Chapter Seventy: So You’re Just a Broken Record?

The Rongcheng Sports Stadium was built in 1962 and has over fifty years of history. Since the construction of the new sports arena, this place had been abandoned for quite some time, with most of its facilities no longer usable.

Nevertheless, for the needs of filming, the crew had done some simple repairs in advance, partially restoring the look of a 1970s stadium.

Behind the stadium, the crew especially cleared out a few dormitory rooms. One reason was that scenes depicting Qiao Hong’s training and daily life would be filmed here later; another was for the convenience of actors changing costumes and applying makeup.

Due to promotional needs for the film’s launch, An Xiaoxiao was to shoot the first scene, so the wardrobe and props teams focused all their efforts on this young actress.

It was An Xiaoxiao’s first time acting in a film, and everything seemed novel to her.

Looking at the shabby plaid jacket she wore, with its outdated, ornamental lapels, An Xiaoxiao couldn’t help scratching her head. “Where did our crew dig up these props and costumes? The edges of the clothes are frayed—it can’t be newly made, right?”

The wardrobe master beside her chuckled and pointed at Li Shixin, who was standing nearby. “Teacher Li picked them up at the junkyard. Except for the innermost layer, which we specially made in the old style, your hairclip, these shoes, and this bag are all from the junkyard. Just treat it as if you’re wearing unearthed relics. Some of these items might even be older than your mother.”

Pfft!

An Xiaoxiao, who was drinking water, instantly shot two streams from her nose.

The junkyard... picked up... older than my mom...

That’s just too hardcore!

The young makeup artist smiled as she wiped the water from An Xiaoxiao’s face, dabbed on some powder, and, after a careful examination, nodded with satisfaction.

Today was the first day of shooting, and it was An Xiaoxiao’s first time in full costume and makeup—a look that would be photographed for future publicity, so every department was putting in extra care.

“Teacher Li, we’re done here. Would you check if this look works?” Makeup artist Xiao Wang called out to Li Shixin after tidying up An Xiaoxiao.

Li Shixin, holding a thermos, looked at An Xiaoxiao, who seemed almost like a different person, and nodded.

It had to be said—Jiao Chendong really had an eye for casting.

Most students from the Northern Dance Academy are trained from affiliated middle schools, and the admission requirements are extremely strict: bone age tests to predict height, leg shape, body proportions—everything must pass muster.

An Xiaoxiao’s physique needed no comment—long legs, slender waist, harmonious proportions, a clear, spirited face that wasn’t ordinary. She was the type one would remember at a glance, whose beauty deepened with each look.

Her intelligence had brought her many physical advantages.

Her slight thinness, paired with those vintage costumes and props, vividly conveyed the aura of Qiao Hong, a girl who had grown up with less than ideal living conditions.

However, in the details, she still seemed a bit too delicate.

After examining An Xiaoxiao, who looked as if she’d stepped straight out of a photo from the seventies or eighties, and mentally reviewing both the novel and the script, Li Shixin asked the makeup artist for the spray bottle.

Without a word, he poured out the clean water, unscrewed his own thermos, and poured in some orange peel-infused water. Then, without hesitation, he sprayed a fine mist over An Xiaoxiao’s face, hair, neck, and arms.

“Sir, what are you doing?” the makeup artist asked in confusion.

Li Shixin laughed. “The girl’s skin is too good—too fair.”

“A bit of orange-yellow will make her look slightly malnourished, which suits the character better.”

Sure enough, after a thin layer of orange peel water evaporated, the exposed skin on An Xiaoxiao’s body took on a faintly sallow hue.

Watching her image shift instantly from a budding starlet of the seventies to a wildflower of the same era, everyone in the crew couldn’t help but click their tongues in admiration.

Ding!

He received an additional 1,136 points of [Admiration].

After collecting this small wave of admiration points, Li Shixin rummaged through the prop master’s treasure chest and took out a strand of red yarn, then pulled up a stool and sat down opposite the now despondent An Xiaoxiao.

Taking An Xiaoxiao’s hand, he wrapped the red yarn around her wrist.

“Teacher Li, what’s this for?” An Xiaoxiao asked, puzzled.

Li Shixin smiled. “In the original novel, before Qiao Hong joined the gymnastics team, she was isolated both at school and in her neighborhood. Many kids wouldn’t play with her. This string on her wrist represents her inner yearning for friendship and recognition.”

An Xiaoxiao was taken aback. Suddenly, she felt that while this old man might be a bit annoying, he was absolutely serious about acting!

She’d studied the novel and script these last few days too, but never thought of such a detail!

If a rookie like her was surprised, the props team was even more astonished.

How does a screen character come to life? Through the actor’s performance and every supporting detail!

“A master! He’s a master!”

“Teacher Li, I’ve learned something today. Working with you is a real education!”

