Chapter 93: Twin Flowers, Sister and Sister

The opening-day box office for *Prison Storm* was quite good—though not as high as that of *The God of Gamblers*, it still reached over one million. As the screenwriter and producer of the film, Xiao Ran had been busy handling interviews with reporters and other promotional tasks these past few days, though these duties usually didn’t fall on him. Since Wei Dongling was in charge of management, Xiao Ran was only left to handle minor tasks.

Liu Zhenwei completed the script for *The God of Gamblers* quite quickly. Xiao Ran was surprised and greatly impressed by how Hong Kong’s screenwriters could produce such hilarious scripts under such rushed conditions—a skill far beyond his own, which he admired deeply.

Still, Xiao Ran gave Liu Zhenwei a few instructions: “Everything else can be rough, but the movie cannot. Have the writing team revise it to make it more polished. During filming, I demand that even if other aspects aren’t perfect, the technical quality must be absolutely outstanding.”

Hong Kong filmmakers’ directing skills are admired worldwide. No one else, like Hong Kong directors and screenwriters, can infuse a story with such intense entertainment value. This certainly proves the excellence of Hong Kong filmmakers, but it’s also their fatal flaw.

For example, they often include a lot of comedy in unrelated plotlines. By standard criteria, structural errors are fatal flaws. Yet it’s precisely these unrelated comedic elements that become reasons why people enjoy their films.

Xiao Ran tried to influence audiences through *Shadow*, showing them that a film doesn’t necessarily need comedy to be worth watching. Seeing the box office for *Prison Storm* soar, he thought perhaps now was the right time.

Audiences today are more rational. Many artistic, dull films still achieve decent box office results, which proves this. It’s an era full of passion, and Xiao Ran wanted to add a touch of calm to it.

Should he create a new script entirely on his own, or continue using works from the future? Xiao Ran was undecided. He felt his screenwriting skills had reached a point where they were ready to burst forth. Whether it was Wei Jiahui’s skills as the “king of screenwriters” or those of other writers, Xiao Ran had learned most of them through direct guidance and secret study. To make further progress, he needed his own ideas.

Xiao Ran did have a few concepts, but none of them seemed suitable for the demands of calmness and rationality. If he really wanted a rational and calm work, the first thing that came to mind was a film from Future Galaxy Pictures.

In terms of intricate plots and ingenious ideas, Future Galaxy Pictures’ works were the best in Hong Kong. Their calm-themed films included *PTU* and *Gunfire*. He needed films that could make audiences think, rather than those that made them lose their ability to think through simple, straightforward stories.

*Gunfire* was definitely out of the question. Without going through the full development of gangster films, it would be hard to achieve box office success, and its reputation might not even meet expectations. *PTU* was a decent option, but the police’s reputation wasn’t as good back then, so it wasn’t feasible.

“Very Suddenly” is indeed a classic, but Xiao Ran didn’t intend to choose it; instead, he picked “Dark Flowers.” “Dark Flowers” is an almost perfect gangster film—a cat-and-mouse game where intellectual challenges and intricate plot twists are perfectly presented. Only this kind of film can make audiences think for themselves rather than relying on the director’s simplistic and quick tactics. However, after much internal struggle, Xiao Ran made a very difficult decision—to avoid copying Hong Kong movies as much as possible after “Dark Flowers.” At the very least, if he decided to copy, he wouldn’t do it himself but would assign someone else to do it.

Still, Xiao Ran didn’t plan to start shooting this film right away. There were too many great movies this year—“Prison Storm,” “Dragon and Tiger Storm,” “The God of Gambling,” and “A Fairy Tale in Autumn” were all classic works. These were definitely strong contenders for the Golden Horse Awards, with “Shadow” accounting for three of them. Xiao Ran didn’t need to create another film just to compete against itself.

1988, however, was quite challenging, as films like “Red Lipstick” and “Carmen in Mong Kok” were about to be released. Xiao Ran had to prepare for next year’s Golden Horse Awards. For “Shadow” to gain significant influence, both awards and box office success were essential. Moreover, Xiao Ran planned to promote Zhou Runfa to win the Best Actor award for three consecutive years.

