Chapter 52: Nazha: I'm Not Stupid

Everyone fell silent.

With Zhang Yang’s swift and unexpected agreement, they were momentarily caught off guard.

It was Liu Yifei who broke the awkward atmosphere with a soft chuckle, her eyes twinkling with teasing. “A-Yang, that split-second switch of yours would make you perfect for one of Star Lord’s movies.”

Her words were meant to help ease the tension in the room, as well as to solidify Zhang Yang’s chance at an audition. Film roles are always more prestigious than television parts, and while movie actors often move to TV with ease, it’s a rugged road for TV actors to break into film—especially considering the industry’s strict standards.

Seeing as Zhang Yang had finally encountered such an opportunity, particularly in a film by the legendary Zhou Xingchi, Liu Yifei was determined to do everything in her power to help.

“He certainly knows how to keep things interesting,” Deng Zhao chimed in, joining the teasing banter.

Sensing Zhang Yang’s seriousness, Zheng Zhongji, the producer, quickly made a promise. “I’ll call Star Lord tonight. His new film with Huateng Studios, The Western Journey: Conquering Demons, has already secretly begun production. I know he still hasn’t cast a key supporting role that requires a young actor with good looks. We can recommend you for an audition, though it’s just a chance to try out.”

Even Zheng Zhongji couldn’t guarantee that Zhang Yang would secure a role in Zhou Xingchi’s movie. Performing in a whimsical comedy requires a natural talent and sense for the genre; even Zhang Yang’s impressive acting skills might not be enough to satisfy Zhou Xingchi’s specific vision.

“I’m not greedy. Just being given a chance to audition would be enough for me.” Zhang Yang rubbed his fingers together excitedly.

This was “The Western Journey: The Demons’ Supression,” the first production directorial work from the complete Zhou Xingchi since he transitioned from the screen to behind the scenes. It was set to debut during the 2013 Spring Festival season, ultimately shattering numerous records—we mentioned its global box office turnout reached $218 million, which broke the highest box office record for Chinese language films!

Being a part of this film could provide a strong start in his film career. Everyone knew that movies made by Star Master were famous for supporting character actors. He valued the compatibility between actors and roles over external factors like reputation and connections.

As for the role in “The Four Great Detectives,” it was merely a stepping stone to get noticed. Participating in “The Western Journey: The Demons’ Supression” would be utterly pointless.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the role Star Master was currently missing should be “Kongvu-gongzi.”

Nailing this role could easily make it one of Zhang Yang’s defining career performances!

Considering all this, how could Zhang Yang remain unenthusiastic?

“Let’s settle this deal,” Chen Jia Shang spoke up, acknowledging the agreement while also acting as a guarantor.

If Zheng Zhongji failed to follow through on his promise, not only would it be a loss of face, but he’d also risk offending others.

“Don’t be too modest, Ankid,” said Zheng Zhongji with a wide grin.

As the young scion of the Hong Kong entertainment industry, how could he possibly decline such a minor opportunity like an audition? After all, most people never even got a chance like this.

“This performance will be top-notch, an emperor-level showcase,” Zhang Yang promised.

Zheng Zhongji’s envy was undoubtedly sparked by those fluid and impressive moves he’d seen during Zhang Yang’s stand-in work for Deng Zhao.

“With that kind of performance, we can utilize ‘flying cat’ even more effectively,” Gu Xianzhao added, clearly delighted. Finally, he had encountered a martial arts genius who could fully unleash his skills as a martial arts choreographer.

Zhang Yang’s agreement brought delight to everyone involved.

“Yanghai, make sure you seize this audition opportunity. Securing this role could immensely boost your acting career,” Zuo Zhaolong advised during a cast dinner later that night. He had grown close to Zhang Yang over the past few days of collaboration, likely due to their shared martial background.

More accurately, following Liu Yifei’s lead, many in the production had taken to nurturing the young Zhang Yang like a little brother.

“I understand, Big Bro Zhaolong,” Zhang Yang nodded earnestly.

Zuo Zhaolong, as Pang Long’s foremost disciple, had never lacked opportunities since his debut. He had worked alongside numerous renowned actors and martial artists, yet his career remained lukewarm at best. It wasn’t until his portrayal of Chang Wei in “Ninth-Rank Magistrate” that he finally achieved stardom.

Apart from these, there were actors playing roles like “Shiliu-jie,” “Madam Hua,” and “Landlord” who were all highly skilled. They had appeared in numerous films but didn’t become famous until they encountered Zhou Xingchi.

Zou Zhaolong was well aware of the benefits of portraying a character in one of Star Lord’s movies!

