Night, Room 302.
The weather was growing warmer by the day. Dressed in an oversized tank top and a thin pair of shorts, Chen Qi sat at the desk, head down, immersed in writing.
Great Wall had done him an enormous favor this time, even sending staff along to escort the Yuen brothers north and sparing him an ocean of trouble. Such goodwill could hardly be considered trivial. He had always been a man who kept a clear ledger of favors and grudges: give me a bowl of rice and I'll treat you to a banquet; glare at me and I'll wipe out your whole family.
He wanted to repay them in kind, and the only presentable thing he had to offer right now was a script.
Writing a film for the left-wing studios was an absolute headache. These days, the leftists were bound by a great many restrictions. For example, feudal superstition was strictly forbidden—barring *Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio*, since it was a literary classic, and the same applied to *Journey to the West*.
Second, he couldn't write a local Hong Kong story. Chen Qi had never even set foot in Hong Kong, so how could he possibly write one?
Major productions were also out of the question: high costs, long production cycles, and an extreme shortage of directors and actors the left-wing camp could actually use. Making a blockbuster without bankable stars to anchor it was simply suicide.
The target Chen Qi set was low budget and fast cash. It couldn't be too far ahead of its time, lest audiences fail to stomach it; what he needed was something simple, crude, and punchy. After mulling it over, he locked his sights onto horror.
No ghosts allowed? Monsters should be fair game, right? Special psychic powers were fine, right?
With the genre decided, he began listing candidates:
*Mysterious Island*? Trash. Unless he got Amy Yip, Veronica Yip, and Diana Pang to star in it, the three of them standing on the bow of a boat in bikinis, leaning forward to flash cleavage like Yang Mi.
*The Eye*? A great movie, and the premise was psychic sensitivity rather than superstition, but it wasn't raw and punchy enough. That was the kind of picture that scored a double victory in critical acclaim and box office revenue; trotting it out now would be something of a waste.
*A Wicked Ghost*? Forget it. That had actual ghosts, and Chu Renmei was already a frequent guest in webnovel multiverses anyway.
Pondering further, he turned his gaze toward Hollywood, intending to borrow a few concepts for an adaptation. Suddenly, material was as vast as the ocean. Inspiration struck like a bursting dam, thoughts flowing like a torrential spring. Picking up his pen, he quickly scratched out an outline:
A group of young people goes camping in the countryside. While driving, a tire suddenly blows out. In the remote wilderness, they have no way to call for help, but unexpectedly stumble upon a mountain cabin. Inside hang spine-chilling weapons, jars preserving dozens of human jawbones, bloody severed limbs, and deformed mutant cannibals!
The young people are completely wiped out, save for one girl who evades capture. She crosses paths with a reporter who has come out to the countryside for an interview, and the two wage an all-out battle against the cannibals. In the end, they uncover the secret: those cannibals are actually the descendants of Japanese troops!
Back when the Japanese military occupied Hong Kong, they conducted biological experiments here. After Japan was defeated and retreated, they abandoned the research personnel on site.
Because the researchers had already been infected by the virus and mutated, they lived in seclusion deep in the mountains, bearing children who also mutated—blessed with superhuman strength, cursed with low intelligence, and driven by bloodthirsty savagery...
Chen Qi dashed it off in one go, nodding with satisfaction. Not bad, not bad at all!
Feeling he still had plenty of steam left, he went ahead and sketched out a second outline:
A group goes camping. That's right—young campers are the premier cannon-fodder division in horror cinema. They are all young women who inadvertently discover a mysterious cave and insist on heading down to explore.
As it turns out, there are monsters inside!
These monsters closely resemble humans, completely blind and hunting entirely by sound, moving with terrifying agility. Snap, crunch—they slaughter the cannon-fodder crew down to the last woman. The female lead struggles desperately against all odds, but in the end, never makes it out alive.
And what are the monsters?
Well, back when the Japanese occupied Hong Kong, some ordinary civilians fled into the mountains for refuge. A handful hid inside this cave and never dared to venture out. Over time, they mutated into monsters—pitiful souls in their own right!
These two stories drew inspiration from *Wrong Turn* and *The Descent* respectively.
Both were classics of low-budget horror. Chen Qi's adaptations didn't involve much localization; the single largest localizing element was the Japanese invasion of China. The Japanese had occupied Hong Kong from December 25, 1941, to August 15, 1945, a period commonly referred to as "three years and eight months."
While Hong Kongers fawned over Britain and America, they harbored no love for Japan and frequently battered Japanese devils on the silver screen. Taiwan, on the other hand, had been occupied by Japan for fifty years and had practically fallen in love through colonization, doting on them endlessly.
As long as the left-wing faction didn't lose its mind, these two films were guaranteed money-makers—it was merely a question of how much. Handled well, they could even be sold overseas, where audiences loved this style even more.
He had even picked out the ideal director: Mou Dunfei, famous for works like *Men Behind the Sun* and *Young Heroes*!
Chen Qi genuinely wanted to give the leftists a push and wasn't stingy with the ideas stored in his head. If the left-wing camp flourished, his own future would be that much easier.
...
In the soundstage, sets were already being built for *Tai Chi*.
The exterior of the Tower of Seven Heroes would be shot on location, while the interior naturally called for constructed sets.
The seven great masters each had their own distinct style. The first to be filmed was the Korean ronin Jin Fengjin, an expert in kicking techniques who had supposedly kicked a Siberian tiger and an Asiatic black bear to death. His set was decorated with a distinctly Korean flair: traditional folding screens, a long wooden table, and tea sets.
