Chapter Four: Young Man, Let Me Teach You a Lesson

Although Rongdian is officially classified as a town in terms of administrative rank, it has grown tremendously over the past decade as one of this era’s first national film industry experimental zones. Within the industry, people refer to it as “China’s Hollywood.”

As a 5A-rated film city, Rongdian boasts fourteen large-scale themed areas and filming bases, capable of hosting hundreds of crews shooting simultaneously—just to give you an idea, it took twenty minutes of swaying in a minibus before they finally arrived at the set.

Though it was only six-thirty in the morning, most of the crew had already arrived and begun their preparations. Amidst the bustling activity, Master Shuo, head of the extras, wore a gloomy expression as he unloaded his passengers.

He pointed to a vacant lot beside the props team, littered with miscellaneous items, instructing Li Shixin and his companions to wait there. Then, clutching a list, he made his way to the assistant director, who was busy arranging the day’s shooting schedule.

The assistant director, named Guan Lan, was quite young—just past thirty—with black-rimmed glasses giving him a scholarly air.

Guan Lan noticed Shuo approaching, cigarette clenched between his teeth and looking thoroughly disgruntled. “Shuo, what’s with that long face? Something wrong with the extras? Let me tell you, there’s nothing major today—the director isn’t here, so I’m holding the fort. If you mess this up, you can forget about working with us in the future!”

People like Shuo survive in Rongdian by currying favor with the crew bosses. Directors and assistant directors have their own circles—if an extras manager provides reliable people, he’s talked about favorably; if he’s careless, it’s discussed, and that determines his livelihood. He couldn’t afford to offend them.

From his pocket, he produced a pack of cigarettes he kept for such occasions—not the kind he smoked himself—and offered a Furong Wang to Guan Lan. With a pained expression, he said, “Director Guan, I wouldn’t dare mess up your business, not in a million years! I’ve gathered all the extras you asked for yesterday, so rest assured. If anything goes wrong, you can slap me!”

“Then why the funeral face?” Guan Lan teased.

“Ah!” Shuo waved his hand. “Ran into a real oddball today. I’ve seen plenty of people faking accidents to extort money on the street, but someone faking an accident to get a role? That’s a first! Take a look, that old man over there.”

He recounted Li Shixin’s encounter in detail, then sighed. “Director Guan, I’m out of options. Maybe you could do me a favor—just give the old man a minor part, let him shoot and leave. Get it over with.”

Guan Lan, hearing the story, laughed so hard he choked on his smoke, coughing until his eyes watered before waving his hand. “Well, I’ll be damned. In all my years, I’ve never heard of such a thing. But the old man’s persistence is remarkable. Fine, I’ll see about finding him something later.”

“Thank you, Director Guan.”

…

Li Shixin sat on an empty equipment case, watching the prop and costume masters busily at work.

He’d acted in several web dramas before crossing over, but back then he was a minor celebrity with over two hundred thousand zombie followers. His involvement amounted to striking poses in front of the camera and uttering a few corny lines before wrapping up.

He had never really observed the work of the costume and prop departments.

Now, watching the prop master handle World War I-era weapons, Qing army uniforms, and Eight-Nation Alliance attire, he began to form an impression of this drama, “The Last Days of the Forbidden City.” Unlike the fast-food productions of his previous world, where the Eight-Nation Alliance marched into Beijing with flintlock muskets, here he recognized from his memories of the culture and history archives the Limington rolling rifles, Jiangnan Arsenal’s Quick-Fire replicas, Germany’s Mauser, and Austria’s M1888 straight-pull rifles.

The uniforms, precisely matching both his impressions and historical knowledge, attested to the drama’s meticulous approach to costumes and props.

If a production invests real effort in costumes and props, it’s usually not a cash-grab for investors.

Still, nothing in this world is perfect. Fixing his gaze on a jade ruyi in the prop master’s hands, Li Shixin shook his head.

The prop master noticed him glancing over repeatedly and, setting down his work, caught sight of the old man shaking his head. A newcomer with a cane—clearly an extra, and an odd one at that. Stranger still, this old fellow seemed dissatisfied with his work.

“Old man, what’s the matter? Any advice?”

Li Shixin withdrew his gaze and smiled. “Nothing, just admiring your props. They look quite authentic.”

