The Martial Arts Stunt Double of the Entertainment Circle – Chapter 40
by Little PandaLin Teng stopped a few paces from Tuoba Yan and her companion, and Assistant Wang recognized him at a glance. “Young Master Lin?”
“Mm.” Lin Teng grunted perfunctorily through his nose, eyes locked on Tuoba Yan. “Hello. I’m Lin Teng, from Huashuo Entertainment.” He reached out a hand to shake hers.
Tuoba Yan wanted nothing to do with shaking Lin Teng’s hand — who knew where those hands had just been? Revolting. She gave him only the coolest acknowledgment. “Hello.”
The emperor wasn’t the least bit anxious, but the eunuch fretted himself silly — Assistant Wang, watching Tuoba Yan slight the Little Boss of Huayu like this, hurriedly whispered, “That’s the Huayu Crown Prince!”
Lin Teng had assumed that announcing his name would at least earn her full attention, maybe a chance to brush her little hand. Instead Tuoba Yan played it utterly cool and simply refused to engage.
Assistant Wang, meanwhile, nodded and bowed. “Our Xiaoyan isn’t feeling well today, Young Master Lin. Please be understanding.”
“Not a problem.” The colder Tuoba Yan’s expression, the more Lin Teng’s blood stirred — for a beauty he hadn’t yet gotten his mouth around, a man’s generosity is generally boundless. “Xiaoyan? Which yan character?”
Assistant Wang was just about to recite Tuoba Yan’s full name when Tuoba Yan cut her off.
“Since Assistant Wang and Mr. Lin are such old friends, I won’t intrude on your chat. Goodbye.”
As it happened, the first scene had just wrapped successfully, and the extras dressed as scholars in their wide robes and billowing sleeves were streaming back in groups. Tuoba Yan seized the cover of the noisy, milling crowd and strode briskly away — finally shaking off Lin Teng and Assistant Wang, those two enormous nuisances.
In the green room, Bai Yi’an had finished touching up her appearance. She had watched every one of Lin Teng’s moves through the crack in the door, and the conquest-hungry look plastered across the Young Master Crown Prince’s face made her heart clench.
Lin Teng patted his pockets, discovered he’d left his phone behind, and turned back toward Bai Yi’an’s green room. Sure enough, there it sat on the little round table.
Bai Yi’an was wearing Qin Xiang’er’s debut costume. At this point in the story Qin Xiang’er was still a street busker, so the outfit was comparatively plain: a simple undergarment beneath a peach-red moxiong1 and a primrose-yellow, waist-high pleated skirt, with a beizi thrown over the top.
Such a girlish ensemble made her face look especially delicate and endearing — but Lin Teng had lost all his earlier drive. His head was full of nothing but that “Xiaoyan.” What would she look like, he wondered, dressed in an outfit like this?
Lin Teng asked Bai Yi’an, “Who was that girl just now?”
“An actress with the crew,” Bai Yi’an said. “Tuoba Yan. I hear Director Fang hand-picked her to play Empress Yang.”
Lin Teng itched all over, aching to drag Tuoba Yan into bed this very instant and enjoy her thoroughly. But she wasn’t in front of him, and Bai Yi’an was a completely different type of beauty — no substitute for that wild little kitten Tuoba Yan. He rubbed his palms together and sighed, “That chick’s got fire.”
Bai Yi’an’s heart gave a sickening thump. She forced a smile. “What’s interesting about a little thing like her?”
Lin Teng shook his head, smiling suggestively. “It’s because she’s little that it’s interesting.”
Because she’s little? Bai Yi’an silently cursed Lin Teng as an utter piece of filth — but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth she’d say it out loud, so she simply kept quiet.
“Baby, you’re not jealous, are you?” Lin Teng asked, reading her silence as an answer.
Bai Yi’an said, “No.”
“Your mouth says one thing, your heart another.” Lin Teng had decided she was jealous over Tuoba Yan, and he felt rather pleased with his irresistible magnetism. He pinched Bai Yi’an’s chest. “Baby, you’re still the sweetest. Don’t worry — I’m not the sort to chase a new flame and forget the old love. Be good.” With that, he pushed the door open and left.
Bai Yi’an summoned up an air of blushing satisfaction to see him out, then turned away with her brow furrowed tight.
