Where Is There Anything That Fine?

"Clack!" "OK! Take a break!" "Food's out! Food's out!" On the set of the TVB series Beggar Su, Liu Dehua, dressed in a Republican-era mandarin jacket, came off the scene and lined up for his meal. By now Li Xiaohe was already dead. Shao Yifu had taken over TVB and become chairman of the board, bringing Shaw Brothers' thrift along with him. Those who knew, knew. The plastic-sheet waterfalls, the heirloom rooster bowls—this was exactly where it all began... The leads of Beggar Su were Chow Yun-fat, Miao Qiaowei, and Mi Xue, the most popular young actors and actresses of the day, but the sets were just as shabby, and the food was just as meager. Liu Dehua was playing a supporting part. He took his meal, hid in a corner, and ate without a word. "Hey, what's with the face full of worries?" A hand suddenly clapped his shoulder. Chow Yun-fat ambled over. His skin was very dark, his hair naturally curly. He was 178 centimeters tall, over 180 in shoes. If you thought he was very tall, that only meant the other male stars were especially short... Liu Dehua was only 169. Don't believe anything in show business that has a number attached to it. The Bund had aired long ago. He was a red-hot television star now, though each of his films flopped worse than the last. He was on good terms with Liu Dehua. "I've been watching you for days. What is it—trouble?" "Boat People. I'm in a bad way." "I saw George Lam and Miao Qianren make statements in the papers. What did the company say to you?" "The company said I'm a newcomer. They'll put in a word with the Association. I only need to write a letter of repentance in private." "That's not bad. Why the long face, then?" "I..." Liu Dehua opened his mouth. Of course he couldn't tell the truth, and could only sigh. Lately he had been constantly on edge, restless with unease, afraid Mr. Chen would come looking for him. He waited and waited, and nothing happened—which only left him muttering with still more doubt. The company's idea was to keep it quiet for now: no statement in the papers, just a private letter of repentance. Think about it. No sooner do you make a statement in the papers than you turn around and work with the Left—wouldn't that be slapping the Association in the face? So repenting in private left a great deal of room to maneuver. The crew finished eating and went back to filming. Liu Dehua's mind was elsewhere. He forced himself through it, glancing now and then at Chow Yun-fat. They had originally approached Chow Yun-fat for Boat People. He hadn't been willing to shoot it, and had recommended Liu instead. Things having come to this, his feelings were complicated. "If only I hadn't been so impulsive back then!" He got through the day's work, saw that he still had a little time, and went to TVB to find the man in charge—Xiao Guowei, manager of the Artists Department. "Hua-zai, what brings you here?" "I'm still a little worried." "It's nothing. You're only a newcomer. Who's going to place a bet on you? You've signed a contract. I won't forbid you to shoot. The key is that you can't come right on the heels of Boat People. If the Association sees that, they'll think we're provoking them on purpose. You can shoot for the Left. Just keep a low profile. By the time it's finished and released—half a year at the very least—the Boat People business will long be over. If the Association takes it up again, I can still explain. Nothing more than writing another letter of guarantee." "Will that really work?" "All they want is for you to act. If we agree to let you go, what else can they say?" Xiao Guowei said with a smile. Liu Dehua thought it over and decided it made sense. He felt a little easier. ... In the blink of an eye it was the next day, early in the morning. Xiao Guowei sat in his office, staring fixedly at the desk. On it lay a red letter—the very Life-and-Death Talisman that Hong Kong filmmakers loathed. "Right. The New Year's over. That fellow ought to be in Hong Kong by now!" He couldn't help swallowing, and opened it. Honestly, he was rather curious about the thing. Inside was a letter saying he would pay a call and so on, together with a name card that, as usual, began with the brazen heading "Ministry of Culture of the People's Republic of China." The rougher a man of the jianghu, the more courage he had for a commoner's sudden rage, because he had nothing to hold him back. The higher a man's seat, by contrast, the better he