Zhou Xun didn’t seem to mind Chen Ming’s somewhat dull expression; with a smile, he turned and walked away.
Chen Ming returned to his hotel, his mind wandering the entire way. Once seated on the sofa in his room, he began to weigh his options.
First, he ruled out makeup. While makeup skills were undoubtedly important, they were an external fix, and the crew already had professional makeup artists. Given his current situation, he needed to choose a skill that couldn't be learned overnight.
He dismissed singing for the same reason. He was an actor, not yet famous enough to be invited to major galas. And besides, if that day ever came, couldn't he just lip-sync?
He looked at the remaining two options: Horseback Riding and Martial Arts. Chen Ming recalled his character in the script. Although many scenes involved him posturing while his subordinates handled the real fighting against the protagonist, he did have one climactic fight scene. As for horseback riding, he had some prior experience, and the script didn't call for any high-difficulty equestrian stunts.
"System, does this 'Martial Arts Mastery' refer to choreographed forms or genuine fighting skills?"
Chen Ming asked this because the distinction was massive. In later generations, there was much criticism of Chinese martial arts—referencing the likes of Master Ma and his "lightning-fast triple whip." In truth, during the early days of the People’s Republic, there had been martial arts academies, but they were eventually forbidden from teaching the real stuff. True martial arts were, after all, skills for killing; they were nothing like what evolved later. Even Jet Li, who had trained since childhood and was even selected to perform for national leaders, didn't necessarily know the "real deal"—primarily because no one dared to teach it to him. This was true for most action stars of that era. In this circle, Chen Ming only knew Yu Chenghui to be a true practitioner with a genuine lineage.
*After the founding of the country, why would you spend your days learning that stuff?*
Consequently, the primary function of martial arts in later times gradually shifted toward physical fitness.
"It refers to genuine combat skills. The system will randomly reward you with a internal technique and a daily standing meditation method to build your foundation."
Upon hearing this, Chen Ming suppressed his excitement and continued to ask, "Can this Level 1 be upgraded later?"
"The host can increase the level through diligent practice. If neglected, the level will automatically decrease."
Hearing the system’s reply, Chen Ming understood the logic. It would provide the moves, but the foundation was up to him. It was like handing a child a sharp blade; even if the weapon was lethal, the child still needed the strength to wield it.
"I choose Martial Arts Mastery Level 1."
Chen Ming wasn't afraid of hard work. He hadn't given up when his life was a mess in his previous existence, so this little bit of hardship was nothing!
As he spoke, he tensed his entire body, bracing himself. He was wary of the tropes he’d read in novels where changing a protagonist's physique was accompanied by excruciating pain. Yet, as his voice faded, he felt nothing unusual.
"System, has it succeeded?"
"The 'Baguazhang' technique has been upgraded to Level 1 for the host."
*Fine, no pain, no gain—or lack thereof.*
Chen Ming was feeling upbeat and prepared to take a shower when, suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit him. He collapsed onto the bed and fell fast asleep. Young people were truly blessed; he could fall asleep instantly without any preparation.
Chen Ming had a strange dream. A stick figure was teaching him palm techniques. Whether it was the stick figure’s excellent instruction or his own remarkable talent, he grasped each of the eight palm techniques after seeing them performed just once. This included the basic footwork of Baguazhang, like the "mud-stepping" and the "hook-stepping"—he remembered them the moment the stick figure walked them through. Palm techniques, footwork, combat tactics, and breathing methods—in his dream, he mastered them all. Unlike the elegant, fluid Baguazhang Chen Ming had imagined, the moves the stick figure taught him were vicious, focused entirely on ending the fight in a single blow.
...
The next morning, Chen Ming woke up refreshed and headed out for his morning training—one of the indispensable daily routines from his previous life. After a morning run, he began his standing meditation—a new addition courtesy of the system. Only then did he practice his lines.
When he finished, he wiped his sweat with a towel and started back toward the hotel for breakfast. Passing through the backyard, he heard the sound of wind being cut by rapid movement. Curious, he circled around and saw Louis Fan also working on his morning routine. His eyes lit up; he wondered if he should ask him for a spar.
Anyone who had just learned a peerless martial art would inevitably want to test it out. It was just that Chen Ming had transmigrated to the modern age; if this were ancient times, he might have killed a few people just to liven things up.
Louis Fan had started as a child star in Hong Kong. As a boy, his father had hired masters to teach him Peking Opera stunts, acrobatics, and weapons work, and he had later attended a martial arts school.
*This guy... he should be a pretty good fighter, right? Asking him for a spar should be fine.*
Chen Ming didn't hesitate.
"Brother Fan, morning!"
The rule in the circle was to call men "Brother," women "Sister," or "Teacher" if they were younger. Chen Ming waited until Fan finished a set of punches and was taking a break before greeting him.
"Oh, Little Chen, up early for a workout?"
"Yes. Brother Fan, you must have been training since you were a kid, right? The way you move is so cool; you can tell it’s the real deal."
"Hahaha, it’s all just flashy moves, not real kung fu."
"No, no, Brother. Don’t try to fool me just because I’m young. I can tell the difference between flashy moves and the real thing. There’s a lethal edge to your style!"
Chen Ming spoke with a straight face, pouring on the flattery.
"Look at you, hahaha! Lethal edge? That’s too dramatic! Don’t go saying things like that outside; it’s embarrassing, hahaha!"
Louis Fan grinned from ear to ear, unable to hide his satisfaction. Chen Ming thought to himself that this guy was quite forthright.
"I’ve only practiced some flashy stuff myself. Would you mind giving me some pointers?"
"What pointers! Look at you, it’s just a friendly spar between brothers. Don't worry, kid, I won't hurt you! I know my own strength!" Louis Fan patted Chen Ming on the shoulder.
*This kid is alright! Not only is he handsome, but he talks well too!*
Chen Ming acknowledged him, took two steps back, and assumed his starting stance. Then, a voice rang out nearby.
"What are you two doing?"
Jet Li, Zhou Xun, and several directors, who were also on their way to breakfast, walked out. It looked like they were headed straight to the script reading session after eating. Jet Li, wearing a hat, spotted the two in the yard and called out.
"Teacher Li, I’m just sparring with Little Chen!"
"It’s guidance! Good morning, teachers!" Chen Ming quickly corrected himself. But Jet Li had noticed the stance Chen Ming was holding and grew interested. "Oh? Baguazhang? Do you have a lineage?"
Zhou Xun, standing to the side, glanced at Chen Ming and whispered, "So this is Baguazhang?"
"Yes. The kid's stance looks quite professional; he must have trained."
Without waiting for Chen Ming to reply, Tsui Hark and Jacob Cheung stopped walking as well. Since they weren't moving, the supporting actors didn't dare to leave either; they all gathered around to watch.
"Teacher Li, I don’t have much of a lineage. Just an old master back in my hometown who taught me for a few days when I was a kid," Chen Ming lied smoothly.
"Alright then, let’s see the two of you go at it."
Jet Li rested one leg on the low railing of the corridor, his hands on his knees, leaning forward with a look of genuine interest. In this day and age, action stars mostly practiced Bajiquan or Tongbeiquan because they looked good on camera! Jet Li knew Baguazhang too, but he only knew the forms, and he rarely used them because he wasn't tall and his limbs weren't long, so it didn't look as impressive when he performed it.
Louis Fan glanced at the crowd gathered around, thinking, *This is tricky. I can't dampen Little Chen's enthusiasm, I have to make sure he saves face.*