Chapter 116: Is This Reliable?

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The editing work for "Emperor Wu of Han" was finally complete, so it was time to move on to other tasks.

Post-production dubbing still had to be entrusted to Master Han and Uncle Huang—there was no other option. This time, the dubbing process was rather complicated. For the scenes filmed in Hengdian, it was manageable since they had recorded synchronous sound on set; all that was needed was to add the audio later. But for the grand battle scenes shot in Bayannur, synchronous recording was impossible.

It wasn’t that Wu Xiang didn’t want to record on location; it simply couldn’t be done. The wind resources in Bayannur were overwhelmingly powerful, making it impossible to capture clear dialogue amidst the constant roar of the wind.

A decade later, that area would become one of the country’s most renowned wind power generation regions.

Thankfully, both the Beijing Film Studio and the August First Film Studio had plenty of experience producing war films.

Wu Xiang had no choice but to step back from this aspect; he could only review the results and offer valuable feedback when the time came.

However, there was one thing he had to personally oversee: the music score.

Indeed, dubbing and scoring were two different realms. Wu Xiang was well aware of the distinction, especially since this was a historical costume drama.

Who else could he turn to? Naturally, it would be Old Master Wang.

Unfortunately, when Wu Xiang reached out to Old Master Wang, he appeared quite despondent and frankly said he couldn’t help due to a lack of motivation. Fortunately, Wang Feng recommended someone named Wu Tong.

Wu Xiang didn’t know much about Wu Tong but sensed something was off with Wang Feng—he seemed unusually dispirited.

Wu Xiang didn’t inquire further, but soon someone provided the answer.

“Didn’t you see the news? Wang’s girlfriend jumped off a building!” It was none other than Chen Sicheng who told him.

“Girlfriend? Jumped off a building?” Wu Xiang had been fully absorbed in editing and knew nothing about this.

In fact, this had happened back in September of the previous year, a time when Wu Xiang was even busier than during editing. The woman was a singer named Wu Yajun, but was she truly Old Master Wang’s girlfriend? Wu Xiang wasn’t certain; it was just what Chen Sicheng had said.

Chen Sicheng came to thank Wu Xiang because he had stunned everyone by winning the best award in the fledgling Yanjing Campus Singer Competition.

Wu Xiang hadn’t expected the kid to have such potential in singing. Had history changed because of his involvement, turning Chen Sicheng, formerly known for acting, into a singer?

It didn’t matter; Wu Xiang couldn’t control it. If the boy wanted to pursue music, he could, and Wu Xiang would help if he could. After all, he had accepted this younger brother.

As for Wang Feng, when it came to matters of the heart—especially when things had escalated to this extent—Wu Xiang absolutely didn’t want to get involved. Whoever meddled would get burned, and since Wu Xiang knew nothing of the details, he decided to simply go find Wu Tong.

Wang Feng had given a straightforward address: a bar near Houhai.

Wu Xiang came alone, hoping to make contact and see if this person was suitable. He had no confidence, because anyone hanging out in a bar was likely into rock music. His film was a historical costume drama—if he used rock, that would be far too anachronistic.

But Old Master Wang had made it clear: the person he recommended was trained in traditional instruments and was absolutely reliable.

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Reliable?

“Ask who dares—though aged, can Lian Po still eat?

The timeless rivers and mountains, where heroes dwelled,

They say Ji Nu once lived here,

They say the dancing pavilions and singing stages were always battered by rain and wind.

The setting sun on grass and trees,

In ordinary alleys, they say Ji Nu once lived.

Remember the days of galloping horses and clashing spears, swallowing thousands of miles like a tiger.

The hastily sealed Wolf Ju Xu,

Winning in panic, retreating hastily north…”

With Wu Xiang’s literary foundation, he could immediately recognize the author of these lines—Xin Qiji, one of the most famous poets in history. But this was a rock version!

