Offered as a Stand In

替身相许

offered-as-a-stand-in

The Fall

Wei Changning, one of the representative figures of China&#x27;s fifth-generation directors. His name sounded like he was in the wrong profession, and he was often jokingly called the &quot;conscience pill&quot; or &quot;reassurance pill&quot; of domestic cinema.



 Director Bai Luzhou, whom Xie Guan had previously worked with, was a leader among the sixth generation. Director Han Ke could only be considered a newcomer with no notable works to his name. These two were a whole generation younger than Wei Changning, and their reputation and fame were naturally not on the same level. Moreover, Director Wei was famous for his ability to teach people. Joining his crew, even to play a minor role with only two or three scenes, one could learn a great deal under his guidance.



 After the news spread, some marveled that Xie Guan was talented and hardworking enough, while others were envious of his good luck. A small number of anti-fans were still relentlessly and sourly accusing him of latching onto powerful connections. But no matter how rampant the outside discussions became, anyone with discerning eyes could see that this young man was probably about to undergo a complete transformation and soar to the heavens.



 However, the person at the center of the vortex had no time to pay attention to these voices.



 Xie Guan sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, holding the script with single-minded focus... and yawning.



 The Rising Tides of the Azure Sea was scheduled for a March release and was in its promotional period. Xie Guan had to cooperate with the production team for roadshows in major cities. Before leaving B City, he had met with Director Wei Changning once. Director Wei gave him two scripts, one was a first draft, and the other a revised version, telling him to go back and study them carefully.



 Although the thin paper volume was called a &quot;first draft,&quot; it was actually just a rough story framework, like a small box filled with inspirations and ideas—fragmented and disorganized. Some parts even showed an amateurish clumsiness.



 The birth of the script for The Hidden Hero was quite unusual. A student of Director Wei&#x27;s was teaching in the journalism department of a university and offered an elective called &quot;Film Art Appreciation.&quot; It was worth one credit, had no roll calls, no final exam, and was open to the entire student body—in short, it was an out-and-out easy course.



 The final assignment given by the lecturer was to &quot;use your imagination and write a creative script of no less than 2000 words.&quot; Among the more than 100 wildly imaginative stories submitted, there was a script outline that explored &quot;chivalry&quot; and &quot;the king&#x27;s way,&quot; which made the teacher&#x27;s eyes light up. With the mentality of &quot;sharing a rare piece of writing,&quot; he took a picture of the script and posted it on his Moments, sharing it with some of his director and screenwriter friends in the industry.



 This script happened to be noticed by Director Wei Changning, and it was The Hidden Hero he now held in his hands.



 The Hidden Hero was a story that wasn&#x27;t quite wuxia, nor was it quite palace intrigue. It was about a prince who was exiled to a small border town, met a bunch of strange and eccentric martial artists, and eventually rallied his forces to fight his way back to the imperial city, seize the throne, and uncover a long-buried secret about his own identity. It had dual male leads, one in the light and one in the shadows. The younger Xie Guan would play the prince, the overt protagonist, while another famous male actor, Feng Qian, would play the &quot;Night Watcher,&quot; who was the protagonist in a more substantial sense.



 Director Wei had met Xie Guan and was generally satisfied with his performance, but he also pointed out Xie Guan&#x27;s biggest problem at present: he didn&#x27;t yet have enough experience and insight to flesh out the character of the &quot;prince.&quot;



 By the end of the story, the prince becomes the emperor. Old friends have either died in battle or are wandering the world, former enemies have become friends, and former confidants have become grave threats. The person who should have killed him saves his life, and the person who should have been rewarded is executed by his order... He is no longer that political outcast, full of resentment, reckless and arrogant.



 The ways of the world had smoothed away certain unseasonable sharp edges, while chance encounters had planted new seeds in his heart. When he finally ascended to the supreme seat of power, he became mature, and hardened.



 What Xie Guan lacked was precisely this &quot;mature hardness&quot; that came from being tempered by time and experience.



 Life experience is limited and can&#x27;t be summoned at will, so Director Wei gave him two scripts, intending for him to feel how this character developed from a few initial ideas, gradually becoming fleshed out into the mature role in the final script. Unfortunately, this un-enlightened blockhead Xie Guan had been meditating over the scripts for three days and had yet to achieve any sort of epiphany.



 He had, however, fallen asleep several times.



 He was holding the script, once again entering that mysterious and hazy realm, when suddenly, two knocks sounded at the door. Xie Guan jolted, instantly waking up from his drowsy stupor.



 He glanced at the time on his phone: 1:30 AM.



 Xie Guan got out of bed and opened the door. The wall lamp in the corner cast a soft, dim light. The hallway was empty.



 On the carpet at his feet lay a kraft paper envelope, a most ordinary kind, but its appearance at this particular moment seemed like some sort of bizarre omen.



 Xie Guan sighed, bent down to pick up the envelope, and returned to his room.



 He stood in the entryway and tore open the seal, tipping out a few shriveled tangerine pits, along with a folded piece of printer paper. The thick, black, size-one font, bristling with murderous intent, leaped into his vision with great impact.



 —GO DIE!!!



 This was his fourth roadshow stop, and also the fourth threatening letter he had received. The previous three had all appeared at his hotel room door in the same manner. Besides the unchanging white paper with &quot;Go die&quot; written on it, the contents also included various death threats, such as razor blades, sleeping pills, small paper effigies stuck with needles, and so on.



