Huayu: Starting with Xiang Yu, the Hegemon of Western Chu

The filming of the Northern Expedition drama is scheduled to begin on the twelfth day after the crew joins the production team.

There was a military discussion scene before filming began.

His role was short, with only a dozen or so people on set: Zhu Di and his close ministers, plus Zhu Zhanji.

The location was the main camp in western Beijing.

This is an ensemble piece.

Ensemble scenes are different from scenes with one other person.

Ensemble pieces involve many actors, complex staging, and frequent camera cuts, with each person's role being divided into smaller segments.

A young actor can easily get lost in an ensemble piece; if they don't deliver a line well or do a movement incorrectly, they can be cut out during editing.

So the assistant director came to Chen Mo's room the night before to give him some instructions.

"Teacher Chen, for tomorrow's scene, your line is only two words: 'Willing to go.'"

"Um."

"But these two words are important," the assistant director said. "When Zhu Di asks you if you dare to go, you answer that you are willing to go. These two words are the key to the whole play. If you pronounce them well, everyone's performance will stand up. If you pronounce them poorly, the whole play will collapse."

Chen Mo nodded.

The assistant director left.

Chen Mo closed the door and returned to the table.

A book was lying open on the table.

The Annals of Emperor Xuanzong of Ming.

He turned to the page where Zhu Zhanji was fifteen years old and read a line of text twice.

"The emperor was intelligent from a young age. Emperor Chengzu especially loved him. In the twelfth year of Yongle's reign, the emperor went on a northern expedition, and the imperial grandson accompanied him."

Chen Mo drew a line under the five characters "以皇太孙从" with his pen.

Then he wrote a few words next to that line.

"From, not to."

"From then on, I followed."

"Those who follow are not the ones who take initiative."

He closed the book after finishing writing.

He closed his eyes and sat at the table for a long time.

Wang Xueqi arrived at the film set at 7:40 a.m. the next morning.

At 8:00 AM sharp, Chen Mo arrived at the film set.

The computer was turned on at 8:30.

The group scenes started filming at nine in the morning.

The camp tents were set up in a very elaborate manner.

The tent roof was made of genuine cowhide, supported by three pillars as thick as bowls in the middle, with sheepskin military maps hanging on the pillars, and thick felt covering the ground. The felt was dyed with real mineral pigments, and it had a soft, sinking feel when stepped on.

In the center of the tent was a huge sand table.

The sand table depicts the mountain shapes of northern Xinjiang, with miniature flags marking the various troop forces.

The red flag represents the Ming army, and the black flag represents the Oirat army.

Wang Xueqi was dressed in Zhu Di's battle uniform, with his helmet already on. The light inside the tent came through several vents in the top, illuminating half of Wang Xueqi's face while the other half was in shadow.

He stood in front of the sand table.

Seven ministers stood behind him.

Chen Mo stood on the outside of the ministers.

He's wearing a sample set of armor today, made of 18 kilograms of real material. This is the first time he's worn this sample set in front of the camera.

He was standing in the outermost position.

A fifteen-year-old imperial grandson was only fit to stand on the outermost edge in front of important court officials.

He had no voice, no position, and not even a chair of his own.

He was standing there.

The assistant director raised the clapperboard.

"The military discussion is a first."

"Action".

Wang Xueqi stepped forward and walked to the sand table.

He reached out and picked up a small flag from the edge of the sand table.

The slow speed of this movement was designed by himself.

He took the flag very slowly, so slowly that all the ministers in the tent were waiting for him to lower it.

Wang Xueqi placed the red flag at the northernmost end of the sand table.

One of the ministers spoke up.

"Your Majesty, with an army of 500,000 marching north, the supply route stretches 2,500 li from Beijing to the northern desert. The Ministry of Revenue reported 4 million shi of grain reserves two years ago, but the newly collected grain has not yet been stored. I'm afraid it won't last until the return journey."

Wang Xueqi didn't look up.

He drew a line on the sand table with his index finger.

"Where does the grain transport route lead?"

"Official road".

"How many days will it take to travel by official road?"

"Thirty-five days."

"Will we go to the grasslands?"

"There are no stations on the grassland, so supplies cannot be resupplyed."

"Then fix the site."

Wang Xueqi raised his head.

"Ministry of Works, you take charge. Build ten stations, each with a grain storage capacity of 20,000 shi (a unit of dry measure)."

The Minister of Works responded.

The ministers began to present the preparations of their respective departments one by one.

Ministry of War, Ministry of Revenue, Ministry of Works, Ministry of Personnel, Court of Imperial Studs, and Censorate.

Everyone was just reading out numbers from the script.

These figures were all dug out of the Ming Dynasty Records by the screenwriters at Luo Yifeng's request.

The audience may not remember all of these numbers later, but when these numbers are read out, the atmosphere of "it really is a war" in the tent is created.

Wang Xueqi stood in front of the sand table.

He listened.

He nodded occasionally.

He occasionally asks a question.

He never once looked at Chen Mo.

This was arranged in advance.

Chen Mo stood on the outermost edge.

His eyes were on the sand table.

His breathing was even.

His face was expressionless.

