The Cliffhanger Fiend

"Editor-in-Chief!" "Editor-in-Chief!" He Chengwei hurried over at a trot, cradling the manuscript like a treasured prize. "You absolutely have to look at this!" "What on earth has gotten you this worked up?" "Just read it first! Take a look!" Baffled, the editor-in-chief had no choice but to take the pages, while He Chengwei stood waiting by his side. After a long while, the editor-in-chief finally raised his buried head, looking very much like a hyena caught in heat. He asked urgently, "Where's the rest? Is there more after this?" "That's it! Just this much!" "Good grief, this author is infuriating! If you're going to tell a story, finish it!" The editor-in-chief seethed with righteous indignation. But a moment later, he calmed down, replaced by immense excitement. "We're always complaining about the lack of good stories. Well, look at this—hasn't one just arrived? That's why we need patience. True masters dwell among the common folk!" "I can't say I agree with that," an editor remarked. "The real masters go to *Sprouts* and *Harvest*. Who would bother submitting to our *Story Session*? He probably copied it from somewhere." "Don't sell ourselves short! Popular literature is what the masses love to read! I'll bet anyone here that this person is definitely a master. Just based on the fact that he cut off right as the character fell off the cliff, he knows how to tell a story!" "So what do you think? Does it need any revisions?" He Chengwei asked. "Just a few isolated spots where we can help smooth the phrasing out. The core of the story doesn't need to be touched at all." The editor-in-chief pondered for a moment before saying, "Publish the whole thing together. Don't split it across issues—that would dilute the appeal. Whatever we're feeling right now, the readers will surely feel the same. Reaching the cliff fall only to have it vanish into thin air, haha..." He seemed to picture the scene and burst into laughter. Then he asked, "Did the author mention a sequel?" "He said there's a second half, and he's currently writing it." "Splendid, splendid! Trim the page count on those other stories and reserve the space for *The Cotton Kasaya*. Put it right at the top of the table of contents too—make it striking and eye-catching!" Each issue of *Story Session* was a 32mo booklet of ninety to a hundred pages. A page filled purely with text and no illustrations held roughly eight hundred characters. At twenty thousand characters, *The Cotton Kasaya* would take up a little over twenty pages—not particularly long. In these times, content was scarce; simply to pad out the page count, a single story could easily be allotted more than thirty pages. "Where is the author from?" "He's at Mount Lu. He mentioned he'll be returning to the capital before winter, so if we write back, we need to time it carefully." "Mount Lu? Returning to the capital?" The editor-in-chief scratched his head. "Sounds like he's no ordinary fellow. What's his pen name?" "Uh..." He Chengwei walked back to his desk, picked up a slip of paper, and returned. "Midnight Butcher, Little Qiang the Cockroach, Looking to Stir Up Trouble, Dongbei Guobaorou Is the Best, Jade-Faced Little Mengchang, Beijing Timely Rain, Sleeping Makes You Fair..." "'If you don't agree to any of those, then call me Ah Qi!'" "..." The editor-in-chief was stunned, then burst into hearty laughter, and the other editors joined in as well. "What an amusing fellow! Ah Qi? Fine, that works. Write him a letter immediately expressing our respect and friendship." "Understood!" He Chengwei returned to his seat. Before he could pick up his pen, the editor-in-chief called out again, "Little He, why don't you make the trip in person to meet this extraordinary character?" "That works too. I'll leave tomorrow!" He Chengwei was inwardly thrilled; this suited him perfectly. "What rate should we offer for the manuscript?" "Pay a thousand gold pieces for the horse's bones. Go sound him out. If he's truly that capable, paying seven yuan per thousand characters is perfectly fine!" *** *The Cotton Kasaya* was a martial arts film from the mid-1980s, directed and written by Xu Xiaoming. At this time, he was working at Hong Kong's Rediffusion Television, which later became ATV. In 1981, he directed the television drama *The Legendary Fok*, starring Huang Yuanshen, Mi Xue, Liang Xiaolong, and Wei Qiuhua. It took Hong Kong by storm and became the first Hong Kong drama imported into the mainland, sweeping across the entire nation with equal fervor. Its theme song, "The Great Wall Never Falls"—"The Great Wall of ten thousand li never falls, the Yellow River flows on for a thousand li, beautiful mountains and layered ridges, tell me how our country looks ailing..."