Chapter 18: Making Friends for the Future

To be honest, Xiao Ran really hated such deliberately provocative questions, but he had no choice but to ask them. Liu Qingyun let out a sigh of relief but still said doubtfully, “My name is Liu Qingyun. Am I not good-looking? When I applied to the TV training class, I almost got rejected just because of my appearance!”
Obviously, Liu Qingyun still misunderstood Xiao Ran’s intention, thinking he was mocking him. Xiao Ran didn’t want to leave a bad impression on Liu Qingyun, so he quickly defended himself, “What I mean is that acting certainly values appearance. But if everyone were handsome prince chasers, what’s the point? Why can’t there be underdog princes too? Do you understand what I mean?”
Dressed in his costume, Liu Qingyun stood quietly, thinking about these words. He had indeed had such thoughts before, but not expressed them as clearly as Xiao Ran had. The more he thought about it, the brighter his eyes became. Xiao Ran smiled secretly—he thought Liu Qingyun surely wouldn’t be discouraged, because hope was ahead.
Xiao Ran gave his phone number to Liu Qingyun and said with a smile, “If you need anything, come to see me. I’ll definitely help you!”
Under Liu Qingyun’s confused gaze, Xiao Ran and the other two left the filming location. For Xiao Ran, since he had found Liu Qingyun, this place no longer held any significance. As they walked away, You Zhi couldn’t help but ask, “A Ran, why are you so… so enthusiastic about an ordinary actor?”
Xiao Ran turned to look at You Zhi and Wei Jiahui and stunned them with a simple yet profound statement: “Everyone has a chance. As long as you seize it, you’re not ordinary. Besides, I firmly believe Liu Qingyun won’t be an ordinary actor, just as I firmly believe you two won’t be ordinary either.”
They then visited a few more filming locations and met a few familiar actors, whom Xiao Ran got to know one by one. It wasn’t until they arrived at a location for a historical drama that Xiao Ran saw the person he wanted to see the most—Zhou Xingchi!
The future king of comedy, Zhou Xingchi. While Cheng Long and Zhou Runfa went to Hollywood and left Hong Kong cinema struggling alone, “Shaolin Soccer” and “Kung Fu” became massive hits in Hong Kong during its lowest times, earning over 60 million in box office receipts and breaking box office records. Especially “Kung Fu”—its box office earnings in Asia alone far exceeded the total box office revenue of Hong Kong films in 2005.
This was a true box office miracle, a legend that had broken Hong Kong film box office records time and again, and the founder of the absurdist comedy genre. Not only that, but he was also a highly talented director. He represented the grassroots class in Hong Kong and was also a grassroots legend.
When Xiao Ran saw Zhou Xingchi, he was arguing with a man. Instead of disturbing Zhou Xingchi, Xiao Ran told Wei Jiahui and You Zhi to wait quietly while he sneaked up to listen to what they were saying!
“Brother Xiong, please help me. Give me a role. This time I’ll definitely perform well. Trust me!” Zhou Xingchi pleaded desperately for just one role.
“Go to hell! Are you annoying me? If you don’t leave now, I’ll call someone!” The man cursed loudly, but Zhou Xingchi stubbornly continued to ask for just one role, even if it had no lines or scenes.

Seeing this, Xiao Ran felt endless sorrow. Wasn’t all of this exactly like the scenes in A King of Comedy? It was the future King of Comedy, begging for a minor role just to act.

Long ago, Xiao Ran had known that A King of Comedy was a semi-autobiographical film by Zhou Xingchi. He just hadn’t expected that Zhou Xingchi, now a program host, would be in such a pitiful situation. Moreover, so many of the plot points in the film turned out to be real. In fact, upon reflection, Xiao Ran realized it made sense, as many people knew that most of Zhou Xingchi’s filming material came from everyday life around him.

The year before last, Zhou Xingchi signed up at New Art City for a role, only to be secretly insulted by a blindfolded woman who said, “This guy looks like a dog!” That line later became part of The Legend of the Condor Heroes, used either as self-mockery or as motivation.

Xiao Ran couldn’t stand it—no one should watch their favorite actor suffer such humiliation. He stepped forward, pulled Zhou Xingchi, who had been kicked away by that man, and before Zhou Xingchi could ask anything, Xiao Ran caught his attention with one sentence: “Come with me; I have a role for you!”

After saying that, Xiao Ran suddenly realized his words were eerily similar to a line spoken by Wu Mengda in A King of Comedy, which filled him with sadness. Zhou Xingchi stumbled along with Xiao Ran toward Wei Jiahui and You Zhi, who grew increasingly puzzled. Only then did Xiao Ran take a closer look at the still-young Star Lord!

Zhou Xingchi was indeed very young, and worse, he looked extremely immature at the time, which might have limited his acting opportunities. Xiao Ran also knew that it was precisely this childlike appearance that made him suitable only as a children’s program host and unattractive to directors.

Xiao Ran had watched a video from the 1982 TVB anniversary, featuring Liu Qingyun, Zhou Runfa, and Zhou Xingchi. In the video, he could faintly see that Zhou Xingchi was thin and still somewhat childlike. It was surprising that three years later, Zhou Xingchi hadn’t changed much—still thin, still somewhat immature—suggesting he must have had a very difficult time over the years.

