Chapter 59: Master Xing: How about I write a script for you?

"Director, isn't it a bit much to suddenly add scenes for me?" Zhang Yang paused for a moment, not agreeing right away.

He had been practicing the sword simply because he had just inherited this Void Sword Art and was itching to try it out. It was much like a child getting a new toy, or a big boy getting a 3D action figure.

He hadn't been practicing in front of a crowd, either; he was just messing around in the open space behind his dressing room. Stephen Chow happening to see him and proactively offering to add scenes was never part of his plan.

"What's wrong with that?" Stephen Chow said, speaking in his signature accented Mandarin with a spark in his eyes. "You play the sword so well. It would be a waste not to put it on the big screen."

Hearing that Zhang Yang had already arrived on set, Chow had proactively sought him out to discuss the script further. Not finding him in the dressing room, Guli Nazha had volunteered to lead him to the open space in the back, never expecting such a delightful surprise.

As a martial arts enthusiast and a practitioner himself, Chow could tell that the sword techniques Zhang Yang was performing were not flashy, superficial moves, but genuine, well-rounded swordplay combining both offense and defense—and it was a style he had never seen before.

When creating the character of Prince Void in *Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons*, the Void Sword Art—also known as the Nine Swords of the Void—drew inspiration from *The Smiling, Proud Wanderer* and *A Deadly Secret*. Chow felt that this particular sword style of Zhang Yang's could flesh out the character even more, and with post-production special effects, it would undoubtedly look stunning.

"You know I still have to go film a television drama," Zhang Yang said.

"What a waste," Chow's face stiffened. "With skills like yours, why are you still bothering to shoot TV series?"

If Chow had said this a few years earlier, Zhang Yang wouldn't have thought much of it.

However, the era of massive internet traffic was just around the corner. While films still carried a high-brow prestige, they couldn't compare to television dramas—and especially variety shows—when it came to gathering fanbases and boosting visibility. Fans represented traffic, traffic represented money, and as long as you had traffic, capital would chase after you. Getting back into films later would be effortless, and the paychecks would be astronomical.

By then, he intended to become a top-tier celebrity and start his own company to groom a few top stars of his own. Naturally, he couldn't afford to let go of any opportunity to gain fame and increase his visibility right now.

"That's our company's self-produced drama. It's an employee assignment," Zhang Yang shifted the blame onto Tangren, deliberately lowering his voice so that Mo Xiangwan and Nazha wouldn't hear.

Chow instantly transferred his dissatisfaction onto Karen Tsai, muttering thoughtfully, "When your contract is about to expire, let's talk."

This was a clear expression of his intention to sign him.

Zhang Yang immediately indicated that there would be no problem. His contract was set to expire in early 2014, and according to his plans, he should have reached A-list status by then.

By that time, knowing Chow's personality, he would probably selectively forget all about this conversation regarding signing him.

"Let's shoot. Let's do your scenes today, and don't hold back your acting," Chow said.

He still wanted to add scenes for Zhang Yang, but he would decide on the specifics after seeing Zhang Yang's acting prowess during the shoot.

With the entire crew now in motion, several of the lead actors gathered around Chow, clearly eager to witness Zhang Yang's widely rumored acting skills.

That's right, the fact that Zhang Yang was young yet possessed exceptional acting chops had already spread within certain circles of the industry. Part of this was due to Karen Tsai's deliberate publicity campaign, and part of it was thanks to the "organic word-of-mouth" from people like Lin Feng and Chen Jiashang.

"Action!"

***

Cut!

"The pig demon is no ordinary creature; it's even harder to deal with on a full moon night."

"Aside from me, I ask you, who else could possibly subdue it?"

Petals filled the sky as Zhang Yang, fully dressed in his Prince Void attire, made a dazzling entrance.

Clad in a long robe with an scholarly aura, he looked at a glance like a scholar who had read countless books.

Yet, looking at his face, it was deathly pale with heavy dark circles under his eyes, as if the words "excessive indulgence" were written all over it.

Upon seeing Zhang Yang, the Tiger immediately piped up, "I was wondering who had such a big mouth—turns out it's Prince Void!"

The actor playing the Heavenly Desolate Foot narrowed his eyes. "They say Prince Void's Void Sword Art is unmatched in the world. It's time for me, Heavenly Desolate Foot, to see how we match up."

