June brought summer to the capital.
The willows in the Beijing Film Studio compound swayed in the warm breeze, the flowerbeds bloomed in radiant colors, and life pulsed through every corner. It was the finest season in the north—not yet stiflingly hot, but delightfully pleasant.
Chen Qi had switched to short sleeves while keeping his long trousers and imported sneakers. Holding a thermos, he hurried toward the soundstage.
The thermos had also been purchased at the Overseas Chinese Store. He had received far too many overseas remittance certificates, which had to be spent before their one-year expiration date. Whenever he had a free moment, he dropped by for a stroll. That pretty saleswoman had even slipped him her contact details.
Chen Qi had torn them up the second he stepped out the door.
Hmph!
If she could slip them to me, she could slip them to anyone else. I'm not that easy!
When he reached the soundstage, shooting was already well underway. After the close call with Xiong Xinxin, the production seemed to have turned its luck around; everything proceeded smoothly from then on, and Yuen Woo-ping’s collaboration with the rest of the crew grew ever more seamless.
With seven fight sequences in total, compromises were inevitable given the film's runtime and pacing.
The first two fights were wrapped up briskly. The third fight against the Staff King of Miaojiang was an elaborate duel. The fourth fight against hard qigong and the fifth floor's "Maple Flower Love" were also speedruns. Well, it would be pretty hard not to speedrun Maple Flower Love.
The sixth fight against the wine monk was another elaborate duel, followed immediately by the final boss.
After prolonged deliberation, Yuen Woo-ping and Yu Chenghui decided on a matchup of Tai Chi sword versus two-handed sword. One was graceful and dashing, moving like a swimming dragon, flowing between stillness and motion, harmonizing hardness and softness; the other was magnificent and imposing, ferociously aggressive, with lunging thrusts and short chops surging like a roaring river.
This duel took five days to shoot!
It was the first time Yuen Woo-ping had pushed his mind and body at such high gear. When he finally called cut, he nearly collapsed to the floor, yet an immense sense of pride surged through him. A two-handed sword! I choreographed a two-handed sword fight, while those stuntmen in Hong Kong are still hopelessly mired in Southern Fist.
The mainland martial arts actors put their lives on the line for every take. The Yuen brothers voiced their approval, but that was as far as it went.
Because Hong Kong stuntmen were even crazier.
Most Hong Kong stuntmen had little education and came from poverty; they knew nothing else except putting their lives on the line. Their routine usually followed three steps:
"Action!"
"Jump!"
"To the hospital!"
There was truly zero protection. They jumped straight down from several stories up. While filming was underway on set, an ambulance waited right beside the lot. Hospital beds were kept permanently reserved, and insurance companies refused to touch them.
Furthermore, stuntmen over there were treated as expendable, worked ragged without a second thought—like the often-recounted tale of Sammo Hung cutting wires mid-drop...
The mainland merely lagged behind in equipment and resources while expecting dedication from its actors; all things considered, it was far more humane than Hong Kong.
"Good!"
"Take a break!"
Today they were shooting interior fight scenes. During the intermission, Yuen Woo-ping wiped his sweat and sat down beside Chen Qi. Noticing Chen Qi lounging comfortably with steam rising from his thermos cup—filled with hot tea, of all things—he asked, "Aren't you afraid of scalding your tongue?"
"Drinking hot tea in summer is good for you. Drink it all summer long, and it purges the dampness from your body."
"Haha, sometimes I think you act just like someone from Guangdong—always on about purging dampness and health preservation. All you need now is a pot of slow-cooked soup."
"Once a man passes thirty, it's too late to start taking care of himself. You have to nurture your health while you're still young!"
"Then it's already too late for me. I'm thirty-five."
After trading a few jokes, Yuen Woo-ping suddenly said, "Ah Qi, I have an idea, though I don't know if it's feasible. That young fellow Li Lianjie has what it takes to become a superstar. The conditions for martial arts films on the mainland are too primitive. I want to take him to Hong Kong."
"You won't be able to take him."
"Why?"
"He belongs to the martial arts team. The martial arts team answers to the Sports Commission, and he regularly has to travel abroad for performances. That means his hukou, his legal identity, his personnel file, and his employment relations are all held tight in official hands.
If you want to take him away and the authorities don't give the nod, he won't even be able to leave the mainland! Even if he made it to Hong Kong, he'd be an undocumented illegal resident. Are you planning to smuggle him across the border?"
"Why wouldn't the authorities agree?"
"He's a premier athletic talent groomed by the state! They're counting on him to win gold medals and perform overseas!"
"Is there really no room for accommodation?"
"Why don't you invite the Commissioner for Television and Entertainment Licensing from Hong Kong to negotiate? The Beijing Municipal Sports Commission is a full departmental bureau."
Yuen Woo-ping smiled awkwardly. He had no real concept of these ranks—departments, bureaus, offices, sections... Put it this way: Hong Kong's Commissioner of Police was an absolute heavyweight, right? He commanded every police officer in the territory, a veritable powerhouse in Hong Kong cinema. But what equivalent rank would that translate to on the mainland?
Chen Qi scoffed inwardly. The Yuen Clan Stunt Team wants to poach Li Lianjie? Even if you took him, you couldn't hold onto him.
