"They're making it this big?"
When Tsui Hark arrived, he too was startled by the scene before him, though he stayed quite calm. He took Shi Nansheng's hand, and they walked in together.
He was not in a suit, only a shirt. Shi Nansheng had not dressed up either. The two of them were in everyday clothes at most—not dowdy. They hurried across the red carpet, into the Arts Centre, and on to the Shouson Theatre.
"Look, there are even spectators upstairs!"
Shi Nansheng pointed up. Tsui Hark gave it a quick look. Small as it was, it was fully equipped: nearly everything an awards ceremony ought to have was there.
A while later the leads of All the Wrong Clues (...for the Right Solution)—George Lam, Teddy Robin, and Mai Jia—arrived and naturally sat with Tsui Hark. They glanced at one another, expressions odd. Not one of them was in formal wear. All were in casual clothes.
Some wore jeans and T-shirts, some casual trousers and casual shoes, but at least they were still presentable.
"If I'd known, I'd have worn a suit."
"Yeah. Who knew the occasion would be this grand!"
"Film Biweekly has quite some edge. First time out and they've made it like this. Feels very professional."
The few of them chattered on while watching the guests who came in after them. The moment anyone was improperly dressed, they all piled on with laughter, happy to make a bigger show of the fun.
......
"What is this? Sandals to an awards ceremony!"
"Not the slightest bit of respect?"
It was like that inside, and the same outside.
The reporters had meant to shoot the stars in gorgeous outfits. They got no gorgeous outfits—nothing but bare faces and clothes fit for home. Not exactly slovenly, but nothing good to look at either.
"I thought this was some rogue award, and stars showing up were giving it face. Now I see the rogue ones are the stars. Don't they watch the awards in Europe and America? A suit or a gown is the bare minimum of respect. Utterly unprofessional!"
"You could flip the angle. Don't compare who looks best—compare who's ugliest. You can still get a story out of it!"
"Oh?"
Everyone's eyes lit up. Now that was good!
Stars kept arriving one after another, and the reporters kept shooting. Amid the jumble of plain clothes, a bright spot turned up now and then. Zhong Chuhong earlier, for instance, and Kara Wai after her.
Kara Wai wore a white gown and high heels, her hair permed. She looked properly the part.
And Chow Yun-fat. At least he had on a suit.
"Fa Zai! Over here, over here!"
Chow Yun-fat waved with easy composure and strode across the red carpet.
As for the man himself, later ages had dug up nearly all there was to dig. No need to go on.
......
At the same time, a white van was heading toward the Arts Centre.
Hong Jinbao sat in the front passenger seat. Behind him sat the six brothers from Encounter of the Spooky Kind: Chung Fat, Chen Long, Huang Xia, Wu Ma, Lam Ching-ying, and Taibao.
"Ha—"
Hong Jinbao yawned. He had drunk hard the night before and still had not quite recovered. "Why aren't we there yet? Is the Arts Centre really this far?"
"Looks like there's traffic control up ahead!"
"A jam?"
As they spoke, a policeman came over again and rapped on the window—knock, knock, knock. He recognized Hong Jinbao at a glance, but still asked, "You here for the event?"
"That's right!"
"It's a bit congested. Go slow up ahead."
Hm?
Hong Jinbao felt something was off. He craned his neck to look. Taillights ran one into the next, police were directing traffic, and on both sides pedestrians were running forward, faces bright with excitement.
As the van crept along, the Arts Centre building came into view.
He did not know what was happening, but he could tell the place was already a roar of voices, extraordinarily lively. Just then two girls who looked like students ran past hand in hand, shouting whatever came out:
"Is it true? Chow Yun-fat's up ahead?"
"I just saw him. Hurry, hurry, he'll go in any minute... He's wearing a suit today. So handsome!"
A suit?
Before he could react, the van had already stopped. Then, with a clatter, an attendant pulled the door open for them. Flashbulbs crackled like bombs flung into the van, blasting the brothers to scattered pieces, a river of blood.
"Who is it, who is it? Why'd they come in a van?"
"Shit! Hong Jinbao!"
"Shoot, shoot! A headline you don't see every day!"
"Hahaha, shorts!"
Shorts?
Hong Jinbao looked down on instinct. He was not wearing shorts. But then his face went dark. Not wearing shorts was not much better.
On top he had an oversized plaid shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, baring a belly like a mountain of flesh under a white undershirt. Below were baggy black training pants. He was too fat for ordinary trousers; training pants were comfortable enough to wear.
If it were formal wear, it would have to be custom-made. Otherwise there was no size that fit.
On his feet were cloth shoes, white socks pulled up high. This was his standard everyday outfit. He had thought today was only a small gathering within the circle. Who could have imagined Hong Kong had an awards ceremony this proper?!!!
"..."
He turned his head. His brothers were an even more wretched sight. All of them were dragon-tiger martial arts stuntmen. How were martial arts stuntmen supposed to dress on an ordinary day?
Worst off was Huang Xia. He was wearing nothing but a pair of big shorts, mortified beyond words.
"Go! Go, quick!"
"Don't mind them!"
Hong Jinbao was seasoned in the jianghu, after all. He thrust out his bulk of flesh and strode across the red carpet. How could the reporters on either side let them pass? Everyone knew what the Hong Kong press was like—each one there for the show, snide and two-faced.
Huang Xia covered his face and ducked his head, trotting the whole way. He ran so fast he slammed into Hong Jinbao's back, bounced off again, and nearly tumbled to the ground and rolled a few turns. Luckily Lam Ching-ying steadied him.
Once past the red carpet, the group paid no one any mind and went straight upstairs.
An attendant shouted, "Mr. Hong Jinbao! Sir! Sign over here!"
"Hahaha!"
The reporters had another round of fun. Tomorrow's headline was already chosen: "Stormy Seas on the Hong Kong Film Awards Red Carpet: Hong Jinbao, Meat Dragon Crossing the River, Nearly Crushes the Shrimp to Death."
"Honk! Honk! Honk!"
Just then, horns sounded at the other end. Everyone looked over as one. Several cars pulled up in a neat line at the curb. A door opened, and Fu Chi stepped out in a crisp suit. He reached out a hand and drew another from the car—Shi Hui, in a classical cheongsam.
The two were a match made in heaven, their names resounding across Hong Kong.
They led the way. Right behind them, Zhang Xinyan appeared with several young actors.
The third group had Chen Qi in the center, Qiu Shuzhen's little hand in his right, Liu Xuehua on his left, and Liu Dehua and Liang Jiahui ranged on either side.
They had already spent a month at the Bank of China experiencing that life, studying how elite people carried themselves. Even the way they walked had a method to it. Now, as they came down the red carpet, their presence was extraordinary, thoroughly dashing.
Qiu Shuzhen wore a pretty white dress and low-heeled little leather shoes, all smiles as she made a funny face at the reporters.
Halfway along the red carpet, Chen Qi raised a hand. They stopped and lined up in a row.
Seeing the reporters somewhat stunned, Chen Qi put out both hands and beckoned. Only then did the flashbulbs pour down like snowflakes. He then turned toward the other side to be photographed, professional to the utmost.
"Who's that?"
"The one from the mainland!"
"The one who's always ripping into people in Wen Wei Po? Wow, gutsy!"
"I know Liu Xuehua. The others are all newcomers, right?"
After they had passed, the reporters gossiped among themselves just as eagerly. The Left had kept a very low profile, then suddenly risen since last year, with every sign of reclaiming their old might. The source of it was precisely that fellow from the mainland.
"This is the whole nest turned out. They've brought the entire crew. From the look of it, there'll be big moves this year!"
Chapter 285