The Dawn of the Wuxia Era: Part 2

Room 302. Chen Qi was still hard at work, playing the part of a cold, unfeeling typing machine. This script was for the Yuen Brothers, titled *The Dead and the Deadly*. It was another supernatural kung fu film, which in real history had starred Sammo Hung, Wu Ma, and others, grossing ten million Hong Kong dollars—no further introduction needed. He operated under three distinct names in Hong Kong: his real name for the left-wing outfits, "Dongfang Ren" for the Yuen Clan Stunt Team, and "Blade in the Rainy Night Without an Umbrella" for Li Han-hsiang. *The Miracle Fighters* had performed well at the box office, leaving plenty of people hunting high and low to figure out just who this sacred "Dongfang Ren" was, though none of them had found so much as a ghost of a lead. *The Dead and the Deadly* would naturally use the same pen name. Let them keep guessing—this was the way of the behind-the-scenes mastermind. "Xiao Chen! Xiao Chen!" A voice suddenly called up from downstairs. Chen Qi's fountain pen jerked, dragging an ugly ink line across the paper. Feeling an immediate headache coming on, he pushed open the window and shouted down, "What is it this time?" "Someone's looking for you again! Right by the gate!" "Do you know who it is?" "No idea. Just looks like a peasant. But he's calling your name like he's thrilled to bits—might be a relative of yours!" "A relative?" Chen Qi was baffled. His ancestors had all been petty intellectuals; where on earth would a relative come from to claim kinship? He had no choice but to throw on a jacket and head downstairs, deeply annoyed. Ever since *Tai Chi* had hit domestic theaters, oddballs and crackpots had been turning up every few days. The martial arts teams, the Sports Commission, reporters, and studio personnel were all normal enough, but the sheer variety of weirdos was what truly boggled the mind. For instance, one young fellow had arrived looking to duel Li Lianjie. Since Li Lianjie wasn't there, he demanded to challenge Chen Qi instead, claiming: "You wrote the story, so you must know martial arts! This humble one has come to seek instruction. Today we determine who is superior—and who lives or dies!" Chen Qi had simply called the security office to chase him off with a Type 56 rifle. If the fellow hadn't scrambled, he would have had a taste of the American quick-draw! Another one had claimed to practice qigong, insisting on finding out whether Tai Chi was stronger or his "Center of Heaven, Earth, and the Universe Gong." He claimed that once he mobilized his inner energy, he could contact extraterrestrials aboard a UFO, who would then fire a laser cannon toward Earth at three times the speed of light to conduct a precision strike... To hell with that! If I could command aliens to carry out precision strikes, how much credit would I deserve for saving Earth? Who do you think you are, a Trisolaran?! Still, there was no helping it. The early 1980s marked the start of the great qigong frenzy, when every phantom and demon danced and the natural order was turned upside down. Remaining an ordinary, level-headed person who didn't practice qigong, didn't believe in superpowers, and didn't act like a hooligan was no easy feat. When Chen Qi reached the main gate, he found a middle-aged man wearing an old cadre's jacket standing alongside a rustic-looking peasant who carried a heavy cloth sack over his shoulder. "And who might you two be?" "Kinfolk! We've finally found you!" "Hold on, hold on. What are you here for?" Chen Qi grabbed the old farmer to steady him, startled by the man's sheer strength. Skinny and dark as he was, the peasant looked capable of thrashing three of him. The middle-aged man hurried to interject, "Comrade Chen Qi, please don't misunderstand. We're just overwhelmed with excitement. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm from Jiaozuo, Henan, and I work in cultural propaganda. This man here is the brigade party secretary from Chenjiagou." "Oh..." Chen Qi's sour, strained expression smoothed over as he forced a polite smile. "Guests are always welcome. Please, come inside." He led the two men into the compound and back up to Room 302. The city official was treading cautiously. It was his first time in the capital, and after looking around the room, he offered a flattering remark: "You truly live up to your reputation as an intellectual. Just look at all the books in this room—enough to keep me learning for a lifetime. "We didn't come for anything fancy. We made the special trip to Beijing just to thank you. "Now folks all outside the province know our Wen County, and they know Chenjiagou. You have no idea—people are showing up every single day hoping to apprentice, dropping to their knees and kowtowing right at the entrance to the village... Our leadership committee talked it over and decided we had to show our appreciation properly, so here we are." "You're far too kind. Making films is simply my job. It's a tremendous trouble for you to come all this way..." Hearing their praise, Chen Qi felt a sudden warmth, the sort that came from doing a good deed and receiving an honorary banner in return. *Romance on Mount Lu* had made Mount Lu famous, and *Tai Chi* had put Chenjiagou on the map, but Mount Lu had never sent anyone to pay him a visit. "No trouble at all, none at all! One brushstroke can't write two different Chen characters! I flipped through our family genealogy for days. Even though your specific branch isn't listed, our ancestors were surely from the same clan centuries ago." The brigade secretary clearly wanted to establish a connection, but lacked the polish for it. The city official gave him a subtle nudge, then untied the sack himself. "We brought you a few local specialties. Our region doesn't have much to boast of, so please don't take offense." Chen Qi peered inside: sweet potatoes, Chinese yams, preserved eggs... "Oh? What kind of meat is that?" "Dried donkey meat. It's the finest thing we have. I'm not bragging when I say ordinary folks don't get to eat it. If you ever have the chance to visit us, you must try our Naotang donkey meat—it tastes even better." Chen Qi's interest was piqued. He had eaten beef jerky and pork jerky, but he had never tried dried donkey meat. After chatting idly for a while longer, the city official let out a sigh. "Chenjiagou is famous now, and so many people are flocking in to apprentice. At first we were delighted and treated