Before long, other actors like Shen Xiuyuan and Lin Ziyang joined the table read via video call, alongside He Chuan, Song Lan, and Jiang Yue.
He Chuan flipped through the storyboard and moved to the next topic. “Lu Ji is at a severe disadvantage in direct confrontations. He can only rely on his wits and his Xuan Pivot constitution.”
“But his constitution's sudden bursts can only buy him a temporary reprieve; he can't rely on it to escape every single time he's in danger. What the audience wants to see is him gradually figuring out his constitution after facing danger again and again.”
Jiang Yue pressed down on the corner of his script with his thumb.
He understood this setup and knew exactly what made the plot satisfying for the audience.
However, if it was always a cycle of facing danger, unleashing his power, and then escaping, Lu Ji would quickly become a formulaic protagonist who existed solely to trigger a cheat.
The audience might find it satisfying if this happened a couple of times.
But if it happened too often, they would start to question it.
“Dude, you're not a rogue physician; you're a walking cheat code, aren't you?”
“What is Lu Ji's motivation the first time he actively taps into this power?”
Without waiting for an answer, Jiang Yue added, “Is he doing it to save his own skin, or to save someone else?”
Song Lan looked up and laid her pen flat across her script.
She and He Chuan had discussed this question long ago, but they hadn't yet applied it to a specific scene.
“Director He and I have talked about this,” Song Lan chimed in.
He Chuan slid the storyboard in front of her. “Go ahead.”
Song Lan nodded. “In the beginning, Lu Ji can be afraid of death, he can be calculating, and he can run away first when facing danger. But in the end, the audience shouldn't just see him being forced to grow stronger.”
She looked at Jiang Yue. “Especially for a character from the bottom of society like him, the audience won't like him just because he suddenly becomes powerful.”
Jiang Yue said, “But audiences love it when a character unleashes their power to save the day at a critical moment, don't they?”
“They do.”
Song Lan answered flatly this time. “Who doesn't want to see the male lead hold down the fort at a crucial moment? The question is, why would he turn back to save people?”
Song Lan tapped her pen against the script.
“Every time Lu Ji unleashes his constitution, he has to pay a price, and he risks having his secret discovered by others. Yet, when the moment comes, he still makes a choice that works against his own interests.”
She pointed to the page for the Mechanism Massacre Case. “When the shadow guards are hunting him down, he has already escaped to the exit. There are still people trapped by the mechanisms inside, and he could have just walked away.”
Curious about Song Lan's thoughts, He Chuan interjected, “But he goes back in the end.”
“But if he goes back too readily, it feels fake,” Song Lan said. “He's Lu Ji, not some grand hero. He would hesitate like any ordinary person, even curse himself for meddling in things that don't concern him, before finally choosing to go back and save them.”
Jiang Yue looked down at his script, his left hand continuously spinning his pen.
Lu Ji was afraid of death, yet he possessed his own moral compass and conscience.
That was what made the character compelling.
He wasn't some saint descended from heaven, but an ordinary man who was terrified out of his wits, yet still grumbled and swore as he forced his feet to turn back.
“The main plotline of his Xuan Pivot constitution can't carry this scene on its own,” Jiang Yue said. “We need to let the audience see him want to leave first, and then let them see him choose to go back anyway. Gaining power should only be the consequence of his choice.”
Song Lan's eyes lit up, as if she had found a kindred spirit. “That is exactly what I was thinking!”
He Chuan took the storyboard and scribbled a few notes next to the corresponding scene. “Lu Ji escapes to the exit first, his hand already touching the mechanism. Someone inside cries for help, and when he looks back, he sees his medicine box is still sitting on the inner side of the stone steps.”
Jiang Yue asked, puzzled, “The medicine box?”
He wanted to know what purpose the medicine box served. Many details in the script were written briefly, but during actual filming, the props had to align with the character's motivations.
As the screenwriter, Song Lan knew these details best, so she took the initiative to explain, “It contains the clues he needs to investigate. Once the exit closes, both the box and the clues might be lost forever. He only chooses to go back and save them after preparing himself to lose those clues.”
Jiang Yue flipped forward two more pages.
Song Lan continued, “After saving them, he can't act all righteous and noble either, as he hates the idea of being labeled a hero. The audience will know he's saving people, but the characters in the story won't understand.”
“He can claim that the medicine box had his clues and that he only went back to get his things, but he will absolutely never admit to being a good person.”
Jiang Yue flipped through the script, lost in thought. “That explanation makes sense.”
He Chuan asked, “Is it better than the original approach?”
Jiang Yue agreed, “It's much better than the initial setup. Lu Ji doesn't suddenly become warm-hearted out of nowhere, which makes the character feel far more realistic.”
