Chapter 23: Witnessing the Golden Statue Awards

Xiao Ran was well aware of the history of the Hong Kong Film Awards, which were established in 1982 by Film Weekly. At the time of their creation, no one could have imagined that they would become the most important and authoritative film event in Hong Kong’s film industry. Not only did they become the “Oscars” in the eyes of Hong Kong filmmakers, but they were also the most highly anticipated event in the Chinese film world, supported and loved by countless people from the Chinese community.

Compared to many film awards in the mainland and Taiwan, the Hong Kong Film Awards had certain regional limitations. However, lacking certain ideological and structural constraints, they could focus more on balancing commerce and art in their evaluations. As a result, the awards usually recognized most of the outstanding works and individuals.

Yet Xiao Ran knew even better that Hong Kong cinema was declining steadily, having reached its lowest point in over a decade. The Hong Kong Film Awards, closely tied to Hong Kong cinema, were gradually losing their former prestige and being overlooked. He was also aware that in the next decade or so, competition at these awards would be extremely fierce. If films that were rejected now were to compete in twenty years, they would almost certainly win awards, highlighting how strong Hong Kong cinema was today and how weak it would be in twenty years.

After some thought, he shook his head in regret and found the seat labeled with his name in the venue. Next to him were Wei Jiahui and You Zhi. He had arrived early to witness this significant event of the era.

Gradually, the venue became noisy as many actors and singers showed up, triggering screams from fans of movies and music. Those who recognized Xiao Ran eagerly greeted him, leaving him puzzled. Just as he was looking up for Xiao Han, a figure blocked his view—it was Wei Jiahui, with You Zhi behind him.

“Who are you looking for? A 20-million-dollar screenwriter!” Wei Jiahui teased with a sneer. You Zhi, clearly understanding why Wei Jiahui was laughing, also started giggling.

“I’m looking for my sister. Wait…” Xiao Ran replied casually before realizing Wei Jiahui’s follow-up question. Confused, he asked, “What 20-million-dollar screenwriter?”

Wei Jiahui just chuckled without saying anything, while You Zhi kindly explained, “Don’t you know? The box offices of the three scripts you wrote all exceeded 20 million. And you’re still a newcomer—that’s really remarkable!”

Xiao Ran’s mouth dropped open, his astonishment evident. He was well aware of the box office figures for the three films he had written, but he never expected to be given such a nickname. Worse still, the nickname was extremely awkward to say!

In fact, there were very few screenwriters who could write several successful scripts right from the start, especially ones with box offices over 20 million each—this was even rarer. So it was practically a miracle, no wonder they gave him such an unpleasant nickname.

“In my opinion, none of them are the stars today; you should be the star!” Wei Jiahui said with a smile at Xiao Ran, who didn’t quite understand. “Don’t forget, the two films you wrote are the most nominated in this edition and have also made it to the Best Film category. It’s rare to see such a situation where someone competes against themselves, whether at the Golden Horse Awards or the Golden Statue Awards—your prominence is undeniable!”
Xiao Ran forced a bitter smile. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. But it didn’t seem to hurt him at all; maybe it could even bring him closer to his goal. Suddenly, he remembered that *Police Story* had indeed been nominated and even won Best Film. But only three of the scripts he wrote had been released—what film was the other one nominated for?
Thinking of this, he quickly picked up the printed materials distributed at the conference and took a look, immediately feeling dizzy. The other film nominated for Best Film was actually *Mr. Zombie*—he never expected it to be nominated either, as in his memory, it was just an entertainment film.
In fact, Xiao Ran had indeed overlooked it. Whether in his dreams or in this era, *Mr. Zombie* had been nominated. Simply put, although there were slight changes in history, nothing major had happened, and things continued as Xiao Ran knew them.
What shocked Xiao Ran even more was that *Mr. Zombie* received twelve nominations. It should be noted that the Golden Statue Awards in this era had far fewer categories than later ones—only fifteen, one of which was the Jury’s Special Award.
The earlier editions of the Golden Statue Awards weren’t as intense as later ones, but the sixth edition could be considered a turning point. The emergence of *True Men* not only held historical significance but also led Hong Kong cinema into a period of intense competition. If a single word had to describe the glory of the late 1980s and early 1990s, Xiao Ran thought after much consideration that “blossoming diversity” was the best fit.
From a future perspective, Hong Kong cinema before 1986 seemed rather dull, a dullness Xiao Ran attributed to a lack of themes. Things changed afterward, as directors like Hsu Ke and Hsu An-hua of the New Wave gradually became famous, gradually replacing the previous generation of filmmakers and quickly taking over in the following years.
It was also these new directors who brought endless vitality to Hong Kong cinema. Heroic films, prison films, gangster films, gambling films, action films, horror films, zombie films, and female-themed films—all these genres emerged in abundance, which was why Hong Kong cinema shone so brightly. It was also one of the reasons why Hong Kong cinema, which always favored comedy themes, declined in the future.
Of course, although all this would only become apparent after next year’s Golden Statue Awards, for Xiao Ran, being able to witness it in person was already exciting enough. Moreover, he was participating in this event as a nominee.