“What do you mean ‘quite authentic’?” the prop master protested. “All our costumes and props are designed under expert guidance. Look at the last ten years of Republic-era dramas—when it comes to historical accuracy, ‘The Last Days of the Forbidden City’ is second to none, and I’m not afraid to say it!”

Oh? Such confidence from this young man?

Seeing the prop master’s proud expression, Li Shixin brushed the dust from his gray jacket, deciding to offer a lesson.

He pointed to the prop in the master’s hand. “What’s the story with this ruyi?”

“Well, today’s scene is the Eight-Nation Alliance entering Beijing—Emperor and Empress Dowager fleeing, foreign troops looting! There’s a shot where a foreign soldier wraps up a bundle of treasures in his coat, and a jade ruyi falls out. Worth a fortune, the Russian’s coat is stuffed with loot from the palace, and among them, the jade ruyi drops and gets kicked into a ditch. The idea is to make people feel the loss. How’s that for authenticity, old man?”

“…,” Li Shixin glanced again at the golden ruyi and smiled. “This item couldn’t possibly have appeared in the Forbidden City during the Eight-Nation Alliance’s invasion, much less been dropped by a Russian soldier.”

“How so?” The other props and costume masters, seeing their leader locked in debate with an old man, put down their work.

Li Shixin stood, weighing the ruyi in his hand. It was surprisingly heavy—not a plastic replica, but carved from low-grade stone and beautifully lacquered. Real attention had been paid to its making.

But the direction was misguided.

“Young man, do you know what this is called?”

The prop master hesitated. “A jade ruyi?”

Li Shixin shook his head and tossed it back. “Its full name is ‘Lingering Smoke and Fragrant Lamb-Fat Jade Ruyi.’ It was a palace artifact from the Qianlong era. When Empress Dowager Cixi and Empress Dowager Ci’an served as regents after Emperor Guangxu’s ascension, Cixi forced Ci’an to her death to seize sole power, then claimed she died suddenly and arranged a grand burial at Dingling. Among the burial goods was this ruyi.

Ci’an died in 1881. The Eight-Nation Alliance entered Beijing in 1900. Tell me, how could something buried in the earth end up in the Forbidden City at that time?”

The prop masters stared, wide-eyed.

Cixi they knew, but Ci’an… not so much.

“Wait!” After a moment, one of the prop masters caught on. “Old man, you said it was buried in 1881—how do you know about it?”

“That takes some explaining.” Li Shixin narrowed his eyes, sorting through his memories.

“After Japan surrendered in 1945, civil war broke out. With chaos everywhere, few cared for the tombs, and some villains brazenly looted the Qing tombs; all but Xiaoling were emptied. Among them was Dingling, where Ci’an was buried. In the 1960s, the government gradually recovered some burial artifacts from the Qing tombs. Among them was this Lingering Smoke and Fragrant Lamb-Fat Jade Ruyi.”

“Tsk!” A few prop masters clicked their tongues. “Really? Sounds like a story. Old man, how do you know all this?”

“Just what I’ve heard,” Li Shixin grinned.

“Ah!” Hearing this, the prop masters stomped their feet. “You make it sound like the gospel, but it’s just hearsay! Who did you hear it from?”

Li Shixin stroked his stubble, lost in reminiscence.

“When I was fourteen or fifteen, my father worked in the archives in Beijing. Next door, a colleague from the culture and history institute spent his days idle—no one talked to him but me. He told me these stories.”

“Oh?” The prop masters, hearing the source was from the culture and history institute, asked, “Which one? If he never worked, he must have been a bit of a fraud, right?”

“Well… academically, he was indeed a bit of a fraud. But when it comes to artifacts, especially Qing dynasty relics, he was an absolute expert.”

“Who? Which expert? What’s his name?”

“Puyi.”

“…,”

Holy hell!

The prop masters were left gaping.

There was simply nothing to refute.

They’d met a real character!

As they stared in awe at the old monster, Li Shixin chuckled. “That Lingering Smoke and Fragrant Lamb-Fat Jade Ruyi was appraised by him personally.”

Ding.

As the prop masters looked upon him with reverence, a soft chime sounded in Li Shixin’s mind.

Received 1,233 points of acclaim imbued with reverence.