Volume Two: Shadows of the Past Chapter Fifty-Seven: No Need, Let Me Handle It!

Returning to the set of SPL: Sha Po Lang, Chen Jing had finally settled into the rhythm of the production after a few days of adjustment. The actors no longer exhibited the tension they had shown on the first day of filming.

As an A-list actor, Liu Hao found himself increasingly unable to figure out his director, Chen Jing. If you said Chen Jing had never made a movie, he was incredibly familiar with the ins and outs of a film set; if you called him a novice, he almost never had to re-shoot a take.

But these weren't the things that baffled him most. What he struggled to understand was whether Chen Jing actually knew how to be a director. He could command the entire cast within days, yet he seemed incapable of flexibility, rigidly demanding that actors stick to the script without allowing for any improvisation. This specific point was driving a veteran like Liu Hao to distraction.

"Director Chen, I feel like I should add a gesture here... I should do it like this..."

"Brother Hao, I think your suggestion is great. How about this: let's shoot it according to the script first to see how it looks. If it doesn't work, we'll try your version, okay?"

Liu Hao: "..." It was the same response again. Looking at the smiling Chen Jing, Liu Hao was speechless. Every time he offered a suggestion, Chen Jing would politely agree to film it according to the script first, but once it was done, he would simply say it was good enough—and that would be the end of it. He’d move straight to the next scene.

Liu Hao sighed, feeling a bit disheartened. After these few days, he felt Chen Jing was a decent person and they got along well, and he saw potential in him, which is why he wanted to offer some guidance. It was a pity the younger man wouldn't listen. As expected, a rookie director was just a rookie director; he didn't know how to communicate with actors and was too arrogant, insisting on doing things his own way.

Chen Jing was unaware of what Liu Hao or the rest of the crew thought of him; he had no time for their opinions. Having familiarized himself with the process, he felt he had finally found his groove, and the shooting pace had accelerated significantly. If all went well, he expected to wrap up by the middle of the month, potentially in time for the May Day holiday release.

Still... was it too fast to finish a movie in less than a month? Forget it—fast was fast. He couldn't exactly slow down on purpose.

With the pace picked up, Chen Jing had finished the minor plot points and was now moving into the most exciting part of the film. Anyone familiar with SPL: Sha Po Lang knew that the film truly enters its high-octane, thrilling phase when the assassin Jack is ordered to eliminate the three supporting police officers.

The actor cast as Jack was Liu Manqiang. Chen Jing had found his physical appearance a perfect fit, and given his martial arts background, he had wanted to hire him before the auditions even began. After all, the assassin Jack was arguably the most eye-catching role in the entire film.

Following Chen Jing's instructions, Liu Manqiang had dyed his hair into a yellow-and-white non-mainstream style and donned a white outfit, which, surprisingly, gave him a rather edgy, cool aesthetic.

That night, they were filming the scene where Jack kills the officer Le. Things had been going smoothly until a specific action shot brought production to a halt.

"Director Chen, it’s not that I’m complaining, but no one could possibly pull off this shot," Wang Zhou said, frowning as he looked at the nearly two-meter-high soccer goal frame in front of them.

In truth, Wang Zhou had been critical of Chen Jing, an outsider, designing the film's fight choreography. Even though Chen Jing had made it clear he would handle the martial arts direction himself and only needed assistance, it was annoying to have an amateur instructing professionals.

Take this current scene: Chen Jing wanted Liu Manqiang to perform a 360-degree front flip over a goal frame over a meter high to land a kick. Such a high-difficulty move was impossible; even a professional stuntman like Liu Manqiang couldn't do it.

Chen Jing didn't reply to Wang Zhou. He stared at the goal frame, lost in thought. He remembered that in the version from his previous life, they had sawed the frame down to make it easier to film. Should he follow suit?

Seeing Chen Jing silent, Liu Manqiang hesitated before suggesting, "How about I try again? I won't do a long take this time. I'll just do a running start and see if I can clear the frame. If I can, we can film that shot separately and edit it in later."