them well. Who would have guessed more and more would show up? The village has run out of rooms, and these people don't do any farm work. Some of them just loiter around, sponging off our food and drink." "Drive them out!" Chen Qi laughed. "We can't hit them, we can't! If word got out, our reputation would be ruined. Truth be told, we want to build something out of this, but we haven't the faintest idea how. It's driving us mad with worry. Some comrades suggested developing tourism. We have coal in Jiaozuo and plenty of factories, so we aren't poor, but when it comes to tourism, it's just baffling..." "That's simple enough," Chen Qi said casually. "Start by focusing on competitions and exhibitions." "Why is that?" "You don't have scenic landmarks or famous sights. What is there to see in a mountain ravine? Your only choice is to look outward. Set up more martial arts schools, nurture talent, organize a youth team and a junior team. Enter every competition available. Once you bag a few championships, you can expand further. "Whether it's an official cultural exchange or a folk performance, go wherever you're invited. You'll make a bit of cash while you're at it. "Going abroad would be even better. Westerners are very keen on the philosophy behind Tai Chi. Send your masters out to teach foreigners the art. Expand outward from single points, use foreign interest to support domestic development, and gradually bring the villagers along with you. "Are there dedicated Tai Chi tournaments right now?" "None!" "Then organize some. A Henan Tai Chi Push Hands Tournament, an International Tai Chi Chuan Championship... Just go and do it. Spreading your name is what matters most. With any luck, you'll draw a few foreigners in, and then you'll have made it." Chenjiagou was not like Shaolin Temple. Mount Song, where Shaolin stood, was already one of the Five Great Mountains and a celebrated tourist destination. Chenjiagou had nothing around it; everything had to be built from scratch, and building from scratch required government investment, which was a serious undertaking. Everything he suggested was standard tourism marketing from future decades, yet to these men, it was nothing short of an epiphany. The city official gave a visible shudder and exclaimed, "Comrade Chen Qi! A clear direction was the one thing we lacked. What you said is brilliant—you've pointed us down a bright path!" "Alright, alright, I was just speaking off the cuff." Chen Qi glanced at the time, ready to see his guests out. "I have other business to attend to, so if there's nothing else..." "Oh, of course! We only came to check on you. So long as you're doing well, that's enough!" After about an hour of conversation, the two men took their leave. Chen Qi popped a piece of dried donkey meat into his mouth and chewed. The flavor was quite good. Regardless of what Chenjiagou might become in the future, it was genuinely poor right now, and the people were simple and honest. He didn't mind pointing them in the right direction; it might even prove useful down the road. He paced around the room for several turns. The martial arts fever had clearly caught on, stirring up commotion everywhere. It was about time the genre received a proper definition. He headed downstairs again, hopped on his bicycle, and rode straight to the offices of *China Youth Daily*. Finding Yu Jiajia, he announced, "Reporter Yu, I'm giving you permission to interview me!" "Huh?" Yu Jiajia was momentarily stunned, though she was hardly an ordinary person herself. "Sure thing. I was hoping to find you anyway." With that, the two found a quiet spot and began the interview in earnest. After noting down some background material, Chen Qi said, "Ask me about my next film, and I'll answer right away. "The next picture is called *Tai Chi 2*. The script is finished, and shooting is slated to begin in the second half of the year. The original leading cast will return, joined by new blood, and the fight choreography will definitely surpass the first installment." Yu Jiajia jotted down a few lines. "Is this film intended to earn foreign exchange through exports as well?" "Yes, but the circumstances are slightly different. I'm taking a more segmented approach to overseas markets now. The West actually has limited appetite for Chinese period martial arts films. *Tai Chi* succeeded on the strength of its novelty, which was why it made so much money. *Tai Chi 2* might not repeat that. "I'm aiming *Tai Chi 2* squarely at East and Southeast Asia, while selling whatever we can to Europe and America. What I'm really preparing for export to the United States is another picture made exclusively for North America." "What do you mean by 'exclusively made'?" Yu Jiajia's eyes lit up. "It's specifically tailored for the American public, and the content will be comparatively bold. We haven't launched the project yet, so I can't say much." After an extensive back-and-forth, Chen Qi finally brought up the point he wanted to make most: "If mainland cinema hopes to develop and align with international standards, the first step is clearly defining our film genres. Our current genre definitions are far too vague. Take *Romance on Mount Lu*, for example. When it first came out, it was labeled a 'scenic lyrical film.' "In truth, it's a romance film! People were simply too bashful to say the word. "Fortunately, we remain committed to reform and opening up. Last year was more relaxed than the year before, and this year is more relaxed than the last. "Only when we can openly and unabashedly categorize films as romance, comedy, thriller, crime, and so on will our industry truly find its footing. "Right now, everyone calls *Tai Chi* a 'martial arts film'—a *wuda pian*. But that's inaccurate. "They all involve fighting and killing, yet I believe finer distinctions are necessary. Modern stories can be called modern action films; period stories can be called period kung fu films. "Beyond martial skill, *Tai Chi* expresses the spirit of chivalry—on a grand scale, serving the country and the people; on a smaller scale, punishing evil and rewarding good. Because of that, I believe it deserves a better name. "As early as 1903, Liang Qichao was the first to use this word, and during the Republican era, the concept became widely known. Now it's time to restore it, rather than reducing everything to mere 'martial arts'—*wuda*. "It is called *wuxia*! "And the films we make should be called wuxia films!"