Seeking good fortune and avoiding misfortune, I became a legend in the entertainment industry by avo

Chapter 191 He broke his promise again.

Huang Haibo looked down at the neatly arranged equipment, then turned to look at the others.

Everyone's equipment has been adjusted to the most comfortable position.

He recalled the feeling when Zhang Qilin helped him organize his equipment earlier.

That feeling was strange.

It wasn't about being helped or taken care of; it was about feeling like I was being taken over.

Huang Haibo has been in the entertainment industry for many years and has seen all kinds of actors.

Some are exceptionally talented, some are diligent and hardworking, some are domineering actors, and some are just nice guys.

But he had never seen anything like it before.

After putting on the military uniform, not only do you change, but you can also make the people around you change.

Then everyone unconsciously followed him.

"Brother Bo," Nie Yuan said, his voice grave as he approached him, "Was that person just now—Zhang Qilin?"

The room was filled with veterans of the entertainment industry, each with their own way of getting into character. But this was the first time they had ever seen someone like Zhang Qilin, who completely transformed himself from the inside out, to get into character.

It can also unconsciously draw them into the role.

There aren't many people in the film and television industry with this kind of ability.

More importantly, who wouldn't want to leave some classic scenes in Director Zhang's movies?

Huang Haibo turned to the others and said, "Guys, this kind of opportunity doesn't come often—"

Apart from Dou Xiao, the other seasoned veterans instantly understood.

Shortly afterward, Zhang Qilin and others arrived at the filming location for today.

A street modeled after Nanjing in the 1930s, lined with dilapidated brick houses, their walls riddled with bullet holes and charred marks.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of dust, and there were piles of gravel and broken wooden beams in the corners.

The staff are conducting final checks.

The lighting crew is adjusting the position of the reflectors, the pyrotechnics crew is setting up the explosion points, and the camera crew is adjusting the track car.

Zhang Yimou was standing behind the monitor, holding a storyboard, talking to the director of photography.

He looked a little tired, with noticeable bags under his eyes, but his gaze was focused.

"Director Zhang," the assistant director said quietly as he walked over, "all the actors are here."

Zhang Yi raised his head and looked towards the street entrance.

Zhang Qilin walked over with more than a dozen people.

The sunlight shone on the woolen military overcoats worn by those people.

They walked slowly, but their steps were orderly, and their military boots made a dull sound.

Zhang Yi looked at Zhang Qilin, who was walking at the front.

Zhang Qilin's walking posture is different from when he tried on makeup yesterday.

Yesterday he was walking in military uniform, and today he is marching in military uniform.

He didn't look around, but you could tell he saw everything.

He scanned every blind spot on both sides of the street where enemies might be hiding.

Behind him, Huang Haibo and others followed his pace.

No one gave commands, and no one aligned their steps, yet the formation they formed was perfectly orderly.

Everyone maintained a distance where they could support each other, their line of sight covering different directions.

That wasn't rehearsed.

That was something that was unconsciously brought out.

For a few seconds, Zhang Yi was in a daze.

He recalled that he had gone through countless historical documents and looked at countless old photos.

The photos were black and white, with low resolution, and some were already blurry.

The soldiers in the photo, the young men in the same uniforms, standing before the ruins and scorched earth—

Zhang Qilin was bringing what he wanted to him.

The director of photography somehow ended up next to Zhang Yimou.

He stared intently as the group of people walked towards him from the other end of the street.

"Old Zhang," Zhao Xiaoshi's voice was low, "what do you think?"

Zhang Yimou did not answer.

After a moment, Zhang Yi finally spoke, "Old Zhao, notify all groups to check the equipment one more time."

Zhao Xiaoshi glanced at him, didn't ask any more questions, and turned to make the arrangements.

Zhang Yimou asked the executive director to lead Zhang Qilin and the others through the scene once.

The executive director's surname is Wang, he is in his early forties, and he has worked with Zhang Yimou on several films. He is a very experienced veteran.

Director Wang stepped forward.

"Dear teachers," he began, his voice not loud but clear, "our first scene is the opening of street fighting. Instructor Li is leading his men from east to west along this street, preparing to evacuate out of the city."

As he spoke, he gestured the famous route on the street.

This is the standard workflow for an executive director.

Before filming begins, we explain the positioning, choreography, and key points of each shot clearly, and we walk through the scenes with the actors several times so that everyone understands what they are supposed to do.

"For the first shot, the main camera is over here," he pointed to the platform on the right side of the street, "shooting from the side, with Instructor Li walking at the front, and the brothers behind him in two columns, keeping a distance of two to three meters."

He glanced at Zhang Qilin.

Zhang Qilin didn't look at him; his gaze was still scanning both sides of the street.

But he knew Zhang Qilin had heard it.

"Go through it once?" Wang asked.

Zhang Qilin nodded.

"Alright, everyone, get to your positions," Director Wang raised his hand. "Start from the end of the street, walk to the intersection ahead and stop. Walk slowly and get a feel for it."

Zhang Qilin turned around and led his team toward the end of the street.

Director Wang stood in the middle of the street.

The formation was a bit scattered during the first run.

It's not Zhang Qilin's problem; it's that the actors behind him haven't fully adapted to his pace yet.

