Fu Chi and Shi Hui

In the second year of Reform and Opening Up, the year of Jiwei, in the golden autumn of the capital, a grand gathering convened in the Main Auditorium of the Great Hall of the People. Worthies gathered in numbers; both young and old assembled... On this day, the sky was bright and the air clear, with a gentle and refreshing breeze. The perimeter had long been secured. Delegates arrived in batches from their accommodations, exchanging greetings, posing for photos on the plaza, taking press interviews, and waiting to enter. Hou Baolin arrived with his son, Hou Yaowen. Hou Yaowen belonged to the Railway Art Troupe and had deliberately dressed in work clothes. Speaking of Hou Yaowen—good heavens, he looked identical to Xie Dong, as though they shared the very same father. Jiang Kun and Li Wenhua arrived as well; they were scheduled to perform at the evening banquet. Jiang Kun was only twenty-nine. Wang Wenjuan, the Yue opera actress famous for playing Lin Daiyu, was chatting with Henan opera singer Chang Xiangyu. Chang Xiangyu was fifty-six. During the War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea, she had toured the country and donated a MiG-15 fighter jet; after her passing, the State Council would posthumously honor her as a "People's Artist." The contemporary "Xiao Xiangyu" was her step-granddaughter. Tseten Dolma, the Tibetan vocalist known for "Sing a Folk Song for the Party" and "On the Golden Mountain of Beijing," chatted amiably with lyricist Qiao Yu of "Let Us Sway Twin Oars" and "My Motherland," while composer Liu Chi beamed cheerfully beside them. Literary giants such as Mao Dun, Ba Jin, Ai Qing, and Xia Yan made their appearances one after another... "Haah—!" As director of the Beijing Film Studio's Literary Department, Jiang Huaiyan was also among the attendees, yet he yawned continuously, utterly drained of energy. "What's the matter, Director Jiang? So excited you couldn't sleep last night?" Liu Xiaoqing teased. "Caught up reading. Before I knew it, I'd read straight through the night." "What book could be that captivating?" "Young Chen's, of course!" "Oh? Young Chen wrote something new?" "What is it? What kind of story?" Hearing it was by Young Chen, quite a few people gathered around. But upon learning it was a martial arts piece, they hissed in disappointment and dispersed. Wang Yang overheard and asked, "He wrote a martial arts novel?" "Yes, and it even got published in that magazine *Story Session*. Speaking objectively, this story is well suited for an entertainment film." "Bring it over for me to read when we get back." As they spoke, word came that it was time to enter. The two smoothed their clothes, held their heads high, and composed their expressions into solemn dignity. Whether for them or for any cultural worker, this congress carried extraordinary significance. Everyone sensed that the environment was about to loosen further, and that true spring was on its way. More than three thousand attendees entered in groups, stepping into the grand auditorium beneath the colossal red star on the ceiling. Wang Yang glanced left and right, searching for the person he hoped to see. Suddenly spotting them in the distance, he nodded in acknowledgment. The other party nodded gently in return from the Hong Kong delegation's section. A sizable contingent had come from Hong Kong this time. The most striking among them was undoubtedly Xia Meng. A native of Shanghai, she had relocated to Hong Kong with her family in 1947, joined Great Wall Movie Enterprises as an actress, and rose to dazzling fame as the eldest of the "Three Princesses of Great Wall." In 1966, she emigrated to Canada, married, raised children, and ran a garment factory. She had retired from the screen, but unable to refuse the mainland's gracious invitation, she came to attend the Congress of Literary and Art Workers. Now forty-six, she remained lithe and graceful, wearing a chic yet dignified black sleeveless jacket and amber-tinted glasses. The most widespread tale about her was that Jin Yong had been so infatuated that he slipped into Great Wall as a screenwriter solely to pursue her. Alas, the falling blossoms yearned for the stream, but the stream flowed unheeding. Xia Meng became Jin Yong's unattainable moonlight and cinnabar mole, her image inspiring various figures in his wuxia novels, such as Xiaolongnü. Jin Yong had indeed worked as a screenwriter at Great Wall, but whether he joined solely for Xia Meng remained uncertain. Though Xia Meng never married him, they maintained good private relations. Later, when she invested in filmmaking, she asked Jin Yong to name her movie, which was how *Boat People* got its title. At this moment, she sat there, serene and elegant, drawing the gazes of many mainland peers. She was, after all, a legendary figure. Yet what drew even closer attention from mainland filmmakers was a couple seated not far from her—the very people who had exchanged nods with Wang Yang. *** "We must uphold the policy of letting a hundred flowers blossom, weeding through the old to bring forth the new, making the foreign serve China, and making the past serve the present. In artistic creation, we advocate the free development of diverse forms and styles; in