The Power of Money

"Comrades, can I help you with something?" When the three of them stepped inside, a manager came out to greet them. "We'd like to buy some furniture." "Oh, welcome, welcome! Come inside and take a look!" The manager ushered them into the workshop for a tour, smiling proudly. "These are our factory's latest designs—top-quality materials, modern styles, trendy and practical. Perfect for a wedding!" "No, no. I'd like to see your vintage furniture." "Vintage furniture?" The manager looked Chen Qi up and down. "Young comrade, our old furniture isn't for sale to the public, and certainly not to private individuals." "We're not here as private individuals. We're from a film company under the Ministry of Culture. We're shooting a period piece and need a large quantity of antique furniture for our sets. Here are my credentials—please, have a look!" Chen Qi pulled out an official credential card. His official pretext was exactly as stated: dressing sets for the shoot of *Tai Chi 2*. "Oh, my! *Tai Chi*! Then you... you're..." "I'm the producer, and the screenwriter." "Well, look at that! Why didn't you say so earlier? If you'd introduced yourself right away, I would have brought you straight there! Of course we support the cause of Chinese cinema!" After inspecting the credentials, the manager became several times more enthusiastic. He led the trio to a warehouse door and rattled open the heavy padlock. As the doors swung wide, a cloud of dust seemed to spill forth, bearing the scent of a bygone era. The warehouse was packed to the gills with an untold number of pieces: Yan Song canopied beds, chaise lounges, rose chairs, horseshoe armchairs, Wanli cabinets... almost entirely antique furniture from the Ming, Qing, and Republican eras. "Go ahead and pick whatever you like!" "How are the prices calculated?" "Pick first, then we'll talk..." The manager chuckled slyly. Chen Qi stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on a *huanghuali* luohan bed. "That used to sit in the cafeteria for workers to sit on while they ate," the manager remarked. "Later on, the woven cane seat wore out and couldn't support anyone, so we tossed it into the warehouse." *Damn it!* Chen Qi felt an urge to curse out loud. What an appalling waste of heavenly treasures! This was an inlaid *baibaoqian* luohan bed. The bed had armrests on both sides and a backrest inlaid with twin dragons playing with a pearl. The dragons were rendered in ivory, the pearl was genuine mother-of-pearl, and turquoise was inlaid to form auspicious clouds... Various precious gems and minerals were embedded into the wooden frame, which was why it was called *baibaoqian*—the "hundred-treasure inlay." "How much for this bed?" "Two thousand!" People in the past hadn't understood the value of cultural relics, but by now, some had caught on—especially those in this trade. His asking price of two thousand sent a jolt of shock through Tian Zhuangzhuang and Zhang Yimou. *Good grief! Two thousand yuan for a single bed?!* Chen Qi gave neither approval nor disapproval and kept browsing. He soon picked out a set of Qing dynasty screens, a massive Zitan throne from the Qianlong era, and a pair of *huanghuali* Wanli cabinets—which were essentially Ming-style dish-and-book display cupboards... Finally, he reached a more spacious corner, froze in his tracks, and hurried over. Sitting there was an enormous Zitan painting table specifically crafted for calligraphy and painting. It measured 182 centimeters long, 96 centimeters wide, and 90 centimeters high. It was in near-pristine condition, covered in intricate, magnificent carvings, exuding an air of imperial grandeur. *Holy hell, isn't this the exact one Li Han-hsiang bought in real history?* Chen Qi stepped closer to examine it carefully. It had to be: a Kangxi-era Zitan painting table carved with hornless dragons. Such pieces existed among private collectors, but never on this scale. A table of these monumental dimensions had without question come from the imperial palace. "How much are you asking for this one?" "Three thousand!" "..." Chen Qi strolled through the room and pointed out more than fifty items in rapid succession. They ranged from massive pieces like painting tables and wardrobes down to small storage chests and vanity boxes. The expensive ones cost thousands; the cheap ones cost mere tens. "Tally it up," he said. "How much for the lot?" The manager was flabbergasted. He frantically clicked away on his abacus before saying, "Forty-two thousand..." "Your price is bloated. Flat offer: twenty thousand!" "Twenty thousand is way too low!" "Forget it then." "Don't, don't! Add a little more, we can negotiate!" After some back-and-forth haggling, they settled on twenty-eight thousand yuan. The factory agreed to handle delivery, with an extra hundred yuan tipped to the movers. This was merely one warehouse, and there were several more nearby. But Chen Qi knew that going too far was just as bad as falling short. He couldn't be too greedy and take everything. If those well-connected insiders showed up later and cried, *"What the hell? Where's all the stuff?"