As time passed, Dong Menglian gradually faded from Yun Ni’s memory. Her days were consumed by the repetitive cycle of commuting between the hotel and the set. After more than a month, her scenes were finally entering the final wrap-up stage.
Today, during the pre-shoot briefing, Director Zhou suddenly mentioned, “Xiao Ni, we have an archery scene today. I’ve found a stunt double for you.”
“A stunt double?” Yun Ni recalled the script. Today’s scene featured her character asking General Chu to teach her archery, only to accidentally succeed in a “piercing the willow leaf from a hundred paces” shot.
She quickly snapped back to reality. “Director Zhou, I’d like to try it myself first.”
Zhou Sheng had worked with Yun Ni long enough to know she was competitive. Since a quick trial wouldn’t waste much time, and knowing Yun Ni would willingly step aside if she couldn’t handle it, he agreed. “Alright, after the meeting, go give it a try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll bring in the double.”
Yun Ni’s smile became a bit more genuine. “Thank you, Director.”
Since Bo Yaning joined the crew over a month ago, everyone had been getting along peacefully. With everyone working diligently, the production schedule had stabilized, putting Director Zhou in a better mood every day.
About half an hour later, the meeting concluded. Yun Ni went to change into her riding and archery attire, pulling her usually loose hair back into a high ponytail with a headband.
As she stepped out of the dressing room, a hand holding a white folding fan suddenly extended toward her. “Gallant and heroic… is Miss Yun the very definition of that phrase?”
Yun Ni looked over to see Bo Yaning, dressed in men’s attire for today’s cross-dressing scene. She arched an eyebrow with a smile. “Senior Bo, surely you are talking about yourself.”
Bo Yaning gave a helpless smile. “Xiao Ni, just call me by my name. No need for honorifics.”
It wasn’t the first time she had brought this up, but Yun Ni remained polite. “You are my senior; it’s only right to use honorifics.” She checked the time and gave an apologetic smile. “Senior Bo, I need to go practice. I’ll head off first.” She walked past her toward the archery range.
When she arrived, she saw Tao Ningchu peering around near the range. Yun Ni walked over. “What are you looking for?”
“I thought I saw your manager just now, but they vanished. Maybe I saw wrong,” Tao Ningchu scratched her cheek. Seeing Bo Yaning following behind Yun Ni, she teased, “Blocked at the door again?”
Over the past month, this had become a common occurrence. Tao was used to it and even a bit gossipy. “Do you think Bo Yaning likes you? Why does she always stick to you?”
Yun Ni pinched Tao’s cheek. “I don’t know if she likes me, but I know what the consequences would be if I said I liked you.”
Yun Ni felt an instinctive resistance to Bo Yaning’s closeness because she knew they were fundamentally different kinds of people.
Tao Ningchu immediately surrendered. “President Lin would kill me! Please, don’t ever do that.”
Yun Ni was originally going to retort about Bo Yaning, but hearing Tao bring up Lin Zijin made her freeze. She let go of Tao’s face.
Noticing the shift in her mood, Tao rubbed her cheek. “What’s wrong? Had a spat with President Lin?”
“No, I just realized we haven’t spoken in a long time,” Yun Ni shook her head.
Filming hours were erratic. If she started early, she didn’t want to wake Lin Zijin. During the day, she worried Lin was busy with work. Late at night, she didn’t want to disturb her sleep. It had reached a point where she couldn’t find a right time to reach out, and with no specific topic to discuss, they had both fallen silent.
“Topics are easy to find if you just talk,” Tao Ningchu suggested. “Oh! You can send a random message and then immediately unsend it. They’ll definitely reply to ask what it was, then you pretend you sent it to the wrong person and use the chance to say hello. Boom—conversation started.”
Yun Ni glanced at her. “You’re surprisingly experienced at this.”
Tao Ningchu suddenly looked up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle and sighed deeply. “I used that trick to confess to my deskmate once. Sadly, I got rejected.”
Yun Ni patted her shoulder. “Look on the bright side. If there’s a first time for everything, there’s a second. Try again next time.”
“Why do I feel like you’re saying I’m going to fail a second time?” Tao looked suspicious.
“You’re overthinking it,” Yun Ni withdrew her hand. “I’m going to practice. You coming?”
Tao Ningchu instantly regained her energy. “Yes!”
In period dramas, archery is usually handled in two ways: using a stunt double, or using a “fishing line” trick where a staff member pulls the arrow along a wire to a fixed target.
Several bows were laid out on a table. Yun Ni tested them one by one, picking one she found acceptable before expertly slinging a quiver over her shoulder.
Tao Ningchu followed her lead, but she nearly stumbled when she picked up a bow. “Why is it so heavy?”
Yun Ni explained, “This is actually a light one. Ancient bows were categorized by weight, some reaching ‘one dan’.” She did the math. “That’s roughly 60 to 100 pounds.”
Tao Ningchu’s jaw dropped. “People could actually shoot those?”
“Not everyone can draw a bow like that,” Yun Ni said, drawing an arrow and raising her bow.
“Wait, let me watch!” Tao called out.
Yun Ni didn’t fire yet; she just drew the string back to test the tension. Tao eventually picked the lightest bow and copied Yun Ni’s posture. Nearby, Liao Linhang and Liang Zhiyou also put on their quivers. While they had filmed archery scenes before, it was usually handled by staff; this was their first time actually learning the mechanics. Even Bo Yaning joined in with a light bow.
The instructor brought in by Director Zhou—who was both a stunt double and a teacher—walked over to begin the lesson. He arrived just in time to see Tao Ningchu’s arrow fly in a pathetic little arc and flop onto the ground.
“It’s your first time, don’t be—”
Thrum A swift, fierce arrow interrupted his sentence, burying itself into a target a hundred paces away.
The instructor turned and saw the arrow lodged in the inner ring, just shy of the bullseye. Surprised and impressed, he looked at Yun Ni. “Almost a bullseye! Don’t be discoura—”
Thrum
Another arrow flew. This time, it hit the bullseye dead center.
A few seconds later, another thrum. Another bullseye.
The instructor: “…” Is she even human?
Beside her, Tao Ningchu and the others were stunned.
Tao blinked. “Sister Yun… you actually know how to do this?”
“I do.” Yun Ni raised the bow again. Recalling the days of her youth, practicing with a bow that felt heavier than she was, her eyes narrowed. She released the string. Bullseye.
After the first shot, every subsequent arrow hit the mark. This wasn’t luck anymore; her accuracy was terrifyingly high.
The instructor, unable to keep his cool and realizing there was nothing left for him to teach, turned and walked back to Director Zhou.
Zhou Sheng, who was busy setting up props, was confused. “Why are you leaving?”
The instructor sighed. “Your actress’s technique is far better than mine. I’m ashamed. Director Zhou, let’s collaborate another time.” He turned and left before Zhou Sheng could say a word.
Still baffled, Zhou Sheng walked over to the range. He arrived just in time to see Yun Ni demonstrating for Tao Ningchu—hitting the bullseye yet again. One arrow after another, never missing. Even the male leads were crowding around her to ask for tips.
Zhou Sheng: Did I accidentally cast an archery grandmaster?