Chapter 3

After passing the director's approval, Yan Li officially secured the role. With Wang Decai's help pulling some strings, Yan Li quickly signed a formal contract with the production team and received part of his payment. Not forgetting Wang Decai's contribution and knowing he’d need further help during filming, Yan Li immediately arranged to treat him to a meal. In the Heroes of Sui and Tang Dynasties production, the role of Yuwen Chengdu didn't have too many scenes, but it was decent. Though he wouldn’t be among the top five male characters, a generous rounding-up might barely place him as the tenth male lead—anything lower would be unfair. Regardless, this role came with proper per-episode pay. The series consisted of 40 episodes. Yan Li's scenes spanned about 15 episodes, with a pay of 800 yuan per episode, totaling 12,000 yuan. That was a significant amount! At the start of the century, many regular workers earned only a few hundred yuan a month. Extras in Hengdian Studios made just 20–30 yuan daily, with some earning as little as ten. Twelve thousand yuan could last them over a year. This was also the most money Yan Li had ever earned in his life. During his time as a stand-in and extra in Beijing, he barely earned enough for a bus ride back to school despite working tirelessly. It turned out that the relative who had persuaded him to apply to the Beijing Film Academy was right—acting was indeed a lucrative profession. This was just a small role, and he'd already earned this much. If he could make a name for himself, it would be far better than taking over the family diner back home. That evening, there was a major night shoot that Wang Decai needed to supervise, so the dinner had to be postponed for a couple of days. With no filming tasks for the time being, Yan Li collected his script and went to the makeup room to change. Afraid of running into Wang Xiu, the intimidating makeup artist, Yan Li specifically asked about her whereabouts. Learning that she wasn’t around, he breathed a sigh of relief. Removing makeup was much faster than applying it. In no time, he was done, changed, and strolling back to his inn. He picked up some snacks along the way, planning to skip dinner, and stopped by a bank to withdraw some cash. Back in his room, Yan Li locked the door, took out a piece of red cardstock he had bought from a nearby shop, and folded it into a red envelope. He then counted out 2,000 yuan from the cash he had withdrawn and stuffed it inside. After hesitating for a moment, he gritted his teeth and added another 1,000 yuan. The red envelope was for Wang Decai! Getting this role had been no small feat, and Wang Decai’s help couldn’t be repaid with just a meal. A red envelope would better express his gratitude. Whether or not Wang Decai accepted it was another matter—the gesture needed to be there. Besides, Yan Li would likely need more favors in the future. This was an investment: gifting a 3,000-yuan envelope today might lead to introductions for roles worth tens of thousands of yuan later. You have to give to receive. Running a family diner taught him that investing in good ingredients was necessary to make money—being stingy never got anyone far. The production team had only advanced him 4,000 yuan, so Yan Li was short on cash and still needed to save for living expenses. Otherwise, he would’ve gone all out with a 5,000-yuan envelope. Having secured the envelope for later, Yan Li picked up the script and started studying it diligently. He understood that while connections were essential for success as an actor, true talent was the key to standing out. Playing Yuwen Chengdu, though a small role, was a rare opportunity that many of his classmates could only dream of. He couldn’t afford to waste it. Yan Li hadn’t seen the Heroes of Sui and Tang Dynasties script before. When the series was casting in Beijing, Yan Li had casually submitted his profile after hearing about it. Initially, he didn’t take it seriously, as Hengdian was far away and not as convenient as nearby productions. Later, he learned through his system’s monthly "Future Insight" feature that the series might become popular. Only then did he start paying attention. With this insider knowledge, Yan Li befriended Wang Decai, learning about his background and gradually building a connection. Through this effort, he secured the role of Yuwen Chengdu. But as a newcomer and minor actor, Yan Li had no right to access the script before joining the crew. Even so, Yan Li already had a general understanding of Yuwen Chengdu, thanks to the Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties books and radio dramas he grew up with. Yuwen Chengdu, the second-greatest warrior of the era, was a fearsome general of the Sui Dynasty. Armed with a golden phoenix-wing lance and riding the mighty steed Sai Long Wu, he was unrivaled in strength. Among the Sui and Tang warriors, only Li Yuanba ranked above him. Even his loss to Pei Yuanqing, the third-greatest warrior, was attributed to exhaustion after defeating three other top fighters. Characters like Qin Qiong, Yuchi Gong, and the Wagang Five weren’t even a match for him. Getting to play such a powerful warrior—even as a villain—excited Yan Li. After all, a badass villain who could trounce the protagonist was thrilling to portray. Moreover, Yuwen Chengdu was merely a brute; how villainous could he really be? However, after reading the script, Yan Li realized he had underestimated the writer's audacity. Did the screenwriter even read The Heroes of the Sui and Tang Dynasties?! It was one thing to make the character a villain, but the excessive vilification was absurd. Yuwen Chengdu wasn’t just despicable; he was cowardly, arrogant, and overly chatty, yet rarely won a fight. Instead of being a fearsome general, he came off as a buffoon. What upset Yan Li most was a particular scene involving Li Rongrong—it completely ruined the character’s dignity. Had Yuwen Chengdu offended the writer in a past life? This wasn’t just vilification; it was character assassination! Yan Li scratched his head, feeling a tinge of regret. As a Beijing Film Academy graduate, he understood that no role was inherently superior to another. A good actor should excel in playing both heroes and villains. Yan Li didn’t shy away from villainous roles. But this being his first proper role, and with his young age, he found the script a bit hard to stomach. Fortunately, Yan Li had a resilient mindset. Besides, the contract was signed, and the payment received—there was no turning back. From another perspective, such a provocative role could leave a lasting impression on the audience, which was a good thing for his career. “I’m an actor; it’s all fake…” Yan Li muttered to himself, calming his nerves. Picking up the script again, he started memorizing lines, focusing on the most difficult scenes first to challenge himself. “I, Yuwen Chengdu, never waste a single grain of rice in my bowl.” “Heh, she asked if I dared. Do you dare?” “Good. Follow my orders and line up outside!” “Damn, this writer is savage…”