Filming for Justice Bao proceeded smoothly.
Chen Qi stayed holed up in his room working on his script, occasionally popping over to the soundstage to take a look, having already met the key members of the production team.
With a thick beard glued on, his face painted black, and clad in a theatrical official's robe, Li Po strutted in stately, squared-off strides—and truth be told, he genuinely captured Jin Chaoqun's aura. A defining feature of Jin Chaoqun's version of Justice Bao had been its heavy borrowing from traditional opera conventions: measured, formal, and strictly stylized, yet remarkably effective.
Chen Daoming, in his twenties with the demeanor of a fair-faced scholar, wore a few wispy strands of a long beard and looked quite the part of Gongsun Ce as well.
Chen Qi didn't have much interest in him. The man had some range in his youth, but after playing the Kangxi Emperor, every single role tasted the same; it was truly unbearable.
"Brother Qi!"
"Call me President Chen!"
"President Chen!"
That day, catching Chen Qi visiting the set, Zhang Guangbei finally found an opportunity to dash over. He bowed deeply with a snap. "Thank you for giving me this chance! I had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai—forgive my earlier offense!"
"All right, you already said that once. Am I that petty? If I were so narrow-minded, would I have given you a role?"
"Yes, of course! A prime minister's heart is broad enough to sail a boat!"
Zhang Guangbei's expression shifted in an instant to an obsequious grin. What else could he do? He hadn't been able to afford offending Chen Qi back then, and he certainly couldn't afford to offend him now.
"By the way, has that amateur acting class of yours started yet?"
"It has, it has! Classes began in early March."
"Then it doesn't conflict with your filming?"
"A lot of our classmates work daytime jobs, so the school holds class every day after work, sort of like a night school. That Li Chengru fellow, and Zhu Lin—man, are they jealous of me! Heh, I'm the only one with an acting gig!"
Zhang Guangbei was quite a clown himself.
Chen Qi shook his head and offered him some guidance: "You're playing Ma Han, one of the four bodyguards of Kaifeng Prefecture. Truth be told, you won't get many chances to stand out. Whenever you're in a scene, stick close to Bao Zheng, even if it's just standing right behind him. I'll put in a word with Director Yang to give you a few extra shots."
"Aiyoh! You really... you truly are my greatest benefactor! If you ever need anything down the line, just say the word—I'd go through fire and water without hesitation!"
Zhang Guangbei was so thrilled he was practically itching to drop to his knees, kowtow, and recite, 'I, Lü Bu, have drifted for half my life, lamenting only that I never met an enlightened lord...'
All right, that's enough!
Chen Qi waved his hand. He was just looking for a little entertainment, that was all.
* * *
On March 27, Mao Dun passed away at the age of eighty-five.
Of the six literary giants—Lu Xun, Guo Moruo, Mao Dun, Ba Jin, Lao She, and Cao Yu—another had departed, leaving only Ba Jin and Cao Yu. Cao Yu would pass away in 1996 at age eighty-six, while Ba Jin proved the most long-lived, passing away in 2005 at the grand age of 101.
Also toward the end of March:
China Film held its second-quarter preview screening conference.
Representatives from provincial film companies across the nation gathered in the capital. Following standard procedure, they first screened the movies, then ordered film prints, thereby determining the spiritual nourishment for moviegoers in the second quarter.
"Hahaha!"
"Haha!"
"This is hilarious!"
Inside the screening room, half the audience was thoroughly delighted while the other half frowned. Those laughing were representatives from the Central Plains and northern provinces; those frowning were all from the south.
The movie was titled In-Laws, telling the story of an extended family in a northern village. The director had embedded himself deep in the countryside to collect material, so every detail was authentic. And it was precisely the comedic moments drawn from that real material that sparked knowing chuckles.
However, regional divides led to sharp differences between north and south.
After In-Laws was released in theaters, the director made a point of traveling around to gather data: in Shanghai, audiences laughed forty to fifty times; in Jinan, seventy to eighty times; in Yantai, over a hundred times; and once it reached actual rural villages, the laughs topped 170 to 180 times...
It was just like southerners watching the Spring Festival Gala, or northerners watching Shanghai farce theater.
In-Laws was a 1980s rural classic, though it would be mentioned far less often in later generations, lagging behind the likes of Romance on Mount Lu.
Once the screening concluded, the tally began on the spot.
Representatives of each province wrote their order quantities on slips of paper and handed them to the China Film representative. When the numbers were finally tallied, a broad smile spread across his face. "In-Laws, 35mm prints: 241!"
"Broke two hundred! Not bad!"