Beside them, Jiang Kaiwen muttered, “Third Brother, if these discussions were posted online, there would definitely be people dedicated to analyzing Lu Ji's character.”
Jiang Yue turned his head. “Out of everyone here, you're the one in the best position to post it.”
“I certainly can't let such great promotional material for the character go to waste.”
“Alright, you're the manager. You call the shots.”
Amused by their banter, Song Lan smiled and flipped back to the earlier scenes. “The Mechanism Massacre Case shouldn't be the first time Lu Ji makes this kind of choice. We need to lay the groundwork beforehand.”
She had added several details in her script where Lu Ji secretly saved ordinary people, all of which had been written in during the past few days of filming.
Jiang Yue nodded in agreement. “That way, his decision to turn back and save people later on will have solid narrative support.”
“Exactly.”
Song Lan summarized her reasoning for the changes. “Simply telling the audience how lovable the protagonist is all at once feels too superficial. A good narrative allows the audience to discover and feel the character's charm for themselves.”
He Chuan used his pen to circle those scenes again. “We'll revise it in this direction.”
Next, Jiang Yue flipped to the pages covering the storyline at the Grand Tutor's Residence. “Once Xie Wuheng confirms that Lu Ji is harboring a secret, what does he want to get from him?”
Song Lan flipped to the same page. “In Xie Wuheng's eyes, the martial world of Dajing is just a chessboard. Zhuo Martial Arts experts have roots and sects, making their origins easy to trace. They are out in the open, which makes them easy to manipulate, but it also makes any moves against them easy to expose.”
“Lu Ji is different. He holds the mystery of the Xuan Pivot, belongs to no sect, and has an untraceable background; such a person has practically appeared out of thin air.”
“If this chess piece is used well, he can do a lot of dirty work for Xie Wuheng. If anything goes wrong in the future, it will be very difficult to trace it back to the Grand Tutor's Residence.”
Song Lan's pen came to rest next to the words "Xuan Pivot."
“More importantly, what Xie Wuheng wants isn't Lu Ji himself, but the power to rule the martial world.”
Jiang Yue stared down at the script, finally understanding Lu Ji's predicament and the reasoning behind his actions.
If Lu Ji refused to be reeled in, Xie Wuheng would eliminate him immediately. But if he accepted completely, he would become a mere chess piece with no control over his own destiny.
Afterward, the other actors brought up their own questions and ideas. After a round of discussion, everyone walked away with valuable insights.
Song Lan also added a mountain of annotations next to her script.
Observing this, Jiang Yue couldn't help but admire her. Screenwriters who took such responsibility for the audience and the crew were rare indeed.
He admired He Chuan just as much.
In the Xia Nation entertainment industry, directors usually held absolute authority and rarely gave screenwriters much room to maneuver. As for actors who weren't highly famous, they rarely even had the chance to participate in creative discussions.
Yet in this crew, he could feel a rare sense of equality.
Simply put, everyone was just focused on doing their job well, free from the influence of too many external factors.
Having already filmed several television dramas, Jiang Yue considered himself lucky. The directors he had encountered so far had all been relatively easy to get along with.
Most of the time, however, directors would still push forward with their own ideas, rarely truly listening to the opinions of the screenwriters and actors.
On the other side, He Chuan naturally had no idea what was going through Jiang Yue's mind.
He looked at the faces on his screen and felt a strange sense of gratification.
When the screenwriter, director, and actors could sit down and hash out the characters' motivations clearly, the acting would naturally flow smoothly.
This was exactly the kind of production atmosphere he wanted.
The shouts of the stagehands echoed from outside the shed once more, and the lighting crew in the distance began dismantling their rigs.
In the online meeting, the actors began packing up their scripts one by one.
Jiang Yue closed his script, picked up the now-lukewarm tea beside him, and took a sip. Midway through, he noticed tea leaves sticking to the rim of the cup.
He placed the cup back on the table.
Packing up his own script, Jiang Kaiwen reminded him, “Third Brother, you have scenes tomorrow morning. Let's get your makeup off so you can go back and rest early.”
“Sure.”
Jiang Yue stood up and looked back at He Chuan and Song Lan.
“Director He, Ms. Song, I'll go remove my makeup first. I'll take a closer look at the revised script tomorrow.”
He Chuan didn't try to keep him. “Go on, get some rest.”
Song Lan also packed up her script. “Thank you for your hard work today.”
“Thank you both as well.”
Jiang Yue nodded, gestured to Shen Xiuyuan, Lin Ziyang, and the others in the video call, and then walked toward the dressing room with Jiang Kaiwen.
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