—served as many mainlanders' very first introduction to Cantonese music. Later on, Xu Xiaoming directed *Fist of Fury* and *The Legend of Master Huo*, both wildly popular, which also catapulted martial arts star Liang Xiaolong to fame. He subsequently ventured north to co-produce *The Cotton Kasaya* with the mainland, in which Yu Rongguang played the villain Qi Tianyuan and shot to stardom overnight. Xu Xiaoming was a true polymath: director, screenwriter, actor, singer, and martial arts choreographer all rolled into one. Li Saifeng was his disciple. By all accounts, right when his career was at its peak in the eighties, he abruptly vanished from public view. Most records claimed he transitioned to behind-the-scenes work, but never explained why. Back then, the Taiwan market was effectively the master of Hong Kong's entertainment industry; ninety-nine percent of performers had to dance to Taiwan's tune. Taiwan strictly forbade Hong Kong stars from collaborating with left-wing entities, let alone traveling north to film in the mainland—which was treated as practically an unpardonable sin! Take Liang Xiaolong, for instance. After *Fist of Fury* became a massive hit, he visited the mainland once. Taiwan ordered him to write a letter of repentance, but he refused: "I did nothing wrong. I was only visiting my homeland." He was promptly blacklisted. If not for Zhou Xingchi's *Kung Fu Hustle* years later, Liang Xiaolong would have faded into complete obscurity. Xu Xiaoming met the same fate. After filming *The Cotton Kasaya*, Taiwan immediately branded him a "Communist-collaborating filmmaker" and slapped a blanket ban on him. But when *The Cotton Kasaya* later won the Ministry of Culture's Outstanding Film Award, Taiwan shifted its tactics. After all, Taiwan had its own united front campaign to run! Just imagine: if a filmmaker officially recognized by the mainland returned to Taiwan's embrace, what a tremendous feather in their cap that would be! So Taiwan declared: as long as you write a confession, promise never to film in the mainland again, publicly denounce how abysmal life is in the mainland, and pledge your loyalty to the ruling party, we will let bygones be bygones. Xu Xiaoming's response: *Like hell I'll write that!* His only choice was to retreat behind the scenes. Even decades later, when certain trash in Hong Kong insulted the nation, Xu Xiaoming was among those who stepped forward to speak up for his country. One should never assume the entertainment circles of Hong Kong and Taiwan in this era were purely about entertainment. They were always deeply entangled in politics—it was just that few ever spoke of it openly. But set that aside for now. In any case, Chen Qi had his own plans. Having drafted *The Cotton Kasaya*, he intended to adapt it into a film eventually. He still wanted to seek out Xu Xiaoming and pull him over to his side... If you didn't look out for your own people, it just felt wrong. He had also made several changes to *The Cotton Kasaya*. In the original, the male lead was a monk, and the female lead had always harbored feelings for him. Yet the male lead wore a battered hat, kept his hair long, and stubbornly refused to disclose his monastic status. The narrative logic was flimsy, making him look very much like a cad. Chen Qi disliked that, so he changed him into a secular lay disciple, and made their feelings mutual. That way, when the protagonist later decided to formally take monastic vows, the tragic sense of cruel fate would resonate far more powerfully. *** It was over six hundred kilometers from Shanghai to Mount Lu. Traveling at a steady, unhurried pace, He Chengwei arrived in two days. Reaching Guling, he found the restaurant and guesthouse according to the address. Taking a look around, he found the scene rather curious. He stepped inside and inquired, "Hello, comrade. I'm an editor from *Story Session*. Someone staying here submitted a manuscript, and I've come to pay him a visit." "A manuscript? You must be mistaken. We're hosting a film crew," a clerk replied. "A film crew? Shooting a movie?" "That's right!" He Chengwei was bewildered too. "The address is definitely correct. His pen name is Ah Qi. Do you recognize him?" "Ah Qi... Oh!" The clerk clapped his hands together, his face brightening. "You mean Little Chen! His name is Chen Qi. He's a screenwriter." "A screenwriter..." A respectable screenwriter submitting manuscripts to *Story Session*? Before He Chengwei could even process the thought, the clerk said warmly, "He went out with the crew today. You can wait here for a bit; he should be back this afternoon... Let me tell you, Little Chen is a wonderful fellow, and he sure knows how to tell a story..."