It was electrifying, truly electrifying. Yet, for some reason, Wu Xiang felt as if he had been struck by lightning. Not scorched on the outside and raw inside, but the thunderous opening was undeniably powerful.

On the small stage in the bar stood a short-haired young man singing passionately. His short hair distinguished him from typical rock artists, but his attire still bore the unmistakable flavor of rock.

“Could this be the Wu Tong I’m looking for?” Wu Xiang wondered. He only had the name from Wang Feng and didn’t know much about the current domestic rock scene. With so many bands, how could he know who was who?

Still, Wu Xiang had a bad feeling.

“I’m looking for Wu Tong, may I ask…” Wu Xiang asked the bartender, who immediately pointed to the stage.

It really was him!

Wu Xiang marveled at his recent streak of accurate intuition. Maybe he should buy a lottery ticket.

Enough distractions—business first. Although Wu Xiang felt the young man seemed somewhat unreliable, that rock rendition of “Eternal Joy: Remembering the Past at Jingkou Beigu Pavilion” gave him some hope.

“Hello, are you Mr. Wu Tong? I’m Wu Xiang. Wang has already told you about me, right?” Wu Xiang approached as soon as the song ended.

“Oh hey, Director Wu, that’s me.” Honestly, Wu Tong had a somewhat rough voice, but that didn’t hinder his rock performance.

“You know why I’m here, right?” Wu Xiang got straight to the point to save time.

“Of course!” Wu Tong smiled confidently. “A historical costume film? You need a score? No problem, I can do it!”

Just because he said he could?

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Wu Xiang internally scoffed but kept a composed expression. He smiled and said, “It’s a Han Dynasty costume drama, quite ancient. We can’t have rock music.”

“Don’t worry, no rock. Just traditional music. Leave it to me.” Wu Tong was incredibly confident.

Wu Xiang was a bit skeptical. Was this guy really that capable?

“Guys! Come have a drink with me. It’s been a while since you’ve hung out with us!” someone from the band called out, as if Wu Tong had grown distant.

“I’m coming!” Wu Tong replied promptly, then turned to Wu Xiang. “Director Wu, want to meet them?”

“Sure.” Wu Xiang was not shy; a little camaraderie would be good.

Soon, Wu Tong introduced Wu Xiang to the band. Only then did Wu Xiang learn that the band was called Reincarnation Band, and the song he had just heard was their hit, “Flames on the Yangzhou Road.”

Reincarnation Band—he had heard of them before. But why was Wu Tong so confident? Wu Xiang didn’t want rock music; he wanted traditional or folk music.

“Dude, if you leave and don’t come back, what will we do?” one band member said.

“Exactly, you’re off making money, but what about us without a home base?” another chimed in.

Listening to their chatter, Wu Xiang gradually understood that Wu Tong was planning to part ways with the band because he would often perform abroad—not with rock, but with his original instrument, the sheng.

The sheng was a traditional Chinese mouth organ, a folk instrument.

“Guys,” Wu Tong replied, “I’ve found my passion again. It’s not that foreign places are better—I just get to play the sheng again, and that’s wonderful. If you perform, find another lead singer.”

“Is it that easy?”

“You guys really let me down!”

They bantered back and forth, and Wu Xiang quietly listened. It wasn’t his business, so he remained a spectator.

He realized Wu Tong was truly leaving Reincarnation Band, which he had founded. The split wasn’t about money but because Wu Tong had rediscovered his original love.

Unlike Wang Feng, who had no qualms about his violin career fading in favor of singing, Wu Tong remained passionate about his instrument.

Reincarnation Band had no choice but to accept it. You can’t hold someone back if they want to go, though they hadn’t completely settled things yet. The bonds of friendship remained.

“Can you really do it?” Wu Xiang asked directly as they left the bar.

“What’s there to fear? How about this: we watch some footage, then I share my ideas. If you like them, I’ll compose the music. If not, you can find someone else. How’s that?” Wu Tong was brimming with confidence.

“Alright, let’s go.” Wu Xiang agreed, after all, there was no risk.

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