an idea, though…” Zhang Yue said, trailing off with a smile.

“Go on,” Zhou Run prompted.

“In the final showdown, Ye Tianlong tells Ma Cheng to leave, but Ma Cheng returns. Upon his return, he’s suddenly shot and dies. Ye Tianlong kills Tan Bin, the police arrive, and Ye Tianlong handcuffs himself with Xiao Ran’s handcuffs,” Zhang Yue replied with a cold smile.

“Suddenly shot?” Chen looked at Zhang Yue. The sequence was logical, but he sensed an underlying issue in Zhang Yue’s suggestion.

“Personally, I think Ma Cheng’s unexpected, sudden death upon his return is more poignant and iconic than a heroic, overt demise,” Zhang Yue said. “Just my opinion, for your reference.”

After Zhang Yue left, Chen looked at Zhou Run. If they wanted a sequel, Zhang Yue’s ending was undoubtedly the best. But with that ending, Ma Cheng would become a singular legend; though Ye Tianlong survived, it was the death that would steal the spotlight.

The supporting role might well overshadow the lead. It was up to Zhou Run, both the protagonist and the film’s investor, to decide.

Every choice comes with gains and losses—it all depended on his priorities.

“What do you think about shooting it Ah Le’s way?” Zhou Run asked.

“You’d better think this through—if Ma Cheng dies like that, he could become a classic and completely upstage your protagonist,” Chen said. From the film’s perspective, making a supporting role iconic would undoubtedly elevate the film’s quality.

“If he overshadows me, he’s still just a supporting role,” Zhou Run laughed. “Besides, I’m not just the lead actor—I’m also the producer! I can’t only think for myself. You and Ah Le really underestimate me.”

(It seems the role of Ye Tianlong has stirred up quite a bit of reaction! That guy left a comment in the reviews wanting a cameo, and I included him without much thought. Who would have guessed it would spark so many responses? To have a name cause such a stir is something. Luckily, it’s just a bit part and not a supporting role. Since the new book went up, only two people have left comments asking for cameos—one, Nangong Wang, Wei Minghua’s mentor, who may appear later; the other, Ye Tianlong, and, well, you get the idea. It’s just a cameo—if I can’t even accommodate that, it would be unkind. Who knew it would trigger dozens of comments overnight! I’m honestly a bit dazed by it all. If any reader wants a cameo, feel free to leave a message in the reviews—I’ll do my best to oblige, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand like Ye Tianlong’s! Cameos are fine, just don’t go full Ye Tianlong on me!)