Chapter 41: I Am the God

Fa Ge politely invited the two reporters into the car. Only then did Xiao Ran suddenly realize it was 1986, not 2005. Reporters back then weren’t as overbearing as they are now, nor had they yet earned the title of “paparazzi.” In short, the relationship between celebrities and reporters was much better back then—anything that shouldn’t be published could be removed immediately upon the celebrity’s request.

At the hospital, the doctor examined him and told Xiao Ran that his nasal bone couldn’t withstand the impact and had broken. This annoyed Xiao Ran for a while, but fortunately, the doctor soon assured him it could be repaired, though his nose would be more prone to injury and illnesses in the future. Other than that, there wasn’t much of a problem. After the doctor repaired his nose, Fa Ge introduced Xiao Ran to the middle-aged reporter. The middle-aged reporter’s name was Liang Jiabao, and the younger one was a newcomer who had just joined Liang Jiabao.

“A Bao is very loyal, which is why everyone in the industry is willing to give him interviews. I think he’s here mainly to get to know you, that’s why he came to the studio!” Fa Ge introduced him briefly, praising him highly, clearly believing he had real talent. “And he’s very forward-thinking; he probably thought you’d become famous overnight, that’s why he came!”

A familiar smile appeared on Liang Jiabao’s face as he extended his hand to shake Xiao Ran’s, marking their acquaintance. Liang Jiabao laughed at Fa Ge and said, “You’re saying I’m always showing up uninvited, right? Don’t be an idiot—he’s just jealous of you!”

Fa Ge also laughed and patted Liang Jiabao’s back lightly. “What would I be jealous of about A Ran? If you can’t say, then I won’t need to do the interview next week!”

“Just joking, just joking!” Liang Jiabao laughed nervously, shaking his hands repeatedly. “Aren’t you jealous that A Ran is younger than you? Haha!”

Back at Xiaoyaowo, Wei Dongling was shocked upon seeing the bandage on Xiao Ran’s nose and asked, “What happened to you? Did you get in an accident?”

“You’re such a jinx! Pfft, kids speak without thinking!” Xiao Ran didn’t even dare touch his nose, fearing it might end up with three nostrils or become crooked. So, he just spat loudly to show his disdain.

The next day, when he went to the studio to work, he found his words seemed more impactful than before. In any case, the way others looked at him had changed. As for filming, everything went smoothly, and there were no issues with the actors’ schedules.

Soon, Xiao Ran heard that Yang Qi had sold the company and taken Yang Wei to the United States. Feeling sad, he didn’t know what to do and suddenly felt lost. This state continued until *The True Colors of Heroes* was released…

Ten days before *The True Colors of Heroes* was released, *Happy Ghost Meets Ghost* had finished filming. The local box office revenue was as Xiao Ran expected—15 million. This showed that history hadn’t changed much.

It was still a midnight premiere. Although Xu Ke’s film studio was separate from New World Cinema, New World Cinema still brought in an organization similar to a fan group called “Friends of New World Cinema.” These members were mainly workers who had contributed greatly to the company that had created many classic films, and Xiao Ran thought this approach was worth emulating.

In fact, Xu Ke’s film studio didn’t put much effort into promotion; it relied mainly on New World Cinema, which was also invested by Lei Kaitai, to help with publicity. Of course, this didn’t mean Xu Ke’s company didn’t do any promotion at all—it just meant that the promotion wasn’t handled by Xu Ke himself, who focused solely on the film.

Xiao Ran, Wu Yusen, Xu Ke, Zhou Runfa, and other key crew members were all there, sitting quietly in the back row of the theater. The female lead, Zhu Baoyi, was quite beautiful and youthful, which made Xiao Ran glance at her a few times.

After most of the audience had arrived, Xu Ke couldn’t help but frown. There were few cinemas in Hong Kong with over a thousand seats, and this theater only had 800 seats. Yet even those 800 seats weren’t fully occupied, with only about 80% occupancy rate—this naturally made Xu Ke frown.

Xiao Ran had attended many midnight premieres in this era, such as those for “Mr. Zombie” and “Cops and Robbers,” which were always packed. He clearly felt pessimistic about the current situation. However, he knew better than anyone that an 80% occupancy rate would be an amazing figure in the 21st century.

In fact, a premiere was an opportunity for audiences to judge the quality of a film. If the film was truly excellent, the premiere would help spread its reputation quickly, with audiences acting as indirect promoters. The same applied vice versa…

So, the occupancy rate at a midnight premiere wasn’t that important; what mattered was word-of-mouth and audience feedback. If audiences didn’t like a certain scene or thought something was flawed, the film company and director still had time to make final edits, or even reshoot parts of the film.

Just as the film reached the scene where Little Ma Ge lit a cigarette with money and delivered his iconic line, a figure hurried into the theater. Although his face couldn’t be seen in the darkness, Xiao Ran could tell it was a young person.

The figure searched around before finally finding their seat and quickly came over to say quietly, “Sorry, I’m late!” As soon as he finished speaking, he sat down next to Xiao Ran.