“Good luck! If you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” Zou Zhaolong said, patting Zhang Yang on the shoulder.

In the entertainment industry, many people are willing to act as mentors for talented newcomers who don’t pose a threat to their own interests and are easy to work with.

That same evening, Zheng Zhongji called Zhou Xingchi.

At that moment, Zhou Xingchi was at a hotel near Hengdian Film Studio, revising the script, feeling quite vexed.

War of the Demons was a film he was producing, directing, and writing the script for. Taking on the lead role as well would have been too much, so he’d brought in Huang Bo to play Sun Wukong and Wen Zhang to portray Tang Monk. Zhou Xingchi planned to only act in a minor, original role.

But once filming began, he realized he really had aged. He just didn’t have the energy to play even a minor part. So recently, he’d been sending out feelers, searching for another actor to fill a minor role. The requirements: young, handsome, and funny.

He’d received quite a few actor resumes, but none of them satisfied him.

Do I really need to act everything myself? Zhou Xingchi pondered, his thoughts tinged with Cantonese inflections.

Suddenly, a realization struck him: Luo Zhixiang seems pretty good, doesn’t he?

With his handsome face and the air of someone who knows how to have fun, he’s the perfect embodiment of “empty, lonely, and cold”. Plus, his personality is quite funny.

The more Zhou Xingchi considered it, the more appropriate Luo Zhixiang seemed. He pulled out his phone, ready to call and ask if the young man had time for an audition.

But before he could dial, his phone vibrated. The caller ID read “Zheng Zhongji” – a second-generation celebrity and self-proclaimed fan who had publicly declared his admiration for Zhou Xingchi multiple times.

“Hello?” Zhou Xingchi answered the call.

Zheng Zhongji started with pleasantries, then, after a suitable length of time, got to his purpose: “Xing Ye, I’m filming with Director Chen at Hengdian Movie World. There’s a young actor here with fantastic acting skills. The whole crew thinks highly of him. I heard you’re looking for people for your new project. Why not give him a chance for an audition?”

The two Hong Kong natives naturally conversed in Cantonese.

Zhou Xingchi had actually already guessed why Zheng Zhongji was calling. He thought the younger man would ask for a role in his film, not a recommendation for someone else’s audition.

Naturally, Zhou Xingchi was willing to give this a shot—what if he encountered the perfect actor? He readily agreed and confirmed that he could meet the next afternoon.

The two soon hung up after a brief conversation.

Zhou Xingchi stared at his phone, momentarily dismissing the idea of calling Luo Zhixiang. Instead, he decided to first audition the actor Zheng Zhongji had recommended.

Knowing that I’ve been unsatisfied after multiple rounds of auditions, he definitely wouldn’t just randomly suggest someone, Zhou Xingchi thought.

If I don’t like this “Zhang Yang” that Zheng Zhongji mentioned, I can always go back to Luo Zhixiang later.

Time passed to the following day.

As soon as Zhang Yang arrived on the set, he received good news from Zheng Zhongji: “Yang-zi, you’ll be auditioning at the fishing village this afternoon at 1 PM. Use this phone number when you get there.”

Puzzled, Zhang Yang carefully noted down the number and asked, “Won’t we have any role scripts?”

“Xing Ye prefers to give the lines on-the-spot, valuing spontaneous performance greatly,” Zheng Zhongji explained. After a moment’s thought, he added, “But I’ve heard that Xing Ye originally wanted to play this role himself, and only sought someone else when too busy. He requests someone young and handsome; some other auditors were even asked to portray feelings of emptiness and loneliness.”

This news was significant for any actor who would be auditioning normally.

Zhang Yang was even more delighted, nearly certain he’d secured the role of the Emptiness Young Master.

Buoyed by this good tidings, he spent the morning brimming with enthusiasm. After lunch, he rushed to the fishing village for the audition, eagerly bringing Nazha along.

“Yang-ge, if you land this role, K-sis will be blown away again,” Nazha said, genuinely happy for Zhang Yang but also feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I mean, this is Xing Ye we’re talking about.”

With Zhang Yang becoming increasingly exceptional, does she truly deserve to be his partner? the thought crossed Nazha’s mind.

At her words, Zhang Yang turned to ask, “I heard that Xing Ye once called you, wanted to sign you with his company and make you a female lead in one of his movies, right?”

“Huh?” Nazha looked puzzled. “Who told you that? I’m not stupid. Why would I pass up becoming a star overnight by rejecting such an opportunity?”

A knowing smile immediately appeared on Zhang Yang’s face. “True, there’s no such fool, but there are clever people who embellish their own reputation—very Tangren-esque, you know.”

Nazha stared back, utterly mystified.