003 Invincible Valor: General Tianbao

After passing the director’s approval, Yan Li’s role was finally secured.

With Wang Decai’s help pulling strings behind the scenes, Yan Li quickly signed a formal contract with the production team and received part of his payment.

Not forgetting Wang Decai’s contribution—and knowing he would need someone to look out for him on set later—Yan Li immediately made plans to treat him to a meal.

In the “Heroes of Sui and Tang” production, the character Yuwen Chengdu didn’t have many scenes, but it was decent enough.

Excluding the female roles, he definitely couldn’t crack the top five male roles. Rounded up, he was barely the tenth male lead at best; anything beyond that would be considered disrespectful.

Regardless, this was still an official role paid by the episode.

“Heroes of Sui and Tang” had a total of 40 episodes. Yan Li’s scenes amounted to about 15 episodes, each paying 800 yuan, totaling 12,000 yuan.

That’s quite a sum!

At the dawn of the century, many ordinary people earned only a few hundred yuan monthly, and extras in Hengdian earned just 20 to 30 yuan a day—some even less. Twelve thousand yuan could support them for over a year.

This was the largest sum Yan Li had ever earned in his life.

Previously, when running around casting calls in the capital, he mostly worked as a background actor or stunt double. After exhausting workdays, the little money he earned barely covered bus fares back to school.

Sure enough, that relative who encouraged him to apply to the Beijing Film Academy had been right: acting was a way to make money.

He hadn’t even made a name for himself yet, just secured a small part, and already earned this much. Once he gained some recognition, it would surpass staying home to take over the family’s small restaurant by a hundredfold…

There was a big night shoot tonight, and Wang Decai needed to keep an eye on it, so the dinner invitation was postponed for two days.

With no filming tasks at the moment, Yan Li collected his script and headed to the makeup room for a costume change.

Worried about bumping into Wang Xiu’s elder sibling… or was it sister? Yan Li asked around, but fortunately, Wang Xiu was away on business, much to his relief.

Removing makeup was much quicker than applying it. Before long, Yan Li finished, changed clothes, and strolled back to the inn.

Along the way, he bought some food since he wouldn’t be going out for dinner later, then stopped by a bank to exchange some cash.

Back at the inn, locking the door, Yan Li pulled out a red card he had casually bought at a convenience store and folded it into a red envelope.

He then took 2,000 yuan from the cash he just withdrew and stuffed it inside. After some thought, gritting his teeth, Yan Li added another 1,000 yuan.

This red envelope was for Wang Decai!

Yan Li’s role wouldn’t have come through without Wang Decai’s help. A simple meal wouldn’t suffice; a red envelope was a token of gratitude.

Whether Wang accepted it or not was another matter, but the gesture was important.

Besides, he would need Wang’s assistance in the future. This was an investment—send a 3,000 yuan envelope today, and maybe Wang would introduce him to a role paying tens of thousands later.

You have to give to gain!

If the family’s small restaurant wanted to make money, it had to be willing to invest in good ingredients. Small-mindedness and stinginess never lead to success.

Since the production had only paid him 4,000 yuan so far, Yan Li didn’t have much cash on hand and needed to keep some for living expenses. Otherwise, he might have sent a 5,000 yuan envelope and gone all out.

After securing the envelope, Yan Li planned to find a good moment to hand it over. He picked up his script and read it carefully.

He understood well that to make it in acting, connections were important, but talent was key.

Perform well, and connections matter. Relying solely on favors or insider information might not guarantee seizing opportunities when they arose.

Though Yuwen Chengdu’s role was small, it was a coveted chance many of his peers could only dream of. Having secured it, he couldn’t afford to waste it.

———

Yan Li had never read the “Heroes of Sui and Tang” script before.

When the production sought actors in the capital, he casually sent in his profile.

At first, he didn’t take it seriously, even thought Hengdian was too far compared to nearby productions in the capital.

Later, through the system’s monthly intelligence report, he learned that this drama might become popular, so he started paying attention.

Using this advantage, Yan Li got to know Wang Decai and learned about his background.

He tailored his approach to Wang’s tastes, slowly building a relationship, and through him landed the role of Yuwen Chengdu.

As a minor role and newcomer, Yan Li hadn’t locked down details before joining the crew and wasn’t entitled to the script in advance.

Still, he knew about Yuwen Chengdu.

Growing up, he often listened to storytelling by Shan Tianfang and read books like “Romance of Sui and Tang,” “Rise of Tang,” and “Tales of Tang.”

Yuwen Chengdu was the second greatest hero of the Sui and Tang era, a grand general of the Sui dynasty’s Tianbao reign, wielding a golden phoenix-winged halberd and riding a five-spotted dragon horse. He was nearly invincible and the strongest among the troops.

Among all the generals of Sui and Tang, only the top hero Li Yuanba surpassed him, and Yuwen Chengdu had only lost once to the third hero Pei Yuanqing at Siping Mountain.

That loss was because Yuwen Chengdu had already exhausted himself fighting the fourth, fifth, and sixth heroes single-handedly; Pei Yuanqing’s victory was somewhat dishonorable.

As for Qin Qiong, Yuchi Gong, or the Five Tigers of Wagang, they weren’t even a match for Yuwen Chengdu.

Playing such an invincible warrior, even knowing from Wang Decai that he was a villain, made Yan Li very excited and eager.

———

A formidable villain who thrashes the protagonist—playing that would be thrilling!

Besides, a pure fighter like Yuwen Chengdu couldn’t be all that evil, right?

However, after reading the script, Yan Li found he had underestimated the writer’s principles.

Had the writer even read “Romance of Sui and Tang”?

Villainy was expected; villains were often portrayed with some ugliness. But this script’s Yuwen Chengdu was overdone.

He was despicable, shameless, arrogant yet cowardly, constantly spouting trash talk but rarely winning. This was no Tianbao general—it was a clown.

What he couldn’t comprehend was the scene leading a queue with Li Rongrong.

Yuwen Chengdu was portrayed as if he had jumped into a well with the writer’s baby—such humiliation?

A downright scoundrel. Actually, even scoundrel was flattering. The Japanese soldiers in anti-Japanese war dramas didn’t seem as detestable.

Yan Li scratched his head while reading, feeling a hint of regret.

He was a trained Beijing Film Academy actor and knew there was no hierarchy among roles; good actors could play heroes or villains alike. He was open to playing villains.

But this was his first proper role, and he was young. Facing such a provocative part right off the bat was hard to swallow.

Fortunately, Yan Li’s mental fortitude was good. The contract was signed, and the money was in hand—too late to regret.

Moreover, from another perspective, though the role was disgusting and annoying, it was memorable, which was good for an actor.

“I’m an actor; it’s all pretend…”

Yan Li muttered to ease his nerves, then picked up the script again and quietly started memorizing lines, beginning with the most challenging scenes.

He wanted to test his patience—tackle the hardest first, then the rest would be easy.

“I, Yuwen Chengdu, hate wasting anything; I always finish every grain of rice in my bowl.”

“Heh, she dares to ask if I dare? Do you dare?”

“Alright, follow my orders—line up outside.”

“Damn, this writer is a brute…”