Not only did he think it was possible, but he believed that with three films this year, Runfa would surely outperform others. Next year, Runfa would have “The Story of Ah Lang” and “Dark Flowers,” and Xiao Ran wasn’t convinced he couldn’t create a miracle.

As he was deep in thought, the phone rang—it was his mother. She told Xiao Ran that some hooligans waited outside the school every day to harass Xiao Han after class, so he needed to pick her up.

Xiao Ran frowned. He then remembered that Xiao Han had grown into a beautiful young girl. Checking the time, he gave Guan Xin a nod and they left together. As soon as they reached downstairs, they met Wei Jiahui. Wei Jiahui came to give Xiao Ran the script for “Ghost Police Station” for his review. But Xiao Ran didn’t have time to read it carefully now. When he heard that Xiao Han was in trouble, Wei Jiahui volunteered to go with them, of course, to supervise Xiao Ran while he read the script.

It had to be admitted that Xiao Ran was getting annoyed by this. The company was still too small, and with a shortage of staff, there was no need to hire someone independent. As a result, the final decision on the script fell on Xiao Ran. But this wasn’t his responsibility as the boss. If every script had to be shown to him, he wouldn’t have time for anything else when the company grew larger. Fortunately, the company was still small, so Xiao Ran didn’t have to worry too much.

They went to a tea restaurant outside the school. The three of them found a seat, with Wei Jiahui keeping an eye on Xiao Han. As for Xiao Ran, his only task was to review the script. “Ghost Police Station” had originally been Liu Zhenwei’s breakthrough, but now that there was “The God of Gambling,” it was no longer necessary.

The script was fine. Now that Xiao Ran understood the difficulty in balancing business and art, he quickly pointed out a few scenes that went overboard as well as several unrelated subplots. He then told Wei Jiahui, “Xiaobao, tell the writing team to make some adjustments. There’s no need to spend footage on irrelevant things, even in a comedy.”

As for the director of the film, Xiao Ran found it hard to decide. Among the directors signed by Shadow Company, only Liu Zhen could handle comedic themes; the others struggled to control such a chaotic style of comedy. Although Du Zifeng had experience with “Happy Ghost Meets Ghost,” Xiao Ran still believed his strength lay in gang and police-themed films rather than comedy.

“Xiaobao, who do you think should direct this?” Xiao Ran was troubled. Lao Jianhua might have been a candidate, but Xiao Ran always thought he lacked the ability to take charge on his own—otherwise, he wouldn’t have remained an assistant director for so many years without ever directing independently. Besides, he now planned to have the experienced and well-connected Lao Jianhua switch to producing.

“Hmm, let me think…” Wei Jiahui frowned deeply. This wasn’t an easy question to answer. He knew Xiao Ran preferred company directors and tried to avoid hiring outsiders whenever possible. “How about Luo Wenqiang? He’s the assistant director you personally brought in. I think he should be fine.”

Xiao Ran nodded. Luo Wenqiang’s skills were indeed good, but he still lacked the potential to become a true master. As a versatile director, he would work fine.

As they were discussing, Xiao Han came out of school with a group of students. A few oddly dressed hooligans immediately approached and surrounded her and her friends. “Little sister, come drink with us! Don’t run away!”

Xiao Han hated those hooligans. They had been pestering her every day these past few days. Though they hadn’t dared do anything serious, it was still extremely annoying. At that moment, she thought of Xiao Ran, wishing that if her brother were here, he could protect her just like before.

As soon as she thought this, she heard a familiar voice: “What are you doing? Get lost!”

It was Xiao Ran and two others who had arrived. Xiao Ran’s pace was steady, yet he exuded an indescribable charm. When he reached Xiao Han’s side, he glanced at her two friends and was slightly surprised—they were a pair of beautiful twins.

Of course, now that Lin Qingxia filled his eyes, he couldn’t appreciate the beauty of any other woman. So he merely nodded slightly at the twins before turning to glare at the three hooligans. His expression darkened as he growled, “Don’t bother my sister again. Leave now!”

Seeing that three people had arrived, the hooligans grew fearful. Combined with Xiao Ran’s imposing tone, they became quite discouraged. But being hooligans, they lacked judgment and quickly, in a mix of anger and shame, said, “Who the hell are you to interfere in our business?”