 This time, it was a few tangerine pits.



 Xie Guan wondered in confusion, &quot;What does this mean? A curse for me to choke on a tangerine pit while eating one? Aren&#x27;t tangerines fucking out of season now anyway?&quot;



 He thought for a moment, put the items back into the envelope as they were, found an opaque bag to put it in, and stuffed it into a hidden pocket of his suitcase.



 He didn&#x27;t alert anyone else, silently taking care of it before washing up and getting into bed. While he had been drowsy when reading the script earlier, now he couldn&#x27;t fall asleep at all.



 Receiving something like this late at night, although Xie Guan wasn&#x27;t afraid, he couldn&#x27;t help but feel disgusted. It wasn&#x27;t the first time he&#x27;d received something similar. A single, sporadic letter could be dismissed as a prank, but receiving them at a fixed time and place, like a TV series, was a naked threat and harassment.



 Who could it be?



 He tossed and turned in bed, full of suspicion, until three o&#x27;clock, finally defeated by waves of sleepiness, and fell asleep with a frown.



 Thousands of miles away, in B City.



 In his sleep, Huo Mingjun missed a step, his heart suddenly twitched, and he woke with a start.



 He sat up, clutching his chest where his heart was beating violently and erratically. He let out a long breath. The luminous clock on the bedside table flickered with a faint glow, its LCD screen showing that it was 3:00 AM Beijing time.



 The next day, Xie Guan got up and prepared as if nothing had happened. Even his assistant, Huang Cheng, didn&#x27;t notice anything unusual. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, he even prepared an eye mask for him, planning to let him catch up on sleep in the car on the way to the cinema.



 Influenced by last night&#x27;s letter, Xie Guan was on edge the entire time. However, the whole event was lively and enthusiastic, with no discordant or unusual incidents. As the event concluded, Xie Guan&#x27;s suspended heart slowly settled back down, guessing that the person hiding in the shadows was probably still observing.



 He went to the backstage dressing room to quickly remove his makeup and change his coat. Huang Cheng was waiting at the small side door of the stage exit. Just as Xie Guan finished up and was about to leave, the sound of rapid footsteps suddenly came from the stage exit. A girl with a flushed face ran in, panting, carrying a large, clumsy backpack that looked like a turtle shell.



 “Xie Guan!”



 Xie Guan reflexively took a step back, putting a meter of distance between them. &quot;Please wait, you&#x27;re not a staff member. How did you get in?&quot;



 Because being chased by a car had left him with a deep psychological scar, and because they were in a dressing room with few people, Xie Guan didn&#x27;t dare get too close to this girl, afraid of getting entangled in some hard-to-explain trouble.



 The others in the dressing room all looked over. The girl&#x27;s face burned even redder, and she was so excited she could hardly contain herself, successfully forcing Xie Guan back another step.



 She seemed like a fanatical fan whose reason had been burned away. While reaching into her backpack to pull something out, she stammered, &quot;Hello, Xie Guan, I...&quot;



 The hand the girl had behind her back brought out a transparent glass bottle, and she unscrewed the cap in a few quick twists.



 In that instant, the smile on her face suddenly froze. Her features seemed to shift collectively, twisting into a completely different face, one filled with hatred and ferocity.



 She threw the contents of the bottle at Xie Guan, screaming hysterically at the top of her lungs, &quot;Go die!&quot;



 Having grown up and experienced so much, and having received guidance and training in martial arts, Xie Guan&#x27;s vigilance and acuity were much higher than that of an ordinary person. The most direct manifestation of this was that when faced with a sudden situation, he reacted faster than most people.



 But the problem lay precisely in this lightning-fast reaction speed.



 The moment the girl unscrewed the bottle cap, a faint sense of crisis surfaced in Xie Guan&#x27;s mind. Drug or acid attacks were not uncommon, whether in the entertainment industry or in social news, and the threatening letter from the middle of the night served as a reminder—in just a few seconds, countless thoughts flashed through his mind. The person opposite had just raised her hand when Xie Guan&#x27;s bodily instincts, faster than his conscious actions, had already caused him to retreat several steps backward at high speed.



 But he forgot that his back was to the stage entrance, and there was nothing behind him.



 The stage of this cinema was built slightly high, and the dressing room was correspondingly elevated. The exit was at least three meters from the ground, connected by a winding, steep staircase.



 The transparent liquid brushed past his falling figure, not a single drop touching him, all of it offered up to the wooden floor.



 Xie Guan&#x27;s foot found empty air, his body lost its balance, and his heart immediately lurched.



 At the first turn, his head hit the stairs, and his vision suddenly went black.



 At the second turn, his rapidly tumbling body slammed against the handrail, and something jabbed into his left shoulder, sending a piercing pain through him.



 Xie Guan wanted to adjust his posture before landing to minimize the damage. However, he was like a rag doll with broken limbs; not a single joint in his body would obey him. He could only follow inertia and gravity, tumbling all the way down, landing messily on his back at the bottom of the stairs.



 The back of his head slammed heavily against the cold, hard marble floor. The blurry figures, footsteps, and screams before his eyes all receded like the tide. Xie Guan&#x27;s fingers curled weakly, as if trying to grasp something, but he only futilely clutched a handful of air. Finally, his strength exhausted, his hand slowly dropped into the filthy dust.

The Fall

Windwalker