The Red Carpet

"Morning, Ahong!" "Morning!" The next day Zhong Chuhong came to work as usual, still in denim, still in sneakers. Liu Dehua had been rebuffed yesterday. He did not keep at her. He soon settled back into treating her as a friend and asked, "Why so listless? You've even got dark circles." "My little sister wouldn't stop making a racket last night. It drove me mad! What are we doing today?" "Finish the last bit of the table read." "Oh. Where's Mr. Chen?" Zhong Chuhong looked all around. Liang Jiahui leaned in and said, "He told us to handle it ourselves. He'll come by at noon." They chatted for a while. Xiao Fangfang arrived as well, took charge, and had them read through what was left. Music, lights, a soft sofa. Zhong Chuhong took off her shoes, half reclined on the sofa with the script in her hands. It seemed no different from before, and yet her mind wandered of its own accord. No wonder that fellow was always staring at her for no reason! No wonder that fellow was always writing and writing! So he had been using her as material! The ice water, the cooking, the jeans, and all the scattered little things besides—every one was some small habit she showed day to day, or something she had mentioned in passing, and he had remembered them all! Zhong Chuhong could not bring herself to be angry, or even to feel put off. With the script as it had been, she had not felt it was any different from any other. You acted it, and that was that. After the revisions, she slipped into it all at once. In a brief career of only three films, she had never known a surprise and a wonder like this. "The two kissed farewell. Hongdou watched him walk slowly into a field of light..." "OK!" They finished quickly. All of them were a little reluctant to let it go. Xiao Fangfang praised her. "Ahong, you're coming along fast. That passage just now was fuller of feeling than yesterday. Not bad, not bad." "Was it?" "It was! Your voice just now was incredibly tender. How did you do it?" Liu Dehua was astonished. "I don't know either!" "Don't tell me someone's been giving you private coaching?" Liang Jiahui said with a laugh. "That's Ahong putting her heart into it. She put her own feelings in, and the effect came of itself. Not like the rest of you—especially you, Huazai. Don't hold us back!" Xiao Fangfang scolded. "I promise I won't hold us back!" Liu Dehua turned serious too. Acting was how he earned his rice. How could he dare slack off? Xiao Fangfang left first. The three of them waited until noon. Chen Qi arrived late and, once there, wasted no words. "The Hong Kong Film Awards are about to be held. Feng Huang and Sun Luen have their own arrangements. I'll go over our list. Confirmed to attend: Fu Chi, Shi Hui, Zhang Xinyan, Liu Xuehua, Li Yanyan, Mao Youming, Meng Ping, Liu Dehua, Liang Jiahui, Qiu Shuzhen!" Li Yanyan, Mao Youming, and Meng Ping had joined the company in the same cohort as Liu Xuehua. Their careers had been ordinary, but seeing the company on the rise, they had not left either. Chen Qi had no impression of them and could not be bothered to pay attention. Great Wall was arranging it all itself. From this it was clear that if Chen Qi had not come in and stirred things up, the Left's lineup really would have been a pitiful handful, not even enough to scrape a team together. "Jiahui, stay at the dormitory these next few days. There are some red-carpet manners and ways of facing the press you'll need to learn." "All right!" Liang Jiahui nodded. He agreed not because his heart leaned toward the Left, but because he felt that if he was making a film with the Left, this ought not to be a problem. When Chen Qi had finished, he asked, "Ahong, do you have a pretty dress?" "What for?" "You're attending the awards. Of course you should look a bit sharper." "I don't have a dress!" "Then go buy one. Get something with a bit of class. If you can't bear to spend the money, rent one. Trust me. Otherwise you'll lose face." "Looking down on me? I can afford it. The money I've earned, I could count it from here to there!" "Then change it into Vietnamese dong, and you could count from Hong Kong all the way to the mainland..." "Hmph! I'm going!" Zhong Chuhong paid him no mind. She tossed her head and stormed off, muttering as she went: How can a man talk so cutting and mean? And to think I'd started to see him differently. An illusion! All of it an illusion! Chen Qi grinned and asked, "How did she do today?" "Really well. Sister Fangfang said she put her feelings into it." "Good. Ahong getting into the part is what matters most." Chen Qi nodded. For the sake of the effect, he did not mind tailoring the female lead and letting Zhong Chuhong play as herself. The Hong Kong Film Awards had gained two sponsors. One was Radio Hong Kong, an official station under the Hong Kong government, with considerable clout. It had secured the venue, the host, the trophies, and the presenters. They had invited several veteran filmmakers and government officials to give out the awards. Among them were Chief Secretary Zhong Yijie and Urban Council Chairman Zhang Youxing. Zhong Yijie was a Brit. He spoke fluent Cantonese and could do calligraphy. He oversaw local administration across Hong Kong, was trying out representative government in the districts, and had held the first District Council election. After Hong Kong's return, the mainland appointed him to office. Many Britons despised him, thinking he had betrayed the United Kingdom. Radio Hong Kong's inviting officials left Film Biweekly very displeased. They did not like officials presenting awards. They wanted filmmakers to run the thing themselves. But the other side was paying, so they had to put up with it. By comparison, the Left was an unexpected comfort. That great red carpet, that security, all snapped smartly into place, and they were not even after the credit. Soon it was March 9. In the end Zhong Chuhong did take Chen Qi's word. She rented a fairly expensive dress and put on high heels. She was no longer as she had been the year she ran for Miss Hong Kong, when she could not wear heels. She could wear them now. She simply preferred flats day to day. "Mom, I'm off!" Clutching a little handbag, she clattered downstairs. At the entrance of Chungking Mansions she ran into those two Indians again, called it rotten luck at once, pinched her nose, and hailed a taxi at the curb. That's right—the crew was not going together. "He tells me to wear a dress. Dressed like this, isn't it too much?" "He isn't playing me for a fool, is he?" She sat in the car, a little uneasy. Near the Arts Centre she saw police cars stopped ahead and said in wonder, "What's all this?" "A jam! Temporary controls!" They crept on a little farther. A policeman came and rapped on the window. One look at her in full dress, and he smiled. "Miss, are you here for the event?" "Yes!" "Good luck!" He let them through, and at last they reached the front. Zhong Chuhong paid, opened the door, and stepped out. One look, and she was struck dumb. A red carpet several meters wide ran from the roadside to the entrance, with barriers along both sides. Dozens of reporters held cameras long and short, every bit as amazed, and excited the moment they saw her. "Someone's here!" "Who? Do you recognize her?" "Zhong Chuhong, isn't it? Shaw Brothers newcomer. She's been getting quite a bit of notice!" "This..." She lifted her skirt and stood at one end of the red carpet, at a loss. Was she supposed to walk? Fortunately there was an usher beside her. "You can walk over slowly, then turn right. There's a signing area there." "Oh, oh!" She drew several deep breaths, forced herself calm, and stepped onto the red carpet. Flashbulbs on both sides crackled and flared. In that instant it was as if a flame had caught inside her, and a feeling she had never known wrapped her whole body. A star and a red carpet were made for each other. This little patch of ground could take attention, fashion, beauty, hype, renown, the work, slander, mockery, and all the rest, and blow them up to their fullest in an instant. The carpet was not long. Zhong Chuhong walked it a little clumsily, and did not forget to wave. Then she turned right into the signing area and faced another round of photographs. "Ahong, look here! Look here!" "Ahong, the back, the back!" The reporters were glad to shoot. She was not well known, but she was lovely. Tomorrow they could run a picture. "All the times I've been photographed since I debuted, added together, still don't match today!" "So this is the Hong Kong Film Awards?" All at once a solemn respect came over her.