Huh?
Hearing the other side put it that way, Wang Yang was caught off guard. He had kicked up such a storm with China Film only because he wanted distribution rights; he had never actually imagined dissolving the whole organization. Any fool knew that was impossible! Still, he couldn't afford to show weakness. Slapping the table, he barked, "If you want to disband, then disband! You said it yourselves, so don't you dare back out!"
"We did say it, and that's exactly what we meant! We'll submit the petition ourselves!"
The China Film representative seemed ready to throw caution to the wind, thoroughly giving up on giving a damn.
As the two sides traded barbs, the leader from the Ministry of Culture stepped in to put a stop to it. "All right, that's enough! What must this look like in front of Liao Gong? Aren't you afraid of making fools of yourselves? This is our internal business. Don't bring it up here today."
The leader took a far more rational view.
China Film was a bureau-level institution that had held the monopoly over distribution for decades. Could it really be abolished just because someone said so? Something like that would require direct approval from the Central Committee.
Besides, if China Film truly were dissolved, who would clean up the resulting mess? How would the existing employees be reassigned, and to whom would distribution rights be handed over? To the individual film studios? That wouldn't be an experimental reform pilot—that would be charging blindly into the dark with an axe... Who could possibly shoulder the responsibility for the fallout?
Restoring order to the room, the leader asked, "Are there any other matters?"
Seeing that no one spoke, he continued, "Very well. Let us move to the main agenda of today's meeting. Liao Gong?"
"..."
Liao Gong nodded, shifting his portly frame slightly forward. "Over the past few days, I have listened to opinions from various quarters. Combining those with my own perspective, allow me to share a few thoughts.
"Although China Film has made missteps this time, on the whole, it has played a positive role. The domestic film system is comprehensive and has operated for decades; it should not be recklessly upended. However, China Film's performance overseas genuinely calls for self-examination. I hear a certain joke has already spread throughout the industry?"
He glanced at the leader from the Ministry of Culture, who answered rather awkwardly, "Yes... the one that goes, 'Decades in the film business, and you can't even match someone selling large-bowl tea.'"
"Haha! Even if it's a joke, it highlights real problems!"
Liao Gong tapped the table. "I looked at your track record: over three years, you earned a combined total of just over two million US dollars in foreign exchange, averaging merely a few thousand dollars per picture. Added all together, they couldn't even match what one person achieved with a single film.
"Naturally, today is not meant to be a criticism session. But when one's own capability falls short, one must give opportunities to others. *Tai Chi* performed exceptionally well overseas, and both Comrade Wang Yang and Comrade Fu Chi have unanimously recognized Comrade Chen Qi's capabilities. At this critical juncture of national reform, we must break conventions to bring forth talent and give our youth a stage to prove themselves."
Pausing, Liao Gong swept his gaze across the room and continued, "First, representing the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office and the Hong Kong and Macao Affairs Office, I support domestic cinema expanding outward and forging closer cooperative ties with Hong Kong companies and overseas markets.
"The United States alone has over eight hundred thousand overseas Chinese, and across the globe there are more than twenty million. This is a force that cannot be overlooked, as well as a potential audience base for domestic films going abroad. We need to mobilize their enthusiasm to support Chinese cinema.
"Since Comrade Chen Qi has achieved one successful precedent, we might as well see what else he can accomplish moving forward. We should maintain oversight on the broad trajectory while granting latitude in specific execution—keeping macroscopic constraints, but practicing open policies in practical matters.
"Take travel, for instance. Leftist companies in Hong Kong have always traveled back and forth to the mainland with relative ease, but going from the mainland to Hong Kong is exceedingly cumbersome, and traveling abroad is even more difficult. It would be best to streamline the process for certain individuals and grant them discretion to act as circumstances require."
Rather than launching into a long speech, he kept his remarks brief, then said, "Work out a set of regulations among yourselves. I have another meeting to attend, so I shall take my leave."
Everyone stood to see Liao Gong off, a surge of private thoughts churning beneath their calm facades.
Strictly speaking, this matter fell outside Liao Gong's direct jurisdiction, but his presence as mediator made the intention of the top leadership abundantly clear. Liao Gong had laid it out plainly: first, Chen Qi was to be given production rights; second, he was to be given overseas distribution rights; third, he was expected to strengthen ties with Hong Kong.
Moreover, the higher-ups viewed this as an experimental pilot—one meant to stay small rather than grow large, aimed solely at a single individual rather than an entire class.
This was an imperial decree of special privilege—making him the film world's Wei Zhongxian, the literary and art circle's Lord of Nine Thousand Years!
At this time, the film system did not fall under the broadcasting authorities, but was administered by the Ministry of Culture, meaning the final implementation rested squarely on the ministry's shoulders. The ministry's leadership, however, was unfazed: if Chen Qi failed, they wouldn't have to bear the blame; if Chen Qi succeeded, they would share the credit.
