Chapter 20: Historical Differences

By the time they arrived at Du Laozhi Nightclub, Xiao Ran was already starving. Fortunately, they soon had something to eat, which barely satisfied his hunger, allowing him to watch the festivities from the sidelines. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join in—just that he wasn’t used to the hostess beside him, and he didn’t drink alcohol. Wei Jiahui wasn’t very relaxed either, while Wang Jing and the others seemed to be regulars, speaking freely and without restraint.

“Hey, Aran, why don’t you drink?” Chen Baixiang had already developed a good impression of this humble young man at the racetrack. Seeing Xiao Ran sitting aside, he laughed heartily and asked, “It’s unusual not to drink here. Come on, let’s have a drink together!”

It had to be admitted that Chen Baixiang was quite enthusiastic and skilled in various forms of entertainment, making him a great companion. Xiao Ran forced a smile. In such an environment, he had no real reason not to drink—something he understood very well. Yet, with his sense of self-awareness, he only ordered a sip of beer. Seeing this, Wang Jing immediately said rudely, “That won’t do! How can you just drink beer? Choose something else—let’s toast!”

Wei Jiahui’s smile froze. He had known Xiao Ran for some time and knew he didn’t drink. It was now his turn to step in. Smiling, he said to Wang Jing and the others, “Aran doesn’t know how to drink. Even two glasses of beer can get him drunk. If he drinks something else, he’ll probably fall asleep right away!”

“Alright then!” Wang Jing didn’t insist, to Xiao Ran’s surprise. But after thinking about it, he understood—if Wang Jing were that domineering, he wouldn’t have so many friends in the circle.

Xiao Ran found their conversations quite interesting. What interested him the most was a guy named Liu Yong. From what Wang Jing and the others said, he could infer that this Liu Yong seemed to be involved in some romantic scandals. This reminded him of the famous Liu Yong assault case at the end of 1985. Could it be that the case was caused by a woman, and did Liu Yong flee abroad after the incident?

Talking about things in the circle broadened Xiao Ran’s horizons. Soon, slightly drunk, Wei Jiahui turned to Wang Jing and asked, “Aran wants to become a director. Do you know of any connections he could use?”

Slightly drunk as well, Feng Cuifan glanced at Xiao Ran and said, “Aran wants to be a director? He’s just starting out—without qualifications or experience. How can he be a director? He should be an actor like me.”

“That’s right!” Chen Baixiang, who had drunk the most, pointed at Xiao Ran with a blurry, drunken eye and said concerningly, “Aran, trust me. Being a director is too stressful. With your looks, as long as you get some support and have acting skills, you can become famous in no time!”

“There are plenty of connections. Making movies is so profitable these days—who wouldn’t want to invest?” Wang Jing, though reckless while drinking, now showed the rationality befitting a future great director. “But with Aran’s current qualifications, it’s likely difficult to secure investment!”

“However, Aran, if you really want to direct, I can try to get some investment for you!” Wang Jing said this, then suddenly became serious. “Aran, I want to tell you that being a director isn’t that easy. You’ve started this on your own and still don’t understand many things. It’s better to study for a year or two first and write a good script—then investors will naturally appear! In this industry, reputation comes first.”

Hearing Wang Jing’s words, Xiao Ran was stunned. He knew it was Wang Jing’s eagerness to produce a large number of poor-quality films that indirectly led to the decline of Hong Kong cinema, but he hadn’t expected Wang Jing to be so rational now. Still, he indeed had no intention of becoming a director right away, as he was well aware of his lack of experience and skills in directing.

Actually, if he truly desired to be a director, it wasn’t impossible. It was a simple matter: suppose he directed “A Hero’s Heart.” Even if he didn’t know directing techniques, he had watched the movie and remembered its details. If a scene didn’t turn out as expected, he could simply reshoot it until the desired result was achieved—this was also a method. Of course, if he did this, investors would definitely refuse, as the budget would soar.

A few days later, he received a dividend from Hong Jinbao’s office—over 30,000. A few days after that, the midnight preview of “Cops and Robbers” was a huge success, and the box office performance was unstoppable.

As Christmas approached, the lonely Xiao Ran invited a group of friends out for a meal and had a great time. It was both a way to relieve his frustrations and, perhaps, to distract himself. During these days, Liu Yong in the entertainment industry got divorced from his wife, and this guy actually used a knife to kill her, who was also a celebrity. He was caught by the Taiwanese authorities but soon fled after abandoning his bail.

The trivial daily routines gradually turned into a monotonous search for future talents. Xiao Ran repeated these days over and over, and even his greatest interests lost their appeal. By then, his address book was filled with names—names that would become a help to him in the future.

As time moved on after the Spring Festival, everyone he could find had been found, and those temporarily overlooked weren’t urgent. On March 24, 1986, Xiao Ran finally got an opportunity. That day, Xu Ke gave him a call and asked him to come to the company.

When he arrived at New Art City, Xu Ke’s first words left Xiao Ran stunned: “‘A Hero’s Heart’ is in the planning stage, and I intend to have you play the role of Little Ma Ge. What do you think?”