Ding!

He received an additional 2,212 points of [Respect].

Faced with this group of eager young fans, Li Shixin shook his head helplessly. “You probably don’t like hearing me say this, but when I was young in the theater troupe, even the curtain pullers had to read the script thoroughly, master the characters’ emotions and the plot beats, and drop the curtain at the most fitting moment. If you want to do well in this profession, put down your phones when you can. Study the script more and delve into the characters—you’ll find the work much more rewarding, won’t you?”

The group of young people listened to Li Shixin’s advice, smiling awkwardly and agreeing.

After another small wave of admiration points, Li Shixin patted An Xiaoxiao’s shoulder. “Xiaoxiao, Qiao Hong’s emotional journey has its ups and downs. When you’re in front of the camera, remember to show how her low self-esteem transforms into a powerful yearning to join the gymnastics team, and then turn that yearning into outward stubbornness. Do you understand?”

An Xiaoxiao nodded vigorously. “I understand! Thank you, Teacher Li!”

“Good girl.” Li Shixin patted her shoulder again. “Go on, then.”

“Teacher, I hadn’t thought so much before, but since you said all this, I realize there’s so much depth to acting. I...”

“I... I’m a little scared.”

“It’s okay, Xiaoxiao. Everyone feels like this the first time. But once you experience it, you’ll come to love it.”

“Really, teacher?”

“Silly child, why would I lie to you?”

“Um... Teacher, I...”

“If you dawdle any longer it’ll be dark! Get going!”

“Aaah!”

Watching An Xiaoxiao dash off toward the set in a panic, Li Shixin shook his head.

This crop of newcomers... their quality just isn’t there.

“Sir, let’s get ready here as well. Sit tight, I’ll do your makeup.” The makeup artist’s reminder brought Li Shixin back. He nodded and sat regally before the dressing table.

...

At the stadium set.

Wang Hai, stooping low, followed alongside Qiao Hong in her wheelchair, explaining various features of the set. Nearby, entertainment reporters clicked away with their cameras.

“Teacher Qiao, how do you find the set? To capture the feel of the era, we brought in veteran consultants for the decor and spent a fortune on props!”

When the original author visits the set, their status is equal to or even above that of the screenwriter. Wang Hai, eager to please, kept addressing Qiao Hong as “Teacher” with every sentence.

Qiao Hong was born in 1963, making her fifty-six this year. A former gymnast, though now aged and slightly out of shape, her back remained upright and proud.

Seated in her wheelchair, Qiao Hong surveyed the stage with a smile, clearly satisfied. Especially when she saw some of the slogans on the stadium walls, she even lifted her hand from the blanket on her knees and pointed them out to the reporters with a smile. “These are quite good—look at these slogans.”

“In the seventies, to help people recover from the gloom more quickly, the country promoted the development of sports. The slogan ‘Develop sports and strengthen the people’s physique,’ which the Chairman proposed in 1952, could be seen on stadium and school playground walls everywhere.”

“That time was interesting. The call was made, but our sports infrastructure just wasn’t there!”

“So what to do? If a workplace didn’t have sports equipment, everyone would think, ‘What events can we do without gear?’ In the end, someone suggested tug-of-war—a rope was all you needed. Some communities didn’t even have a rope, so they’d use a carrying pole, three people per side, and still make a competition of it.”

“Now, if you look at our country’s strongest sports, they’re mostly those that don’t rely much on infrastructure. Why are we so good at table tennis? Because ping-pong tables are cheap! Track and field needs a proper track, right? Football and basketball need courts, right?”

As Qiao Hong reminisced, the executives from Tianmeng Company and the reporters all nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, it’s a pity we didn’t experience those times. But we’re fortunate that even in those days of scarce facilities, there were athletes like Teacher Qiao, who trained hard under tough conditions and brought glory to the nation!”

Qiao Hong smiled and waved off the compliments. “By the late seventies, after the reforms, life got much better. It wasn’t that tough anymore. The true admiration should go to the earlier generation of athletes—they had it hard, but they truly put in the work!”

“If you look at the sports we’re strong in now, they’re still mostly those not dependent on infrastructure. Why are we so good at table tennis? Because it’s cheap! Track and field needs a track, football and basketball need courts...”

???

Those accompanying her on the tour were dumbfounded.

“Ahem,” Wang Hai coughed lightly. “Teacher Qiao, you’ve just said that part.”

“Ah!” Qiao Hong paused, then waved her hand. “Where was I? Oh, right! This slogan was from the Chairman in 1952, and in the seventies, stadiums and school playgrounds everywhere had it...”

??!!

Watching Qiao Hong repeat the same words she’d just said a minute earlier, one of the reporters slowly lowered his camera.

Was this old lady... a human tape recorder?