Some people walked fast, some walked slowly, and some people stood in a position that blocked the view of the people behind them.

Just as Director Wang was about to make some adjustments, Zhang Qilin had already started moving.

He didn't speak, or even turn around. He simply adjusted his stride and pace, and the group behind him seemed to be pulled by an invisible rope, automatically correcting their formation.

Director Wang's mouth was open, and he forgot to close it.

"One more time," he heard his own voice say.

The second time was better.

By the third time, the formation was basically complete.

On the fourth take, Director Wang realized that he no longer needed to speak.

When Zhang Qilin reaches a certain position, his speed will naturally decrease, and the team behind him will also slow down.

He would turn to the side at a certain corner, and the team behind him would know that someone needed to be on guard in that direction.

He would pause for a second in front of a broken wall, and the machine gunner behind him would naturally take that position.

Director Wang glanced back at Zhang Yimou.

Zhang Yi stood behind the monitor, arms crossed, his face expressionless.

But Director Wang had followed him for so many years and knew what was going on behind that expressionless face.

That was the silence Zhang Yimou would have when he saw something truly good.

"That's about it," Zhang Yi finally spoke, his voice very soft, "Ready to film the actual scene."

Director Wang nodded, turned to everyone and said, "Dear teachers, let's shoot the first take. We'll try to get it right in one take. All groups, pay attention: explosions, pyrotechnics, gunshots, wait for my command."

He walked up to Zhang Qilin and checked the positioning one last time: "Instructor Li, when you get to that intersection ahead, you'll hear female students screaming from the other side. Once you hear the sound, stop and give the order."

Zhang Qilin looked at him, his eyes calm.

But Director Wang subconsciously swallowed.

"Alright, everyone in position," Director Wang raised his microphone, "Quiet—Quiet on set—"

Everyone returned to the starting position.

Zhang Qilin stood on the east side of the street with his dozen or so men.

The venue staff cleared the area for the last time.

The lighting technician made a final check.

The film crew is making their final adjustments to the tracks.

The pyrotechnics team conducted a final check of the explosion points.

Zhang Yi stared at the monitor screen and picked up the intercom: "Start."

The camera rotated, emitting a slight hum.

The clapperboard clicked in front of the camera: "The Flowers of War, Scene One, First Scene."

"Snapped!"

Zhang Qilin took the first step.

A dozen or so people followed him, their steps neat and their rhythm synchronized.

Their breathing, the rustling of their equipment, the clanging of rifle butts against their belts—all blended together.

Zhang Yi stared at the monitor.

In the scene, Zhang Qilin leads his team into the frame from the left.

The camera was set up at a low angle, shooting from below, which made their figures appear very tall.

The squad automatically dispersed to form a perimeter upon reaching the designated location.

As per the script, gunshots rang out at that moment.

Zhang Qilin raised his rifle and pressed his eyes close to the scope.

He then turned to look at the crowd behind him.

Looking at the crowd behind him, he recalled the last time he was in character during his second role, when he was sniping to cover the civilians' retreat, which resulted in everyone being left behind.

He didn't even have a chance to apologize to everyone.

Zhang Yimou was deeply shocked by the look in Zhang Qilin's eyes as he watched the monitor.

What he saw was not Zhang Qilin acting.

He was a young officer, and looking at his comrades, it seemed as if he was saying, "I'm sorry, I've broken my promise again. I may not be able to take you home."

39

In the video, Zhang Qilin has already turned his head back.

He picked up his gun again, pointing it deep into the street, and went into combat mode.

Judging from his back, he had already suppressed the weakness he had shown just moments before.

Zhang Yimou's expression was complicated.

That kind of look can't be acted out without experience, but Zhang Qilin is only twenty years old, how could he—

At this moment, Zhang Qilin's voice rang out: "Xu Dapeng, take a few men to the flank and prepare to fight."

Zhang Qilin's voice was calm, yet it possessed an irresistible power.

Huang Haibo instinctively wanted to obey orders, but his years of acting experience allowed him to suppress his physical impulses and pause for a moment as required by the script.

He was deeply shocked by Zhang Qilin's charismatic presence on stage, never expecting it to influence the outcome. He was then met with Zhang Qilin's stern gaze and words: "Xu Dapeng!"

Huang Haibo felt his heart skip a beat, but he forced himself to read his lines under pressure: "Instructor Li, there are only a dozen or so brothers left in the training team. One more step and we'll be out of the city—"

"Execute the command,"

"Yes," Huang Haibo said, leaving with a few people.

As Zhang Qilin shouted, "Attack!"

More than a dozen guns fired at the same time, the sound of gunfire exploding on the set and making people's eardrums hurt.

The blanks from the prop gun emitted realistic flashes of light, and smoke filled the air, carrying a pungent sulfurous smell.

One after another, the explosions on the ground were detonated, dust flew up, and debris flew everywhere, turning the entire film set into a real battlefield in a matter of seconds.

A moment later, with Zhang Qilin's order to "withdraw," the filming of this segment ended.

The film set fell silent.

Zhang Yimou sat behind the monitor, watching this content repeatedly.

Director Wang walked over and stood beside him, not daring to speak.

After a while, Zhang Yimou spoke.

His voice was calm: "That's enough."