Chapter Thirteen: Casting

Wu Xiang only learned later that the film Chen Kun was auditioning for was "Eyes Wide Open," and it was true that Lu Yi’s height completely outclassed Brother Kun. Still, he wasn’t fixated on that issue anymore—not even Chen Kun was. What weighed on Wu Xiang’s mind now was casting. The male lead was a done deal: Chen Kun, who was even willing to do it for free.

“Xiangzi, you’re helping me out so much, I’d do it even if you didn’t pay me!”

Those were Chen Kun’s exact words, but Wu Xiang insisted on paying him—how much, well, that was up for mutual agreement.

Wu Xiang was holding a winning hand. He could keep costs at their absolute minimum, even saving the biggest chunk—the publicity budget—because the internet would take care of that. That was why he dared to take the risk; otherwise, it would be gambling, and Wu Xiang didn’t like to gamble.

As for the production team, that was easy—just the guys from Dorm 307 could form a small unit, renting all equipment to keep costs down. At present, the most crucial matter was selecting the female lead.

Looking back at the casting for the original movie adaptation of "First Close Encounter," Wu Xiang thought some choices were right, some wrong. The mistake was picking a bunch of famous faces, especially Chen Xiaochun.

Not that Chen Xiaochun lacked acting skills—in Wu Xiang’s opinion, Brother Xiaochun was one of the most talented actors among Hong Kong’s male stars, particularly impressive in "The Duke of Mount Deer." But the problem was, in 1998, Chen Xiaochun’s most recognizable role was as “Chicken” from "Young and Dangerous." To have a short, tough guy suddenly play a university student—that contrast was just too jarring.

This wasn’t yet an era where being a college student meant nothing!

The right choice, however, was Ma Qianshan as the unknown female lead. That choice was spot-on—an unfamiliar face gave the film a sense of mystery and perfectly matched the tone of "First Close Encounter." Yet in Wu Xiang’s mind, the ideal Qingwu Feiyang was still not Ma Qianshan.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty—she just didn’t capture that feeling Wu Xiang envisioned. He wanted a sprite, someone whose beauty would dazzle everyone, pure and otherworldly.

But such a sprite was hard to find.

At the Beijing Film Academy where Wu Xiang studied—known as one of the top places in the country for beautiful women—there was no shortage of beauties, but precious few fit Wu Xiang’s vision for "Qingwu Feiyang."

If he could turn back time, Zhao Wei would have been the perfect choice. But she was already a sensation across Asia, too famous for Wu Xiang to even dream of casting her. Even if she agreed to act for free, he’d hesitate, since her fame would shatter the character’s mystery.

The female lead had to be a fresh face—beautiful, ethereal, an actress with skill… Wu Xiang’s standards were nothing short of demanding.

Among the women in the class of ’97 acting program, there were certainly beauties, but none that matched his ideal. Huang Yi, for instance, was completely out of shape—a physique that could support a person on her arm or a horse on her fist. The other notable ones were Wang Huijuan, Wen Zhengrong, and Zhang Yanyan. To be honest, in terms of beauty, they were the top three. Back then, the standards for art school entrance exams were much stricter than in later years; it wasn’t enough to be pretty—you had to have the makings of an actor, with looks as only one part.

But for Wu Xiang, none of them would do. Wang Huijuan and Wen Zhengrong, though beautiful, had features that looked too mature; he wasn’t their enemy, he just found them ill-suited for the role. As for Zhang Yanyan, judging by later standards, her acting was mediocre.

Zhang Yanyan became well-known early on, playing Zhu Qiqi in the Huang Haibing version of "The Legendary Swordsman." Although she couldn’t surpass Wang Yan’s Bai Feifei, she still left an impression on many viewers. The original novel described Zhu Qiqi as the world’s most beautiful woman, so at this stage, Zhang Yanyan’s looks were impeccable. But judging by her later obscurity and how Wu Xiang felt watching "The Legendary Swordsman," he thought her acting was too exaggerated and lacked naturalness.

Having ruled out nearly everyone in the ’97 class, Wu Xiang turned to the collective power of his friends. He didn’t want to miss any hidden gems, so he set his roommates a task: go out and find your own "Qingwu Feiyang."

There was a catch—it had to meet his own stringent standards.

But finding a "Qingwu Feiyang" wasn’t like picking out a stray—it was no easy feat...

“So, do any of you have good suggestions?” Wu Xiang asked his roommates in Dorm 307, eager for results.

“Suggestions? What suggestions? You think this is a restaurant and you’re ordering off a menu?” Huang Yanbo immediately started ribbing him.

Wu Xiang, thick-skinned as ever, just grinned. “I’m just pooling ideas—what menu? We’re not eating out here, are we?”

But Huang Yanbo wasn’t letting it go. “Listen, if you really did go to a restaurant, I bet not even the best chef could satisfy you. Your standards are just too high.”

He wasn’t the only one with complaints. Wang Hongzhi chimed in, “Seriously, Xiangzi, why are your requirements so damn strict? Just look at your list: first, she’s gotta be beautiful, not just ordinary, but with that innocent yet mischievous vibe. Good luck with that—innocence is hard enough to find these days, and you want mischievous too? You’re a real piece of work…”

Lin Jidong jumped in as well. “And you insist she must be from a professional background—Film Academy, Drama Academy, whatever. At first we thought, okay, that’s doable, plenty of beauties in those schools, but who would have guessed…”

“I’ll say it for you!” Zhao Xiaopeng couldn’t hold back. “Xiangzi, it’s fine if you want a beauty, or a professional, but you want both, and on top of that, she can’t have any acting credits? You’re making life impossible for us!”

And that wasn’t even the worst of it—Yu Le joined the fray. “You’re so damn picky! No acting experience is bad enough, but you won’t even consider anyone who’s done commercials. I suggested someone who’d just done a calendar shoot, and you turned her down. You’re impossible—do you know how hard we’re working for you?”

Wu Xiang felt compelled to defend himself. “No, seriously, that calendar model just didn’t have the right purity.”

“Purity, purity—your requirements are nuts!” This time, his pushback only drew more protests from the group.

Finally, even Dong Zhengliang, who rarely spoke, tugged at Hao Yi and said to Wu Xiang, “Xiangzi, maybe Haozi and I should just draw you a picture instead?”