Chen Qi had been completely reluctant when rehearsing the song, but once he actually took the stage, he didn't care at all. What kind of scene had he not seen before?
And so, two tall, goofy guys standing at 178 centimeters planted themselves right in the center. The older one was exceptionally handsome with fair, delicate skin, while the younger was strikingly handsome, dashing and untamed.
What a fine pair of creamy young men!
The music played and the prelude started. Chen Qi suddenly shot his arm out with a snap, his eyes brimming with deep emotion, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. Tipping up on his toes and tilting his chin high, he struck a dramatic pose worthy of Pavarotti himself.
"Fragrant wine flows and songs take flight, dear friend, please drink a cup tonight!"
Holy hell!
Tang Guoqiang's eyes widened. *You lunatic! Weren't you supposed to be unwilling?*
"Hahahaha!"
The audience was already doubling over with laughter. It felt just like recess calisthenics in primary school—everyone was just going through the motions, when suddenly one kid started performing them with utter seriousness. No one really knew why, but they simply couldn't help laughing.
"Come, come, come, come... In October, spring thunder resounds, hundreds of millions raise their golden cups..."
Tang Guoqiang had always considered himself fairly extroverted, but upon meeting Chen Qi, he realized he belonged to the introverted camp. The rascal was shouting at the top of his lungs, acting out every line with exaggerated facial expressions, his eyebrows dancing with excitement, his heels barely touching the floor.
"Bravo!"
"Xiao Chen is amazing! Not a single note on pitch!"
"You'd better stick to telling stories!"
When the song ended, the crowd jeered and cheered. Without batting an eye or breaking a sweat, Chen Qi cupped his hands in salute. "Too kind! Much obliged!"
Returning to his seat, he calmly picked up a potato and began eating. Nothing he couldn't handle!
...
The gala started at five and wrapped up at seven, not lasting overly long.
Outside, dusk had not yet fully settled, far too early for bed, so everyone went off to find their own amusements. With today and tomorrow off, the two-day holiday put everyone in a leisurely mood.
Chen Qi stayed in his room for a while, but finding it terribly boring, he headed out for a stroll.
Following Hexi Road northeast, he reached the cinema. Beside it lay a small grove with a large boulder, where he liked to sit. He had nothing in particular to do, just spacing out and gazing at the grass and trees.
The crew had arrived in August and would be able to head back in mid-October.
Then they would film interior scenes at the Beijing Film Studio for another month, making it about three and a half months in total. Movies in this era typically ran around ninety minutes; no one dared waste film stock, so discarded takes were remarkably few. The motto was to make the most of every resource and save wherever possible.
It would wrap by the end of the year, followed by post-production; if all went smoothly, it could hit theaters next year.
"*Romance on Mount Lu*, sigh..."
Chen Qi let out a sudden chuckle. The true test lay ahead. In the end, this was an outrageous, rebellious film that was bound to face an overwhelming barrage of condemnation.
He was more than happy to do battle with those folks—that was where the real fun lay.
*Rustle, rustle.*
*Rustle, rustle.*
As he sat on the rock deep in thought, footsteps suddenly approached. A figure emerged from behind the dense foliage, revealing a pair of low-heeled, soft-soled leather shoes with brown cut-out patterns, encasing two small feet in white socks.
"Xiao Chen??"
Only after passing a tree did Gong Xue spot him, giving a start. "What are you doing here?"
"Enjoying the cool air. Out for another walk? Where's Zhang Jinling?"
"She went to the kitchen staff to scrounge for food. I didn't have much appetite, so I came out for a walk."
After exchanging those lines, she didn't know what else to say. But she wasn't worried, because he was bound to find a topic. Sure enough, Chen Qi remarked, "Your singing was quite nice earlier. Did you rehearse in secret?"
"I practiced for two days... Well, you didn't sing too badly either."
Gong Xue pursed her lips, holding back a smile at the memory of his performance.
