The Martial Arts Stunt Double of the Entertainment Circle – Chapter 13
by Little PandaCrossing Hands and Coconut Chicken
One of the two female stunt doubles spoke up. “Xiao Yan may be new, but if the higher-ups sent her down by name, her kung fu can’t be bad. Why not let us broaden our horizons a little? The two of us could stand to learn a thing or two.”
Her little scheme was transparent enough—every word of it wore a needle hidden in cotton1. First, it pointedly reminded everyone, right in front of Zhang-jie, that the route by which Tuoba Yan had entered the selection could not stand the light of day; second, it would force her to show her hands so they could take her measure and know how to handle her later.
The two women’s thinking was easy to guess. What tricks had such a dewy-fresh, pretty little thing used to leapfrog into the final round and compete for their rice bowls? Granted, anyone who dared go into stunt doubling had to have some skill—but Tuoba Yan was simply too young, and the two veterans, complacent in their rich experience and solid, seasoned foundations, had dismissed her without thinking.
Tuoba Yan was silent a moment. The other three wore three different expressions, all reading her silence as cowardice. Zhang-jie’s face had gone black with displeasure, and she was just opening her mouth to speak—when Tuoba Yan abruptly lifted her head with a smile, her flower-like face in full bloom.
“Zhang-jie’s foundation work has reached true mastery. The aerial twist2 is polished to perfection, the double full twist plucked as easily as a flower, the lower base utterly steady. This one ventures a guess—Zhang-jie trained in Chen-style Taiji3? And beyond that, your attainment in Xingyi4 runs deep—impossible without 3 years or more of standing-stake work. If this humble one may presume, would Zhang-jie do me the honor of crossing hands with me? Then this little sister will not have made your acquaintance in vain.”
Zhang Huaye was left momentarily speechless. That smile looked perfectly sincere, and she found she could not get a read on Tuoba Yan at all—but beneath the bafflement simmered irritation at being slighted. Who was this girl to speak to her as an equal? A friendly crossing of hands… ha!
Their eyes met. Tuoba Yan stepped forward and reached out to shake Zhang Huaye’s hand.
Zhang Huaye hid strength in her grip, meaning to teach Tuoba Yan a lesson, cut down her swagger, and remind her what it meant to respect one’s elders. But the instant she touched that skin, smooth as congealed cream, every hair on her body stood on end—her opponent’s fingers came on like a snake sliding up the staff5, one light glide, one small shift, and abruptly half of Zhang Huaye’s body lost its balance!
Just as she was about to stumble and disgrace herself, Tuoba Yan stepped in, issued force to steady Zhang Huaye’s frame, and deftly covered up her sorry predicament. To onlookers, the two merely looked like intimates drawn close, hand in hand—only Zhang Huaye herself knew how deadly that exchange had been.
Tuoba Yan smiled. “From the very start, this little sister felt an instant kinship with Zhang-jiejie—as if we had met in a past life. I simply couldn’t help wanting to get closer. Forgive the offense.”
Zhang Huaye knew her skill had been bested. It stung her pride a little, but she still owed Tuoba Yan a favor for sparing her a public loss of face. Truly, she thought to herself, the waves behind on the Yangtze push the waves before6—she had not lost unjustly. If anything, Tuoba Yan was easier on her eyes now.
The outcome of the selection was, naturally, that Tuoba Yan passed.
Just as Nian Huixian had said, Zhang Huaye was no petty soul. The two proved that old saying—no fight, no friendship7—swapping notes on martial study, filming know-how, and more. Within a single morning they had hit it off famously, and by lunchtime Zhang Huaye insisted on treating Tuoba Yan to a meal.
Unable to brush off such warm generosity, Tuoba Yan had no choice but to call Qiao Chunyi.
Qiao Chunyi was surprised. “Eating out? You’re not coming home for lunch?”
Tuoba Yan told a half-truth. “I ran into an old classmate, and we talked for ages. She saw it was getting near noon and insisted on treating me—it’s been so long, I couldn’t very well refuse her kindness.”
Qiao Chunyi was actually delighted. Hearing that the other party was paying, she instructed Tuoba Yan not to order anything too expensive, to return the treat next time, or better yet to bring the classmate home to play, and so on and so forth. Tuoba Yan laughingly agreed.
Hanging up, she turned to Zhang Huaye, who was leaning against the corner toying with her phone. “Whew. Mom said yes.”
“You sure do listen to your mother.” Zhang Huaye pocketed her phone and shook her head. “My girl’s only 5, and she already locks horns with me.”
“Zhang-jiejie has a child?” Tuoba Yan’s eyes went wide.
Zhang Huaye rapped her on the head. “Your jiejie here is 34. Is it really so surprising that I have a child?”
“Jiejie doesn’t look 34.” Tuoba Yan meant it sincerely—Zhang Huaye had clearly mastered the art of preserving herself; she looked 27 or 28 at most.
They gathered their things and headed out, chatting as they walked. Along the way Tuoba Yan learned a few things about Zhang Huaye—for instance, her daughter’s English name was Andi, a mixed-race child. Zhang Huaye had long since divorced her director husband; the girl now bore her mother’s surname, and her Chinese name was Zhang Xinbao—”treasure of the palm,” as in the apple of one’s eye.
Zhang Huaye asked what Tuoba Yan liked to eat, and whether she had any dietary restrictions.
Tuoba Yan made a small considering sound. “I can eat anything.”
“Easy to keep fed, then.”
Within Yuchuan Film and Television Base stood a Huacheng Haiji, whose coconut stewed chicken enjoyed considerable fame as the house signature.
