Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Actually, Shi Tuo wasn’t always as steady as a rock 24/7. He had some rather peculiar compulsions.

For example, when sending messages to people, he would always keep the word count a multiple of three. As long as it wasn’t a formal exam, he couldn’t resist calculating the score of objective questions. Even if it was just a true/false question, he had to keep the total score of objective questions a multiple of three.

But these weren’t really big problems. When something urgent came up, he could control himself and send messages without worrying about the word count. During formal exams, he could ignore the total score of objective questions. It wouldn’t affect his life, and at most, it would just become something for An Jiujiu to tease him about later.

However, Shi Tuo had a secret compulsive behavior that really did affect his life—his obsessive-compulsive disorder about promises. Once he made a promise, no matter what the cost, he had to keep it.

An Jiujiu’s most vivid memory was when she was in elementary school. At that time, An Huaimin had just been reassigned, and her mother, Wang Shanshan, was handling everything at home alone, always rushing around and often forgetting things like keys or whether the stove was turned off while taking her to school.

At that time, Shi Tuo’s mother, Zhang Rou, would come to help out. Sometimes, when Wang Shanshan was too busy, Zhang Rou would take the two kids to school together.

Wang Shanshan was very grateful to Zhang Rou and would take the kids out during their holidays to give her a break from her tough life as a housewife.

That winter, it was very cold. The two kids were on winter break, and the City Youth Palace had set up a man-made ice palace. Many kids had already gone, and An Jiujiu also insisted on going. But the tickets were scarce, and Wang Shanshan had to use some of her remaining work connections to get two tickets after sending two boxes of apples as a gift.

When they arrived at the ice palace, it was crowded. Most of the parents were taking just one child, and very few had the courage to bring two, like Wang Shanshan.

Children from the Jiangnan region weren’t used to such large ice walls. Inside the ice palace, there were many play facilities. A bunch of kids were running around crazily, and An Jiujiu, like an eel, darted through them, making it hard to catch her. Wang Shanshan shouted for them not to wander off, but despite her loud voice, they still got lost in the crowd. She looked down at her phone for just a moment, and when she looked up, the kids were gone.

In the end, it was Shi Tuo who found them. An Jiujiu, after realizing her mother was missing, had followed a woman who was dressed similarly. If Shi Tuo hadn’t grabbed her, Wang Shanshan would have had to call the plaza's broadcasting to search for her.

So on the way home, Wang Shanshan grabbed both kids' hands and laughed, telling Shi Tuo, "Why don’t you protect Jiujiu from now on?"

She said it half-jokingly, half-praising Shi Tuo for being considerate.

Unexpectedly, the little boy seriously thought for a minute, then nodded, saying, “Okay, I’ll protect An Jiujiu from now on.”

It was like a vow.

Of course, at that time, no one took Shi Tuo’s promise seriously.

But that night, less than eight-year-old Shi Tuo declared he wanted to practice boxing. He didn’t know what kind of boxing, just that he wanted to become strong. Zhang Rou, thinking it was for physical fitness, sent him to the youth palace, and after looking around, he chose to learn freestyle fighting.

From that day on, Shi Tuo would wait for An Jiujiu after school every day, making sure she walked on the inner side of the road. When they encountered troublemakers, he would stand in front of her to block their gaze.

He would say, “It’s okay, don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

This was the first promise of his life, made at an age when no one paid attention, and he kept it for ten years.

Ten years later, he gave another promise to An Jiujiu. He said he would help her.

This time, just like ten years ago, the one making the request said it jokingly, but the person who accepted it took it seriously.

“…What is this?” In the secret base, An Jiujiu curiously took the stack of papers that Shi Tuo handed her.

It wasn’t a math test paper.

“This is information on Director Yang Zhengyi, and the actresses he’s worked with in the past five years,” Shi Tuo flipped to the last two pages, “I’ve also summarized it.”

At the end, there were charts.

The charts were colorful, with cartoon logos, presenting a serious yet lively style.

This was the same style Shi Tuo used when he drew math test ranges for her, so An Jiujiu cautiously scooted her chair back a little before opening the papers to look.“Director Yang Zhengyi primarily makes suspense films,” Shi Tuo said. “He usually releases one film every year and a half, with both domestic and international versions. I looked up a few of his films from the past few years that won international awards and got great reviews. The content… it’s pretty intense.”

“His films have scenes where minors kill adults, and there’s a lot of blood and violence.”

“The good thing is, his films portray women quite thoroughly. They’re not like some commercial films where women just scream, make jokes, and set the atmosphere.”

An Jiujiu stared blankly at the last page of the form. Shi Tuo had detailed the character designs of the female roles in Director Yang Zhengyi's films, along with critics' reviews of these roles, especially the section on acting, which he highlighted with bright red cartoon speech bubbles.

To prepare for the audition, An Jiujiu had watched all of Yang Zhengyi’s films recently. Since they were suspense films, as Shi Tuo mentioned, there were quite a few scenes of blood and violence, and the tone was mostly cold and oppressive. What stuck with her the most was the storyline, though she hadn’t systematically listed things out like Shi Tuo had.

Now that it was all listed out, it became unexpectedly intuitive.

“In all his films, when critics comment on the acting, they always mention how the director rarely uses close-up shots of expressions.”

Some reviewers praised the actors’ appearances, others noted the atmosphere was spot on, and some mentioned the actors’ strong dialogue delivery, but they all mentioned that Director Yang rarely used close-ups of an actor’s expressions for specific shots.