* the investigation would trace straight back to him. Take, for instance, that famous female tycoon who would later marry the actor who played Tang Sanzang. Rumors in later years claimed she was descended from Manchu nobility and grew up in the Summer Palace, which was complete nonsense. She came from an ordinary working-class family. Because of her tailoring skills, she had befriended a nanny working in a senior official's home and frequently visited the residence to deliver clothes. Back in her youth, she had been quite striking—thick eyebrows, large eyes, a full round face, and vibrant energy, perfectly matching the aesthetic of this era. She was articulate, bold, and daring, so the official introduced her to even higher-ranking leaders. With that, she became a privileged insider, hauling away truckload after truckload of cultural relics. She secured Hong Kong residency, made a fortune speculating on real estate there, and by the 1990s reinvented herself as a model Hong Kong entrepreneur returning to invest in the mainland... Then she began packaging her own mythology, coordinating her narrative across the media. People only needed to take such stories with a grain of salt. Chen Qi purchased the furniture under the company's name purely for administrative convenience. Later, he would buy it back from the company at cost to transfer it into his personal ownership. He had no intention of using company funds to feather his own nest; that would cross the line into embezzlement. Twenty thousand yuan wasn't worth facing a firing squad over. If it were two hundred million, well, he might at least consider it... He held the authority for special expedience, but he never let favor go to his head. He knew precisely where to draw the line. *** Even so, Tian Zhuangzhuang and Zhang Yimou were thoroughly stunned. Both men were around thirty years old, yet the total amount of money that had passed through their hands over their entire lives didn't even add up to two hundred yuan. Chen Qi was only twenty-one, yet he didn't even bat an eye at spending twenty-odd thousand. That sense of awe only deepened when they arrived at his courtyard house. Tian Zhuangzhuang walked three full laps around the interior and exterior before sighing. "It really isn't suitable for filming. If every shared courtyard in the city were of this standard, we would have achieved socialism long ago." "Did you buy this yourself?" Zhang Yimou asked. "Yeah!" "Then... then you're living in such a huge place all by yourself?" "How could I? I'm planning to launch a magazine. For now, the front courtyard will serve as their editorial office and dormitories, while I'll stay in the rear courtyard." "Even so, it's enormous!" Zhang Yimou was consumed with envy. After touring the premises, Chen Qi treated the two to dinner at a restaurant. When the conversation turned to their post-graduation job assignments next year, Tian Zhuangzhuang's future was already assured—as the foremost scion of a Beijing Film Studio family, his placement there was guaranteed. Chen Kaige was basically slated for the Children's Film Studio. Zhang Yimou, on the other hand, felt adrift. He longed to stay in Beijing, yet deep down he knew it was nearly impossible. Chen Qi didn't make any promises. They wouldn't graduate until next year anyway, so they could discuss it when the time came. Lao Mouzi's future life would be full of ups and downs. He would be universally vilified across the internet and universally praised, and his reputation in his twilight years would take a hit over a film like *Full River Red*. Rumor had it he was even planning to direct an adaptation of *The Three-Body Problem*, likely casting Jackson Yee as Luo Ji and Liu Haocun as Cheng Xin, filming the entire movie in a single continuous take—talk about daring, wouldn't you say? And then spaceships would unleash tens of thousands of arrows in unison to the accompaniment of Qinqiang opera music, shouting, *"Great wind! Great wind!"* Everyone in the industry understood Lao Mouzi: as long as you gave him a solid script, he could deliver an outstanding piece of cinema. And scripts were the one thing Chen Qi never lacked. What Chen Qi lacked was manpower—he was short on people for every single role... When the three parted ways, Zhang Yimou kept looking back over his shoulder. His longing for Chen Qi was even stronger than Chen Qi's interest in him. He felt like a country bumpkin arriving in the big city, catching his very first glimpse of how the wealthy lived. *I heard he's running a company with the credentials to make movies. If only he would hire me as a cinematographer, man...* Zhang Yimou didn't harbor any ambitions of directing just yet; all he wanted was to work behind the camera, and he drifted happily into reverie. Seeing this, Tian Zhuangzhuang fell into thoughtful silence. He was a pure artist who disliked Chen Qi's unabashed commercialism, but he wasn't bitterly hostile toward it either. If Lao Zhang could secure a place under the Eastern Depot's banner, it might just be his best chance to remain in Beijing.