A regular at Haiji, Zhang Huaye found them seats and launched into an animated account of how the dish was made. Tuoba Yan had never heard of coconut stewed chicken, and between that and Zhang Huaye’s gift for vivid storytelling, her five parts of anticipation swelled to eight.
The stewing chicken of choice was the silkie8. Every scrap of fat and fatty meat was stripped from the bird, the flesh blanched in boiling water to force out the blood froth, then rinsed under clean water. Chicken and lean pork went together into a fresh coconut with its lid opened, coconut juice poured in and the opening sealed, and the whole thing steamed in the basket for two and a half hours—salt added in several passes, then returned to the stew—before a single pot of soup was complete.
The half hour of patient waiting was not in vain. The whole coconut arrived at the table, its lid pried open, and the chicken broth within was impossibly fresh and sweet. The two of them enjoyed a splendid meal.
Halfway through, Zhang Huaye went out to take a call. Tuoba Yan was drinking her soup alone when a timid, delicate voice sounded behind her. “Jiejie? Is that you?”
Tuoba Yan turned her head. Two girls stood a little way off, one tall, one short. The tall one was strikingly dashing, dressed in simple, androgynous clothes, arms crossed in open distaste and impatience.
The shorter girl’s face was a full five parts like Tuoba Yan’s—yet, perhaps because the heart shapes the face, hers was the sweeter and gentler: willow brows curved softly, mist-veiled eyes shy and tremulous, enough to stir tenderness in anyone who saw her. A pale pink dress, a color exceedingly hard to wear, stood her slender and graceful, willow-slim—she and Tuoba Yan were two entirely different kinds of beauty.
Even thinking with her knee, Tuoba Yan knew: this had to be the original owner’s younger sister, Tuoba Jiao.
The tall girl kept rolling her eyes at Tuoba Yan. Tuoba Jiao tugged at her sleeve in embarrassment.
“Li Guanting, what are you doing…”
Li Guanting snorted through her nose. “Nothing. I’m just standing watch—in case that wonderful jiejie of yours gets sharp-tongued with you again.”
Tuoba Yan was somewhat at a loss as well. She stood up blankly, unsure how to face this younger sister.
Having soothed her ‘flower guardian,’ Tuoba Jiao came forward in small steps. A good 10 centimeters separated them. Her fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for Tuoba Yan’s hand, but in the end she drew them back, tilting her small face up, radiant with joy.
“Jiejie, I haven’t seen you in so long. Your classmates said you’d fallen ill and suspended school. I wanted to visit you, but I was afraid you’d… be unhappy. Are you feeling better now?”
Her eyes reddened, tears ready to fall.
“Hey—don’t cry.” Tuoba Yan feared nothing more than a crying woman; she was utterly at sea.
Li Guanting shot forward like a lit firecracker, eyes blazing, not the least bit cowed by a girl half a head taller than she was. “Tuoba Yan! What are you doing now?!”
Tuoba Jiao hastily grabbed hold of her. “Tingting, stop it. I’m talking with Jiejie.”
Tuoba Yan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Now she saw it all clearly—no wonder the original Tuoba Yan’s relationship with her sister had been so wretched. The two of them were practically inverted copies of each other!
One Tuoba Yan was brash and unfiltered, her mouth forever outrunning her brain; the other, Tuoba Jiao, was a shy, tender hothouse orchid, hopelessly naive. With sisters this diametrically opposed in temperament—and half-sisters by the same father at that—the original Tuoba Yan’s hostility had already run deep, and with a charging young bull like Li Guanting wedged in between, the two of them managing a civil conversation was pure fantasy.
General Tuoba had every confidence in her eye for people—and the joy on Tuoba Jiao’s face at seeing her was genuine, from the bottom of her heart.
The author has something to say:
Sister-complex Tuoba Jiao: “Jiejie, I missed you so much. It’s been a whole class period since we last saw each other…”
Tuoba Yan (the original): “Holy crap, this scheming girl is 100% plotting a conspiracy!”
Self-appointed Flower Guardian Li Guanting: “Tuoba Yan, if you dare bully Jiao-mei, I… I’ll fight you to the death!”
Footnotes
- 绵里藏针 | mián lǐ cáng zhēn | Lit. 'a needle hidden in cotton'; describes speech that is soft and flattering on the surface while concealing barbs, pointed digs, or veiled menace.
- 旋子 | xuánzi | A wushu acrobatic jump: the performer leaps sideways with the body horizontal, legs scissoring through the rotation; a classic benchmark of foundational agility.
- 陈氏太极 | Chénshì Tàijí | Chen-style Taijiquan, the oldest documented branch of Taiji, originating in Chenjiagou village; known for silk-reeling power and combative application.
- 形意 | xíngyì | Short for Xingyi Quan, 'form-intent boxing,' an internal martial art built on standing-stake conditioning and explosive linear strikes modeled on animal movements.
- 打蛇随棍上 | dǎ shé suí gùn shàng | Lit. 'strike a snake and it slides up the staff'; a Cantonese-rooted idiom for instantly riding an opening, pressing an advantage the moment it appears.
- 长江后浪推前浪 | Chángjiāng hòu làng tuī qián làng | Lit. 'behind the Yangtze's waves, newer waves push those before'; a classical saying that the younger generation inevitably overtakes its elders.
- 不打不相识 | bù dǎ bù xiāngshí | Lit. 'no fight, no acquaintance'; a proverb holding that friendship is often forged through a sparring match, mutual respect born of exchanged blows.
- 竹丝鸡 | zhúsījī | The silkie, a Chinese chicken breed with fluffy white plumage, black skin, and black bones; prized in Cantonese slow-steamed soups as a nourishing tonic.
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