understood the weight of anything headed by the state. The mainland had stated outright that the question of Hong Kong's sovereignty was to be negotiated with the United Kingdom. The ones thrown into panic were precisely this crowd of Hong Kong's very top notables. Xiao Guowei was no notable, only a mid-level manager, but he knew TVB's attitude: offend no one if you could help it, and making money came first. This Mr. Chen had an official identity from the mainland. Respect had to be shown, at least on the surface. "Coming this afternoon?" He thought about whether to notify those above him, then let the thought go. To alarm TVB's senior ranks over a newcomer's mess would only make him look too incompetent. "Today I'll meet him myself!" With all sorts of thoughts in his chest, afternoon soon arrived. At last someone came to report: "A Mr. Chen to see you!" "Show him in!" A moment later Chen Qi made his entrance in a respectable suit, still without a tie, very much his own way of dressing. One look at Xiao Guowei, and he had never heard of him—some nameless nobody, no more lasting than smoke before the eyes. After a few polite words, Xiao Guowei spoke first. "I've long admired your great name, Mr. Chen. You're here today about Hua-zai?" "That's right. A few months ago I signed a film contract with Liu Dehua. At the time he wasn't yet a formal member of your staff. In theory I needn't have gone through you, but I still came to call today. Best to talk it through face to face." "Quite right. Better to talk a thing over in person than settle accounts afterward." Xiao Guowei smiled. "I've looked at Hua-zai's contract. No problem. We keep to the rules. A contract signed is work that has to be done." "Oh?" Chen Qi showed a trace of surprise. "Manager Xiao is so very reasonable. That makes this much easier." "In fact, our friends from the mainland often misunderstand us. We're businessmen. Harmony above all. Only harmony brings wealth." "Quite so. Left or Right, none of that matters." Chen Qi nodded. "Uh..." Xiao Guowei had no way to answer that, and could only smile awkwardly, because Shaw Brothers very actively supported the Free Association and was on good terms with Taiwan. "So you agree to let Liu Dehua join our crew?" "Exactly!" "Good. Today's talk was pleasant. Thank you for your hospitality." Chen Qi stood, shook his hand, and took his leave at once. Watching him go out the door, Xiao Guowei couldn't help curling his lip. Everyone said this man was hard to deal with. He was nothing much! Chen Qi went out, got into the car, and yawned. "Xiao Mo, tell me—why is there always a kind of person in this world who thinks he can have it both ways, feed off both sides, and once he has finished making his money off this house, go make it off the next?" "Maybe because they've been indulged too much?" Xiao Mo said. "Hey—for once you've said something true!" Chen Qi was amused. "They think it doesn't matter whose film they shoot. Finish one for the Right, then shoot one for the Left. If the Right takes them to task, write a letter of guarantee. Write it, then shoot again. Taken to task again, write again. In the end they profit either way... Ai, where under heaven is there anything that fine?" ... "Rare to have such splendid skill, yet the pass of love he never can clear, never can clear—tender feelings, honeyed warmth..." The next day Xiao Guowei came to work as usual, humming Little Li's Flying Dagger. He was in charge of artist affairs at TVB, and his power was great. He had only just arrived when he saw a roster on the desk—the files of this year's training class: "Liang Chaowei, Ouyang Zhenhua, Wu Zhenyu, Guan Lijie, Li Zixiong... Wow, how is there a night-class trainee too? Zhou Xingchi?" He gave it a casual glance, set it aside for the moment, and turned first to today's paper. As he read, Xiao Guowei sprang to his feet and burst out cursing. "Damned brat from the mainland! No regard for the rules!" There was Wen Wei Po, back in the jianghu. Yama's roll call, the segment the public so loved to talk about, had started again: "Boat People has wrapped. I've seen some of the footage. It's a film of quality. The newcomer Liu Dehua, especially, shows no stage fright. He has potential. Given time, he will surely become a great talent. Our work with Liu Dehua has been very pleasant. We've already reached an agreement on the next production. He will appear in a romance of ours. Everyone, please look forward to it..." (That's all!)