Chapter Twelve: Filming in Progress

A freshman in the directing department was going to direct a film, and as the semester drew to a close, this news swept through the campus like a gust of wind.

Rumor had it he would also star in the film, with the leading lady being Jing Tian, a third-year student. It was said they were a couple. Many flocked to the third-year acting department to confirm if the two were indeed dating, but the students there evaded the question. After all, the class’s delicate flower had been wooed away by a freshman from another department—such a shameful thing, how could they admit it?

While the school buzzed with gossip, Chen Ling signed a formal contract with representatives from China Film Group and Starlight Brilliance.

The agreement stipulated a total investment of seven million. China Film contributed one million, holding twenty percent, but would handle the film’s publicity and distribution, which Chen Ling found reasonable—China Film’s publicity was worth that price.

Starlight Brilliance and Chen Ling each invested three million, claiming forty percent apiece.

The signing went smoothly, as did the transfer of funds. Still, both companies assigned personnel to oversee expenditures. After all, Chen Ling was still a student, and millions of yuan were at stake; they needed to ensure the money was well spent.

Originally, Chen Ling planned to start shooting after the Lunar New Year, since the holiday was less than two months away. Assembling the crew and shooting before the festival might not be feasible.

However, Jing Tian was eager to begin, wanting to finish filming before the holiday. Though Chen Ling didn’t know why she was so anxious, he agreed—she was an investor, after all.

He also remembered that Starlight Brilliance’s “Warring States,” intended to launch Jing Tian’s career, would soon be shooting, so time was indeed tight.

At Jing Tian’s repeated urging, Chen Ling accelerated preparations. Aside from his advisor as assistant director, he enlisted two seniors about to graduate to help.

These seniors had prior experience on sets and were well-suited to assist the advisor.

Though the script and visuals lived in Chen Ling’s mind, recreating them required hands-on help.

It’s why novelists and race car enthusiasts could switch to directing—just hire a few seasoned assistant directors. If they could, so could Chen Ling.

His advisor was competent, much better than the assistant directors hired by that short novelist-turned-director.

Lighting, cinematography, script supervision, props—all were handled by upperclassmen from the school, reliable and affordable.

Chen Ling and Jing Tian played the leads; other parts were cast from schoolmates. The role originally played by Guo Jingfei in the previous timeline was given to Dou Xiao.

Dou Xiao hadn’t yet starred in “Under the Hawthorn Tree” and wasn’t famous; he was delighted when Chen Ling asked him to join.

Contacting locations and renting equipment fell to Teacher Lin.

Teacher Lin was familiar with these arrangements. Chen Ling had spoken to everyone beforehand: try to finish shooting before the holiday. For the sake of their salaries, no one objected, and the team came together quickly.

Chen Ling marveled at the advantages of having a powerful institution behind him—his tuition had not been in vain.

During preparations, another incident occurred. Zhang Jie, through Mango TV’s 2010 New Year’s Eve Gala, contacted Chen Ling’s agent.

He wanted to perform Chen Ling’s “Keywords” as a duet with his girlfriend Xie Na at the gala. At that time, Zhang Jie and Xie Na weren’t yet married and hoped to sing a love song together.

Chen Ling had no objections. Though it wouldn’t earn much, it would increase the song’s exposure—a good thing, plus Zhang Jie was a singer he liked.

He did consult Jing Tian, since the song was originally a gift to her. The young lady didn’t mind and looked forward to the duet at the gala.

By early January, the crew was finally assembled.

Before filming began, everyone took a group photo.

“‘Love Is Not Blind’ is officially underway—let’s give it our all!”

“Let’s do it!”

“Go for it!”

Almost the entire crew hailed from Beijing Film Academy, making for an exceptionally harmonious atmosphere.

At first, Chen Ling was flustered—after all, he was writing, directing, and acting, a daunting combination.

Despite experience from his past life, unexpected situations left him a little unsettled.

Fortunately, his advisor was reliable, steadying the ship.

After the initial chaos, the crew quickly settled into a rhythm, shooting at a rapid pace.

During filming, Chen Ling received a call from Bao Jingjing. Hadn’t he promised to cast Wen Zhang as Wang Xiaojian? Why was Chen Ling himself playing the role?

Chen Ling replied that Wen Zhang was unavailable, and with the crew assembled, they couldn’t wait for him alone. With his understanding of the film and character, he wouldn’t perform worse than Wen Zhang.

Playing a slightly effeminate handsome guy wasn’t hard, after all.

Though Bao Jingjing doubted Chen Ling’s acting, the rights had been sold and the contract didn’t stipulate Wen Zhang as mandatory, so she had to let it go.

