Chapter Eleven: Casting Choices

At six in the evening, the financier, director, cinematographer, and lighting technician gathered for a hot pot meal, chatting as they dipped meat into the broth. Everything seemed to be going smoothly; the team was nearly assembled.

Chubby Li Kai had just fished out a mouthful of meat, dipping it in the oil sauce as he said, “I’ve scouted out the filming locations and inns over in the Mist City. You can check the Excel sheet at your place later.”

Zhang Qianjun was quite pleased, thinking these guys seemed reliable enough, and raised his glass to make a toast.

Seeing Zhang Qianjun lift his beer mug, Liu Chang quickly intervened, “Qianjun, take it easy, take it easy. We haven’t even started eating yet, and you want to drink already? That’s unbearable. Let’s eat first.”

Han Qiming also chimed in hurriedly, “I’ve been hungry since breakfast after that bun; I really need to eat first.”

“Li Kai’s already finished half a plate of lamb, and you two haven’t even had a bite. Maybe it’s your own problem,” Zhang Qianjun teased.

Liu Chang and Han Qiming exchanged helpless looks. The chubby guy was quick to dip the meat in the pot for three seconds and eat it, so it looked like he was almost done with the entire plate.

Seeing the others unwilling to argue, Li Kai lowered his head to continue dipping meat, and Zhang Qianjun put down his glass and began picking up meat himself.

“I’ve pretty much settled the actors on my side. The only role left is the second female lead, Wei Lai. I posted on the school’s forum. Tomorrow at two in the afternoon, anyone available should come with me to the audition in Room 316, Block B of the performance building.”

Hearing this, everyone perked up. Liu Chang said, “As the temporary director, I have to oversee the actors in my own film.” Director Han said, “I’ll bring the camera to see if the actors fit the roles.” Li Kai stopped showing off his meat skills and eagerly added, “We need to do on-site lighting; otherwise, many issues won’t show on screen.”

In short, everyone agreed they would go to the audition to learn and improve.

Zhang Qianjun looked at the three’s performances and clicked his tongue.

“Look at you guys. People need to broaden their horizons and eat better food. This is such a small-scale audition. If you were involved in casting for Dream of the Red Chamber, each of you would have a heart attack.”

“Sounds like you’ve cast before. It’s your first time too, isn’t it?” Li Kai grumbled while dipping a lamb eye into the broth.

“I haven’t cast before, but I’m not interested in women. Women only slow down my progress.”

The others exchanged glances. They should have mocked Zhang Qianjun for that remark, but none of them did. Since they met him while filming The Rose Boy, the looks they exchanged were full of disbelief—could this guy really be that cold?

Zhang Qianjun noticed the silence but took it as his joke falling flat and continued dipping meat.

After a while, Liu Chang looked at Zhang Qianjun and asked, “Qianjun, what about the music? How are you thinking about the score?”

“How am I thinking? I plan to put in ‘The Wind Rises’. How exactly, I haven’t decided yet. You guys discuss and give me an answer.”

“Not a song, the film score.”

“How should I know how to do a film score? Let’s get a professional composer. Why are you asking me this?”

Liu Chang felt awkward. “Well, you wrote and sang yourself pretty well. I was wondering if you could handle the score too.”

Zhang Qianjun immediately got a bit nervous. “That’s not the same thing! You’re a bit behind the times, finding me for everything. Are you saying the director’s job is just for show? If I could do everything, why would I need you?”

Liu Chang looked even more guilty. “Yesterday, I talked with Teacher Tian and realized I lack experience. I’m worried I can’t handle a commercial film like this. It’s a heavy burden. I was thinking of being an assistant director to learn first and find a more experienced director.”

Zhang Qianjun put down his chopsticks and stared at Liu Chang expressionlessly for a moment.

“You say you can’t do it. Then who do you think can? Tell me. Can we even get that person?”

Liu Chang was silent for a while. “Actually, I haven’t decided who’s suitable yet.”

“Hm?” Zhang Qianjun’s expression darkened. “This is your job. If you think you’re not capable and want to step down, that’s fine. But you need to recommend someone. You can’t just throw the problem at me. Organize your thoughts. Since you think you can’t do it, who do you think can?”

After some hesitation, Liu Chang finally said, “I think Director Xue Xiaolu is more suitable for this kind of story.”

Zhang Qianjun sighed inwardly. Did he think he didn’t know Xue Xiaolu was suitable?

“Well then, future Director Liu, tell me, with our budget and cast, how do we afford Xue Xiaolu? Do you have any connections?”

Liu Chang was stumped, about to reply when Zhang Qianjun interrupted.

“Chang, since you brought it up, let’s treat it seriously. You handle contacting Director Xue. If you need my support, just call me anytime.”

That settled the discussion on the director. After eating and drinking, the night passed quietly.

The next afternoon at 1 p.m., the group arrived punctually at Room 316, Block B. Li Kai, following Zhang Qianjun’s instructions, taped an A4 sheet used for The Young You’s casting call on the door. Li Xian and some classmates assigned to the atmosphere group acted as helpers to receive attendees. The makeshift crew was ready for the auditions.

