Gong Xue in the South, Zhu Lin in the North

"It isn't easy. It feels just like a formal entrance exam, complete with preliminary and secondary auditions." "Classes don't even start until next spring. Beijing Film Academy is strict—they won't take your tuition even if you come begging." "Most of them are just here to make up the numbers. Look ahead, it's all grown men. Some are well into their thirties, older than me. There's no way the school accepts them." "I noticed that too. Not a single female comrade in sight." Both men played off each other seamlessly, never letting a single conversational beat drop. At 184 centimeters tall, Zhang Guangbei enjoyed a broad field of view. As he spoke, his eyes suddenly lit up, and he whispered, "Hey, look! A female comrade has arrived!" All three turned their heads together, Chen Qi's expression growing increasingly peculiar. Another person had just stepped through the building entrance: a woman in her twenties with short hair and a tall, slender build. Her complexion was slightly tanned, her face full and rounded, and her features were dignified, elegant, and touched with a spirited dash of vigor. She jogged over, her voice sweet and pleasant. "Am I late? Is there still time?" "Plenty of time, plenty of time! We're still waiting in line!" Li Chengru chimed in at once. "Oh, thank goodness! I'm completely exhausted!" She looked as though she had rushed the entire way, fanning herself with one hand as fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her large eyes swept across the three men, settling on Chen Qi. Just as she was about to speak, Zhang Guangbei cut in, "He's an enrolled student, just here chatting. The two of us are applying—we might end up as your classmates!" "Oh, hello, hello!" Zhu Lin broke into a smile, revealing white, even teeth as she took the initiative to shake hands. Right now, she was in the full bloom of youth, at the very peak of her looks—even more radiant than she would be when playing the ruler of the Women's Kingdom, though her unstyled appearance made her look a bit plain. "..." Chen Qi could only click his tongue in silent marvel. This little amateur acting class was truly a gathering of crouching tigers and hidden dragons! Beijing Film Academy had admitted a cohort of acting students in '78, none in '79, and none this year either, offering only this amateur continuing-education course. Besides Li Chengru, Zhang Guangbei, and Zhu Lin, the class also included Li Qinqin, Zhao Baogang, Li Qiang, and others, though they were nowhere to be seen today. Li Qiang would later play Ximen Qing in CCTV's *The Water Margin*. Li Qinqin was another familiar face, famous for portraying Abbess Dingyi in CCTV's *The Smiling, Proud Wanderer*. As for Zhao Baogang, there was no need to say more—he would become a titan among television drama directors. Some of these people already had acting experience, while others were driven purely by aspiration. Zhu Lin, for instance, had filmed *The Traitor* the previous year before returning to work at a research institute. But the seed in her heart had already sprouted, and the moment she saw the enrollment notice, she had hurried over to sign up. Assuming Chen Qi was indeed a student, she peppered him with questions. "Classmate, are you in the acting department? What do you usually study? Is it the same as what they teach the amateur class?" "Pretty close," Chen Qi said, spinning a yarn effortlessly. "They just condense our four-year curriculum down to five months for you." He babbled on without missing a beat: "Right now we study the Stanislavski acting system, which is quite methodical. Put in the simplest terms, it means turning yourself into an empty cup. To act, you must maintain an empty-cup mindset: whatever role they tell you to play, you pour that character right in." "That sounds so professional! You truly live up to your training." Zhu Lin blinked her large eyes, beaming again. "All empty talk just to hoodwink outsiders," Li Chengru grumbled. "Exactly. Looking at you, you're younger than I am," Zhang Guangbei chimed in. *Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring!* Right then, the bell signaling the end of class rang out. Chen Qi wasn't about to bicker with these two jokers. Pulling a notebook and pen from his bag, he said, "Running into each other like this is fate. Leave your names and addresses, and I'll look you up when I have a role down the line." *Wait, what???* All three froze at once. Baffled, Li Chengru said, "Excuse me, classmate, who do you think you are..." "My name is Chen Qi." "..." An eerie silence hung in the air for two full seconds before Zhu Lin reacted first, crying out, "From *Romance on Mount Lu*..." Realizing she was shouting, she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth and lowered her voice to a whisper: "Are you really Chen Qi? The screenwriter of *Romance on Mount Lu*?! I saw it three times! You'd better not be pulling my leg!" "There's no reason for me to lie to you. I came here to see a teacher, saw you all lined up, thought it looked interesting, and came over to chat." As he spoke, Chen Qi pulled out his credentials to verify his identity. Zhu Lin grew even more excited, though she kept herself from making a scene in public. "*Romance on Mount Lu* was wonderful! I went once with colleagues, once with my parents, and once all by myself..." "All right, all right. Leave your contact details; I need to head upstairs." "Oh, right, of course!" Zhu Lin hastily jotted down her information. Chen Qi then offered the notebook to the two men, smiling. "Are you two writing yours down