"Little Chen, you guys start on horseback with the swords, just follow the choreography we just practiced. Fight, fight, fight... and when we reach this point, Jet Li, you fall off the horse, and you, Chen Ming, get off yours as well, then we'll continue with the wires. The horses in the background will be added with CGI beneath your feet. Got it?"
Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, January arrived, and these were the final two scenes for Chen Ming. Sun Jiankui was currently walking him through the blocking.
This scene would have tornado effects added in post-production. The effects were fake, but the wind and sand on the desert were real; they were strong enough to make it impossible to keep one's eyes open.
Chen Ming covered his face with a scarf, watching Sun Jiankui’s blocking intently and nodding from time to time.
Sun Jiankui, looking somewhat worried, whispered, "Take it easy for now..."
"Don't worry, Director Sun. Jet Li and I have practiced the choreography plenty of times in private."
Sun Jiankui’s mouth twitched. *You’ve certainly practiced plenty,* he thought. *The man barely wants to talk to you anymore.*
"Alright, this scene is mostly for the CGI. Once we change locations for the final scene, you guys can really go at it."
Chen Ming gave an "OK" hand gesture. He really didn't want to speak more than he had to; he’d already swallowed a mouthful of sand just now.
Clad in white Confucian robes, he mounted his horse. On the other side, Jet Li mounted his, and the two exchanged nods.
"Ready, 3, 2, 1, action!"
Following the director’s voice over the walkie-talkie, the two began the horse-mounted fight sequence. It wasn't a difficult scene to film—just some sword work on horseback followed by more sword work while suspended by wires. The real climax was still to come.
Chen Ming had been on wires a lot for this movie. Back when he was an extra in his past life, he had been on wires too, but he was a nobody back then. No one provided him with protection, and when the safety ropes were pulled tight, they would tear the skin right off his lower back.
It was different now; the prop team was constantly adding protective padding and checking the tension for him.
"Good! That’s a wrap!"
They shot three takes. Tsui Hark looked at the monitor, satisfied, and called cut. Neither Chen Ming nor Jet Li went to check the playback. Since it was an action scene, both were supremely confident in their movements, and since the effects hadn't been added yet, there wasn't much to see anyway.
After moving to the next location, the crew began filming the final scene.
As they were preparing, the wind picked up, blowing Chen Ming’s hat away.
"Crap!"
Chen Ming opened his mouth, and immediately, a mouthful of sand poured in. He hurriedly clamped his mouth shut, his long-haired wig flowing in the wind as he scrambled to chase after his hat.
"Don't move!"
Suddenly, Tsui Hark’s voice came from nearby.
Chen Ming froze instinctively. On set, the director's word was the highest law. He turned back, puzzled, to look at Tsui Hark, who was also fully geared up, wrapped up like a bandit and squinting at him.
"Come here."
Chen Ming didn't understand, worrying that something was wrong with his costume or makeup, so he hurried over.
Standing before Tsui Hark, the director’s intense, unblinking stare made him feel uneasy.
*No way, brother. We’re at this stage of production, you aren’t planning to proposition me, are you? I’ve never heard that you were into this! If he says he wants to proposition me, should I poke his eyes out or go for his heart?*
Chen Ming stood there, his mind racing with wild thoughts, when he suddenly heard Tsui Hark say to the person next to him, "Does he look like it?"
*Not you too, brother. Look like what? Like the actors you’ve propositioned? What kind of taste do you have?*
The person next to him nodded and said, "Then should we give him the makeup from Brigitte Lin’s version of *Swordsman II*?"
"Yes, yes! Later, we can have his outer Confucian robe torn—either by internal energy or something else—have it shredded to reveal the clothes underneath. It needs to be more feminine, and the makeup needs to be more exotic and seductive! None of that pale-faced stuff from before!"
He paused for a moment and added firmly, "I want to film the most beautiful eunuch ever!"
"No problem, Teacher Chen has great features."
The makeup artist and stylist turned and walked away.
Chen Ming was dumbfounded. *Are you listening to yourself? Is this not a martial arts film? What is this about filming the most beautiful eunuch?*
He followed the makeup crew to the side in a daze and was pressed into a chair before the vanity mirror to be worked on. Just as he had finished removing his previous makeup, Zhou Xun, Gwei Lun-mei, and Fan Xiaoxuan walked in—yes, along with Brother Chun.
They began chattering away, watching as Chen Ming had his makeup applied.
"Tsk, what if he ends up looking better than us?" Gwei Lun-mei teased.
Chen Ming felt his temples throbbing, but the makeup artist was meticulously working on his face, so he didn't dare move.
"He has such a good base. Hey, Teacher Sun, try giving him Zhang Xinyu’s concubine-style makeup. It’ll definitely work."
"I think that works too, hahahaha."
Chen Ming couldn't take it anymore. Looking at Zhou Xun in the mirror, he said, "Sister Xun, you look a little... small today."
Zhou Xun was stunned. Although she was supremely confident in her looks, she couldn't say much for her makeup in this film. Hearing Chen Ming compliment her, she felt a flicker of delight.
"Really?"
Her unique, husky voice revealed a rare hint of coyness.
"Yeah, you look a little small today."
Chen Ming swept her with an enigmatic expression before closing his eyes.
The women looked at each other, confused. Instinctively, they began to focus on Zhou Xun’s figure.
"..."
Come to think of it, none of the actresses looked particularly large.
"Chen Ming! You bastard!"
A roar erupted from the dressing room. Among those inside, only Brother Chun remained calm. *Small? What’s small? Is small bad?*
Jokes aside, once Chen Ming finally walked out of the dressing room, none of the women spoke a word.
He was gorgeous!
They all instinctively stepped away from him, none wanting to stand by his side.
The change was primarily in the eye makeup: red and purple tones blended from the socket to the brow bone, with silver highlights at the corners of the eyes, curving upward like blood frozen on ice—bizarre and otherworldly.
The upper and lower lash lines were defined with extremely fine strokes, the corners of his eyes sharp like blades, reminiscent of the cold glint of a serpent’s tongue. Coupled with Chen Ming’s detached, feminine gaze, Tsui Hark couldn't help but shiver.
Even knowing it was dangerous, one couldn't help but want to explore.
A breeze blew, and a few stray locks of Chen Ming’s long, black hair fell across his forehead. He brushed them aside casually, a moment that appeared stunning in Tsui Hark’s eyes.
Tsui Hark probably didn't know that in later generations, there would be a term for this feeling.
Supreme atmosphere.
Or perhaps, brokenness.
"Ahem."
Chen Ming felt Tsui Hark’s gaze going weird again. He intended to pull Brother Chun over to cool him down, but before he could speak, Tsui Hark clapped his hands and declared, "That's it!"
Jet Li stood to the side, dumbfounded. *Who is the lead, me or him? It wasn't this much work to do my makeup! This kid must have bought two strings of Dzi beads—no, it must be the Dzi beads I gave him working their magic!*
The women nearby looked at Tsui Hark’s satisfied expression and couldn't help but pout. "Why is a man so good-looking?"
"Exactly, and he said we were small. Isn't he small?"
"He’s actually not that small!"
In an instant, the women’s gazes locked onto Zhang Xinyu.
*You're acting suspicious!*