Li Han-hsiang had an untamed, bohemian nature. When naming his children, he gave his daughters the names Margaret, Mary, and Merisa, and his son Michael—every single one began with an "M." That was because he was a true Northeasterner at heart, fond of barking out the regional curse, "Ma le ge ba zi!"
He even taught children dirty rhymes, went shirtless during the summer, and sported a thick gold chain, giving off a brazenly streetwise vibe—ah, Northeast genes were undeniable after all.
At this moment, the second he said he wanted to see the chair, he meant right away. Chen Qi had no choice but to take him and Wang Yang up to Room 302.
"What a marvelous find!"
The moment Li Han-hsiang stepped through the door, his eyes fell upon the Ming-dynasty huanghuali round-backed folding chair. Striding over in a few quick steps, he squatted down and began fondling it more tenderly than he would a woman, muttering under his breath, "Ruyi-shaped opening with openwork chilong motifs... qilins, treasure gourds, landscape rocks, lingzhi fungus... The footrest is preserved so beautifully too, with brass inlay no less! What a chair! What a magnificent chair!"
He turned around, altering his form of address on the spot. "Young friend, are you willing to part with it?"
"If it were yours, would you part with it?"
"I'll pay a handsome price!"
"I'm not short on cash!"
"Ah, what a pity, what a pity..."
Li Han-hsiang shook his head with immense regret. He glanced over at the rosewood stool, though its condition was rather ordinary. Turning around the room, he grew intrigued by the old books scattered across the floor and pulled Chen Qi into a conversation about them.
Wang Yang had no interest in such antiquarian oddities, and after lingering for a short while, he took his leave.
Seeing this, Chen Qi suddenly dug a damaged, incomplete volume out from the pile of books and said, "With the studio head around, I felt awkward bringing it out. You're a true master in these arts, Director Li—please, enlighten me!"
"One look at that sly grin and I know it's a banned book..."
Li Han-hsiang was sharp as a tack. The moment he took it in hand and peered at it, he burst into hearty laughter. "*The Lampwick Monk*! Haha, to think I'd actually find a book like this in the mainland!"
"I bought it by the jin. Only after flipping through it back here did I discover what it was. Too bad so much of it is missing."
"This is likely a lithographic print from the Republican era; it isn't worth much. I own a woodblock edition from the Guangxu reign—now that is a true treasure. But the absolute finest was a manuscript on plain white Qing paper, which was looted by those damn British!"
True to form, Li Han-hsiang knew the genre inside out, speaking of its particulars as though reciting family heirlooms. Chen Qi chimed in with flattering remarks from time to time, scratching him right where he itched.
"This copy of *The Lampwick Monk* may be missing half its pages, but honestly, it isn't worth reading anyway. It's nothing more than a monk sneaking into the Yang manor to indulge in shameless debauchery with the lady of the house, her daughter, and the maids, fooling around day in and day out—thoroughly low-grade stuff. In the realm of classical erotic fiction, *The Lampwick Monk* can hardly be shown in polite company. *The Plum in the Golden Vase* is the truly peerless masterpiece!"
"Because it's a novel exploring human society and worldly manners?" Chen Qi asked with a grin.
"Kid, you actually get it!"
Li Han-hsiang dusted off his backside and casually moved to sit in the folding chair. After Chen Qi promptly intercepted him, he sat down on the bed instead as if nothing had happened, saying:
"Classical erotica falls into three tiers. The first tier is *The Plum in the Golden Vase*. Reaching from the tyrannical Grand Preceptor at the top down to petty bureaucrats, local bullies, and street hoodlums at the bottom, it constructs a complete portrait of human society. Men and women are trapped within it—their distortions, their struggles, their descent into corruption. That is what you're truly meant to observe; the carnality is merely an embellishment.
"The second tier is Li Yu's *The Fragrant Companion*, which tells of two young women who meet through poetry, fall in love, and devise every possible way to spend their lives together. That was a remarkably progressive concept.
"The third tier comprises works like *The Lampwick Monk* and *The Carnal Prayer Mat*, which indulge in lewdness purely for the sake of lewdness. They are filthy from beginning to end, only tacking on a hasty line at the conclusion about karmic retribution and moral consequences. Their underlying intent is utterly vulgar."
"So the erotic films you direct are also held to that first-tier standard?" Chen Qi flattered him again.
"Erotic cinema hinges on portraying the characters' inner hearts and the essence of ethics. The goal is to be erotic without being depraved, sensual without being vulgar—using amorous affairs as the canvas to unleash wit and humor to the fullest. Beneath the playful banter, scolding, and laughter, what I'm truly conveying are traditional moral principles and ethical concepts, meant to admonish the world!