"Indeed, indeed. That's the first one to break two hundred this year, isn't it?"
"China Film's making a damn killing again!"
The provincial reps muttered among themselves, though in truth they were overjoyed. Only when a film was good did they order more prints, and only then would they rake in box office receipts. In the entire cinematic ecosystem, China Film held only a monopoly on distribution, while these provincial film companies held a monopoly on the market.
For the vast majority of movie theaters throughout the country belonged to film companies at various administrative levels.
County-level companies managed county cinemas, municipal companies managed city cinemas, and provincial companies managed the entire province. Barriers stood between cities and between provinces; they screened films however they pleased, without anything resembling a unified national theater chain.
"Everyone, let's head out for lunch! We'll continue this afternoon!"
After a brief midday break, the screenings resumed.
Every single representative was wide awake and energetic—even those suffering from diarrhea held it in—their eyes locked onto the big screen in unison. The film Tai Chi, which had made such an enormous splash in the newspapers and earned vast sums of foreign exchange abroad, had finally returned home.
Time had never flown so fast. When the 108 minutes ended, everyone was left wanting more, still staring at the screen as if they could squeeze another five minutes out of it by force of will.
Only when the house lights came up did a collective sigh ripple through the room.
"Truly lives up to its reputation!"
"I'm sold. Utterly, completely convinced!"
"This isn't even on the same playing field as our domestic films. How on earth did they shoot this?"
"All right, all right, start filling out your orders!"
The China Film representative wore a grim, lifeless expression—a stark contrast to his reaction during In-Laws. No matter how many prints Tai Chi sold, none of that money went into their pockets; it all had to be handed over to the Eastern Depot. That's right, the Eastern Depot!
Beijing Film Studio, Shanghai Film Studio, Changchun Film Studio... so what was wrong with calling the Eastern Culture and Art Co., Ltd. the Eastern Depot? The moniker had already begun circulating in secret, everyone consumed with envy, jealousy, and spite toward that "Eunuch Chen"!
"How many should we order?"
The provincial representatives hesitated over their slips of paper, writing, revising, and scratching numbers out. Then, the representative from Henan suddenly gritted his teeth, scribbled down a number with a flourish, and handed it in with his eyes shut tight, as if afraid to look.
"Holy crap!"
The China Film rep took one look and jumped in fright. Had Henan lost its mind?
Once purchased, prints couldn't be returned, meaning the money was spent for good. The Henan rep was betting everything on Tai Chi becoming a monster hit—after all, Chenjiagou was right there in Henan.
"Here's mine!"
"Take this!"
"Sigh, forget it, this is what I'm going with. Here!"
The slips were submitted one by one. The China Film rep tallied them up on the spot, but suddenly his hands froze. He recalculated twice more, then called out loudly, "Anyone else want to make changes? Are these your final numbers?"
"Anyone at all?"
"Then I'm announcing the total!"
He swallowed hard, his voice trembling: "Tai Chi, 35mm prints... total orders: 480!!!"
Boom!
Like a bomb detonating, everyone was left reeling. After a brief hush, pandemonium erupted. "Are you sure you didn't make a mistake? Four hundred and eighty prints?! In the entire history of Chinese cinema, no movie has ever distributed this many prints!"
"How many did Romance on Mount Lu have again? Three hundred sixty?"
"No, they added twenty more later, so three hundred eighty in total!"
"Good heavens! That's a hundred more prints in one go! Is Beijing Film Studio trying to become the King of the Mountain?"
"Director Wang is so damn lucky! Where on earth did he dig up such a treasure? Why couldn't he have come to our Emei Film Studio?!"
"..."
The China Film representative had no desire to chat. He waved for everyone to disperse and rushed straight to the Film Bureau, slamming the order slip onto the leadership's desk.
"Four hundred eighty?! Are you sure there's no mistake?"
"Dead certain. What do you think we should do, sir?"
"What do you mean, what should we do? If the numbers are correct, follow standard procedure!"
"Then we'll have to hand that kid 4.32 million yuan! (At 9,000 yuan per print!)"
"Haven't you people kicked up enough fuss already? If you try to welsh on this debt, don't come crying to me to intercede for you!"
"..."
Gritting his teeth, the China Film representative could only concede. He asked, "Then do we distribute all the prints in one go, or do what we did with Romance on Mount Lu and issue two hundred first?"
The leader stood up, paced around the room twice, and pondered for a long moment before waving his hand decisively. "What happened with Romance on Mount Lu made us look too petty and narrow-minded; people mocked us for a long time over that. This time, all 480 prints—ship them all out!"
Chapter 183