Chapter Twenty-Nine: Issues with Filming

"Cut, next scene."

"Da, although this is your character’s first time killing someone, you’re drunk. Plus, the cab driver’s provocation, his taking the long way, overcharging you—these things remind you of how your wife died. There’s a fire in your heart that has to be unleashed. You grab your own necktie and strangle the driver from behind, then snatch the rearview mirror, smash one side, and stab him wildly with the broken edge. After that, you slam his head fiercely against the window. In this part, you need to fully express your rage. Then, as soon as the driver stops moving, because this is your first murder, you must shift rapidly from madness to panic. You’re at a loss, your face full of terror. You scramble out of the car in a panic, intending to flee the scene, but after a few steps, you remember your fingerprints and the bloody handprint you left behind. You rush back to the car, grab the half-empty bottle of liquor behind the seat, and the handkerchief from your pocket, and hurriedly wipe down the car. Your movements should be clumsy, frantic, your breath heavy—make it bigger, more exaggerated, so the audience can feel your panic."

Since the opening ceremony, the entire shoot had been sealed off, with reporters kept at bay. Because there were so many scenes, progress was slow. Yan Xu planned to film for over a month, so there was no rush; every detail had to be perfect, every shot up to his standard.

"Alright!" Listening to Yan Xu’s directions, Wu Mengda nodded. After so many years acting, he could grasp and deliver exactly what was needed with just a hint.

"Camera rolling!" called the cinematographer.

"Action!" Yan Xu’s command followed.

On screen, Wu Mengda’s performance was flawless. His fury was etched clearly in his contorted face. Especially when he stabbed the driver’s chest with the shattered rearview mirror—his bloodshot eyes, the frenzied muttering under his breath, the blood pack on the cab driver’s chest bursting as the glass pierced through, and thanks to the driver covertly pressing his arm, the crimson syrup sprayed everywhere—splattering against the window, Wu Mengda’s face, even covering his glasses.

Yan Xu was never stingy with fake blood; to achieve that visceral impact, he demanded everything be magnified and exaggerated.

The transition from rage to panic after the murder was seamless. Wu Mengda shrank to one side of the cab, scrambled out the door in a near tumble, staggered a few steps, then suddenly froze and wiped at the blood on himself, his expression vividly conveying his inner turmoil.

"Cut! Excellent." The sequence went off without a hitch, putting Yan Xu in an exceptionally good mood.

"Da, great work. We’ll need to pick up a few close-ups later," Yan Xu said, patting Wu Mengda’s shoulder. Working with such a skilled actor made everything easier.

"Brother Jiu, are the stunts ready?" With Wu Mengda’s close-ups arranged, Yan Xu found Jiu. On this film, he was both assistant director and played the superior officer to Sergeant Yu and Brother Ah.

"All set. The car’s over there and the camera’s already inside," Jiu gestured to a taxi parked across the street.

"Jiu, bring the stuntman over. I’ll walk him through the setup again." Yan Xu was meticulous with every major sequence. In this one, the cab driver is suddenly strangled, the car swerves wildly down the street, crashes through boxes by the roadside, hits guardrails and signposts, and finally plunges into a two-meter-deep construction pit. The scene wasn’t huge, but doing it in a single shot was challenging.

After Jiu set down the walkie-talkie, a young man with a buzz cut quickly jogged over from the cab.

"Director, you wanted me?" His Cantonese had a hint of Mandarin.

He looked familiar. Watching the stuntman before him, Yan Xu thought as much.

"You’re not from Hong Kong?" Yan Xu asked, noting the youth couldn't be more than eighteen, and although he seemed familiar, he couldn't place him.

"I’m from Taiwan," the stuntman replied, a touch shy.

"What’s your name?"

"My name is Ni Xing. You can call me Xing," he said with a slight smile, his square face exuding a hint of mischief.

That smile jogged Yan Xu’s memory—he’d seen him before. Wasn’t he the main villain Chang Wei from Stephen Chow’s "The Mad Magistrate"? His most famous roles would later be the Oracle’s Protector in "The Matrix" and the Jade General in "The Forbidden Kingdom." That mischievous grin was hard to forget. Throughout his career, he’d rarely played a hero, but Yan Xu recalled that his real surname wasn’t Ni.

"Ni Xing isn’t your real name, is it?" Yan Xu asked.

"You’re sharp, director. Ni Xing is my stage name. My real name is Zou Zhaolong."

Hearing that, Yan Xu was certain. By now, one future star after another had crossed his path; he was almost immune to surprise. Entering this business, such encounters would only become more frequent—nothing that could truly astonish him anymore.

Still, even if not shocked, he was pleased to meet promising stars yet to make their mark. His talent agency was already being set up, and with the resourceful Jiu overseeing things, everything was moving swiftly. Vivian Chow would not be allowed to slip away, and Wu Mengda’s TVB contract was about to expire—he was determined to secure him.

As for little-known actors like Ni Xing, he had to keep them close. Even if they never became household names, their skills in martial arts and stunt work were valuable. A company couldn’t consist only of superstars; it needed a variety of talents.

There were always many supporting roles in films. If he wanted to keep making movies, he had to start building his own team early.