"Following Liao Gong's instructions, let us look into this!"
With clear guiding principles in place, the specific planning became far simpler.
There were two main approaches: establishing a public institution, or forming a corporation. In the end, they decided to set up a company, which offered greater flexibility.
One shouldn't imagine that the concept of a company did not exist in China at the time; it had been around since the Republican era, though back then they were all state-owned enterprises. It was not until 1984 that Dalian Guangcai Industrial Co., Ltd. obtained the country's first private enterprise license, running a color photography business.
Back then, that company had caused a stir at the very highest levels of leadership, requiring special approval from the State Council—yes, an exceptional approval directly from the State Council.
Its nature had been just like Chen Qi's case: an "experimental pilot."
The massive wave of private enterprises would have to wait until the early 1990s.
Wang Yang's enthusiasm flared up once more, and he argued vigorously, insisting that Beijing Film Studio must be included in the venture. Fully supporting Chen Qi didn't mean abandoning the studio's interests; doing that would have made him a saint.
Because Chen Qi was to be granted production rights, yet setting up an independent film studio just for him was out of the question, he would still need to collaborate with an existing studio. The only difference was that his voice would be significantly elevated, granting him the autonomy to spearhead a picture on his own.
What followed were extensive discussions over corporate functions, supervising agencies, finances, profit distribution, and so forth. A charter was hammered out, submitted to Liao Gong, and subsequently revised and reviewed—details that need not be belabored here.
***
Noon.
The tongzilou was relatively quiet. Those who had work to do were working, and those who ate at the cafeteria were eating there. Gong Xue, however, was busy out in the corridor. She prepared a plate of stir-fried pork and a bowl of stewed cabbage with potatoes, ladling them into large bowls before carefully carrying them into her room.
Chen Qi was sprawled carelessly across her bed, casually leafing through a book. "The food's ready? Serve the master his lunch!"
"Just for calling yourself 'master,' you'd be dragged off to be criticized!"
Gong Xue rolled her eyes at him. She scooped two bowls of rice onto the small table, took the low stool for herself, and let him have the sofa. Rolling off the bed, Chen Qi looked over the dishes and said with a chuckle, "Come to think of it, this is the first time I've eaten a meal cooked with your own hands. You didn't put sugar in it, did you?"
"Guess!"
"That means you didn't. I can't imagine how anyone could stomach sugar in stewed cabbage and potatoes."
Chen Qi took a few bites and offered a serious critique. "The potatoes are stewed just right, and the cabbage is soft and tender. You used a bit too much soy sauce, but it still tastes delicious and goes great with rice... How are you settling in here? Getting used to living in this place?"
"It's quite nice. Tidied up, it's far cozier than a guesthouse. It's just that occasionally at night..."
Blushing, she shook her head and dropped the subject, instead heaping food into his bowl. "From now on, whenever you don't feel like eating at the cafeteria, just come over here. In the army, the conditions weren't there, but I actually enjoy cooking."
"Your specialty is bound to be southern cuisine, and I'm not really used to that."
"Then tell me what you like, and I'll learn how to make it."
"Guobaorou, twice-cooked pork, squirrel-shaped mandarin fish, roast duck, deep-fried stuffed eggplant, Buddha's-hand cabbage, and super invincible ocean-view Buddha Jumps Over the Wall!"
Gong Xue set her bowl down with a sharp clatter and huffed, "How many ounces of meat coupons do I even earn in a month? Where on earth am I supposed to get all that for you? You silly fool!"
"I'll supply the ingredients; I can get my hands on them... But seriously, this room is far too small. Once my house is built, you can come take a look. Staying the night would be fine too."
"I am not going to stay there!"
"Then what if I get scared all by myself? What if ghosts come around in the middle of the night?"
"I'm not going either way..."
Gong Xue prodded the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks. Suddenly, the wanton moans of the woman next door resurfaced in her mind, sending her thoughts drifting. Was that sort of thing really so enjoyable? She had only moved in a few days ago, yet she had already heard it twice.
And each time was hardly brief, lasting a good twenty minutes or so.
Once they finished eating, Gong Xue saw him to the door. "Next time you want to eat something specific, let me know in advance."
"So I can only come over to eat? I'm not allowed to visit at other times?" Chen Qi teased.
"You know very well what I mean! In any case, don't come around at night, or people will gossip... All right, off you go. I still need to tidy up the room—you've left it a complete mess." Holding a broom, Gong Xue shooed him out.
*Ah, what a wonderful woman to share a home with!*
Chen Qi strolled away at a leisurely pace. Beijing was graced with spring scenery; the grand willow trees in the studio courtyard had sprouted fresh boughs, and the winter jasmines were in bloom, bursting with vibrant life.
Just as he neared the main building, Wang Yang called down from an upper floor: "Xiao Chen! Where on earth did you run off to? Get up here, quick!"
Chapter 178