Shi Tuo pointed to one of the critic’s remarks: “Director Yang Zhengyi uses long takes to convey the plot or set the mood, but he rarely uses long takes to showcase an actor’s acting skills. This might be because he loves casting newcomers.”

Shi Tuo continued, “His films have a regular group of supporting actors, but almost every leading role is a newcomer.”

An Jiujiu was so engrossed in what she was reading that she instinctively asked, “Why?”

A half-circle insider who had been on the edges of the industry for five years was asking someone who had never paid attention to such things. It seemed justified.

Shi Tuo: “…”

He had actually studied this.

“This is an interview from three years ago with Yang Zhengyi.” Shi Tuo pulled out his phone and opened the video. “Many interviews have asked him this question, but Yang Zhengyi has never answered it directly. However, in an interview about four years ago, after his film ‘The Murder Tavern’ became a huge hit, the lead actor won almost every domestic acting award. But after that, the actor starred in a few big productions—both films and TV shows—and was criticized for lacking acting skills.”

“The host of that interview is a well-known writer in the film industry. Many of the things Yang Zhengyi said in that interview seemed to be his most honest thoughts.”

In the interview, Yang Zhengyi said, making a movie, from shooting to release, was a long and expensive process. Hiring well-known actors meant even higher costs—actor fees and their schedules would add difficulty to the production. His films weren’t particularly deep art films, so he didn’t need the actors to be super skilled or nuanced. He could compensate for newcomers' acting weaknesses through camera movements, lighting, and even supporting actors.

So, from a production standpoint, choosing newcomer actors was more cost-effective than hiring famous ones.

The interviewer asked Yang Zhengyi what his criteria were for choosing newcomers.

Yang Zhengyi’s answer: “They need to fit the character and be obedient.”

He didn’t care about a newcomer’s acting skills. A good actor could convey emotion to the audience through the screen. This was a mystical thing—no matter what acting style it was, many veteran actors who had been in the business for a lifetime could never quite explain it in words.

Yang Zhengyi said that to maintain the integrity of his work, after adding and subtracting various factors, he chose to forgo hiring a talented, famous actor.

He only needed a newcomer who was a good physical match for the character and obedient. If they lacked acting skills, they could be supported by camera language. A newcomer with a long enough schedule and a cheap enough price would have enough time to hone their acting skills on set.

A two-hour film could take six months to perfect, shot by shot. A newcomer with the right temperament for the role could undergo a complete transformation.

It was just… very brief.

After leaving Director Yang Zhengyi’s films, most of these newcomers became one-hit wonders. They started at a high point, but without a team to help them develop their skills, those with less talent would drop from movie roles to TV or even web drama roles. Those with better instincts, after enduring some hardship, could succeed.

Over time, it became a well-known secret in the industry that Yang Zhengyi’s films were of high quality, but the performance of the newcomers in his films didn’t reflect their true acting skills.

After all, not everyone had the status of Director Yang Zhengyi, who didn’t need famous actors’ fame to boost his films, could secure investment before the script was even finalized, and had enough confidence to support such long production cycles.

So, the way Yang Zhengyi nurtures newcomers was something only he could do.

An Jiujiu opened her mouth slightly, then sent the video link to her phone: “Did you search for each of these interviews individually?”It had only been two days since he last said he would help her!

Yang Zhengyi had been in the industry for over thirty years and had countless interviews—how did he find them?

Is it true that academic achievers are really different from ordinary people?

"Taking questions with you makes it much easier," Shi Tuo, the academic achiever, imparted his secret.

An Jiujiu: "…Oh."

The academic achiever would never know that ordinary people can't even come up with the questions.

Ordinary people would only think: Wow! This is a film by Director Yang Zhengyi! Wow! I actually have a chance to audition!

But she could summarize it: "So, the main focus for me in this audition is to fit the character?"

Being obedient was something that didn't require much effort. She had no resources, no background, and was a complete newcomer—if they gave her a hundred chances, she still wouldn't dare not be obedient.

"Mm." Shi Tuo took out the last blank form. "For this audition, the passing grade is fitting the character, and a high score is fitting the character and having acting talent."

An Jiujiu blinked.

Shi Tuo said, "In previous interviews, when facing questions about new actors, Yang Zhengyi would always use vague language to dodge it. But in that interview three years ago, he spoke openly about it."

"There’s a reason for that."

"The actor who starred in 'The Murder Tavern' was heavily criticized because his acting was so poor. Some people said he had the 'Yang Zhengyi style' of acting. A screenwriter who had worked with Yang Zhengyi on four or five films once said in a forum that the newcomers Yang Zhengyi chose were quite pitiful. Yang Zhengyi is so capable that if he needs to create a perfect cube, he would find the person who looks most like a perfect cube, then force that person into it, making them believe they are the perfect cube. But once that person leaves Yang Zhengyi, they aren’t anything anymore, because without the framework, they won’t even be able to portray the cube."

"This explanation led to the fact that it became more difficult for Yang Zhengyi to audition new actors later."

No one wanted to end up with the 'Yang Zhengyi style' of acting.

In the end, the very flaws that Yang Zhengyi had sacrificed for his works became obstacles in his filmmaking process.

"So, if there's a newcomer who fits the character and has acting talent, they would definitely be his first choice."

"Then I..." An Jiujiu asked carefully, "How do I become a newcomer with acting talent?"

Shi Tuo neatly arranged the materials and placed them in front of An Jiujiu, patted them, and declared, "You already have it."

An Jiujiu: "?"