or not?" "..." A real man knew when to bend. Li Chengru snatched the pen and muttered, "Forgive my blind foolishness, chief. A great man doesn't stoop to petty squabbles—please don't take it to heart." "Me too, me too!" Zhang Guangbei chimed in hastily. "All right then. See you when the chance comes!" Chen Qi waved and headed upstairs. In his mind, he turned things over: all three had real potential, and working with them if an opportunity arose would be great. Li Chengru wasn't quite suited for period attire, but Zhang Guangbei was solid. Could he play Chen Shimei? No, he lacked the acting experience. Maybe put him as one of the four background guards—Wang Chao, Ma Han, Zhang Long, or Zhao Hu. A big, tall fellow was perfect for that. As for Zhu Lin, nothing came to mind right away; he would have to stay in touch and see. He rubbed his nose. Internet users in the future often spoke of 'Zhu Lin in the north, Gong Xue in the south,' and today he had finally met them both. Truth be told, in terms of sheer fame and status during the 1980s, Zhu Lin hadn't quite ranked in the absolute top tier; the saying owed much of its longevity to the nostalgic childhood filter surrounding the ruler of the Women's Kingdom. Zhu Lin hadn't made massive waves in cinema, dedicating most of her career to television and taking home a Golden Eagle Award. People often joked that as kids they only cared about watching the monkey, but Chen Qi had never been like that. Precocious as he was, he could name every beauty in *Journey to the West* by heart—the Queen, the Apricot Immortal, Chang'e, the Jade-Faced Fox, Princess Wansheng, Xuanzang's mother, he loved them all. His absolute favorite, of course, was Zhao Lirong. May that grand old lady rest in peace... He returned to that classroom, where Hu Weili was busy packing up his things. Assuming Chen Qi was a student, Hu asked, "Do you need something, classmate?" *Looking this young really is a nuisance!* Chen Qi shrugged, walked over, introduced himself, and stated his business. Hu Weili's eyes instantly lit up—not out of admiration for Chen Qi, but burning with the sheer longing of 'here comes another chance to make money.' Did Hu Weili even require an introduction? *The Swordsman*, *Royal Tramp*, *The Heroic Trio*, *Once Upon a Time in China III*, *Swordsman II*, *Flirting Scholar*, *C'est la vie, mon chéri*, *Drunken Master II*, *Hail the Judge*, *The Defender*, *The Lovers*... alongside Huang Zhan, Joseph Koo, Lowell Lo, and others, his name was synonymous with the golden age of Hong Kong cinema scores. He had already made a modest name for himself on the mainland. With an older brother working in Hong Kong's Legislative Council, he would end up relocating to Hong Kong in 1986. Down there, creative freedom was broader and the pay far higher—Hu Weili loved taking on gigs to earn cash because he needed to save up for his child's overseas tuition. Consequently, he welcomed Chen Qi with immense warmth. After some pleasantries, he asked, "Are you looking for background scoring, or composing a song?" "Both!" Chen Qi pulled the lyrics for the two songs from his bag. "Let's talk about the songs first. Please have a look." Hu Weili took them, read through them, and praised, "These lyrics are wonderfully written. What genre is your film?" "A martial arts action film!" "Martial arts? Oh..." Hu Weili didn't display the strange looks others usually gave. He asked, "What kind of style are you aiming for?" "I came up with a few melodic phrases myself, but I don't know formal music theory, so I can't transcribe them. I don't mean to encroach on your work in the slightest; I just felt this tune fit the mood. Please critique it." "Not at all, let me hear it first." Chen Qi then hummed a fragment of the melody, blending memory with improvisation. He couldn't hum the whole piece—that would give away the entire song—he only needed to convey the general flavor. "Let me record it. Hum it once more!" Hu Weili fetched a tape recorder and had him repeat the humming. "One is gentle, elegant, and focused on romance, while the other is grand, majestic, and showcases heroic spirit. Is that the idea?" "Exactly! For the majestic one, could we use some punchy, stirring instruments—like the suona?" "You know quite a bit for someone who claimed to know nothing about music." "No, no, I truly only know the barest basics." Hu Weili didn't mind either way so long as the money was right. Going by standard custom, scoring a film paid three hundred yuan, and composing original songs brought a separate fee. This was a substantial commission. After a long discussion, inspiration seemed to strike. Hu Weili sat down at the piano, his hands gliding lightly over the keys, and a flowing, wistful melody drifted forth—the very tune of 'Beauty's Chant.' It incorporated the melody Chen Qi had hummed alongside his own improvisations, yet maintained a coherent style: a soft, lingering song of tender love and devotion. "..." Chen Qi listened in silence. When two passages finished, he clapped his hands. "You truly are an expert. This is exactly what I was hoping for." "Then I know how to approach it. Songs like this are quite rare—very commercialized. Aren't you worried about courting controversy?" Hu Weili asked with a chuckle. "My movie will stir up even more controversy. Whenever you have time, come over to Beijing Film Studio to review the footage. The timeline for the score is quite tight; we need it finished before next February." "You set the requirements, and I'll deliver the work. If I feel I can finish it, I'll take the job. Deal!" "Wonderful. It's a deal!"