Twenty million screenwriters? Xiao Ran smiled slightly; he suddenly thought this nickname was quite nice. Unfortunately, it was quickly overshadowed by the movie “Happy Ghost Meets Ghost,” which only earned 15 million at the box office. But of course, he wouldn’t care about the nickname itself—what mattered was the meaning behind people using it.

As he was thinking, Wei Jiahui pushed him suddenly. He and You Zhi looked extremely strange. “Were you walking in your sleep just now? Why do you have such a weird expression?”

Xiao Ran was momentarily stunned before quickly putting on a composed smile beyond his years. At that moment, the people sitting in the front row arrived—it was Fat Wang, Wang Jing, Tan Yongling, Zhong Zhentao, and of course, his mischievous friend Leezai. Wang Jing was also taken aback when he saw Xiao Ran and the others from afar. Smiling, he greeted them, “So you’re here too! I searched everywhere!”

Wei Jiahui glanced at Xiao Ran sideways and said insinuatingly, “I’m afraid you weren’t looking for me and Ah You. Ah Ran is quite popular these days!”

Xiao Ran didn’t take it seriously. Whether he was looked for or not didn’t mean much, at least not to him. Wang Jing laughed heartily, his laughter echoing clearly in the noisy venue. Then he leaned over and said to Xiao Ran, “Ah Ran, write a script for me!”

“Shaw Brothers has basically stopped production. Do you mean…?” Xiao Ran immediately realized Wang Jing wanted to go independent, but he didn’t think it could happen in the short term. From what he remembered, Wang Jing hadn’t produced any works in 1986.

“You don’t need to worry about that. As long as you agree to write a script for me, it will be useful!” Wang Jing began to admire Xiao Ran a bit, as he guessed so quickly that Wang Jing wanted to go independent. Smiling, he added, “You’ll definitely get paid for the script!”

After several months of getting to know each other and spending time together, if Xiao Ran still didn’t understand Wang Jing, he would be an idiot. So he knew well that although Wang Jing was somewhat scheming, he still preferred to make friends with bold and generous people. Therefore, he didn’t put on a show of bravado but simply smiled faintly and shook his head. “Talking about money is boring!”

Seeing Xiao Ran’s expression and the sincerity in his eyes, Wang Jing nodded secretly. He really liked Xiao Ran. In his eyes, Xiao Ran was someone who could be trusted completely and was straightforward. His only flaws might be his poor tolerance for alcohol and his odd habits (like befriending unknown actors).

Before Wang Jing could think of what to do, Chen Baixiang and the others pushed him aside. “Go away! Don’t interfere with us talking seriously with Ah Ran!”

“Ah Ran, how did you know Tongde would win ten consecutive matches? It’s amazing!” Chen Baixiang and the others asked in unison, their expressions filled with utter disbelief. After realizing he couldn’t make money relying on Tongde, Xiao Ran told Wang Jing and his friends about it. Apparently, they also made a huge profit. “Don’t tell me you guessed it!”

“I know why!” You Zhi wasn’t accepted by these guys at first due to his background. But later, Xiao Ran always helped him, and gradually, Wang Jing and the others got to know him better.

Xiao Ran often warned You Zhi not to lose his ideals, not to engage in entertainment for its own sake, and to have his own ideas in film creation. He did this simply because he was afraid that this talented director might be ruined by spending too much time with Wang Jing. Fortunately, You Zhi clearly knew how to keep things in check.

Xiao Ran frowned and shook his head, about to stop him, but after some thought, he inexplicably held back. You Zhi’s expression was extremely mysterious, arousing the curiosity of the others.

“A Ran has a really sharp eye!” You Zhi said in a dramatic tone, appearing quite exaggerated. Yet Xiao Ran knew that You Zhi was an introverted person; if it weren’t for meeting Wang Jing and the others frequently, it would be hard for him to act like this.

“A sharp eye?” Tan Yongling glanced skeptically at Xiao Ran, who remained calm. If not for You Zhi’s strange expression, he wouldn’t have even been half convinced. “There are things that can’t be seen just by eye!”

Xiao Ran understood what Tan Yongling meant. Macau was famous for its casinos, and he was implying that if Xiao Ran really had such abilities, he would have already become wealthy and wouldn’t need to stay here. Xiao Ran simply smiled, appearing utterly mysterious to others. “Don’t listen to You’s nonsense. If I really were that good, I’d have made it by now.”

“I believe it!” Chen Baixiang suddenly blurted out, surprising everyone. “Otherwise, even if there were insider information, it’s impossible to know in advance that Tongde could win ten consecutive races!”

With Xiao Ran’s successful “prediction” of Tongde’s ten consecutive wins right before their eyes, they couldn’t help but believe it. Still, Tan Yongling and Ah B looked at Xiao Ran skeptically before sitting down.

Chen Baixiang took out a check and handed it to Xiao Ran, saying with a smile, “A Ran, we’ve all won quite a bit. This is what we’ve pooled together for you.”

“No need!” Xiao Ran frowned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the money; he knew that spending it to make friends with these people was absolutely worth it. “I only provided information that might not even be true. If you won because of it, that’s your luck. There’s no need to include me in that!”

As he spoke, Xiao Ran saw Zhou Runfa walking over with a beaming smile…