Li Wenhua inspected the surroundings and said, "Qingli, how about hanging a few shamanic masks on the wall?"
"You name what you want, and we make it," a man in his forties replied casually with a slight slouch. His name was Zhao Qingli, the prop master.
"Then go ahead and make them. Put up a few more masks!" Li Wenhua frowned slightly. He disliked the fellow, but had no choice but to work with him.
As mentioned before, Beijing Film Studio had four creative collectives, each with its own directors, assistant directors, cinematographers, art directors, and so on, each launching their own productions without interfering with one another.
Since Li Wenhua belonged to this collective, he had to use the personnel from it. Starting production meant subsidies and benefits; if he bypassed these people to hire outsiders, they would kick up a fuss in a heartbeat.
Zhao Qingli had been a prop master at the studio for years, mentoring his own apprentices, and had a few young men under his wing. He yelled, "Director Li has spoken! What are you standing around for? Go find some masks!"
Once his apprentices had scurried off, he grinned slyly. "Director Li, we've worked together for years, so let me speak from the heart. You're an experienced veteran with real talent—why are you treating an outsider with kid gloves? How old is that kid anyway? Twenty! What does a twenty-year-old amount to in our studio? Just because the studio director is backing him?"
"Don't talk nonsense. We collaborate very well together. Just hurry up and finish dressing the set."
Li Wenhua had no desire to debate the matter and turned to leave. Zhao Qingli curled his lip. Nowadays, plenty of people in the studio couldn't stand the kid, and like Huang Jianzhong and his clique, he was one of them.
...
"Second Brother, is this really going to work? I still feel we were a bit reckless!"
"We're already here; can we really turn back? Just treat it as taking a job. And be careful—we're using fake names publicly, so don't blow our cover."
"I know!"
"Sigh, we've never worked with the mainland before. We don't even know what the actors are like. If they can't meet our standards, it's going to be a huge headache!"
Meanwhile, on the way to Beijing Film Studio, the Yuen brothers were whispering to each other.
There were seven children in the Yuen family, with Yuen Woo-ping being the second. He had also entered into a sworn brotherhood where he ranked eighth, which was why he was later respectfully dubbed Eighth Master in the film world.
This time, they had traveled north under the guise of technical workers from Great Wall, using aliases for all public purposes. Early in the morning, they arrived at Beijing Film Studio. In that same soundstage, the entire crew was already assembled.
"Greetings, sir!"
"Greetings, Teacher!"
"Greetings, Master!"
Li Lianjie, Yu Chenghui, and the others walked over one by one to shake hands, offering a motley assortment of greetings. Yuen Woo-ping smiled warmly as he greeted them while quietly sizing them up, suddenly feeling a sense of cosmic balance: *Who said our Yuen Clan Stunt Team is the ugliest bunch around? Our mainland compatriots look pretty eccentric too!*
"My brother and I are newcomers here, collaborating with everyone for the first time," Yuen Woo-ping said, standing before them. "We hope communication comes first; if anything comes up, we can talk it through. I'm not familiar with you all yet, but I hear you are all wushu champions. Could you give us a demonstration first? That way, I can tailor the choreography to your individual strengths."
"No problem!"
"Let's see who goes first..."
Chen Qi hopped forward, dropping his trump card right at the start. He pointed at Li Lianjie. "Little Li, you go!"
"All right!"
Whatever else he might be, when it came to martial arts demonstrations, Li Lianjie feared no one. Stripping off his jacket, he stepped forward, struck a pose, and launched into a set of Fanziquan.
Fanziquan boasted a long history, emphasizing the 'eight dodges and twelve flips.' It was compact and crisp, explosive in its power delivery, fists raining down in a dense barrage while the stance darted, dipped, and weaved—a staple routine in competitive wushu.
Fanziquan was his specialty.
The routine unfolded like flowing clouds and running water, every movement executed in one seamless, breathtaking sweep. It sounded like a damn string of firecrackers—*pa-pa-pa*, crisp and lightning-fast, dazzling the eye. In the martial arts world, it was known as the 'string of firecrackers' routine of Fanziquan!
"..."
The Yuen brothers' eyes went wide!
In competitive wushu routines, the paramount requirements were fluid precision and effortless power. Li Lianjie was a dedicated specialist; where in Hong Kong could one find talent like this?
That was precisely why, when he went to Hong Kong years later, the local film industry treated him like a national treasure. Moreover, he possessed immense overseas appeal. While his films never topped Hong Kong's annual domestic box office, his remuneration at his peak was second only to Jackie Chan's—higher than Chow Yun-fat's and Stephen Chow's—solely because his movies minted money abroad.
Stephen Chow was a powerhouse across the Chinese-speaking world, but mo lei tau comedy had little traction overseas; his real global breakthrough only arrived with *Shaolin Soccer* and *Kung Fu Hustle*. In the end, it always came down to kung fu.
"Good, good... you, your..."
Yuen Woo-ping was stumbling over his words.
Chen Qi helped him along: "Show them that other move you're best at!"
"No problem!"
Without another word, Li Lianjie backed up a few paces, took a short sprint, and sprang into the air, spinning 360 degrees midair before immediately following through with a whirlwind kick, sticking the landing rock-steady! It was a classic combination move from competitive optional changquan.
"He can also do a midair single-handed spear thrust, and a whirlwind kick spin into a split with a bayonet strike—"
"All right, all right! We know what he's capable of now—absolute top notch! Let's see the next one!" Yuen Woo-ping blurted out.
"..."
Li Lianjie cupped his fists, turned around, and winked and grinned at his peers, as if to say: *Hong Kongers haven't seen anything either—total country bumpkins!*
Chapter 98