artistic theory, we encourage the free discussion of differing viewpoints and schools of thought." The Congress of Literary and Art Workers had always been a high-profile affair, attended by delegations of top state leaders. At that moment, a senior leader sat on the elevated dais up front, delivering the opening address beneath a portrait of the Chairman hanging above him. "Art and literature, as a complex form of spiritual labor, profoundly require cultural workers to exercise their individual creative spirit. What to write and how to write can only be explored and resolved step by step through artists' own creative practice. In this regard, there must be no arbitrary interference..." When he reached the words "no arbitrary interference," his voice took on deliberate force, and thunderous applause erupted across the entire hall. This was the core message of the congress. Loosening the reins on the cultural sphere even further led many to proclaim that spring had truly arrived! *Clap, clap, clap!* Down below, Wang Yang clapped with all his might. Beijing Film Studio had suffered severe disruptions in earlier years, managing only one or two productions annually. Just last year had it finally resumed normal operations, turning out eight films. Seven films were on the slate this year, and he believed next year would be even more productive. More importantly, genres needed to diversify; he had always wanted to make commercial entertainment films. After the top leader concluded, the second-ranking leader spoke—a good friend of Liu Shaotang's... Then came Mao Dun. At eighty-three years old, he spoke with trembling frailty; he would pass away two years later. All in all, the meetings lasted a full day, followed by an evening banquet. The second day brought another plenary session and yet more evening engagements... Not until the fourth day did Wang Yang catch his breath and return to the studio for a brief rest. *** Beijing Film Studio. Early that morning, Wang Yang paced back and forth in his office. Footsteps sounded outside, and someone rushed in to report, "Director, our guests have entered the courtyard!" "Quick, invite them in!" "No, no—I'll go down to welcome them myself!" The sixty-three-year-old Wang Yang moved briskly, hurrying down the stairs, and sure enough, a man and a woman were walking toward him. The man was in his fifties, lean and tall. The woman was in her forties; though fine lines touched her face, her features remained luminous, elegant, and striking. "Comrade Fu Chi!" "Comrade Shi Hui!" "Old Wang! It's been too long. How have you been?" Fu Chi let out a hearty laugh. Striding forward with brisk steps, he reached out before even coming to a halt and gave Wang Yang's hand a firm grip. Shi Hui smiled as well, speaking in soft, melodious Wu accents: "Seeing you in such high spirits puts our minds at ease." "I should be the one saying that! Seeing both of you doing so well puts my mind at ease!" Wang Yang shook Shi Hui's hand warmly, deeply moved. Long before Hong Kong's return to China, numerous mainland-backed enterprises had already established deep roots there—such as the Bank of China branches, China Travel Service, China Resources, China Merchants, as well as mainland-backed newspapers like *Ta Kung Pao* and *Wen Wei Po*. In addition, there were three film studios—Great Wall, Feng Huang, and Sun Luen—along with a cinema circuit, all functioning essentially as state-owned enterprises anchored in Hong Kong. Fu Chi was a renowned actor and director at Great Wall who commanded immense prestige, while Shi Hui was an actress whose fame had once swept the region. In 1967, harsh treatment of workers at a Hong Kong artificial flower factory sparked a wave of strikes. Workers rallied in the streets, clashing with police... The conflict escalated relentlessly, eventually exploding into a storm that raged for six months. Fu Chi and Shi Hui were among the movement's leaders. They were arrested and imprisoned. Later, when the British colonial authorities attempted to deport them to Taiwan, the couple declared, "Whoever sends me to Taiwan will receive nothing but a corpse!" The British Hong Kong authorities then sought to deport them back to the mainland, but the two stood at the Lo Wu Bridge, steadfastly refusing to cross. With no alternatives left, the authorities kept them locked in prison for a year... It was best not to dwell on the details; anyone interested could look it up. Such were the Three Princesses of Great Wall! Xia Meng had prioritized self-preservation and moved to Canada, which was entirely understandable; upon her return, she continued to bridge the film industries between both regions. The third princess, Chen Sisi, was swept up in romance and ran off with a man back then, though she later returned and even took part in the Spring Festival Gala. The second princess, Shi Hui, and her husband, Fu Chi, had stayed behind. Even during Great Wall's most difficult hours, they never walked away. Into the 1980s, they continued to make their contributions, retiring from the scene only in the early 1990s. The couple had a daughter named Fu Mingxian—the actress who played Guo Fu in the Louis Koo and Carman Lee television adaptation of *The Return of the Condor Heroes*.