Chen Ling wasn’t lying; he was quite satisfied with his interpretation of Wang Xiaojian.

He’d acted in two web films in his previous life, attended workshops, and in this life had crashed plenty of acting classes. With his advisor guiding him on set, he dared not claim superiority over Wen Zhang, but his performance was at least competent.

The crew joked about it—a director more interested in acting than directing. Was he going to leave any room for the acting department?

Compared to Chen Ling, Jing Tian stunned everyone, including Chen Ling himself.

Her nickname was “Sweet Tian,” nearly synonymous with the “silly sweet” trope.

As internet users joked, if Jing Tian played the mute girl in Stephen Chow’s “Kung Fu,” it would work well—she wouldn’t need to speak much.

So Chen Ling had braced himself for disaster, but Jing Tian’s performance took everyone by surprise.

As Teacher Lin put it, “There’s drama in her eyes, almost overflowing. She interprets heartbreak with striking depth.”

Later, when they learned Jing Tian had another film coming out, Teacher Lin vowed to watch it in theaters before its release.

Chen Ling could only wish his advisor luck—after all, perhaps only he knew Jing Tian’s true acting in “My Belle Boss.” As for Teacher Lin’s plan to support her by watching the film, Chen Ling could only offer silent condolences.

Jing Tian’s classmates were also amazed at her performance. Some dared to joke with Chen Ling, asking if they’d broken up, and if Jing Tian was acting true to life.

Chen Ling’s response was to give these classmates extra screen time and subject them to several tough takes. No one dared joke again.

Everyone realized their director seemed a bit petty and held grudges.

Privately, Chen Ling asked Jing Tian about her sudden improvement.

She said that after several films, her acting had gotten better.

She voiced strong dissatisfaction at Chen Ling’s earlier doubts about her abilities, even shaking her fist at him.

Cute yet fierce, it frightened the director into dropping the subject.

Though the holiday was approaching, no one in Chen Ling’s crew requested leave for outside gigs. The most famous among them was Jing Tian; if she wasn’t busy, no one else would be.

A few curious incidents happened during filming.

The first was the release of the 3D film “Avatar,” which stormed into China, launching the era of 3D sci-fi blockbusters.

For days, box office takings exceeded forty million daily. Other holiday blockbusters released at the same time were utterly defeated, scattered and routed.

Many media outlets predicted “Avatar” would be the first film in mainland China to break one billion at the box office.

“Teacher Lin, do you think ‘Avatar’ will really reach one billion?” Dou Xiao asked during a break.

“With the current trend, it’ll likely surpass that easily.”

A billion—when the total mainland box office for 2009 was just about ten billion.

A single film reaching a billion was beyond most people’s imagination.

When crew members had downtime and managed to get tickets, they returned amazed by the 3D spectacle, agreeing it deserved a billion. Yet they wondered when Chinese films would produce such blockbusters.

Unlike the crew’s awe at visual effects, Chen Ling knew this marked the dawn of domestic cinema.

He remembered that after “Avatar” released, the government began loosening regulations for the film industry, encouraging financial investment and easing listing requirements for film companies.

From then on, a surge of film companies and projects secured funding, countless films and TV dramas were greenlit, and cinemas entered a period of rapid growth.

The golden age of Chinese cinema was coming.

The other incident occurred during filming—when the holiday approached, the crew paused for several days. Everyone was either a teacher or a student. Students couldn’t escape final exams, nor could teachers who had to proctor.

After exams, the crew resumed immediately, and finally wrapped five days before the New Year.

“I hereby announce that ‘Love Is Not Blind’ has wrapped!”

“Finally done—hoo-ray!”

Everyone was elated; the month had been fulfilling.

Afterward, Chen Ling treated everyone to a meal, thanking them for their efforts.

The next day, many began their journeys home for the holiday.

Since school was closed, Chen Ling couldn’t start editing, so he’d wait until the new semester.

After tallying expenses, the film’s total budget was seven million, but less than six million had been spent—a result of significant savings.

Most notably, the lead actors and director worked for free, and the supporting roles paid little, as everyone was classmates and none yet famous.

The remaining funds couldn’t be refunded, nor pocketed. They would be used for publicity when the film was released, as stipulated in the contract.

After paying his sole employee’s salary and bonus, Chen Ling said goodbye to Jing Tian at school and drove home for the holiday.

Jing Tian had family in Beijing and would spend the New Year there, so she didn’t need to rush home like Chen Ling.

When saying farewell, she repeatedly urged Chen Ling to return soon after the holiday and record the promised album quickly.

How could Chen Ling refuse his girlfriend’s request—especially one so beautiful and obedient? Naturally, he agreed without hesitation.