Safe Haven

"*Ghost* is progressing smoothly... Just then, a letter came from the Ministry of Culture. I figured preparations for *Life Is Beautiful* needed to get underway early anyway, so I went ahead and came back. Is everything good on your end?" "Very good! I thought you wouldn't return until after your trip to France. Here!" Gong Xue was seated on the sofa, peeling an apple for him. Chen Qi took a large bite, the sharp sourness making him scrunch his face and bare his teeth. This was a Guoguang apple—small and quite tart. In his memory, the apples people commonly ate during the eighties and nineties were mainly three varieties: Guoguang, Golden Delicious, and Red Fuji. Guoguang was by far the cheapest. "Look at that face! Did you stay in Hong Kong so long that you forgot what our apples taste like?" "Hong Kong has an amazing variety of fruit. I often buy pineapples, and they even have durians." "Then go eat your durians!" Gong Xue gave a soft huff. Chen Qi reached out, pulled her into his arms, and coaxed her gently. "I'm only being practical. Hong Kong certainly has better material comforts, but out there, my spirit feels parched, empty, and completely adrift. No matter how wonderful durian is, how could it ever smell sweeter than my older sister? No matter how huge a room is, how could it ever feel as cozy and secure as this little place of ours? Every single day in Hong Kong, I was missing you..." "Silver-tongued as always. You're not that simple, honest Xiao Chen anymore!" Pursing her lips, Gong Xue poked his forehead with a finger. "Back when I first met you, you were already good with words, but you felt sincere. Now it's all smooth pleasantries—and you're using them on me, too." "Heaven as my witness, I would never!" Chen Qi held up the Guoguang apple as if taking an oath. "Who doesn't want a few creature comforts? In that sense, being in Hong Kong was enjoyable enough, but it really was exhausting, hectic, and hollow. You're irreplaceable to me. Besides, I want to find a chance to take you there so you can enjoy the good life, too." "All right, all right. I can manage wherever I am. Go throw yourself into your career—I don't want to hold you back." Gong Xue kissed him once and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Chen Qi nestled his arms around her slender waist, rubbing his cheek against her hair. The faint scent of her shampoo drifted into his nose. Without having to do a single thing, he felt himself intuitively unwind. This was when he felt most at ease. They lingered in the embrace for a while before parting. Only then did he notice the copy of *Popular Cinema* on the table. Flipping through it, he said, "Huh? The Hundred Flowers Awards are starting up again? When is the ceremony?" "The same as last year—May 23rd." "Then it clashes with Cannes. Cannes opens on the 14th and closes on the 26th." "I know. I wasn't expecting you to come with me anyway; I can handle it on my own." Gong Xue picked up the remaining half of the apple, nibbling on it without the slightest hesitation. "I'm not harboring any illusions about the Golden Rooster this year, but I'm confident about the Hundred Flowers. Li Xiuming has *Xu Mao and His Daughters*, which has received tremendous acclaim, so her chances are very strong." "*Xu Mao and His Daughters*?" Chen Qi had little impression of it. "Is it another one of those films about trauma, suffering, and how people weathered it?" "How did you know?" Gong Xue asked in surprise. "A moment's thought is all it takes. That's still the prevailing voice of the film industry—hardly any progress at all." That stagnation would not truly break until the rise of the Fifth Generation, when *Red Sorghum* went on to capture the Golden Bear. "If you miss out on the Golden Rooster, so be it. I'll win you another one later. Come to think of it, last year was the Year of the Rooster, and this year is the Year of the Rooster too. Even if Li Xiuming wins, it won't be the Golden Rooster's maiden crow—at most, it's a second crow." "Has a fuse blown in your head?" Gong Xue felt his forehead with a laugh. "Last year was the Rooster, but this year is the Year of the Dog!" "There's something you don't know: a Rooster Year counts for two and a half years, so this year is still the Rooster. And as the ancient proverb says, 'Roosters and rabbits share a dragon,' meaning the Years of the Rabbit and Dragon each last two and a half years as well..." "Talking nonsense again. I think Hong Kong has worked you half to death." "Well, that part's true. I really am exhausted!" Only in front of her would Chen Qi admit his weariness. So many matters depended on his personal direction, and not one person beneath him was capable of managing things independently. Even with his youthful stamina, the strain was wearing him down. Hearing this, Gong Xue felt an immediate pang of sympathy. "You only just got back today and you're already running yourself ragged. Why don't you lie down for a nap? What time do you want me to wake you?" "A nap sounds good!" Chen Qi climbed onto the bed and stretched out. "Wake me at five." "Okay!" Gong Xue picked up his shoes and placed them neatly on the rack by the door. The small room was kept impeccably tidy. Disliking the bare concrete floor, she had specially laid down wood flooring, and everyone wore slippers indoors. With his eyes closed, Chen Qi suddenly asked, "When will *Mama, Love Me Once More* hit theaters?" "Director Wang said it's slated for the March screening conference. China Film will probably organize the sale of release prints then. Maybe it'll be out in the second quarter?" "Oh, then maybe I'll make it in time to catch another masterpiece starring our family's big star." With that, he went quiet again. Gong Xue leaned against the sofa, intending to read for a while. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Come up here too, or I won't be able to fall asleep." "You're so demanding!" Helplessly, she had no choice but to climb into bed and nestle into his embrace. Chen Qi wrapped his arms around her waist, shifting into a comfortable position until he finally sank into a state of total relaxation. Before long, he drifted off. "..." Hearing the steady rhythm of his breathing, Gong Xue knew he was asleep. She eased herself up slightly to look at him. *He's only this well-behaved when he's sleeping—not saying a word, just like a child.* No matter how long she gazed at Chen Qi, she never grew tired of looking. Then her brows knit slightly in discomfort. Slipping out of bed with light footsteps, she retrieved a hot-water bottle and filled it with hot water. Since it was rather scalding, she wrapped it in a towel and pressed it against her lower abdomen. It was an inconvenient day for her. Even so, she still wanted to go over to Lechunfang tonight. She knew Chen Qi would not mind; their bond was never purely physical. They spent long stretches apart, and adding up all the time they had actually shared a bed amounted to barely a month. They had not been intimate very often. Whenever they did, they used condoms brought back from Hong Kong—imported ones that were notably thin. Back in Beijing, the free condoms handed out by neighborhood committees, work units, and family planning departments were thicker than toy balloons. They were made of that thick yellow latex, meant to be washed clean after use, dusted with talcum powder, and reused. *** Meanwhile. Beijing Film Studio, Studio Director's Office. After seeing Chen Qi off, Wang Yang retrieved a sheet of official paper from his desk drawer, put on his reading glasses, and meticulously set about drafting an application. In February of this year, the central authorities had issued an official document: *Decision on the Establishment of a Retirement System for Veteran Cadres*. The domestic cadre system had long been somewhat disorganized. Among the veteran cadres who had joined the revolution during the First Revolutionary Civil War, the Agrarian Revolutionary War, the War of Resistance Against Japan, and the War of Liberation, roughly two and a half million were still alive, with most still occupying their posts. This had led to an aging leadership. Thus, the central authorities promulgated the document, setting forth general guidelines: department-level and vice-ministerial cadres were generally to retire by age sixty, while senior provincial and ministerial officials were generally not to exceed sixty-five. Special exceptions were permitted. If a cadre had reached the retirement age but the demands of work genuinely required their presence and their health permitted it, they could, subject to organizational approval, defer retirement for a specified period and continue in leadership positions. Beginning this year, therefore, veteran cadres were gradually stepping back to secondary roles, typically taking on honorary titles such as "Advisor." Wang Yang was already sixty-two, squarely falling within the retirement bracket. Yet he remained in vigorous health and was simply too indispensable to Beijing Film Studio. His departure would inevitably leave the studio without a helmsman. Both he personally and the leadership at the Ministry of Culture favored the idea of him staying on for a few more years before retiring. "Ah, without even realizing it, more than forty years have passed since I first started working." Having finished his application, Wang Yang let out an emotional sigh. "At most, I can hold the fort for another two years. Who knows who the leadership will appoint to take over, or where Beijing Film Studio will go from there..." A sudden sense of urgency gripped him. With a wild card like Chen Qi shaking things up, his own dormant ambition had caught fire. He felt an intense desire to seize whatever time remained before retirement to accomplish a great deal more. At the end of the page, the old director signed his name. The document needed to be submitted to the Ministry of Culture for approval—a step both sides had already discussed and agreed upon in advance. He sealed the official envelope, thought it over for a brief moment, and stepped out of his office, intent on delivering it to the Ministry of Culture in person.