A Loyal Heart

The representative from Great Wall leafed through the script, and the very first thing that caught his eye was an ugly, mutated, cannibalistic freak. It had a massive head with a bald crown tapering to a sharp point, protruding bone ridges, two purplish birthmark-like patches clinging to the cranium, triangular eyes with one noticeably larger than the other, an enormous nose taking up a third of its face, and a gaping mouth full of sharp, beastly fangs... This was a male. Behind him was a female, followed by a child standing two meters tall. It was actually a family of three. Beside the sketch was a written profile: *Descendants of biochemical research personnel infected during the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong. Genetically a brother and sister, they bore a child. Possessing rudimentary intelligence and immense strength, they accidentally killed a couple, tasted human flesh, became addicted, and took pleasure in hunting passersby...* Further along were more pages of detailed notes and character concept sketches. The man from Great Wall was utterly stunned. Concepts this extreme were considered hardcore even in Hong Kong, yet here one was, coming straight from the hand of a young man from the mainland—complete with illustrations! This meant Chen Qi hadn't merely handed him a script; he had delivered practically an entire conceptual production. He then flipped through *The Descent*. The style was much the same—both were intensely graphic. "Xiao Chen, what is your intention with this?" "You know I've always liked letting my imagination run wild and have read quite a few obscure books. My head is actually full of similar ideas, but you're well aware of the environment on the mainland—there's no way to produce them here. "Secondly, I've come to understand a good deal about your situation, which sparked a few thoughts. Please bear with me if I speak out of turn." Chen Qi paused for a moment before continuing, "In recent years, the leftist studios have ground almost to a halt. Not only has production stalled, but the capital, resources, and prestige accumulated over the years have been completely depleted. Now you're stuck in an awkward dilemma, struggling to move forward... Am I right?" "*Sigh*, that's the truth of it!" the man sighed. "If the leftists want to rise again, you need to turn out a few eye-catching hits first and make money. Without money, you can't accomplish anything. Am I right?" "We understand the logic, but..." "But you're strapped for resources and don't know where to start?" "You really know us inside and out. Sounds like you've done plenty of inquiring!" The man suddenly chuckled. "Only because I admire everything you've accomplished by taking root in Hong Kong, and I'd like to do my part to help. "Right now you're working on *The Shaolin Temple*. Frankly, that's a political assignment you had no choice but to take. Most of your resources are tied up in *The Shaolin Temple*, and Director Zhang works at a slow pace. You can't just spend two whole years sitting around doing nothing except producing *The Shaolin Temple*, can you? "So I got to thinking: could you shoot some low-budget, highly profitable films? "I checked a lot of materials, including what you brought me from Hong Kong. I noticed that films with ghosts, monsters, and audience scares often perform quite well. For instance, the film sitting at number five at your 1974 box office—wasn't it called *The Exorcist*?" "Yes, yes! A Hollywood horror classic about a Western priest driving out a demon." "Oh, so you call them horror films. At any rate, I directed my efforts along those lines and came up with these two scripts. No grand spectacles, no big-name stars needed—the production costs shouldn't be high at all. I set the backstory around the descendants of Japanese devils, so the mainland won't object either." Never mind that this was the so-called "Sino-Japanese honeymoon period"; that was merely a diplomatic stance born of developmental necessity. What honeymoon was there in reality? Suffice it to say, even during the peak of that eighties honeymoon, anti-Japanese films on the mainland had never ceased. Or rather, from the founding of the nation down to future generations, resisting the Japanese had always stood at the pinnacle of mainstream cinematic themes. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been so many melodramatic, ridiculous television dramas made under the anti-Japanese banner years later—scenes of tearing Japanese soldiers in half with bare hands, hiding grenades in crotches, buns that could be eaten for lunch or thrown as bombs, and Eighth Route Army soldiers dressed in spotless uniforms with gear better than the enemy's... "Of course, this is just my humble opinion. I'm young and inexperienced, so please don't take offense if I'm talking nonsense." "No, no, you're absolutely right!" At this moment, the man from Great Wall felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. How they had yearned for a bit of support from the mainland! Yet in the end, it was an obscure, young screenwriter who had stepped forward to hand them two fully loaded scripts. To put it simply, after Reform and Opening-up began, the mainland's policy toward Hong Kong shifted toward "elite united front" tactics. What did that mean? It meant courting high-profile figures from Hong Kong's political, business, cultural, and even entertainment circles, pursuing top-level ties. Jin Yong's upcoming visit to the mainland next year was also an outcome of this elite united front policy. Under such circumstances, one could well imagine the leftists' plight—it was as awkward as could be. "My words carry little weight, but my heart is pure and true, as clear as the sun and moon. When I met with Seniors Fu Chi and Shi Hui last time, I only regretted not having the chance for an in-depth conversation. I also have a letter here that I hope you can pass along to them to express my admiration." For once, Chen Qi was speaking from the bottom of his heart. He genuinely liked that couple, and their daughter was very pretty too. "Very well, I will definitely deliver it!" "Then I'll leave it in your hands. Both of these scripts are quick-turnaround projects; handle them properly, and they could hit theaters in just a few months... *Sigh*, if only I had the chance to visit Hong Kong and see the film landscape there firsthand. I'd probably gain an even deeper appreciation for it. Unfortunately, traveling abroad is so difficult." *Go to Hong Kong?* The man from Great Wall felt a sudden stir of interest. He took a long, earnest look at the young man before him. There was no need to dwell on how young and capable he was—he had seen with his own eyes on the set of *Tai Chi* how Chen Qi arranged and coordinated the shoot. More importantly, this young man had a grasp of the bigger picture. Relying merely on a few documents, he had produced such an incisive analysis of Hong Kong, displaying an uncanny talent for strategizing from afar. The leftist studios were waiting to be rebuilt from the ground up; this was precisely when they needed talent. He pushed the thought aside for now, intending to return to Hong Kong and report the matter thoroughly to Fu Chi. *** When it came to Hong Kong, Chen Qi had always held one simple motto: *Take it on!* Unfortunately, the current climate didn't permit a head-on clash; one could only slip a soft blade between the ribs. Now that he had transmigrated, he could forgo chasing Sister Gong Xue, and he could pass on He Qing, Chen Hong, and Tao Huimin, but he absolutely had to shake up the Hong Kong entertainment industry! *Knock, knock, knock!* Having seen off the man from Great Wall, he was just getting ready for bed when someone knocked at the door. Liang Xiaosheng entered carrying a stack of manuscript paper. "Xiao Chen, I've finished the first half of *Great Shanghai 1937*. Would you like to take a look?" "Oh, sure!" Chen Qi took the pages and skimmed through them, focusing primarily on the opening and ending. He smiled and said, "Old Liang, your popular fiction technique is getting sharper by the day. You're far better at this than I am." "Actually, this stuff isn't hard to write at all. Once you get the hang of it, it comes easily." Liang Xiaosheng lit a cigarette, puffing it with a hint of pride. Starting in September of last year, every two months, Chen Qi had independently published the first halves of *The Cotton Kasaya* and *Invincible Dual Kicks* in *Story Session*, while the two of them collaborated on the second halves, along with *Wudang*. Each time, Liang Xiaosheng collected eighty-eight yuan in royalties. In a mere half year, he had already pocketed two hundred and sixty-four yuan. A man with money in his pocket walked with his head held high; he puffed his chest out even when speaking now. *Great Shanghai 1937* was also a renowned piece from the eighties, directed by the grandmaster Chang Cheh when he traveled north to shoot. It told the story of a group of people resisting the Japanese in old Shanghai, featuring a character named "Dagger Yang Fan," played by Dong Zhihua. That was Dong Zijian's father—the actor who wielded the Eight Trigram Pole in *Kung Fu Hustle*. Watching Liang Xiaosheng leisurely puffing plumes of smoke, Chen Qi found it amusing and teased, "Old Liang, our Ah Qi and Ah Guai duo is growing quite famous in the literary world. I heard you went out to dine at a restaurant the other day. What, are you giving up on serious literature now?"