“Qianjun, how many people are coming to audition for the second female lead today?” Liu Chang poured hot water into his thermos and sat down, eager to see some beauties.

“How should I know?”

“You don’t know? Didn’t you say you arranged the audition today?”

“I just posted on the forum, announcing the two o’clock audition. Whether anyone shows up or how many, I have no idea,” Zhang Qianjun answered matter-of-factly, causing Liu Chang’s eye to twitch.

“This is hopeless. Probably more staff showed up than auditionees today.”

“Be patient. Even if only one person comes, she might be perfect.”

Liu Chang gave a helpless sigh and leaned back, almost slumping like Ge You in his famous pose. Though this guy seemed reliable, why was he so casual about certain matters?

As Liu Chang slumped, cameraman Han Qiming approached.

“Two girls just arrived outside. One has very long legs.”

Upon hearing this, Liu Chang immediately straightened up, sitting upright. “Don’t keep them waiting. Please invite them in.”

The door opened, and in walked a young woman about 170 cm tall with a striking, graceful figure. Her legs were long, slim, and straight like two pencils. Her face was certainly pretty but carried a somewhat amusing expression, lacking a cool, distant aura. She looked beautiful on camera but would need to be mindful of angles.

“Hello, teachers. My name is Huang Mengying. I’m 20 years old, a freshman in the 2009 acting department.”

Zhang Qianjun thought, no acting experience introduced—so she’s probably never acted before? He glanced at Liu Chang, signaling him to speak and get to the point.

Liu Chang cleared his throat and began introducing the film’s general information.

About five minutes later, Liu Chang finished. Zhang Qianjun immediately called Han Qiming to bring the script.

“You’ve read the story outline and character descriptions, right? Now try a line—the scene where the second female lead dies. Huang, how much preparation time do you need? Twenty minutes okay?”

“Okay, teacher, I’ll prepare.”

“No need to call me teacher. We’re classmates and alumni, and probably colleagues in the future. Just call me Qianjun. That’s Liu Chang next to me, Director Liu; this handsome guy is cinematographer Han Qiming, Director Han; and finally, the executive producer and lighting technician, Li Kai, Producer Li. Alright, get ready.”

Then Zhang Qianjun gestured to Li Xian to call in the next candidate.

“Hello, teachers. I’m Kan Qingzi, a 2007 acting department undergraduate. I’ve acted in The Vast Sky and The New Dream of the Red Chamber, playing young Empress Dowager Cixi and She Yue, respectively.”

‘Ah, finally someone I know,’ Zhang Qianjun thought, wondering if she was still with her partner. (The first time Zhang Qianjun learned about her and her boyfriend, he thought they were some sort of literary partners in a novel.)

Kan Qingzi was not tall, around 160 cm, but well-proportioned, with a pair of eyes that always seemed on the verge of tears.

They followed the routine: twenty minutes of preparation, then reciting lines.

A few more candidates arrived afterward, none with names Zhang Qianjun could recall. They were all decent-looking but ordinary, none quite fitting his expectations.

The auditions ended, and the four sat around. Zhang Qianjun spoke first.

“Speak up. Who do you favor?”

Liu Chang mumbled, “Only the first two were okay. The others couldn’t get through the lines.”

Zhang Qianjun nodded. “Then choose between the two. Qiming, from a cinematographer’s perspective, which fits better?”

Han Qiming pondered briefly. “Kan Qingzi. She has fewer blind spots. Huang Mengying is pretty but needs the right angles.”

“Kai, from a male perspective, which feels more like your Wei Lai?”

Chubby Li Kai recalled the two girls. “Probably Kan Qingzi. She looks a bit pitiful at first but somehow doesn’t quite fit. I can’t describe the feeling, but something’s off.”

Zhang Qianjun looked at Li Kai with slight surprise. This guy had a natural gift for judging.

“Alright, since everyone agrees, Kan Qingzi it is. How much should we pay for this role?”

“The male lead in Under the Hawthorn Tree got 100,000 yuan, but that was for Director Zhang’s film. For us, the second female lead can get at most 50,000 yuan,” Liu Chang suggested based on market rates.

“Fine. Kai, get in touch with her. That’s the salary, one month’s schedule.”

Just as Li Kai agreed, Zhang Qianjun’s phone rang.

“Is this Zhang Qianjun? I’m Jiang Wenli. Teacher Wang Jinsong told me you have a youth film needing a female lead. Are you free at noon tomorrow? Let’s meet and chat.”

Zhang Qianjun was stunned. Damn it, my Dean Wang, Old Wang! We agreed not to look for actresses over thirty, but you sent a woman in her forties. I can’t call her ‘girl’!

“Hello, Aunt Jiang. I’m Zhang Qianjun. Just call me Qianjun. I’m free tomorrow noon. Please send me the address.”

“See you tomorrow then~” For some reason, Zhang Qianjun thought Aunt Jiang’s voice sounded a bit playful. After hanging up, he muttered repeatedly, “No, no, this really won’t do!”