The Odd Fellow

"Meow!" Early that morning, Liu Dehua pulled open the door of the Honda Accord and saw a black cat lying snug and comfortable in Chen Qi's arms. "Mr. Chen, what's this?" "This is the cat you and Zhong Chuhong raise in the film. Get familiar with it." With that, he tossed the cat over. Liu Dehua caught it in a fluster, and seemed to have hurt it. The black cat started yowling, all four paws thrashing, and shot him a displeased side-eye. Hmph! Stupid human. What use are you? "Meow! Meow! Meow!" "All right, give it here." Seeing this, Chen Qi gathered it back into his arms. The black cat quieted at once, curled into a position it liked, and went on enjoying the pleasure of being petted. The car started and drove from the dormitory toward the studio. They lived in the same place, so Liu Dehua could often cadge a ride. He asked, careful and cautious, "Mr. Chen, what do you think of my character biography?" "Very shallow. It never gets past the surface. But I can see you put your heart into it. You pass." Liu Dehua let out a breath of relief. "Truth is, I really don't know how to write one. Or rather, there's something in my head, but the moment I put pen to paper, it's a disaster. I watch Jiahui, and it comes easily to him." "That's why you have to read! You never had the chance to study before. From now on, don't you forget—you have to enrich what's inside you. When actors compete to the very end, what they compete in is how cultured they are. Look at my styling right now..." Chen Qi spread his hands. "Suit, dress shirt, handsome, high-ranking and powerful, a black cat in my arms—and you see me and still won't call me Godfather even once! Because you don't understand!" "Uh..." The corner of Liu Dehua's mouth twitched. He had nothing to say. "You've been at the Bank of China for half a month, and you've finally made a basic start. Starting today I'll teach you a little of the real stuff. Remember to practice." With that, Chen Qi tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and said no more. Only the black cat in his arms stirred now and then. "..." Liu Dehua watched him in secret. When this Mr. Chen was serious, he was thoroughly serious; when he was not, he was not the least bit serious. His thinking leapt all over the place, and Liu often could not keep up with him. He was still working hard to adapt. At the same time, he felt an air of the mystical hung about the man—profoundly mysterious, impossible to fathom. Soon the car drove into Clear Water Bay Studio. The two of them and the cat went into the makeup room. Liang Jiahui was already sitting inside, and he laughed. "Whoa—the Godfather!" Chen Qi glanced at Liu Dehua. See? The difference between being cultured and not. "You two get your makeup on first. We'll shoot costume stills in a bit. Where's Ahong?" "Playing with the clay!" "Hm? Has the pottery wheel been delivered?" With the cat in his arms, Chen Qi headed over to the soundstage and saw a brand-new pottery wheel set in a corner. There was a turntable: you put the clay on it, spun it, then shaped it into bowls, jars, and the like. Zhong Chuhong's hair had originally been long, straight, and black. Now it had been permed into a slight curl. She wore jeans, a short-sleeved white shirt over red, and big earrings. Only after she turned twenty-seven would she reach the height of her allure. She was still very green, but youth had its own way of being styled, and she was beautiful all the same—the approximate effect was as pictured! "Ha ha ha!" She sat behind the pottery wheel, learning pottery from a teacher, her hands covered in clay, having the time of her life. She looked up and saw Chen Qi, and the cat in his arms. "Ah!" "So this is my cat? It's so cute!" Eager to try, she quickly washed her hands, took the cat, and stroked it with easy skill. The black cat played along. One look, and you could tell she liked small animals. "Mr. Chen, does it have a name?" "No. You can give it one." "It's so fat. How about Fatty?" "Whatever! We're shooting costume stills in a bit. Stop playing with the clay." That said, Chen Qi went off to discuss matters with Tsui Hark. Zhong Chuhong pursed her lips. Because she had been called in to act, she still felt some resentment toward Chen Qi. She simply did not dare show it. A while later, both Liu Dehua and Liang Jiahui were