Knock, knock, knock!
"Come in!"
Early that morning, Chen Qi knocked on the door to the studio director's office.
Wang Yang was cheerfully sipping tea. "Have a seat," he said. "Our guest will be here shortly. What have you been busy with these past few days?"
"Writing a piece for *Story Session*!"
"Oh? Another martial arts story?"
"Yes. It's called *Invincible Dual Kicks*!"
Chen Qi gave a brief rundown of the plot.
Wang Yang nodded. "Sounds quite interesting. I really don't know where you get so much fighting and killing from. Other folks write one a year, but you're turning out three."
"It's only because it's about fighting and killing that it's easy to write. If you asked me to write something profound, I wouldn't even know where to start..." Chen Qi paused, unable to resist asking, "Director Wang, do you think the remuneration they're paying me from Hong Kong will be in Hong Kong dollars or renminbi?"
"Hong Kong dollars, of course!"
"Will it come with overseas remittance certificates?"
"Well... your situation is rather unique, so I can't say for sure. When the time comes, you can ask at the bank and find out," Wang Yang said.
Foreign exchange certificates would later become famous, but prior to them, there was another coupon called the overseas remittance certificate.
When overseas Chinese remitted foreign exchange to relatives inside the country, the bank converted it directly into renminbi while allocating a certain quota of overseas remittance certificates. With these certificates, relatives could visit the Overseas Chinese Store to buy all sorts of fine goods unavailable on the regular market.
Canned anchovies, luncheon meat, Klim powdered milk, instant coffee, Western suits... Ordinary folks couldn't even imagine what was on those shelves. Even during the country's most difficult times, this supply had never been cut off, and quite a few people continued to live in relative luxury thanks to overseas remittance certificates.
Only by granting preferential treatment to domestic relatives would overseas Chinese remit more foreign exchange; it was all a strategy to absorb foreign currency.
Hong Kong dollars fell under this umbrella as well.
However, Chen Qi's payment was an author's honorarium, and one issued by a state-owned Hong Kong enterprise at that. Whether it qualified for overseas remittance certificates was something nobody knew for certain.
Before anyone realized it, mid-November had arrived. The Congress of Literary and Art Workers had drawn to a close. Fu Chi and Shi Hui had returned to Hong Kong, but they had introduced another leftist director to come and stay at the Beijing Film Studio for a short time.
After Chen Qi and Wang Yang waited a while, the visitor arrived.
He was a man in his forties with a broad face, large ears, and a brisk, breezy stride, yet he carried an air of an old-school literatus. The moment he walked through the door, he broke into a warm smile. "Director Wang, sorry to disturb you this time!"
"Xinyan, long time no see!"
Wang Yang gave him a firm handshake, then pointed toward Chen Qi. "This is that young talent of a screenwriter... and this is Director Zhang Xinyan!"
"Pleased to meet you, Director Zhang!"
"Young and promising!"
This man was Zhang Xinyan, the newly appointed director of *The Shaolin Temple*.
He had always been a leftist filmmaker and would later go on to direct *Yellow River Fighter*, *Tai Chi Boxer*, and other renowned works.
After exchanging pleasantries, Zhang Xinyan got straight to the point: "Now that winter is setting in, the outdoor scenery isn't looking its best, so I've simply decided to treat this as our pre-production phase. I've brought a few crew members along to handle preliminary arrangements—chiefly casting actors. Once spring arrives next year and the flowers bloom, *The Shaolin Temple* will start rolling again."
"That's the soundest approach," Wang Yang agreed. "How do you plan to select the actors?"
"No more Peking Opera performers. This is a martial arts film, and I want a cast with genuine kung fu skills. I know a lad from the Beijing Wushu Team named Li Lianjie. A few years ago, when the Chinese martial arts delegation toured the United States, they passed through Hong Kong on their way home and did a week of showcase performances for our Hong Kong compatriots. I followed them and shot a documentary for that entire week."
Zhang Xinyan had an open, spirited personality and spoke with effortless enthusiasm. "Back then, he was only eleven years old, but his fist forms were exceptionally good. He must be around sixteen or seventeen this year. I'm going over to see how he's doing."
"If he was chosen to tour the States, it means the state thinks very highly of him. Is he a national champion?"
"Yes!"
"Then it might be tricky. The martial arts team won't easily let him go unless you speak to the National Sports Commission."
"I'll go talk to them first and see..."