Later, after becoming closer to Zhou Xingchi, Xiao Ran met Du Qifeng, who mentioned something to him. Back then, when Zhou Xingchi played Song Bingyi in The Legend of the Condor Heroes, he had made a request similar to the one in A King of Comedy regarding acting, though less extreme. Of course, the director—Du Qifeng—ignored him completely.

As Xiao Ran observed Zhou Xingchi, Zhou Xingchi also watched him and Wei Jiahui. Wei Jiahui and You Zhi really didn’t understand Xiao Ran—such things happened every day; why pay so much attention to a boyish guy?

“Who are you?” Zhou Xingchi’s voice was indeed strange—unround, which explained why he wasn’t highly regarded. His eyes showed both confusion and, more so, joy: “Do you really have a role for me?”

“There must be one!” Xiao Ran didn’t care much about this promise. With Wei Jiahui around, it would be easy to give him a role to act in. After thinking for a moment, he still shook his head and pointed at Wei Jiahui, asking, “You know him, right? He can help you!”
Hearing Xiao Ran say that, Wei Jiahui quickly pulled him aside and glanced at Zhou Xingchi, who still hadn’t shown any signs of being a superstar, saying, “A Ran, are you kidding me? I’m just a script reviewer, not some big producer! How can I assign him a role?”
Xiao Ran made a clicking sound, waved his index finger in front of his eyes a few times, and said with a mischievous smile, “Xiao Bao, come on! It’s not hard to find a role for him. If you keep dodging, that’s kind of unfair!”
Wei Jiahui shook his head and said seriously, “If it were you, it wouldn’t be a problem to find a leading role for you to act in. But he? You have no connection with him. Why go to the trouble for him…”
“Xiao Bao, trust me!” Xiao Ran interrupted Wei Jiahui, speaking earnestly and seriously. “I think he’ll definitely make it in the future. Help him, and it’s like helping me. But there’s no need to give him a very important role. Some background roles or unimportant supporting roles will do. I want to toughen him up so he can be useful in the future! And it’s not just him—those I saw earlier also need some training!”
Wei Jiahui felt stunned. Xiao Ran was only twenty years old, yet he spoke so confidently about training others—it was utterly absurd. With a pained expression, he said half-jokingly and half-seriously, “A Ran, are you kidding me? There are so many people—how can I take care of them all?”
“That’s right, you’re right!” Xiao Ran laughed heartily. Wei Jiahui immediately realized he had fallen for the trick. Sure enough, Xiao Ran said with a smile, “Then just help me take care of two people—him and Liu Qingyun! Don’t worry, this is only temporary! Once I become a director, I’ll take them under my wing!”
“You kid, you always try to trick me!” Wei Jiahui helplessly poked Xiao Ran, knowing full well that he was bargaining with him. “You want to be a director? Isn’t that very difficult?”
Xiao Ran shrugged but said nothing. He turned to Zhou Xingchi, smiled, and patted his shoulder, saying, “I’ve told him to do his best. Since your looks aren’t as good as others’, you can only rely on your acting skills and unique qualities!”
As usual, he exchanged phone numbers and addresses with Zhou Xingchi before finally leaving the set satisfied. He had gained a lot from this trip. The only regret was not meeting Wu Zhenyu—probably because he didn’t have any work scheduled for the day. Xiao Ran wasn’t in a hurry; after all, Wu Zhenyu wouldn’t become somewhat famous in the film industry until the 1990s.
As he walked away from the set, Xiao Ran suddenly remembered something and quickly asked Wei Jiahui, “Xiao Bao, you just said it’s not very difficult to be a director, right? Tell me how I can get investment to become a director.”
As soon as he said those words, he realized he’d made a mistake. He immediately saw Wei Jiahui and You Zhi staring at him with wide eyes. Wei Jiahui burst into laughter, saying, “You don’t even know this? You’re really a newcomer who’s so new there’s nothing to say! You, Yu, explain it to A Ran!”

You Zhi certainly wasn’t as arrogant as his master, but he still had a look of wanting to laugh yet being too embarrassed to do so. Xiao Ran sighed repeatedly and complained deliberately, “You all know I’m a newcomer, yet you still play tricks on me like this. That’s really unfair!”
“No, no!” You Zhi quickly clarified, holding back his laughter as he looked at Xiao Ran, who seemed so talented—as if he understood everything yet also seemed to understand nothing. He explained, “Actually, being a director isn’t that difficult. Take you for example. You’re a screenwriter, so you can write a good script and approach big bosses for investment. If they like it, they might be willing to fund it, and then you’ll naturally become the director!”
“Is there any other way?” Xiao Ran really disliked this approach—it seemed too stupid, and it wouldn’t allow him to secure enough benefits for himself.
“Yes, of course,” Wei Jiahui interjected. “You can write a script that wins an award. By then, you won’t need to seek them out; people will come to you asking to have their scripts written. At that point, you can rightfully ask to be the director, and generally, you won’t be refused.”
“It’s easy to make money in film-making these days, but being a director isn’t necessarily as profitable as one might think. You see, as an actor, cameraman, or screenwriter, you can shoot several scenes a day, but a director can’t.” You Zhi continued, “Moreover, those who want to be directors are very cautious. Their debut film can affect their entire career, so they need to think very carefully before taking the step.”