Return to Hong Kong

Shanghai. No. 85 North Sichuan Road. A seven-story white building stood there, completed in 1935, on the corner of North Sichuan Road and Chongming Road. The center rose higher than the rest, the two wings matched, and from the outside it looked thoroughly Western. Chen Qi stood on the crowded street, aimed a camera at the building, and clicked off shot after shot, then wrote in a little notebook. Xiao Mo and Xiao Geng stood behind him, both looking thoroughly puzzled. Right again—this time, too, they were along as his escort. By the usual itinerary they would stop in Shanghai first, then fly on to Hong Kong. Who could have known that once they reached Shanghai, Chen Qi would insist on staying a few days, and drag them all over the city besides. "..." Xiao Mo waited a long while, and at last could not hold it in. "Comrade Chen Qi, I have to remind you. If you change the itinerary and stay on without authorization, and without a proper reason, I will report it exactly as it is." "Comrade Mo Youming, look at this building. Do you know what it's for?" "Uh..." Xiao Mo glanced at the sign. "A Bank of China staff dormitory!" "And before Liberation?" "No idea!" "Before Liberation, it was the Songhu Garrison Headquarters and its Inspection Office. The seventh floor was where they held the prisoners." Chen Qi pointed at the building. "Before that, it was the Japanese Military Police Headquarters, and a prisoner-of-war camp as well. Inside there were American expatriates, American pilots, navy men, Britons, and Chinese. You've seen The Eternal Wave, haven't you?" "Seen it!" "Seen it!" "Those two martyrs in it were once held here. Madam Xu Guangping was held here too." "The Jap devils?!" Xiao Mo's eyes went wide, but before the glare was even finished, Chen Qi waved them on. "Let's go, let's go!" The three of them kept wandering, and at last fetched up at Shanghai International Studies College. A short white woman of about fifty had been waiting at the gate for some time. She came forward of her own accord and said in fluent Chinese, "Hello. Are you Mr. Chen Qi?" "I am. Professor Bai, very glad to meet you." "Professor Bai? Ha ha ha, I like that!" This was Bai Lishi—Betty Barr—a Scot. In the 1970s she had taught at Shanghai International Studies College, kept up close ties with China, and in 1984 she would formally settle in Shanghai. "We'd best find somewhere comfortable to talk. Where would suit you?" "Let's go over there. There's a café!" A café? Chen Qi grinned. Worthy of our great Shanghai—always in fashion. They walked a short way and went into a café whose décor, for the present day, was extremely refined. There were foreigners inside, and Chinese too. They found seats, sat down, and ordered something or other. Xiao Mo and Xiao Geng turned back into a pair of guardian statues and sat at the next table. Betty Barr stirred her coffee. "To be honest, I'm very surprised you managed to find me. I haven't spoken of that old business to anyone for many years." "I went to a great deal of trouble myself. I hope I haven't disturbed you." "..." They talked a little. She was silent for a while, then said, "My father came from Scotland, my mother from the United States. They both taught in Shanghai, and I was born in Shanghai. You may not be able to imagine how deep my feeling for this city is. I had many Chinese childhood playmates. My father could even speak Suzhou dialect..." Perhaps lost in memory, she chattered on and on without coming to the point. Chen Qi did not press her. He listened carefully. Only after a while did she catch herself, and apologize. "I'm sorry. I've said a great many useless things... I remember it was 1943. Our whole family was suddenly seized, and like so many so-called enemy expatriates, we were locked into a Japanese concentration camp in Shanghai. The camp was very full, nearly two thousand people, several hundred of them children. I was one of them..." Betty Barr spoke slowly. Chen Qi held his pen and took notes with great care. No one could have said how long it was before Betty Barr wiped her eyes and said, embarrassed, "I truly am sorry, making you listen to an old woman talk so much." "Not at all, not at all. I ought to thank you. You've given me a great deal of precious material." "I'm very willing to tell it, and I hope it helps you. All right. I should be getting back." Betty Barr stood, shook his hand, and left the café. "Let's go