"Unfortunately, Hong Kong audiences only treat them as cheap skin flicks. Sigh..."
Li Han-hsiang let out a long sigh, expressing the loneliness of reaching the pinnacle of an art form.
"Hearing you say all this makes me want to write a story myself," Chen Qi said. "It's just a pity the mainland environment doesn't allow for it. Never mind erotic themes—even an onscreen kiss causes an uproar."
"Oh? You have ambitions in this field too?"
"Not really ambitions, I just find it quite fascinating. If the opportunity ever arises, I'd like to give it a shot."
Chen Qi paused for a moment before continuing, "Recently, I was reading through some unofficial histories and came across a Tang-dynasty woman named Yu Xuanji. She possessed extraordinary literary talent, shared an intimate friendship with Wen Tingyun, became a concubine, then entered a Daoist convent as a nun, and ultimately murdered her maidservant.
"She wrote a famous line of poetry: 'A priceless treasure is easy to find, but a man of true heart is rare.'
"I was thinking, if her story could be written out, it would make for a truly compelling drama."
"..."
Li Han-hsiang's eyes lit up. He prided himself on his boundless talent and used his own screenplays for the vast majority of his work. Even for *The Burning of the Imperial Palace* and *Reign Behind a Curtain*, he had written the final scripts himself only after others had produced several drafts.
He had already filmed all sorts of classical legends and popular folk romances—things like *The Plum in the Golden Vase*, *Yang Naiwu and Little Cabbage*, and the romantic escapades of Emperor Qianlong. Yet he had never thought of Yu Xuanji. The subject was genuinely obscure.
Hearing Chen Qi describe her now piqued his interest. "If you really write it, be sure to let me have a look."
Li Han-hsiang was in high spirits. He had come to the mainland to attend an event, never expecting to cross paths with a kindred spirit in this young man. The fellow appeared to be an innocent youth, yet he spoke with an ease that suggested anything but, leaving Li thoroughly intrigued.
"Well, I must take my leave!"
"I'll see you out!"
Li Han-hsiang walked a couple of paces toward the door, then turned around. "You truly won't sell that chair?"
"If you offer something in trade, I might consider it. But as for selling it outright, absolutely not."
"Ah, so young, yet as crafty as an old fox!"
Li Han-hsiang walked out and went downstairs. After saying goodbye to Wang Yang, he climbed into his car and departed. A celebrated Hong Kong director like him naturally stayed at the Overseas Chinese Hotel.
* * *
Chen Qi felt pleasantly surprised by how smoothly his unexpected encounter with Li Han-hsiang had gone.
*The Burning of the Imperial Palace* and *Reign Behind a Curtain* wouldn't begin filming until two years from now. The scripts had already gone through three drafts, and Li's final version would be refined on the basis of those three. Chen Qi couldn't muscle his way into that production, nor did he wish to.
All he wanted was to sell Li a script, earn some money, and build a warm rapport to keep the director closely tethered to his side.
Li Han-hsiang himself was the real prize—and he came with Tony Leung Ka-fai as a package deal. When the Taiwan ban inevitably fell upon them later, Chen Qi's production crew and alliance network would officially fall into place.
Li Han-hsiang, Tony Leung Ka-fai, Liang Xiaolong, Xu Xiaoming, Liza Wang, along with left-wing talents like Liu Xuehua, combined with the mainland cohort of Li Lianjie, Ge You, Gong Xue, and Ji Chunhua—men and women, dramatic actors and martial artists alike.
In that fleeting moment, Chen Qi felt like a hero leading an underdog mercenary band to slay the dragons of Hong Kong and Taiwan, and perhaps even push into the markets of Europe and America!
"Look at me, getting all fired up!"
He splashed cold water on his face, sat down at the desk, and prepared to write the Yu Xuanji screenplay first. Writing this was purely to cater to Li Han-hsiang's tastes; the director wouldn't necessarily be interested in any other genre.
The film was titled *An Amorous Woman of Tang Dynasty*, released in 1984 and starring Pat Ha and Alex Man. Even with its explicit scenes, it was a genuinely fine piece of cinema.
When writing scripts for the three Hong Kong entities, Chen Qi used his real name for Great Wall, while for Yuen Woo-ping he used a casually concocted pen name: Dongfang Ren.
For Li Han-hsiang, he naturally needed a pen name as well. The mainland kept tight oversight, whereas Hong Kong was loose and carefree; the industry figures there used all kinds of bizarre pseudonyms anyway, such as Jeffrey Lau going by "Ji On" and Wong Jing going by "Not a Woman"...
And now, a certain pen name Chen Qi had long held in his heart was finally making its grand debut:
"Blade in the Rainy Night Without an Umbrella!"
Chapter 127