A fifteen-year-old boy, hearing adults discuss the 500,000-strong army's northern expedition for the first time, could not possibly show any expression on his face.

He didn't understand; he was just listening.

Luo Yifeng looked at the monitor.

Chen Mo's face was blank, but that blankness was exactly what Luo Yifeng wanted.

The ministers have finished their presentations.

Wang Xueqi stood in front of the sand table for a long time.

He suddenly spoke.

His voice sounded a shade deeper than usual inside the tent.

"Bring up the Crown Prince."

All eyes in the tent turned to Chen Mo.

Chen Mo was stunned for a moment.

That moment of stunned silence was genuine; it wasn't an act.

He knew the line beforehand, but Wang Xueqi's delivery was different from what he had imagined.

He imagined it as the tone of a grandfather calling his grandson back to the past.

Wang Xueqi read it out in the tone of an emperor calling out a name.

Chen Mo had to react immediately to this one-word difference.

His reaction was correct.

Instead of walking two steps to the sand table as usual, he took a deep breath first and then stepped forward with a military salute.

He walked to the sand table and knelt on one knee.

"Your Majesty's grandson, Zhanji, pays his respects."

Wang Xueqi looked down at him.

This is the first time Wang Xueqi has seen Chen Mo today.

But he didn't treat Chen Mo like a grandson.

It is to see a minister he is about to appoint.

"rise."

Chen Mo stood up.

"Zhanji," Wang Xueqi said.

"Your subject is here."

Chen Mo pronounced "臣在" very accurately.

When a fifteen-year-old imperial grandson is discussing matters in front of the army, he cannot refer to himself as "grandson"; he must refer to himself as "your subject," as is proper etiquette.

However, when Chen Mo read "Your subject is here," there was a slight tremor in his voice.

The tremor was so slight that it was almost imperceptible.

It was the first time a grandson who was used to calling his grandfather "Grandpa" felt uncomfortable when he had to call his grandfather "Your Majesty".

Wang Xueqi spoke.

"We're leaving tomorrow; you'll go north with Grandpa."

He switched back to "Grandpa" this time.

Chen Mo did not answer immediately.

He first looked up and glanced at Wang Xueqi.

That head tilt was a very subtle movement, lasting less than a second.

Something flashed into Chen Mo's eyes within a second.

afraid.

There is only fear.

nothing else.

Then there's the fear of being suppressed.

Chen Mo lowered his head.

He read his lines for the day.

"I am willing to go."

The word "愿" is pronounced flat, while the word "往" is pronounced with a slightly rising tone.

That slight upward tone was the lingering fear that hadn't been suppressed.

There was a three-second silence inside the tent.

Wang Xueqi didn't move.

Then Wang Xueqi did something that wasn't written in the script.

He took a step forward.

He walked up to Chen Mo and placed his hand on Chen Mo's shoulder.

The hand pressed very lightly.

However, the sample armor Chen Mo was wearing was made of 18 kilograms of real material. When Wang Xueqi pressed his hand on his shoulder, Chen Mo could feel the light weight all over his body.

Wang Xueqi spoke up.

He was reading lines from the script.

"Zhanji, you must remember one thing."

"This trip to the north is for observation, not for war."

"Observe what?"

"If you look at an army of 500,000 marching for a day, how much food would they consume, how many horses would be trampled to death, and how many people would die?"

"Look at this country, what price will it pay to fight a war?"

"Come back when you've finished reading."

"You must remember this for the rest of your life after you come back."

"When you become emperor, whether you want to fight this kind of war again is up to you."

"Did you understand?"

Chen Mo raised his head.

When he looked up this time, the timidity in his eyes was still there, but it was suppressed by something else.

It was the kind of understanding a child gets when they first hear an adult speak.

"I understand," Chen Mo said.

"grandfather."

He changed the word "Your Majesty" back to "Grandpa".

However, he only changed his mind after he had already heard Zhu Di's words.

This change is not about reverting to the position of a grandson.

This change came only after the grandson realized the weight of his grandfather's words and dared to call him "Grandpa" again.

Wang Xueqi looked at him.

Then Wang Xueqi nodded.

He withdrew his hand from Chen Mo's shoulder.

There was a breeze outside the tent.

The wind blew against the curtain of the tent, and the curtain swayed slightly.

No one spoke inside the tent.

Luo Yifeng whispered a single word from behind the monitor.

"Pass."

It was already 5 p.m. when we finished work.

Chen Mo sat on a dirt slope outside the film set for half an hour, wearing an 18-kilogram sample armor.

It gradually got dark.

In the distance, the lights of the film crew's studio began to illuminate one by one.

Chen Mo sat on the earthen slope, looking at the lights.

When he saw the words "wishing to go", he imagined himself as that fifteen-year-old boy.

What was a fifteen-year-old boy thinking when he first heard his grandfather say, "Observe, not fight"?

After much thought, I finally came to the answer.

The boy wondered, "Does Grandpa not let me fight because he thinks I'm not capable?"

But he couldn't show it.

So he said, "I wish to go."

Instead of "as ordered".

It was completely dark.

Chen Mo stood up, but the 18-kilogram sample armor he was wearing made his movements a beat slower than usual.

He patted the dirt off his clothes.

They walked towards the film crew's location.