Chapter Fifty-Two: Filming Begins, A New Candidate

“Director Chen, I’m truly sorry. This project was arranged for me by Jia Jia, and she kept it from me—she already signed the contract. If I breach it, the consequences will be very serious.”
“Thank you, junior. Once I finish my work, I’ll treat you to a meal and apologize in person.”
“I really am so sorry, I just don’t know what else to say…”

In Director Chen’s office, Chen Ling hung up Yang Mi’s call right in front of Chen Zhixi. This time, Yang Mi had called personally.
“It seems my senior has managed to secure the lead female role in that Banquet of Hongmen film,” he said, tossing his phone onto the desk in annoyance. He leaned back in his executive chair, hands cradling his head. Yang Mi’s cancellation meant he’d have to find a new suitable actress for the role.
He couldn’t understand why his senior would scramble to act in what was, in his eyes, a complete flop.

“That film was greenlit at the start of the year. I heard Liu Yifei was originally cast, but in the end, it’s Yang Mi.”
Just one day had been enough for Chen Zhixi to get the details.
“The leads of 'Palace' teaming up again is easy fodder for hype. Yang Mi’s popularity is surging, and Li Rengang is a veteran; pairing them is perfectly logical.”
Chen Ling responded to Zhixi’s words, though his mind was already searching for someone to replace Yang Mi.
As for Liu Yifei, if he hadn’t come out of nowhere with his own film, she would indeed have starred in Banquet of Hongmen.

“What Yang Mi did was really out of line. We’ve already signed our contract—don’t we deserve compensation as well?”
Chen Zhixi was visibly angry at Yang Mi’s behavior; wasn’t this just playing games with people?
“Zhixi, stay calm. Over there, it’s a major production with more than a hundred million invested and she’s the lead. Here, we’re a thirty-million supporting role. Her choice is understandable. Liu Yifei picking us over them is what’s unusual.”

People always seek higher ground; water flows downward. It was only natural. Now that it had happened, Chen Ling found himself less angry than he had been when Jia Jia called him days ago to take leave.
He was also curious why Liu Yifei had rejected a major project from Hong Kong and Taiwan to firmly choose his low-budget film. Since when did Liu Yifei develop such insight? Had she finally woken up?

“All we can do is shoot our movie well, then let the box office answer them.”
Ultimately, Chen Ling only had one film under his belt; his foundation was too shallow.
If he were Zhang Yimou or someone of that stature, not only would signed supporting actors never dare to accept other projects behind his back, even extras with just a verbal agreement wouldn’t step out of line. The consequences would be more than Yang Mi or Jia Jia could bear. It all came down to strength and influence.

“So we just let this go?”
Judging by Chen Zhixi’s expression, she was ready to keep making trouble for Yang Mi.
“Cancel the contract if needed, pay compensation if required. Let’s handle it quietly. After all, we’re classmates—no need to make things ugly, it’s bad for everyone.”
Chen Ling had no intention of nitpicking with Yang Mi. As always, he had patience for those tested by time.
“Alright,” Chen Zhixi relented, seeing that Chen Ling had spoken.
“With Yang Mi out, Zhixi, reach out to suitable actresses and see if we can fill the gap quickly.”

Today was the last day of the script reading. Once it ended, Chen Ling planned to give everyone two days off to handle personal matters, then officially start shooting on the twenty-fifth.

“I’ll reach out to the others who auditioned that day, and also try to connect with some who didn’t come for the audition.”
“Good, I’ll leave this to you. I’m heading to the script reading.”
Fortunately, the character Si Qing didn’t require much acting prowess—just beauty, a good figure, and long legs. The entertainment industry hardly lacked beautiful women; finding a replacement wouldn’t be difficult.

…

Yang Mi moved quickly. That afternoon, Jia Jia arrived at the company representing Yang Mi to terminate the contract and paid the penalty as stipulated. The sum wasn’t much, but Zhao Qian accepted it, and Chen Ling didn’t show up at any point—Zhao Qian handled the whole process.

That evening, the official account of Chen Ling Films updated:
“Due to personal reasons, Yang Mi will temporarily leave the ‘Heart Blossoms’ production. The vacant role will soon be reopened for auditions.”