done, and they came together for the photos. Under the photographer's direction, the three of them arranged themselves in all sorts of combinations and struck all sorts of poses. The cat was one of them too. Then Zhong Chuhong suddenly noticed that Mr. Chen was sitting in the corner, his eyes seeming fixed on her, his hand writing something. Panic flickered through her. The camera clicked and clicked. She changed her pose and looked again. Sure enough! That fellow really was staring at her. What's he looking at me for? He named me out of nowhere and called me in to shoot. Could he really mean no good?! Zhong Chuhong's thoughts ran wild. Fortunately, Chen Qi made no further move. When the photos were done, he instead called the three of them over. "Your experience is thin. Starting today I'll teach you some templates. "Put simply, a few fixed movements and expressions. You're to use them in the scenes." Making a localized remake was no easy matter. In later years, Mahua FunAge, Chen Sicheng, Jia Ling, and Bao Beier were all masters at localizing foreign films into Chinese. Some were genuinely good. Some were shit—cursed so often that people couldn't be bothered to curse them anymore. For the Hong Kong version of Ghost, the first thing Chen Qi changed was the character setups. Liu Dehua was too young, so he set him as a rash greenhorn just entering the workplace. Liang Jiahui was a few years older, so he became the senior at work. These roles were exactly the reverse of the original. After letting them get a first taste of how people in finance lived, Chen Qi also used the crash-course star acting method. Take walking. What he required of Liu Dehua was a long stride, and a fast one, a black briefcase in his hand, the movements clean and crisp. Liang Jiahui was unhurried, coffee in one hand, his body swaying slightly... When Zhong Chuhong's turn came, Chen Qi did nothing but make her smile. A faint smile, a broad smile, a smile that showed the teeth, a smile that showed none, a smile while flicking her hair, a smile with a steady, intent gaze... Then he took photos and picked out the few best-looking ways of smiling. Some people had a static beauty. Their photographs were extraordinarily pretty, yet their acting was only so-so. Some people had a dynamic beauty. Zhong Chuhong was a little weaker when still. She had to be moving in the film before she looked good. After coaching them for a while, Chen Qi asked, "Can you drink?" "Ah?" "I mean, do you like drinking?" "It's all right." "Do you like beer, baijiu, yellow rice wine, foreign liquor?" "I tried a mixed drink once. I don't know what it was called. I just thought it was really good." "Good. A teacher will come tomorrow and teach you bartending." Zhong Chuhong's eyes went wide. At last she could not hold back. "Why do I have to learn so many things? Mr. Chen, there's no grudge between us. Won't you let me off?" Hm? Chen Qi rubbed his nose. So she thought he was deliberately messing with her. But a thing like this could not be explained. They had only just met; once they were familiar, it would be fine. He only said, "Then will you learn or not? If you won't, I'll have Fang Yihua get someone else." "I'll learn! I'll learn! How would I dare not learn!" "Then work hard!" Hmph! Zhong Chuhong made a vicious face at his back, then saw him open his notebook and jot down a few more lines. "Hey, hey, Huazai!" She grabbed hold of Liu Dehua and asked in a low voice, "Do you know what Mr. Chen is writing?" "The boss's business. How would I know?" "Then has he always been this odd?" "Well..." Liu Dehua scratched his head and lowered his voice as well. "I've only just come into contact with him, but he really is odd. The way he does things often leaves you in a complete fog. You can't tell what he's up to." "Right, right—you feel it too!" Zhong Chuhong had found a kindred spirit, and she hurried on. "Sometimes he's like a fortune-teller. He looks you over with this very peculiar gaze, as if you had no clothes on, looked over from head to foot." "That I can't relate to. If he saw all of me, isn't he afraid of getting a stye?" Liu Dehua gave a shiver. The two of them were griping about the boss. Chen Qi seemed not to have heard. Even if he had, he could not be bothered to mind. In a special place like Hong Kong, a touch of mystery had its advantages.