Chapter Twenty-Nine: Writing the Script

The inspiration for this film, as well as its screenplay, is closely tied to Ning Hao’s friend, Yue Xiaojun. At that time, Ning Hao was busy writing the script for “Crazy Alien” when he suddenly received news that his friend Yue Xiaojun was getting divorced. Worried that his friend would be heartbroken and unable to move on, Ning Hao set aside his script and took Yue Xiaojun on an impromptu journey to distract him. Later, the two of them adapted that trip into a film.

This movie is not only a comedy road romance, but also embodies the director’s reflections and understanding of love. Years later, the performances by Huang Bo and the memorable scenes contributed by the supporting cast remain vivid and widely discussed.

At that point, Yue Xiaojun had just gotten married and divorce was still far off. Director Ning Hao was also busy filming “The Great Gold Robbery.” So, the opportunity for this film’s genesis had not yet arrived.

Thus, this movie now belonged to Chen Ling. Once Director Ning Hao finished “The Great Gold Robbery,” he could focus on preparing the script for “Crazy Alien.” One reason Chen Ling chose this project was its high box office potential; once the film was ready, he planned to compete with “Little Cannon.” Having lived another life, why should he suffer from “Little Cannon’s” arrogance again? As for Huayi, if they wouldn’t issue a statement, they could just wait and see!

Writing a movie script is far from simple, even if Chen Ling had the details clear in his mind. Translating those images into words took considerable time—a meticulous script might require tens of thousands of words, even over a hundred thousand. Some scripts need months or years of polishing after completion, which is normal in the film industry. However, Chen Ling’s version was already a finished product in his mind, so it needed no further refinement after transcription. At most, he would make adjustments based on the shooting conditions. After several days, Chen Ling finally completed the script, including many storyboards. With the script ready, he had to carefully consider the casting.

Chen Ling intended to play the role of Geng Hao himself; after all, he shared similarities with the character in the film. Like the protagonist, Chen Ling was a musician, met the heroine through music, and had just experienced a breakup, making it easy for him to immerse himself in the role. But could he act well? He had given it serious thought.

It had been over half a year since the filming of “Thirty-three Days After a Breakup,” during which Chen Ling had not been idle. He had spent time at school improving his acting and filming skills, though his performance would inevitably fall short of Huang Bo’s original interpretation.

Yet, having recently suffered heartbreak, Chen Ling could bring genuine emotion to the role, and the result might not be inferior. Jing Tian’s performance in “Thirty-three Days After a Breakup” was a testament; her acting improved by leaps and bounds, even fooling her teacher, the head of the directing department at Beijing Film Academy.

He modified Geng Hao’s age in the script from thirty-something to just under thirty, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight. As a twenty-year-old, he could believably play a man in his late twenties with some makeup, but portraying someone in their forties would be jarring—his life experience sufficed, but his age and appearance could not be altered.

For the protagonist’s best friend, Hao Yi, Chen Ling planned to invite Xu Baldy to play the role. The age gap between them wasn’t an issue—everyone has an older brother-type friend. Chen Ling also wanted to assemble as much of the original cast as possible for the male roles, allowing him to better immerse himself during filming and acting. However, for the female cast, he preferred to make changes.

Now that he considered himself a commercially successful director, inviting some of the beautiful stars he could only dream of working with in his previous life seemed reasonable. Although Yuan Quan in the original was a great beauty, she simply wasn’t Chen Ling’s type. As someone reborn, if he couldn’t collaborate with Liu Angel, working with Big Mimi would suffice. Yet, considering her acting ability, Chen Ling placed her as his second choice.

With that thought, Chen Ling called Zhao Qian, asking her to reach out to Liu Yifei to check her schedule.

At this time, Liu Angel had just finished filming “The Forbidden Kingdom.” Her mother had promised to sign a contract with Huayi after the shoot, but ultimately left Huayi hanging, resulting in a barrage of negative publicity. Most of Liu Yifei’s infamous rumors stemmed from this period, courtesy of Huayi. Some were downright absurd, claiming Liu Yifei was transgender—such nonsense! Where else could you find such a beautiful transgender person? Chen Ling would take a dozen if he could, as long as they were healthy.

More troubling was that people actually believed those rumors, leaving Chen Ling speechless. Offending Huayi and being beset by dubious rumors made it hard for Liu Yifei to secure roles. She had to participate in a few Hong Kong films to maintain her presence, since Huayi’s influence was considerable at the time. Few were willing to risk Huayi’s wrath for her sake.

Such concerns didn’t bother Chen Ling. Would he offend Huayi? They had just been at loggerheads days ago.

Huayi probably thought Chen Ling’s silence meant fear, but little did they know this film was prepared precisely for Huayi and “Little Cannon.”

Chen Ling was confident about inviting Liu Yifei as the lead actress. At this stage, she had no access to quality film projects in mainland China; after “The Forbidden Kingdom,” she hadn’t received any good offers, and since last year’s “Love Announcement,” there had been scarcely any roles. If nothing changed, Liu Yifei would soon turn to Hong Kong cinema, but even then, things would worsen—local resources were scarce, and what she could get were mostly recycled, low-quality productions.

It wasn’t until years later, when internet capital flooded the film industry, that Liu Yifei regained access to decent projects. Yet even then, Alibaba Pictures proved a disappointment. “Once Upon a Time,” the film adaptation, was a disaster, marking the end of Liu Yifei’s movie career and her return to television, where she thrived once more.

She was truly made for television—a resilient star of the entertainment world. After years of mediocre movies, she returned to TV dramas and still had legions of fans. Her shows were consistently popular, and with “The Story of the Rose,” she reclaimed her place among the top stars.

But all that was years in the future. At this moment, the lead role in Chen Ling’s new film was the best opportunity Liu Yifei had encountered in two years. As a childhood idol, Chen Ling wouldn’t mind helping her avoid some detours if he could.

What would later be seen as an inspiring journey took Liu Yifei more than a decade, including a romance with a Korean idol—unbearable, to say the least.

Chen Ling also asked Zhao Qian to contact Xu Baldy, as his ambitions for Xu Baldy extended beyond this film.

For supporting roles such as Lei Jiayin, Wang Yanqiu, and Uncle Shen Teng from the original movie, Chen Ling left it to Zhao Qian to handle their contacts. Even though the original film’s casting was perfect, Chen Ling wanted them to audition. Gathering everyone for a joint audition sounded exciting—Liu Angel could audition separately.

At this time, Uncle Shen Teng was likely still languishing in Happy Mahua, two years away from his Spring Festival Gala debut. Thinking of Shen Teng brought to mind “Goodbye Mr. Loser,” and then memories of him singing to Jing Tian in the classroom.

For a moment, Chen Ling was lost in thought—it had already been over half a year since he sang to Jing Tian in that classroom.