Chen Jing snapped back to reality. He had just thought of a way to avoid sawing the frame. However, after hearing Liu Manqiang's suggestion, he agreed to let him try one more time.

They went for it. This time, Liu Manqiang took a longer run-up. He stared at the goal, took a deep breath, and sprinted forward. Accelerating toward the frame, he pushed off with all his might, launched himself into the air, and attempted a side flip over the bar...

*Thud!*

Unfortunately, even with the running start, Liu Manqiang couldn't fully clear the frame. His jump wasn't high enough, and his hip slammed into the metal, causing him to crash to the ground.

The crew rushed over to see if he was injured.

"Are you okay?" Chen Jing asked, helping him up.

Liu Manqiang shook his head and grinned. "I'm fine, no problem at all." For stunt performers, bruises and falls were part of the job; they hardly counted as injuries.

Wang Zhou said with some dissatisfaction, "Director, let’s stop trying. If Liu Manqiang can't clear it, no other stuntman will be able to either."

Chen Jing nodded. "Right, no more trying. I've thought of a way. Let’s shoot the next scene first."

Wang Zhou asked in surprise, "You have a way? What is it? Why don't we just change the move? There are plenty of cool actions to choose from."

Chen Jing smiled. "No, let's stick with this one. Give me a moment to put on some makeup; I'll perform the stunt as a double for Manqiang."

"You?" Wang Zhou stared at him, speechless. If their stuntmen couldn't do it, could Chen Jing? Did he really think their lack of success was due to a lack of skill?

Liu Manqiang and the others watched Chen Jing with astonishment. It was only then that Liu Manqiang remembered Chen Jing had once been a soldier; perhaps he really could pull it off.

Seeing the skeptical looks from everyone around him, Chen Jing didn't mind. He just smiled and explained, "Don't worry, my jumping ability is quite good. It doesn't hurt to try."

There was no point in arguing; a demonstration would settle it. Wang Zhou didn't say anything more, thinking that if Chen Jing wanted to embarrass himself, he wouldn't stand in his way.

Perhaps the only person on set who believed Chen Jing could do it was Liu Manqiang. Oh, and perhaps Wang Shumin.

Wang Shumin now had a near-mystical confidence in Chen Jing. Since she began serving as his assistant director, she had expected that with her knowledge and experience, she would be guiding this novice director.

But since filming started, aside from some initial rustiness in the first two days, Chen Jing's command of the production was more precise and knowledgeable than her own. That wasn't even the most impressive part—it was his keen eye for cinematography. As his assistant, she was the only one who truly knew what he was trying to capture, which was exactly why she admired him so much. Not a single frame was wasted in his filming; it felt as if a complete movie already existed in his mind, and he knew exactly which shots were required to bring it to life.

But did he really have the movie in his mind? Of course not. This was what people called directorial talent. Every master director possessed an innate, sharp instinct for the lens, allowing them to know exactly what they wanted before the cameras even rolled. At least, that was how Wang Shumin saw it.

After Chen Jing finished his makeup and put on the wig, everything was ready.

"Cameras, roll. No rehearsal, we’re going straight to the take. Zhang Ye, get ready."

"Got it, Director," Zhang Ye replied immediately. Having worked together for days, Zhang Ye was an actor Chen Jing favored, and they had developed a good rapport.

Wang Zhou, Liu Hao, and the others found it amusing that Chen Jing would skip rehearsals, but they kept quiet. After all, he was the director, and if he wanted to film it that way, it was his reputation on the line, not theirs.

"Scene 78, Take 4. Action!"

As the clapperboard snapped shut, the camera began to roll.

Chen Jing’s hunched body instantly coiled and sprang forward. As he neared the goal frame, he leaped effortlessly, performed a perfect front flip over the bar, landed a simulated kick on the shoulder of the actor playing Le—who was already pinned by a knife—and finished with a crisp, one-knee landing, leaving the camera with a striking silhouette.

The entire set fell silent. Everyone stared at Chen Jing, who was still crouched on the ground, completely dumbfounded and unable to utter a word.