Having touched on that, Zhang Xinyan turned to look at Chen Qi with a smile. "I read your *The Cotton Kasaya*. It's brilliantly written, and adapting its ideas for *The Shaolin Temple* fits like a glove. I'll be troubling you during my stay here to work through the script together, so please don't find me a nuisance!"
"Please don't say that, Director Zhang—I should be learning from you!"
***
Early winter brought an ever-sharper chill to the capital.
The area around Shichahai and Houhai had always been a favorite excursion spot for the public. When the weather grew colder and the lakes froze over, vast crowds would flock there to ice skate.
On the western edge of this area stood the renowned Shichahai Sports School. The Beijing Wushu Team had originated as one of the school's martial arts training classes.
Zhang Xinyan settled into his quarters at the Beijing Film Studio. A man of tremendous drive, he headed over after only a few days, with Chen Qi tagging eagerly along—after all, Chen Qi needed to scout actors for his foreign exchange film as well.
"Director Zhang!"
"Coach Wu!"
The wushu team's star coach, Wu Bin, came out to receive them. Though outwardly welcoming, Wu Bin was privately skeptical. Crossing into other professions was rare these days; if you trained in martial arts, you stuck to martial arts—why go shooting movies? Still, the man had come all the way from Hong Kong, so Wu Bin had to grant him a visit.
"This way, please. Our team members are currently training."
"Our team did quite well at the National Games a short while back, so these kids have gotten a bit ahead of themselves and slackened off in their practice," Wu Bin remarked. "How can that be allowed? In the martial arts path, if you do not advance, you fall behind; you have to train hard every single day."
Chen Qi chimed in with flattering praise at just the right moment. "Indeed! I heard all about it—you won several gold medals, ranking first in the entire country!"
"You flatter us too much, not even ten yet. There is still much room for improvement!" Wu Bin's eyebrows virtually danced with pride. He led them into the training hall, where a group of teenage boys and girls—some barehanded, others wielding twin broadswords or straight swords—were drilling with sharp, crackling vigor, their movements swift and fierce as tigers.
"Take a look at that female athlete over there—her name is Li Xia. Champion in traditional weaponry and compulsory fist forms at the National Games!"
"That one is Ge Chunyan, captain of the women's team. That girl is something else: fifth-generation disciple of Baguazhang, nineteenth-generation lineage successor of Chen-style Taijiquan, and second-generation successor of Hunyuan Taijiquan. That Baguazhang routine of hers in particular is extraordinary!"
"That's Wang Qun, captain of the men's team. Exceptional spear technique—national runner-up!"
Wu Bin pointed out several of his outstanding disciples before finally gesturing toward one last athlete, his pride overflowing: "That lad is Li Lianjie. He's only sixteen this year, and he brought home five gold medals all by himself at the National Games! Five!"
With that, he called Li Lianjie over.
Li Lianjie's official height was 169 centimeters, though he looked somewhat shorter in person. Dressed in a blue training uniform, his hair was cropped short, and his eyes radiated boundless energy. Spotting Zhang Xinyan, he exclaimed in delight, "Director Zhang! What brings you here?"
"I came specifically to see you! How have you been?"
"Doing great! I just won five golds, and my salary even went—"
"Hey, hey!" Wu Bin hastily cut him off. This boy was a martial arts prodigy, but he was a bit rash and had a habit of saying whatever popped into his head. Could salary just be blurted out like that?
Zhang Xinyan's eyes fairly sparkled. Li Lianjie had good looks, superb martial skills, and was without a doubt the ideal candidate for the lead role in *The Shaolin Temple*. Most precious of all, he possessed the aura of a star.
Star quality was an elusive thing, the final puzzle piece that determined whether someone could truly rise to immense fame. Wu Yue, for instance, had striking thick brows and large eyes, phenomenal skills, and fine acting chops, yet he never quite broke into superstardom.
While Zhang Xinyan chatted with Li Lianjie, Chen Qi glanced around, mentally cataloging Wang Qun, Ge Chunyan, and the others.
Then he spotted another young woman. Not entirely sure, he asked, "Coach Wu, who is that?"
"Huang Qiuyan. Her snake fist and double swords are outstanding!"
*It really is Huang Qiuyan,*
Chen Qi nodded to himself. *Li Lianjie's future ex-wife.*
As for the myriad controversies surrounding Li Lianjie—abandoning his wife and daughters, changing his nationality, the One Foundation—the internet had argued about them countless times, so there was no need to dwell on them... Still, Nina Li Chi really had been stunning!
In any case, Chen Qi had his own plans. As long as such people were useful, that was enough. After all, he had plenty of ways to keep people in line.
Chapter 63