"I'm the type of performer who thrives on improvisation. Today was at most seventy percent. Just wait until I'm at a hundred, and I'll belt out another one for you all."
"Then everyone will..."
"Ahem!"
Just as she was about to speak, a cough sounded nearby. A crew member strolled past leisurely, smiling. "Chatting here, are we?"
"Everyone seems quite free today—I've run into quite a few people. Are you out for a stroll too?" Chen Qi greeted him with an unruffled expression.
"Yeah, just wandering around." With hands clasped behind his back, the man sauntered off.
"I... I need to head that way, I'll be going now..."
Gong Xue suddenly grew a little flustered and turned to leave. Yet somehow she stopped, her delicate brows knitting slightly in inner conflict. There was a question she had been holding back, and opportunities like this were rare.
After a moment of hesitation, she turned back around and asked softly, "May I ask you something?"
"Of course!"
"When I was filming the other day—the scene where I ran while crying—do you think there was a problem with my performance?"
"Not at all, it was great!"
"Really not?"
"Truer than pearls. Didn't everyone praise you?"
"..."
Gong Xue lowered her head slightly. "I've never studied acting and have very little experience; it's all thanks to your help and everyone else's. I may not be clever, but I want to do my absolute best to act well in this film. I hope you can tell me where I'm still falling short..."
*Taking it this seriously?*
Chen Qi was rather surprised. Delicate and pretty as she looked, she was quite stubborn at heart.
"Alright, I'll explain briefly... Shall we walk over that way?"
"Over there?"
"How can we talk with people constantly coming and going here?"
Chen Qi dusted off his seat as he stood, taking the lead toward a fork in the path. It was more secluded there, unlike Hexi Road which had too many people.
"..."
Gong Xue looked at him, bit her lip, and quietly followed.
She wore a white long-sleeved shirt and gray trousers, her pretty face completely devoid of makeup, looking starkly different from her character in the film. Her hands were clasped in front of her, keeping a distance of two paces from Chen Qi.
She had walked this small path before, but today it felt unusually quiet.
After walking for a stretch, Chen Qi spoke up: "That scene of yours really wasn't quite there."
"Why?"
"Did you actually cry at the time?"
"Yes!"
"Was it a cry born of genuine emotion, or were you forcing tears out?"
"I built up the emotion beforehand."
"Judging by the result, the emotion you built up wasn't great either. As far as acting systems go, there are generally three main approaches: experiential, method, and presentational..."
Experiential acting emphasized truly listening, truly seeing, and truly feeling; aside from criminal acts or things genuinely impossible to do, one had to experience everything firsthand.
Method acting emphasized emotional substitution. For instance, when wailing over the death of a father, an actor's father could not actually die, so they might recall other sorrowful memories to evoke the same grief.
Presentational acting turned oneself into a storehouse of techniques—for example, practicing a sorrowful expression repeatedly in front of a mirror until it became muscle memory, ready to be retrieved whenever a similar scene was required.
As long as the resulting effect was good, the school of thought didn't matter.
In later generations, this theory would become common knowledge, but to Gong Xue, who had never formally studied acting, it sounded entirely fresh and novel.
"When Zhou Yun breaks up with Geng Hua, she is heartbroken. You don't have similar experience, so you need to channel your own emotions..."
"How do I channel them?" Gong Xue asked eagerly.
Chen Qi stopped in his tracks, gazing out from the roadside at the autumn dusk as a sliver of the setting sun dipped into the mountains. Suddenly, he remarked, "I heard about your parents?"
"You!"
She froze instantly, a flash of anger surfacing on her gentle face for the first time. "What are you trying to say?"
"Just chatting. You wanted me to be open and honest, and I was hoping for the same from you."
"Then why don't you talk about yourself?"
"There's no story in my family. Both my parents work at the Xinhua Bookstore."
Gong Xue felt even more provoked. Not knowing how to scold anyone, she could only bite her lip in silence.
"You were the one who asked me to explain. Now that I'm talking with you, you're upset. In that case, let's head back." Chen Qi shrugged and turned around to walk back.
