The Justice Bao Crew

In the afternoon, in Room 302. A sandstorm had rolled in today, clattering against the windowpanes like driving rain. A layer of grit had already accumulated on the sill outside, and some of it had seeped inside through the poorly sealed frame. Chen Qi glanced out at the murky yellow sky. It felt far fiercer than the sandstorms of later generations, as though he had wandered into a round of Wasteland Punk 1981. He swept away the dust in the room, sat down, spread out manuscript paper, and began mapping out his upcoming film plans. He had specifically asked the leadership how much leeway he had with censorship, to which the higher-ups replied: as long as it didn't violate the spirit of patriotism or depict pornographic and harmful content, anything went. Which was saying everything and nothing at all. It would still be the same standard forty years later—in fact, that future era would be even less lenient than the 1980s. Of course, he knew that where he was concerned, censorship standards would certainly be relaxed to the absolute limit. He had two production quotas a year, with no restrictions on co-productions, which was actually plenty. Starting out fresh, he lacked resources across the board. He wouldn't feel comfortable handing a film off entirely to any single director and would have to oversee everything himself, which severely limited his bandwidth. "Right now, the top priority is cementing my position. As a reform pilot, if I fail to produce positive results, this operation could be shut down at any moment. So the next project still needs to earn foreign exchange. "Broadly speaking, there are two categories. One is martial arts films, which are most popular in Hong Kong, East Asia, and Southeast Asia, with a decent market in Europe and the Americas as well. "The other is North American specials, catering to what Americans love. "Sino-US relations are in good shape right now. If things go well, we might even manage a Sino-American co-production down the line, flourishing across culture and entertainment, though that's something for later... "Oh right, I also need to launch another project for my dear elder sister. She hasn't shot a movie in six months—even Big Mi wouldn't dare take a break like that!" After a bit of thought, Chen Qi settled on a direction. Once Tai Chi caught fire across various countries, he would strike while the iron was hot with another period kung fu film—there were plenty of options for that. As for the North American special, he would need to give careful thought to what to make. "I'd better test the waters in the US first to build some name recognition. Screenplays are too easy to rip off, so maybe I'll try writing a novel. I can ask Liao Gong for help finding a reliable publishing outlet... "And then the magazine needs to be prepared too!" At the thought of it all, he felt a bit overwhelmed. There were too many things to do, and he couldn't clone himself. Yet a surge of fierce entrepreneurial passion welled up within him. That was the ultimate aphrodisiac for a man, more invigorating than anything else—though standing at the pinnacle of success often left one feeling empty and disillusioned. Jack Ma once said he was happiest when making ninety-one yuan a month as a teacher... That might not have been entirely posturing; there was probably some genuine nostalgia in it. Chen Qi circled five items on the page: "Period Kung Fu Film," "Submissions to the US," "North American Special," "Magazine," and "Gong Xue." These were his tasks for this year and next. And the two top priorities were the kung fu script and plagiarizing a novel... Bah, creativity! Creativity! His planning complete, he poured a cup of gaomo tea, sat back in his round-backed huanghuali folding chair with his legs crossed, and watched the sandstorm howling outside. "The company may be small, but it's still a state-owned enterprise. Out in public, people will have to call me General Manager Chen. Truly, an eighties defined by radical strides and conservative caution marching hand in hand. If this happened in later times, I'd get dragged through the mud all over the internet... "In the future, I'll bring over the Five Golden Flowers of Yue opera and the Five Golden Flowers of Huangmei opera, form my own troupe, and get a taste of Brother Jiayin's joys!" As Chen Qi casually roasted himself, a sudden commotion arose outside—part howling wind, part human chatter. Peeking out the window, he saw two mid-sized buses pull up downstairs, with a crowd of people bustling about unloading luggage and gear. "Who's that?" "Oh, the Justice Bao crew!" He spotted Yang Jie. The petite old lady exuded absolute authority, barking