His tone and delivery had clearly been specially practiced, comedic yet retaining a sense of wit.

By this point, Zhang Yang had fully immersed himself in the persona of Prince Void, shaking his head with a sigh, "There's no need to compare!"

"I'll just hand the title of number one over to you. Being number one is so empty, so lonely."

"How could you mortals possibly understand?"

The line carried an air of forced pretension, yet it didn't feel cringe-worthy; instead, it felt genuinely amusing.

Amidst the humor, it left people feeling inexplicably awed yet thoroughly confused—did this guy actually have real skills, or was he just all talk?

Putting away his fan, Zhang Yang looked at the middle-aged woman on his left, maintaining a deadpan expression. "Keep a low profile. Don't throw the flowers."

The woman's face stiffened. "Boss, wasn't it you who told us to throw them?"

"Ahem." Zhang Yang's gaze shifted slightly at being exposed.

"What's with the 'ahem'? Are we throwing them or not?" The woman looked utterly disgusted.

Zhang Yang clenched his fists so tightly he felt like committing murder, but he managed to force a smile. "Don't throw them."

"If we don't throw them, we still want our wages," the woman said brusquely, as if Prince Void owed her a fortune.

Zhang Yang felt his soul leave his body. "I know~"

With that, he looked over at the Tiger and the others, stubbornly putting up a front. "Ha! Actually... I have no idea what she's talking about."

Having watched a brilliant show and nearly laughing out loud several times, the Tiger wore a peculiar expression. "Whoa! Where did you pull these four withered leeks from?"

"In this barren wilderness, being able to find four is already considered good luck," Zhang Yang tried to save face.

"Why don't you just walk a few steps yourself?" the Heavenly Desolate Foot remarked, unable to comprehend.

Using these four withered leeks as handmaidens—wasn't that humiliating?

Zhang Yang struck a pretentious pose all over again. "If I walked, wouldn't I just be the same as you lot? I, Prince Void, have my own style."

***

Yet the very next second, the woman dealt him a devastating blow: "You're not void; you're kidney-deficient."

The women standing behind her immediately burst into laughter. "Hahahahaha..."

Zhang Yang completely broke character and went wild with frustration. "Let me tell you, don't go talking nonsense! The word 'void'..."

The iconic scene played out, with many crew members in the surrounding area biting their lips to hold back their laughter, completely immersed in the moment.

It wasn't until Zhang Yang finished his entire scene and Chow shouted "Cut!" that everyone snapped back to reality.

"Such a long take, and it's a one-take wrap?" Huang Bo felt it was unbelievable.

Wen Zhang, who had always been praised for his exceptional talent in acting, also looked at Zhang Yang in a brand-new light.

Ordinary people thought comedy was easy, and comedic films were often treated with a double standard, but professionals all knew that comedy was actually the hardest genre to act in.

The general consensus was that tragedy was the destination, while comedy was the journey; without the journey, there could be no destination, making comedy even harder to portray than tragedy.

Moreover, comedy had the strongest sense of purpose—it aimed to make the audience laugh. This easily led to situations where actors with good acting skills tried too hard, while those lacking skill fell short.

Acting in comedy required talent, acting chops, and a good script all at once; otherwise, it was exceptionally difficult to strike the right balance.

The fact that Zhang Yang had pulled off a one-take wonder left them utterly awestruck.

"It's not just about him nailing it in one take," Stephen Chow stood up, "he even managed to pull the other actors right into the scene with him."

To pull your acting partners into the scene while doing comedy? That was an absolute rarity!

Even when Stephen Chow himself acted, most of the time he just ended up making people break character and laugh on set.

"Add scenes! We must add scenes!" Chow's passion for talent had been thoroughly ignited.

Over the next few days, Zhang Yang's filming went exceptionally smoothly—whether he was acting opposite the female lead, the male lead, or even the monkey.

Chow brought up adding scenes several times, but Zhang Yang sternly refused each time. "Stephen, you understand comedy best. The role Prince Void plays in this film is only suited for this many scenes. Any more would disrupt the overall balance of the movie."

Chow had no choice but to give up with a sigh of resignation, but a brand-new idea soon sparked in his mind. "What do you think if I wrote a script exclusively about the story of Prince Void?"

Zhang Yang: "..."

Is he trying to groom me to be the male lead of a Chow-style comedy?

What about *The Mermaid*, then?