She had traded her body for her career of her own free will. However ugly outsiders’ gossip got, she didn’t care — no one had forced her to offer herself to Prince Lin’s bed. A transaction between willing parties — why get precious and pretend otherwise?
But Tuoba Yan was different. Bai Yi’an couldn’t even be certain the girl was eighteen yet. However much she loathed and envied that little thing, she wasn’t about to stand by and watch her fall into a fire pit. She herself was already sullied — one more trampling from Lin Teng wouldn’t make it worse — and by the look of it, Tuoba Yan wanted nothing to do with him.
And no wonder. Being hand-picked by Fang Zhengqin was proof enough of her ability; her prospects were limitless. She might well be the next Qin girl, another Zhang Xueyi — why on earth would she go out of her way to tangle with garbage and scum like Lin Teng?
Half a year at Lin Teng’s side had taught Bai Yi’an exactly what he was: a spoiled rotten thug, capricious and vicious. Whatever he couldn’t have, he destroyed. And his father had only this one son — however much the old man despised his worthlessness, he would keep shoveling out money to bury every scandal Lin Teng left behind.
Her thoughts in a tangle, Bai Yi’an decided for now, at the very least, to keep out of Lin Teng’s business. She could never bring herself to procure girls for him anyway.
By the schedule, only that one scene was slated for the morning — a chance for the actors to rest up and settle into the rhythm of the shoot. Nobody expected it to go so smoothly: it wrapped in a single take, everyone in perfect form.
After some deliberation, Fang Zhengqin decided to seize the moment while the whole cast was assembled and start on the action scenes in this location that required professional stunt doubles — among them the scene where the young Yang Xiujin gallops down the main street and nearly tramples Dongfang Ning, still a beggar at that stage of the story. So he called Tuoba Yan over and asked whether she dared to get on a horse. If she did, a riding coach would cram her with a crash course; if not, they’d use a double.
Truthfully, Fang Zhengqin held out little hope. But Tuoba Yan answered as a matter of course. “I can ride.”
Of course she could ride. Her horsemanship had been honed on the battlefield. Never mind these ordinary rental nags the crew used — General Tuoba’s mount in her last life, Jade Lion, had been a wild horse she’d tamed with her own hands.
Decades had passed since she’d last sat a saddle, yet not a day went by that she didn’t miss the old days of cutting down enemies from horseback. The chance to ride again — Tuoba Yan could hardly contain her delight.
Fang Zhengqin hadn’t imagined Tuoba Yan would actually know how to ride. It touched on personal history, so he didn’t press; he simply had the unit manager lead over one of the production’s rental horses for her to try.
What the unit manager brought was a small chestnut mare with a docile, gentle look. Tuoba Yan stepped up and softly stroked her neck, and the chestnut meekly lowered her head, nuzzling into Tuoba Yan’s hand of her own accord.
Tuoba Yan took the reins and led the chestnut around two circuits. By now the entire crew had gathered to watch the show, chattering away. Tuoba Yan said to the unit manager, “Brother Zhao, could you get her something to eat?”
Unit Manager Zhao hurried off and returned with two carrots he’d prepared earlier. Tuoba Yan murmured softly to the mare as she fed her, and once the chestnut had crunched through the crisp, sweet carrots, she gave a happy snort and swished her tail.
“Everyone step back a little,” Tuoba Yan said. “I’m getting on.”
Chen Wanwan couldn’t help worrying. “Little Mop2, be careful!”
The nickname set everyone laughing. Tuoba Yan couldn’t even be bothered to protest anymore — with a rascal like Chen Wanwan, anything she said would go in one ear and straight out the other.
Tuoba Yan inspected the saddle carefully, and once she’d confirmed it was secure she gathered the reins, clutched a tuft of mane at the pommel, slid her left foot into the stirrup and set it firm, braced her right hand on the saddle, and swung onto the mare’s back with effortless ease. One toss of her long hair, and she was every inch a seasoned horsewoman.
From somewhere in the crowd came a shriek: “So cool!!”
Tuoba Yan loosened her grip on the reins, gave both heels the lightest squeeze, and the chestnut stepped forward. Tuoba Yan rode the mare in an easy, practiced circuit, then flashed an OK sign.
With everything ready, Tuoba Yan changed into Yang Xiujin’s costume — a riding outfit with a distinctly exotic flavor, cuffs and collar drawn snug and each finished with a band of trim, the whole in red paired with gold. The stylist swiftly did her hair: it was long enough that, without even using a hairpiece, it coiled smoothly into a men’s style side-knot.
