Chapter 14: The First Test

“Sorry!” Xiao Ran quickly realized his mistake and apologized to the girl right away. He didn’t have many strengths, but admitting his fault was one of them. He glanced up at the girl who had forgotten to put on her clothes and couldn’t help but point at her a few times. “You’d better put on your clothes first! I’ll go out now.”
It seemed the girl only then realized she hadn’t dressed properly. She screamed reflexively, but fortunately, Xiao Ran was prepared and wasn’t disturbed by her scream. It wasn’t that he disliked women, nor was the girl unattractive—just that he wasn’t as shameless as one might think, staying in the room to keep staring at others’ bodies.
Before long, the girl came out. Only then did Xiao Ran take a closer look at her flushed face. In his opinion, beauty alone was clearly not enough to impress people. What really mattered was a certain grace, or rather, an aura—a subtle quality displayed in every gesture—that could captivate him.
The girl before him clearly wasn’t the type who needed makeup; she was fresh and lovely, with a delicate demeanor. She also had a unique gentleness, like a gentle trap.
Soon, Xiao Ran learned that the girl was Yang Wei, Yang Qi’s sister, who was studying at the University of Hong Kong. He had initially thought she was Yang Wei, but Yang Wei quickly corrected him. After being stunned for a moment, Xiao Ran realized it wouldn’t be as easy as he thought to spend time with such a girl, so he decided to go home.
Yang Wei seemed very hospitable. She smiled shyly and said to Xiao Ran, “Mr. Xiao, why not stay for dinner? My brother will surely be happy to see you here.”
That was good—at least he could meet a few more people! Xiao Ran thought. He had no relatives or friends in Hong Kong, so making a few friends would be nice. With that in mind, he nodded and said, “Call me Aran. It would be great to meet your brother too.”
“If I call you Aran, then you have to call me Xiao Wei!” Yang Wei smiled mischievously, showing her playful side beneath her delicate features.
During the rest of the time, Xiao Ran asked about Yang Qi and learned that their parents had immigrated to the United States. Neither Yang Qi nor Yang Wei wanted to leave Hong Kong, their hometown, so they stayed. Yang Qi was currently running a small company, and perhaps the person who attacked him last night was sent by a business rival.
“Aran, what do you do?” Yang Wei had managed to hide her curiosity until now, showing great patience. “I really want to know. I guess someone as outstanding as you must be special!”
Outstanding in appearance? Xiao Ran self-mockered. He was convinced that with his looks, acting wouldn’t be a problem. But clearly, he couldn’t rely on that anymore, could he? Besides, he didn’t even have the chance to be the lead actor.
“Well, I write scripts and stuff!” Xiao Ran wanted to boast a bit, but then he thought that scripts were all stolen from the future, and he lost his enthusiasm. Seeing Yang Wei’s expression, he knew what she wanted to say and quickly added, “I started in this field just a few months ago. My scripts haven’t even been turned into movies yet!”

“But I think you look more like an actor than a screenwriter!” Yang Wei’s expression was strange, as if she were secretly smiling. “I guess there aren’t any screenwriters in Hong Kong as handsome as you!”
“Am I that handsome?” Xiao Ran glanced at the lively girl sitting not far from him. His heart skipped a few beats, and he teased her, “There are many screenwriters who are more handsome than me. For example, Wei Jiahui is quite handsome!”
What else could Xiao Ran do but smile bitterly? He had always thought his looks were more than enough for acting, but he never had the chance. After all, Xiao Ran was from the 21st century. Besides loving Hong Kong movies, he also adored those actors.
Having come to this era and being able to work in the film industry, he naturally had some small aspirations—like acting alongside his favorite actors. Of course, his current goal was the bigger picture, and the idea of acting just to satisfy his passion was merely a small wish.
Provoked by Xiao Ran, Yang Wei’s face turned slightly red, and she didn’t know where to put her hands or feet. Suddenly, Xiao Ran found himself liking the girl in front of him. Girls these days weren’t as complicated as those in the future; they were much simpler, and he liked that simplicity.
Fortunately, the awkward situation didn’t last long. Soon, Yang Qi returned. Yang Wei went up to greet her brother, glanced at Xiao Ran, and then entered the kitchen with a red face. When Yang Qi saw Xiao Ran, he warmly approached and greeted him. After chatting for a while, they quickly became familiar with each other.
When it was time to eat, the three of them together brought the dishes out. Yang Qi said half-jokingly and half-seriously, “If it weren’t for my sister, I would probably be starving right now. But she’s really capable, that’s for sure!”
“Brother!” Yang Wei protested playfully, stamping her foot. “What are you talking about?”
The relationship between the brother and sister was quite good, Xiao Ran thought. But he couldn’t help but think of Xiao Han, imagining how nice it would be to have a sister like her.
Meeting Yang Qi and Yang Wei was purely by chance, and Xiao Ran didn’t take it to heart. After returning to his hideout, he started thinking again about how to make money. He even came up with a nice name for his future film company: “Mirage Films.”
But without money, there would be no company. Without a company, Xiao Ran wouldn’t be able to scale things up. Simply put, having a film company was the real starting point to look toward the future.
His plan was quite simple: first, raise a few million to establish a film production company. Once he had enough capital and reputation, he would set up production and distribution companies. If he couldn’t control the distribution and production companies, it would be difficult to shape the future of Hong Kong. And he had to accomplish all this before the 1990s arrived.
Money, money! That night, Xiao Ran had a dream in which he was grabbing yuan bills and gold bars in the air, acting like a world’s richest man. When he woke up the next day, he was naturally extremely disappointed. It showed that one should never dream of becoming rich, as the huge contrast could be harmful.