Xiao Ran was indeed shocked. Thinking about how Zhou Runfa became wildly popular thanks to a certain film and even won a Golden Horse Award, if he were to play Little Ma Ge… he didn’t dare to think further…

If he really played this role, it would undoubtedly bring countless benefits with no drawbacks. “A Hero’s Heart” was already a classic among classics. On many highly influential rankings, it had always been considered the pinnacle of Hong Kong cinema, even ranking first in lists of the top 100 Hong Kong films.

It pioneered the hero film genre, turning two frustrated men into confident and triumphant figures, and even influenced the direction of future Hong Kong films. It was also because of this movie that police-action films became the mainstream in Hong Kong to a large extent. Just thinking about the lasting benefits filled Xiao Ran with excitement. Especially, he knew that playing this role would allow him to avoid at least five more years of struggle. In his memory, Zhou Runfa established Silver Award Film Company just two years after the success of this movie, together with Lin Lingdong. If this movie hadn’t existed, the box office champion of 1986 would have been the star-studded “Rich Man’s Train.” Unfortunately, its 28 million dollars was still far behind “A Hero’s Heart”’s 34 million dollars. Should he agree or refuse? His heart beat like a drum, and his head felt scorching hot. Just as he was about to agree, he suddenly remembered: what would happen to Zhou Runfa if he agreed? That’s right! If Zhou Runfa didn’t play this role, he might not have become famous or the future “Divine Fa.” At that thought, Xiao Ran felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head—utterly chilled. How lonely would Hong Kong’s film industry be without Fa Ge? Xiao Ran didn’t know. All he knew was that Fa Ge was an unparalleled acting god in Hong Kong cinema, as well as in Chinese cinema. He could never sacrifice Fa Ge for his own success. He was extremely troubled. For Fa Ge’s other works, he might have been able to take them over. But “A Hero’s Heart” was not only the most crucial turning point in Wu Yusen’s life but also in Fa Ge’s. It was because of this movie that many classics emerged, giving rise to an acting god whom every Chinese person, whether they liked him or not, had to acknowledge. What would you do? Agree? Xiao Ran would never forgive himself. Refuse? He also wouldn’t forgive himself. Perhaps in the future, a classic line like those from “A Chinese Odyssey” would arise, because he was now so close to success. After several struggles, Xiao Ran reluctantly decided to refuse. He even came up with a good reason: first, he couldn’t allow Hong Kong to lack an actor as outstanding as Fa Ge. Second, even if he played Little Ma Ge, he would never be able to capture the essence of the role. In short, no one but Fa Ge was suitable for this role. Seeing Xiao Ran’s expression change rapidly, Xu Ke was very puzzled. Of course, he had no idea that this scheming guy had almost taken Fa Ge’s chance. Finally, after making up his mind, Xiao Ran still seemed reluctant: “Director Xu, I won’t play this role. May I recommend someone? Zhou Runfa!” “Zhou Runfa?” Xu Ke’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. He knew very well that Zhou Runfa was a good actor. But he also knew that Zhou Runfa was a notorious box office poison. If he joined the project, wouldn’t it be a disaster? “That’s not good. He’s a good actor. But for the sake of box office results, I think he’s probably not suitable!”

“Lao Xu, believe me—no one other than him can deliver this role at its best!” Xiao Ran’s gaze met Xu Ke’s, brimming with confidence. Suddenly recalling that if Xiao Ma Ge’s role had changed, even the director might have changed, he anxiously asked, “Has the director for this film been decided yet?”
“Basically decided. I plan to direct this film myself!” Xu Ke stood up, picked up a cigarette from the table, and handed one to Xiao Ran, asking, “Do you have any opinions on the director as well?”
“Not really. Actually, it’s great if you handle it personally!” Xiao Ran immediately realized things were bad—Xu Ke must have been attracted to the script and decided to direct it himself. He racked his brains for words, trying to persuade Xu Ke to change his mind: “Lao Xu, you’re already a famous director and head of a film studio. You don’t need to handle everything personally!”
“What do you mean?” Xu Ke exhaled a smoke ring leisurely and said gravely, “I can’t trust anyone else to do it!”
Xiao Ran smiled bitterly. Xu Ke always preferred to do things himself; otherwise, how could he have forced Hu Jinquan to leave during the filming of “The Smiling, Proud Wanderer”? After thinking for a moment, he decided to take a roundabout approach: “You’re famous and successful now. Why not give the opportunity to other directors, like Wu Yushen? I think he’s quite good. You might want to consider him!”
Without needing to rely on memories from his dreams, Xiao Ran could even learn about Wu Yushen’s current situation from Xu Ke’s words. Wu Yushen was still working at New Art City’s Taiwan branch, remaining a key employee under Zhang Aijia. He had produced “The Comic Actor” and directed “Two Tigers” himself, but the box office results had been mediocre, leaving this future international director frustrated.
“Him?” Xu Ke was surprised. He thought Xiao Ran would suggest someone else, not this founding member of New Art City. Frowning, he said, “He’s okay at making comedies, but I doubt he’d be suitable for this kind of film!”
It’s over! Xiao Ran felt desperate. He hadn’t expected Xu Ke to think of Wu Yushen that way. But then again, it made sense—Wu Yushen had mostly made comedies back then and hadn’t shown any talent in action films! But what to do now? Without Wu Yushen, the film might not be as successful as hoped! What to do…