Chapter Five: Every Role Is Fought For!

Under the admiring gaze of the extras and prop masters, and seeing that the system’s applause points had increased enough to let him live another day, Li Shixin was genuinely pleased. It was only now, finally, that he felt somewhat satisfied with his role as an old man. Though his physical abilities were lacking, the wealth of experience accumulated over decades was priceless—a true treasure, this old man!

Noticing several prop masters holding the jade ruyi uncertainly, Li Shixin chuckled and waved his hand. “It’s fine. Just don’t give too clear a shot that experts will spot the flaws. You should use this prop! It’s so well-made; it’d be a shame not to.”

“What’s all the fuss about?” At that moment, assistant director Guan Lan and the head extra Zhang Shuo walked over. The stage manager called out for the prop crew to get to work, and Guan Lan had Zhang Shuo gather the extras together for a briefing.

“Let me tell you about today’s scene. Listen up; I won’t repeat myself,” she said. “This scene is set when the Eight-Nation Alliance reaches the outskirts of the capital. The Empress Dowager and the Emperor have fled, the Qing troops guarding the city have scattered, and the streets and alleys of the capital are thrown into chaos. You extras will soon change into Qing soldier costumes and run from the east side of the street to the west. If you encounter civilians blocking your way, just shove them aside. The main thing is to show panic, disorder, urgency! Got it?”

“Understood!” The scene was simple enough, and the dozens of extras nodded in unison.

“Let’s be clear: this shot is a twenty-second panoramic long take—a big scene. Over two hundred extras at once. Put your hearts into it and let’s aim to get it in one take. Understood?”

“Yes, Director!” Guan Lan saw the extras were spirited, nodded, and moved on.

Li Shixin glanced at Zhang Shuo. Playing a Qing soldier… His legs wouldn’t hold; he couldn’t run.

“So, young man, what’s my assignment?” he asked.

“Oh, you.” Zhang Shuo shot him a teasing look. “I went out of my way to get you a good role. You’ll change into a beggar’s outfit, take a broken bowl, and kneel by the roadside.”

Wait a minute. Li Shixin frowned. “Wasn’t I promised lines?”

“Lines, sure!” Zhang Shuo grinned. “Old beggar, right? Just shout a few ‘Please, sir, spare some change!’ and you’re good.”

Seeing Zhang Shuo’s expression, as if to say, “Old man, let’s see who’s boss here,” Li Shixin’s mottled face darkened. The young man was far too inexperienced.

Playing tricks on your elder? Fine. We’ll see who has the last laugh.

…

That morning’s scene was mostly to establish the story’s background—the big set piece and long take aimed to evoke a sense of era. For the actors, individual requirements were not particularly high. Those extras playing Qing soldiers simply changed costumes, added fake queues and official hats, and were ready.

These were the main focus of the shot; other extras were even easier to handle. None had more than two seconds of screen time, just basic costumes and styling. Most of the extras were veterans of palace dramas—men had shaved heads and fake queues to look eighty percent Qing, while the women got simple hairstyles from the makeup artists.

The crew was fairly rigorous, so not all extras looked exactly alike.

The makeup artist for Li Shixin was a young woman. The costume and props departments were connected, and she’d clearly overheard Li Shixin “lecturing” the prop masters earlier.

Li Shixin’s makeup was easy. He already had little hair; a rough fake queue was glued to his cropped scalp, and some black ash smeared on his face. While attaching the queue, the young woman sized him up.

“Girl, is there something on my face?” Li Shixin asked, uncomfortable under her gaze.

“No,” she replied, her cheerful smile revealing dimples and little tiger teeth. She looked quite pretty. “It’s just that you’re about the same age as my grandpa, and it’s rare to see someone your age come to act as an extra. Usually, anyone your age on set, we’d call ‘Teacher.’ But you’ve never acted, a total newcomer… I heard you got today’s gig by luck, which is interesting.”

Li Shixin laughed. “If I weren’t truly in difficulty, who would willingly endure all this at my age?”

His face seemed to tell a thousand stories, and the young woman paused. “Grandpa, what do you mean? Do you have some hardship?”

“It’s a long story, girl. If you do a good job with my makeup, I’ll tell you about it.”

“Deal! I’ll be careful with your makeup, and you tell me. Consider it a break; you can entertain me.”

“When I was young, I loved acting in stage plays. But fate was unkind; in those years, you weren’t allowed to act freely. In ’72, my wife had just given birth, and I was framed. Your grandma couldn’t take the blow and passed away then. Later, I brought up the child alone, saw him marry and have kids. Now, times are good, but in the blink of an eye, a lifetime’s gone by. The other day, I was hospitalized—doctor said I might not have much time left. At this point, looking back, I feel I’ve lived for nothing. If I don’t chase my dream now, I’ll carry regret into the grave.”

Li Shixin had meant to toss out a story to get the girl to do his makeup well. But as he spoke, the memories affected him, making him feel real sorrow.

Seeing the sadness in his clouded eyes, the young woman couldn’t hold back her tears. She hugged Li Shixin’s arm from behind and patted his shoulder firmly. “Grandpa, you’re amazing. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look your best today. Whatever happens, I’ll help fulfill your dream.”

Nearby, a group of extras squatted as makeup artists fussed over them, their heads treated like footballs. Watching Li Shixin and the young woman suddenly hugging mid-makeup, they were stunned.

This grandpa… His heart’s still young!

Tsk, shameless old man, holding onto the girl and not letting go!

Huh, pfft!

Ding.

Li Shixin, still hugging the makeup girl, was surprised to receive over 800 points of applause.

“What’s going on here?”

…

Soon, the extras all took their places. The stage manager hurriedly ran through positions with them before the camera rolled.

Li Shixin’s makeup was the slowest; by the time he arrived, most extras had already rehearsed. Seeing the sweaty extras and then himself, Li Shixin felt a surge of superiority.

A different style! The other extras had faces smeared with random ash, and their costumes were dirtied by rolling on the ground. But Li Shixin? On his face, the makeup girl used essential oil and dust, then misted sweat beads with a little spray bottle. Dirty, yes, but his features remained intact. The fake queue was restyled, its white ends coiled at his neck, matched with a robe newly patched and aged by the girl, and hands painted with special pigment to look cracked.

Hey—this beggar was one with a story!

Look at the other extras, guns and knives slung, but clearly just pale background characters.

That’s the difference!

Surveying the scene, Li Shixin sidled over to the stage manager. “Young man, what should I do?”

“What are you playing?”

“Beggar.”

“How are you so slow? Eat s—” The manager was annoyed, but seeing Li Shixin was elderly, he swallowed his curse. Looking at the set, he scratched his head. “Grandpa, you don’t need to follow them. Just take your prop, find a spot to kneel, and stay put when cameras roll. Your actions, do as you see fit. The camera will just sweep past you.”

Li Shixin looked around and understood. So his role had considerable freedom.

Watching the extras run back and forth, and noting the camera’s position, he got a sense of things. He found a spot the camera would definitely pass and linger briefly, then slowly sat down, eyes half-closed, back straight.

As an old man with ideals and ambition, kneeling was out of the question.

Not because of some notion of gold beneath the knees of elders, but simply because his old cold legs couldn’t bend…

But that didn’t matter.

As an extra, what’s most important?

Is it acting skill?

No.

It’s knowing how to steal the scene…