Since he didn’t need to be on set all the time, Xiao Ran felt much more relaxed—after all, many tasks could be handled by his assistants. He held the other screenwriter for “Police Story,” Deng Jingsheng, in high regard, knowing that the script in his dreams had been written by Deng. Even without considering other factors, the excellent detail in depicting Cheng Long’s unjust treatment in the film was enough to prove him an outstanding screenwriter.

With nothing to do, Xiao Ran wandered around the streets for a while but felt extremely bored and lost, not knowing where to go. In fact, he knew what his problem was—he had grand plans with a high success rate, but he lacked a starting point. He still had to work as a screenwriter, not run a film company.

This sense of aimlessness was quite similar to Wei Dongling’s frustration. He had also thought about writing a dozen or twenty scripts in a rush and selling them—this way, the money would be enough to finance a film. Making films was his chance!

1985 didn’t belong to him; it was a time of waiting and preparation. He had to endure until the second half of 1986 before he could get involved in the booming era of Hong Kong cinema.

On November 4, 1985, “Mr. Zombie” was finally set to be released, preceded by three days of midnight previews. In the 1980s and 1990s, there was an unwritten rule in Hong Kong’s film industry: generally, each film would undergo three days of midnight previews before its official release.

This was the rule that all film creators loved and feared the most. Why? At the midnight previews, the main crew members of each film had to be present to gauge public reaction—usually the director, lead actors, and producers. These previews had no formal rules—if the film was bad, audiences would berate it mercilessly. If it was good, it would receive applause and genuine admiration from the audience, helping to spread its reputation. So even dull art films could earn some box office success if they received positive reviews at these previews.

This was something future Hong Kong films would fall far short of—directors and actors feared this greatly. At the midnight previews, if audiences were dissatisfied, a few insults were minor; in worse cases, they might even get physically attacked without any consequences.

Thus, every director and actor did their best to deliver a great performance to please the audience and avoid the pitfalls of these previews. As everyone tried hard to please the audience, Hong Kong films gradually became simplistic and overly entertaining, even surpassing Hollywood films of that era.

In Xiao Ran’s view, this unwritten rule had both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage was that it motivated filmmakers to work harder, which was far better than actors and directors in the 21st century who focused only on their salaries and didn’t put in proper effort. The downside was that audiences often dictated the direction of the films—once a film became a success, others would copy it. Xiao Ran believed this was one of the reasons why imitation was rampant in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

As a screenwriter, Xiao Ran had to go through this trial no matter what. If he could walk out of the cinema unscathed and with applause, then he would have succeeded.
Faced with such a severe test, even though Xiao Ran knew that “Mr. Zombie” had earned 20 million at the box office and was unlikely to be criticized by the audience, he still couldn’t help but feel nervous. Of course, he was also anxious—the rules for midnight screenings had quietly disappeared since the late 1990s. It was a great honor for him to get to experience what many directors both feared and hated in their memories.
In the cinema were Xiao Ran, the lead actors Lin Zhengying and Xu Guanying, Stuart Cheok Han, director Liu Guanwei, and even Hong Jinbao. Everyone was nervous. Hong Jinbao had indeed made films with supernatural themes before, but this was his first time bringing a zombie theme to the big screen, and it was uncertain whether the audience would accept it!
Xiao Ran’s nervousness gradually subsided. Taking a deep breath, he smiled slightly. His first major experience had taken place at this Carrefour Cinema in Kowloon—his first attempt at a midnight screening, and the first time a film he wrote was shown.
But now he wasn’t worried anymore. It was precisely this “Mr. Zombie” that had earned 20 million and made it onto the top ten box office lists of the year. It even sparked a boom in zombie-themed films, prompting various movie companies to follow suit. Thinking of this, his heart grew even calmer.
The film began. When Uncle Jiu, played by Lin Zhengying, appeared on the big screen, Xiao Ran smiled slightly. Lin Zhengying was a very good actor, it was a shame he passed away so early. It had been a long time since Xiao Ran had watched this film, and he found himself enjoying it without realizing it…