As soon as the news broke, Tangren’s Cai Yinong was overjoyed. Back when they were filming ‘Chinese Paladin 3,’ Yang Mi had verbally promised to sign with Tangren after her contract expired. But when ‘Chinese Paladin 3’ became a hit, she left Cai Yinong high and dry and signed with Yami instead.
That infuriated Cai Yinong, and after Yang Mi joined Yami, she immediately filmed Yu Zheng’s new ‘Palace’ drama—a Qing dynasty piece. Tangren had already secured the rights to the relevant novel for their own Qing drama, but their production lagged far behind. By the time Yang Mi finished ‘Palace,’ Tangren’s ‘Scarlet Heart’ hadn’t even started shooting!

With Cai Yinong’s temperament, she would never swallow such a slight, especially not from someone who’d played her.
So, throughout the latter half of 2010, Tangren and Yang Mi were constantly at odds, most famously in July when Cai Yinong posted a ten-thousand-word essay online, harshly criticizing Yang Mi.

Now, seeing Yang Mi run into trouble with the ‘Heart Blossoms’ crew, Cai Yinong was ecstatic. The statement from Chen Ling Films made it clear the issue lay with Yang Mi, even if the exact cause was unclear.
But striking first was always best, so she immediately deployed online trolls to flood Yang Mi’s social media. After so much back-and-forth, Yang Mi’s side responded quickly, launching a counterattack. In no time, the comment sections under Tangren and Yang Mi’s accounts became a battleground.

The commotion was so intense that even the platform’s administrators stepped in to ban those accounts spewing profanity. That night, the internet was anything but calm.

“Hello, Qian, what’s up?”
“Yang Mi’s agent called, asking if we’d clarify things in our official statement. What’s there to explain? We’ve already spared her dignity by not stating the facts outright. If she calls again, just don’t answer.”

After hanging up with Zhao Qian, Chen Ling was speechless. His statement had already given Yang Mi plenty of face. If he exposed the truth, Yang Mi would be the one embarrassed, as the contract on their side was black and white.
As for the feud between Yang Mi and Tangren, he wanted no part of it, though he hadn’t expected Yang Mi’s agent to be so pushy.

…

Yang Mi was at home, refreshing her social media feed. Seeing the chaos in her comment section, the joy of having just landed a major role had all but evaporated. Still, she was almost used to it; in the entertainment circle, without a strong mind and heart, you simply couldn’t survive.

“Hello, Jia Jia, what did Director Chen say?”

Yang Mi, still scrolling, was interrupted by her agent’s call.
“Oh, you contacted Director Chen’s agent? What did they say? Are they willing to post something to clear things up?”
“If not, let’s just leave it. We were at fault first, after all.”
After hanging up, Yang Mi considered calling Chen Ling herself, but hesitated and ultimately didn’t.
They’d already spared her the details, giving her plenty of dignity. Asking them to issue another statement would be pushing too hard. If not for Jia Jia’s insistence, she wouldn’t have had her call Zhao Qian.
But in a couple of days, when Banquet of Hongmen announced its cast, her social media would surely explode again. With Cai Yinong’s character, she wouldn’t miss such an opportunity.

…

“Jack is very happy to get your call—is there good news?”
Chen Ling, about to go to bed, received a transatlantic call from Jack.
“Of course, Chen. Your applications to the Actors Guild, Directors Guild, and Writers Guild have been approved. Soon you can check your information on their websites. I’ll mail the documents to you, but it may take a bit longer.”
“No worries, I’m not in a hurry.”
It had been barely half a month since Venice, and Jack had already settled Chen Ling’s guild memberships—not bad for efficiency.
“Remember to transfer the rest of my fee on time! Also, I’ve contacted the author of that novel you wanted. We’ll meet in a few days, and from what I can see, there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“Don’t worry, your fee won’t be short.”
“I’m looking forward to the script adaptation once you get the rights. I’ll make sure it gets the attention it deserves.”
“I haven’t decided how to adapt it yet. I’ll figure it out once I have the rights.”
Before securing the copyright, Chen Ling wouldn’t reveal his ideas.
“That’s a pity. I’ve read the novel—it’s very interesting. Rest assured, you’re the first to commission me to purchase the rights. Unless you give up, I won’t recommend it to anyone else. Trust my professional ethics.”
Jack promised eagerly over the phone. Whether true or not, it was reassuring.
“I’ll wait for your good news.”
After a few more pleasantries, Chen Ling hung up.
He murmured softly, “Novel rights, script registration—I hope these side moves bring me some surprises.”