Gong Xue followed without a word.
In October, autumn had set in, and the mountain night turned chilly. Just when Chen Qi thought she wouldn't speak, she suddenly broke the silence.
"My father was a photographer at the Shanghai Photo Studio, often taking pictures of prominent public figures..."
"Then your life growing up must have been quite comfortable."
"Hardly comfortable. Their wages were just slightly higher, and they had more acquaintances..." Gong Xue smiled faintly, letting out a sigh. "Do you know? Back then, if you had relatives overseas who remitted foreign currency, people in the country would receive overseas remittance certificates, which let them buy all kinds of wonderful goods at the Overseas Chinese Store. When I was little, I envied those kids so much, but my family simply had none."
"Then life must have been tough for you."
She shook her head gently. "It was nothing, really. I was ordered around to do chores every day, so as soon as I graduated, I volunteered to go down to the countryside."
"So you went to Yangqiao Commune?"
"Yes. Back then, I farmed alongside the villagers. Even when exhausted, I didn't dare complain, because the villagers worked even harder. Fortunately, I knew a bit of dancing, so I joined a propaganda troupe to perform for them in our spare time. Once, while dancing, I twisted my right foot. It hurt terribly—I felt it was fractured, but the local doctor said it wasn't, and the commune made me keep working. I endured it and endured it until the pain was unbearable, and only then did the commune let me go back to Shanghai for treatment. When I had it checked back home, sure enough, it was a fracture. The doctor said if I had waited any longer, my entire foot would have been ruined."
She had always given people the impression of being quiet and reserved, but now that the floodgates were open, it was as if she were finally letting it all out. She continued, "Still, I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. While I was hospitalized in Shanghai, the army came to recruit art troupe soldiers. The officer sent down happened to know my father, so he selected me. That was in '73. When I first joined the army, we had winter field training exercises. The leadership took good care of us in the art troupe, not making us carry backpacks so we could march empty-handed. But we had to walk fifty to sixty li a day. As I walked, I began falling behind. I was small and thin back then, just trailing along on my own. Later, when we reached a village campsite, I took off my shoe—there was a huge blister on my foot, as big as a small egg. I still don't know how I endured it."
Gong Xue looked at him and said, "I'm not complaining about having had a hard time. I've never dared say my life was bitter—far too many people suffered worse than I did. I've already been treated with great care. I just..."
"Just missed your mom and dad?"
"Yes!"
Gong Xue nodded vigorously. When she raised her eyes again, tears were already streaming down her face like pear blossoms in the rain.
She was the quintessential maiden of Jiangnan—features delicate and refined, demeanor graceful and elegant. Her eyes in particular seemed to ripple with shimmering light, heightening her tender, gentle vulnerability; she truly epitomized the phrase "a beauty to evoke pity in any onlooker."
"..."
Looking at her face, Chen Qi couldn't help sighing softly.
In the original timeline, she should have filmed a movie with Shanghai Film Studio this year, followed by several more collaborations, which naturally led to her transfer to Shanghai Film Studio. In 1984, she won both the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers awards for Best Actress with *Under the Bridge*, becoming one of the most famous actresses of her time.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost control like that!"
Gong Xue realized she had actually started crying and hurriedly wiped away her tears, looking both shy and embarrassed. Not being accustomed to exposing her inner world, she stammered, "I think I talked too much and made things awkward for you."
"Not at all. You're already incredible!" Chen Qi said sincerely. "Anyone else might have given up on themselves long ago, or even ended their own life. Look at you—still so positive and driven, and now starring in a film. You are exceptional; you just need to be more confident, just like your character."
"Then why did you still criticize me?"
"Those are two different things. A poor performance is a poor performance." Chen Qi smiled and asked, "When you cried just now, did it cut deep?"
"Huh?"
"I'm asking if you remember what you were feeling when you cried."
"I remember!"
"Good. Remember that feeling—you'll need it."
Chapter 49