I'm the one planning to recruit him under my banner!
* * *
Inside Sun Wenjin's office.
Gong Xue sat upright with her back straight, listening to his lecture, because the transfer paperwork that had dragged on for two months was sitting right in his hands.
"..."
Sun Wenjin read over the few thin sheets of paper several times, then glanced up at Gong Xue. "Last year, Liu Xiaoqing shot *Little Flower*, and the studio director took a liking to her and wanted her transferred in. This year, you shot *Romance on Mount Lu*, and the studio director took a liking to you too, wanting you transferred in as well.
Beijing Film Studio has few young actors. You have potential, and I welcome that. But since this department falls under my charge, I have to give you a few words of caution. Especially since you're an educated youth, you must observe discipline, maintain a proper attitude, and wholeheartedly serve the people."
"I will certainly study diligently under my seniors, be a good actor who serves the people, and live up to the kindness of you and the leadership!"
Gong Xue pinched the fabric of her trousers, rattling off the boilerplate phrases effortlessly. This had been drilled into her during the struggle sessions and her years sent down to the countryside—one always had to declare one's stance at a moment's notice.
"Mm, I hope you live up to your words!"
Sun Wenjin's demeanor softened slightly. He appreciated this kind of pledge; it made him feel important. Then he suddenly recalled that annoying punk. Both belonged to the same production crew, so how could the difference between them be so vast?
He stamped the papers with a brisk series of thuds, signed his name, and said, "From this moment on, you are a member of Beijing Film Studio. You're from Shanghai, so you'll have to overcome any adjustments. You're currently staying at the guesthouse, right?"
"Yes!"
"Keep staying there for now. The studio doesn't have a suitable dorm room for you at present. All right, go to the room next door to take a photo and get a work ID made."
"Thank you, Leader!"
Gong Xue nodded firmly, bowed respectfully, and only then walked out of the room. Once her photograph was taken and she stepped out of the main building, her spirits finally soared, and she jogged happily toward the soundstage.
She had dreamed of becoming a professional actor for years, and now that dream had come true. She was bursting to share it with her parents, but writing them a letter would take time, so she was eager to share it with that rascal first.
"Xiao Chen!!!"
Huh?
Chen Qi was watching the shoot when he heard her call out with three exclamation points. He knew at once that something major had happened. He already had a clear idea what it was, but feigned ignorance—good news like this had to be spoken from one's own lips to bring true joy.
Sure enough, Gong Xue was brimming with excitement, yet had to keep her voice down as she told him, "My transfer went through! From now on, I'm a professional actress!"
"Wow!"
"Congratulations, congratulations! Your dream finally came true!"
"I've had this goal since I was in my teens. Ten whole years! I can hardly believe I actually made it into Beijing Film Studio. Life really is miraculous..."
Yes, yes, miraculous indeed!
Your life trajectory was changed by me. You didn't end up at Shanghai Film Studio, and soon you'll be the most popular female movie star in all of China!
Chen Qi echoed her thoughts inwardly. Seeing her overflowing with uncontainable joy, he couldn't resist teasing her: "Hey, hey, don't celebrate too soon. Now that you're in the studio, you've got a whole pile of headaches waiting for you!"
"What headaches?" Gong Xue asked in bewilderment.
"What salary grade did they set for you?"
"Fifty-six yuan!"
"Fifty-six yuan is enough for your expenses, but you haven't been assigned a dormitory room, have you? You can stay at the guesthouse while filming, but where will you live once filming wraps? Housing in the studio is brutally tight; veteran staff are waiting in line. Don't even dream of an apartment within the next ten years.
At best, they'll pitch a cot for you in some neglected corner—people will work there during the day, and you'll sleep there at night. Or they'll cram you into a shared dorm room where you'll spend every day bickering and tearing each other's hair out with a bunch of strange girls.
And once you're in the studio, you need to act, right? But every post has its person. What if no film crew comes knocking? If you don't get cast, you don't have achievements; without achievements, you can't get a raise. Are you going to live on fifty-six yuan for the rest of your life? Daily necessities, food, clothing, shelter, transportation—don't you have to consider all that?
In the blink of an eye, you'll be in your thirties, then fifties—no house, no films, and oops, time to retire!"
"*Nong na neng ga che qi!*" she snapped in Shanghainese—*Why are you so awful!*
Gong Xue fumed, clenched her small fist to give him a sneaky thump, and spun on her heel. "*Nong fan se te le*—you're completely infuriating, I'm not speaking to you anymore!"
"Hey, that's not playing fair! Breaking out Shanghainese on me? You can't just fix your eyes on poetry and distant horizons; you have to face the sordid grind right in front of you... Hey, the sordid grind!"
Chen Qi shrugged. I was only telling the truth. The system is a place where seniority reigns supreme; once you plunge into it, you realize it's a murky vat of paste.
Still, it doesn't matter. You have me!
Just then, someone came running in, dashed up to him, and said, "Chen Qi, someone at the gate is looking for you."
"Oh, thanks!"
He set down his thermos cup, strolled leisurely to the front gate, looked up, and blinked. "Mom? What are you doing here?"
Chapter 105