too!" Chen Qi paid the bill, put the notebook away, and said, "That'll do for this stretch. Tomorrow we go to Hong Kong." Xiao Mo and Xiao Geng looked as if they wanted to speak, and then didn't. In the end they never asked. They knew that even if they did, he would not feel like answering. When it came to making films, unless it was necessary, he never could be bothered to explain himself to anyone. Just as Chen Qi set out for Hong Kong once more, the 32nd Berlin International Film Festival was held. The year before, Return of the Swallows and Tai Chi had raised a tremendous uproar, but they had at least shown the studios at home that there was a road overseas, into the festivals. Submissions poured in. This year the Film Bureau had learned its lesson. It did not choose a work thick with political coloring. It chose Country Love. Made by Pearl River Film Studio. It told of a kindhearted village woman who, in the hard years, adopted the son of a revolutionary cadre. When the son grew up and returned to the city to meet his birth parents again, his birth mother tried to cut him off from his peasant foster mother and from his fiancée... It won nothing. Instead, the animated film sent along as an extra, Three Monks, took a Silver Bear for Short Film. People back home were thoroughly astonished. This year neither Chen Qi nor the Left made a move. They gave up Berlin and fixed their sights on Cannes. The Cannes Film Festival was in May—time enough for Orphan and Tai Chi 2 to finish post-production. "Uncle! Auntie!" "Oh, Zhizhi!" "Brother!" At the airport, Fu Mingxian came flying over in delight. Chen Qi rubbed her head. A Spring Festival had passed, and she seemed to have grown taller again. Come to think of it, she was twelve this year. They were all old acquaintances. There was no standing on ceremony, and Chen Qi was glad too. He got to ride in the Honda Accord again! Sitting in the car, he watched the tall buildings slide past on either side, a modern city, and watched Fu Mingxian, who had wanted an ice cream partway along and had one specially bought for her. All at once he thought of those young editors in Lechunfang. All one could say was that one person's fate was not another's. Like how some kids born after 2000 took first gold at the Olympics, and some kids born after 2000 just jerked off at home... "This year's Chinese New Year slot was a bloodbath!" "Aces Go Places exploded. When it left theaters, it had taken 26 million at the box office. Our Shaolin Temple did 15 million, in second place. Dragon Lord just broke ten million. Shaw Brothers' Legendary Weapons of China brought up the rear with 9 million." Fu Chi was thoroughly astonished as well. "How did you predict it so precisely? Not off by a hair?" "All analysis!" Chen Qi did not blush, and his heart did not so much as skip. He boasted without a shred of shame. "Hong Kong filmmakers care too much about the profit right in front of them. I haven't seen one with a view of the larger picture, and I haven't seen one who does any market analysis. I only gathered the material from every side and sorted it through. The result came out on its own." "You gave them quite a fright. Some people are calling you a marvel come from the mainland, the kind who can pinch his fingers and tell a fortune." "Oh? Then has anyone asked you to be the go-between, and have me read their fate? I hear Hong Kong people are superstitious. I'll cast it for them: Britain and Taiwan are already gray-bearded old villains and white-haired wretches, not long for this world, and only by following the mainland is there a meal to be had. Wouldn't they all listen to me then?" "Ha ha ha! That mouth of yours. All of Hong Kong is afraid of you now." Fu Chi laughed and passed over a newspaper. It was the Right's Hong Kong Times. Chen Qi took one look. Printed there, plain as day, were the public letters of repentance from George Lam and Miao Qianren. They expressed profound remorse for going to the mainland to shoot a film, wept bitter tears, swore they would never offend again, and pledged their hearts wholly to the Nationalist party-state, and so on and so forth... "Didn't Boat People have several key creators? What about the one called Liu Dehua?" "I don't know why either. His wasn't in there. Maybe because he's a newcomer." "No, no. That's a guilty conscience!" Chen Qi snatched Fu Mingxian's ice cream, took a bite, and said, "I'll go have a talk with them."