Riding whip in hand, scarlet boots to her knees, that Hu-style riding attire3 made her dashing and splendid, the poise of a general’s daughter leaping vividly to life.
Yang Xiujin rode her mount Rouge like wind and lightning. The soldiers guarding the city gate all knew the Grand General’s beloved daughter — one glimpse of that rolling cloud of yellow dust kicked up by her horse’s hooves and they scrambled to clear the gate.
From the saddle hung a white rabbit, tangled in a hunting net and trembling — the birthday gift she was bringing to Biyu’er. Biyu’er was only her personal maid, but they had grown up together, and Yang Xiujin’s bond with Biyu’er ran deeper than what she felt for those half-sisters of hers.
She had risen early and ridden out of the city intending to catch a white fox, skin it, and make Biyu’er a fur neck-wrap. On second thought she’d let it go — Biyu’er was timid and sentimental; she’d probably just secretly set the fox free. Better to catch a rabbit.
Picturing Biyu’er hugging that fluffy little bundle and stroking it in delight, Yang Xiujin couldn’t help squeezing her heels into the mare’s flanks again. “Rouge, faster — faster!”
The Grand General’s residence was just in sight when a figure darted out of the alleys on either side, and Yang Xiujin hauled back on the reins.
The chestnut’s forelegs rose, and she vaulted clean over the person’s head, cantering another three or four strides before stopping. Yang Xiujin tapped with her right heel and pulled the reins around, turning the mare. The little beggar sprawled on the ground gaped up at her, dumbstruck. Yang Xiujin said huffily, “Watch where you’re walking! Lucky for you my riding’s good — with anyone else, that horse would have kicked you dead!”
Sharp as her words were, she still dismounted to check on him. “Are you mute? Are you all right?”
Just then several men came chasing out of the alley, the one in the lead beside himself with fury. “Stinking beggar! Give back the purse you stole from me!”
The little beggar shook with terror, arms wrapped around his head, huddled on the ground — but the beating he expected never landed. Slowly he peeked his eyes open: the girl in red stood planted in front of him, chin lifted, speaking in earnest. “He stole your purse — that was wrong of him. But you can’t go beating people either! If I hadn’t reined in just now, he’d be dead!”
The girl’s logic was as simple as her nature. The man missing his purse, seeing how fine her clothes were, didn’t dare rough her up where he stood; he only said, “Then have him give my purse back.”
Yang Xiujin turned and held out one white, lustrous hand. “Give it here.”
The little beggar hesitated, then fished a purse from inside his robe and handed it to Yang Xiujin. He turned his head away in shame — he couldn’t bear to see disappointment and contempt in the eyes of a girl as beautiful as a fairy.
The men took the money and left, grumbling curses. Yang Xiujin prodded the little beggar with the toe of her boot.
“Get up. They’re gone.”
From the Yang residence nearby, a girl in an aoqun came running out. “Eldest Miss!”
Yang Xiujin’s eyes lit up, and she forgot the little beggar entirely, leading her horse over to present her prize. “Biyu’er, look — I caught you a rabbit!”
The author has something to say:
Researching horse-riding took up time…
Goodness, the comments have really piled up — I’m happy and torn at the same time. When will I ever finish replying? I’m heading home now — everyone finish the update and get to bed early =3=
Footnotes
- 抹胸 | mōxiōng | A traditional Chinese women's undergarment: a wide band of silk wrapped over the chest and tied at the back, worn beneath outer robes from the Song dynasty onward and often glimpsed at the collar in layered period dress.
- 小拖把 | xiǎo tuōbǎ | A pun on her surname: 'Tuoba' sounds nearly identical to 'tuoba,' the Chinese word for mop. Chen Wanwan's favorite teasing nickname for Tuoba Yan.
- 胡服 | húfú | Steppe-nomad riding dress — snug collar and cuffs, fitted cut made for the saddle — worn in China ever since King Wuling of Zhao ordered his cavalry into 'Hu' garb in the fourth century BC; here it marks a martial, unconventional noblewoman.
- 驭 | yù | The traditional Chinese horseman's and charioteer's cry to halt a mount, drawn out long and loud; used here as the period-accurate rein command on set.
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