orders at the top of her lungs, and nobody dared disobey. Thinking it over, he put on his coat and headed downstairs to say hello. *** Li Jianqun was twenty-four years old. She was graduating this year from the stage design department at Shanghai Theatre Academy. She had started dating someone in school and originally agreed to head to the Lanzhou Military Region together after graduation. But because of Justice Bao, she had come to the capital instead. They had fought several times over it, but she really wanted to act. Historically, she had gone to the Lanzhou Military Region, married not long after, and lived an unhappy life filled with frequent quarrels before divorcing a few years later. Venturing to Beijing on her own, she crossed paths with director Chen Jialin. Thoroughly disillusioned by her past marriage, Li Jianqun had no desire to marry or have children, so the two remained partners. Chen Jialin went on to direct Tang Ming Huang, Wu Zetian, Kangxi Dynasty, and other productions, all of which featured Li Jianqun's artistic contributions. At this moment, having completed the intensive training for Justice Bao, she was checking into the Beijing Film Studio guesthouse, filled with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation. There were many out-of-towners in the crew, all needing to stay at the guesthouse. Thanks to Chen Qi putting in a good word, Yang Jie had managed to rent a small soundstage on the cheap for what was expected to be about a month of shooting. The core cast of Justice Bao: Bao Zheng played by Li Po; Gongsun Ce played by Chen Daoming; Zhan Zhao played by Wang Qun; Qin Xianglian played by Li Jianqun; the Princess played by Zhou Jie; Chen Shimei played by Wang Bozhao; the Princess's maid played by Gong Ying; and Ma Han played by Zhang Guangbei! Just look at how wide a back door Chen Qi had opened for Zhang Guangbei—even as a human background prop, his name made it into the main cast list. Well, he just wanted some fun. "Director Yang!" "Well, look who it is! Xiao Chen!" Seeing Chen Qi come down, Yang Jie pulled aside a corner of the scarf shielding her from the dust and smiled. "We start shooting tomorrow. Drop by whenever you have time! You're quite the big shot now, you know. Everyone here looks up to you. Want to say a few words to them?" "I'll pass on that. I just came down to say hello. Don't let me keep you—go ahead and get back to business!" As the two talked, the crew members had already slowed their movements, sneaking glances at this legendary figure. Li Jianqun lifted a corner of her red scarf as well. She had met Chen Qi during the auditions, but seeing him again now, he had already risen to the stratosphere. Meanwhile, Chen Qi called out over there, "Gong Ying? Where's Gong Ying?" "Over here! Over here!" Gong Ying came jogging over lugging a large bag and cried, "Whoa, Chen Qi!" "Call me General Manager Chen!" "General Manager Qi Chen, look who's moving up in the world! You can't even fit on the front pages anymore. How on earth did you earn so many US dollars?" "Me? Pfft... pbbbt... by swallowing sand, obviously! Go get unpacked first. Come down at five thirty, and I'll take you to see your sister." Chen Qi swept his gaze across the crowd again and spotted Li Jianqun. Dressed in white trousers and a white top, she was tall and slender. With her red scarf pulled back, she revealed striking eyes and a beauty mark, smiling politely in his direction. 'What gorgeous eyes!' He praised her silently, nodded politely back, and hurried back upstairs, leaving a flurry of swirling dust in his wake. *** Checking into the guesthouse cost the Justice Bao crew actual money. Since they were paying customers, no one could object. The people around the studio were curious about this television production crew, though beneath that curiosity ran an obvious sense of superiority. Feature films were the big brothers; television was just the kid brother. In truth, starting in the mid-1980s, film studios would gradually set up their own television departments. Beijing Film Studio had one too, though it never produced any masterpieces, and once the studio was absorbed into China Film, the department vanished entirely. "Sis!" "Xiao Ying!" That evening in the cafeteria, a sisterly reunion played out. Being all alone away from home, Gong Xue couldn't quite hold back her emotions upon suddenly seeing family; her eyes welled up with slight redness before she quickly began introducing Gong Ying to the people around them. The two sisters were a seventy percent match in looks, and with Gong Xue being in the spotlight right now, their arrival drew every eye in the room and set off a flurry of whispers.