Xiao Ran’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes blazing with anger. He stepped forward and growled like a lion, “Get out!”

Seeing Xiao Ran’s formidable demeanor, the three hooligans finally realized he might not be as worthless as they had thought. They were just petty scoundrels, even inferior to the old Xiao Ran, so naturally they lacked any courage. After being snapped at by Xiao Ran, they immediately grew fearful, forcing themselves to say a few polite words before leaving.

Xiao Ran didn’t even glance at them. He simply stroked his sister’s head and smiled, saying, “Xiao Han has grown up—some hooligans are already interested in you!”

“I’m of course an adult now. You haven’t been back for so long, so of course you don’t know!” Xiao Han was upset at the thought, but she still admired her brother for scaring away those hooligans with just a few words.

The two girls nearby also showed expressions of admiration for a hero. Those hooligans often harassed students at school, but few dared to confront them. Now, with just a few words from Xiao Ran, they were driven away—how could these young girls not admire him? Moreover, they recognized Xiao Ran as the top screenwriter featured in newspapers and magazines.

“My brother is amazing, right? I told you before he was Xiao Ran, but you just wouldn’t believe me!” Only then did Xiao Han, who had been bragging to her friends, show a hint of immaturity: “Now you must believe it—my brother is really great!”

Xiao Ran ignored the girl’s words. After thinking for a moment, he remembered that this was 13K’s territory. Frowning slightly, he knew the three hooligans must be resentful, so he instructed Guan Xin, “Guan Xin, call Liang Jiahuan and have him send someone to teach those hooligans a lesson so they don’t bother Xiao Han anymore!”

Guan Xin now looked exactly like a standard bodyguard. He nodded in agreement and left. Wei Jiahui, on the other hand, kept staring at the twins and finally couldn’t help but ask Xiao Ran, “A Ran, what do you think of these twins?”

Xiao Ran was surprised. Turning to look at the three girls chatting and laughing, he saw that the twins were quite attractive. What was more remarkable was that their beauty wasn’t just superficial—it was the kind that left a deep impression at first glance.

Suddenly, he realized what Wei Jiahui was aiming for and smiled. He had forgotten about it. If he could sign these twins, they might become famous. The twins didn’t look exactly alike—one was gentler, while the other seemed more lively. Xiao Ran thought they were like the TWINS of the 1980s.

He grinned at Wei Jiahui, looking exactly like a human trafficker, making Wei Jiahui want to laugh but not dare. Without hesitation, Xiao Ran invited everyone to sit down at an ice cream shop. Before speaking, he felt like he was some kind of conman who targeted little girls.

After hesitating for a moment and gathering his words, Xiao Ran smiled at the twins eating ice cream and asked, “What are your names? Who is the older sister and who is the younger sister?”

“I’m the older sister. My name is Fan Xiaoya!” It was the lively girl, whom Xiao Ran had thought was the younger sister, who spoke first. Then the gentler-looking sister spoke up, “I’m the younger sister. My name is Fan Xiaoying!”

Xiao Ran was stunned—how could everything be reversed? He couldn’t help but exchange a glance with Wei Jiahui, and they both started laughing softly: “It seems like your names have been reversed! Well, then, I have something to say to you guys. Let me ask you first—do you want to be stars?”
“Yes, of course!” was the sister’s reply, but her sister’s answer was completely different: “No, being a star isn’t good at all!”
It was difficult to proceed when there was no consensus. As Xiao Ran was thinking about this, Wei Jiahui put on an expression as if holding a lollipop to coax a child and said to the younger sister, “There’s nothing wrong with being a star. Don’t you have such a dream?”
“Brother, I already want to be a star!” Xiao Han’s eyes lit up immediately—she had long had this idea. If it weren’t for her parents forbidding it, she would have probably asked Xiao Ran about it long ago.
*****
Fictional name — Lao Jianhua
Real name — Lao Jianhua
He is a quite famous assistant director in Hong Kong’s industry, with good popularity and solid skills, but just lacks the luck to direct a film on his own. This assistant director is really talented—he has worked as an assistant director for many people and many films. If you observe carefully, you’ll notice this person often appearing in the credits.