Hearing this very familiar voice, Xiao Ran was slightly surprised. He looked carefully and saw that it was Zhang Guorong. This time, Xiao Ran wasn’t surprised—he had already wondered why Zhang Guorong hadn’t come to the premiere. It seemed he had been delayed by something.

Still, it was the first time Xiao Ran had gotten so close to Zhang Guorong, and even the first time he had seen him in person in this era. It was quite strange—given Xiao Ran’s wide circle of acquaintances, he should have met Zhang Guorong before. But in reality, they had never had the chance to meet.

During the filming of “Heroes Have Their Own Colors,” they also had the chance to meet, but sadly, at that time Xiao Ran was still starring in “The Female Swordswoman.” Due to scheduling conflicts, they never managed to meet. It’s really strange—their first encounter was actually in a cinema.

Xiao Ran remained silent; this wasn’t the place for talking. Besides, being able to watch this classic in a cinema was a fortune earned over countless lifetimes. Back then, Xiao Ran skipped class to go to a video rental shop to watch “Coastal Contribution,” a pirated video that greatly contributed to the piracy industry in the mainland, and it was there he accidentally saw this film.

The current version of “Heroes Have Their Own Colors” isn’t much different from what Xiao Ran had seen. Zhou Runfa’s performance on screen remains the highlight of the film, even overshadowing the real protagonist, Hero Di Long. However, it must be admitted that Hero Di Long, as an experienced actor, delivered a very emotional line to Wu Yushen’s cameo as a Taiwanese police officer: “Officer, I haven’t been the boss for many years.”

Of course, in Xiao Ran’s eyes, Di Long’s performance wasn’t bad—it was just too traditional. Nowadays, with directors like Hsu Ke and Hsu Ah-hua from the New Wave movement gaining strength and nurturing many new directors, they have managed to gain an edge over the older generation of filmmakers.

It was “Heroes Have Their Own Colors” that truly helped the New Wave movement break through the old guard and achieve its first major victory. The New Wave directors’ more direct, entertaining, and concise filmmaking styles made the films more interesting and engaging, serving as a precursor to the new generation of directors taking control of the film industry.

Wu Yushen, Hsu Ke, and Zhou Runfa, sitting in the back row, watched the film while paying attention to the audience’s reactions. This time, they heard no complaints from the audience, only the sobbing in the air and the dampness from tears as the brothers Ah Hao and Ah Jie had a fierce confrontation on screen.

There were many such emotionally charged scenes and contents in the film. As a result, Hsu Ke, Wu Yushen, and the others watched everything with tears in their eyes despite smiling. What about Xiao Ran? What was he doing?

Xiao Ran was experiencing a strange feeling—he felt as if he could control the audience’s emotions, a truly wonderful sensation. He was immersed in this pleasant feeling and thought he understood why so many people wanted to be directors—because the ability to control people’s emotions was indeed beyond anything else.

When the gunfight at the shipyard appeared on screen, Xiao Ran gradually held his breath—the most shocking scene of the entire film was about to unfold. Soon, he noticed no breathing sounds around him either. In shock, he turned to glance at Wu Yushen and the others, only to find that they too were holding their breath, staring intently at this crucial moment. But they weren’t excited by the plot—they were excited for the audience’s emotions.

“No matter what he did wrong, he’s giving it back to you now…”

Bang! As Fa Ge, limping, grabbed Zhang Guorong, who was frozen in shock, and roared, a gunshot rang out that shocked all the audience members. Instantly, everyone fell silent, listening to the gunshots coming from the cinema speakers, and they couldn’t help but cry.

The sound on the screen echoed emptily through the cinema, while Wu Yusen was so nervous that his clenched fists almost made his veins burst. The audience showed no reaction at all. He remembered that during previous preview screenings, as soon as the audience noticed something bad, they would start shouting angrily, sometimes dozens of people together. Yet now, such an abnormal situation had arisen, leaving him extremely anxious. In fact, everyone except Xiao Ran was very nervous. For Xu Ke, this was his attempt at a genre film; if it failed, Boss Lei’s funding might be reduced. Zhang Guorong and Zhou Runfa were less nervous, but after watching the film, they too had an intuition—that if it succeeded, it could bring them success as well! Only Xiao Ran appeared calm, because he knew better than anyone that no one could remain indifferent to this film. Earlier, on the “Hong Kong Made” forum, he had read a post saying that Little Ma Ge’s death was the second most accidental death in Hong Kong film history, yet the most shocking and unforgettable. The first such accidental death was that of “Very Sudden.” As the subtitles faded and the lights in the cinema came on, Xiao Ran suddenly stood up and looked around. For him, this was the moment to enjoy his success. While Wu Yusen and the others didn’t understand Xiao Ran’s intention, the audience, as if telepathically connected, applauded with all their might and turned to look at the creators in the back rows. Tears streamed down many audience members’ faces, and the applause surged into a thunderous roar, as if it might lift the roof off. Xiao Ran closed his eyes, savoring it all. In that instant, he felt like a god in control of all emotions, reigning supreme. He suddenly deeply understood a profound line from Wu Yusen’s script—“Here, I am the god!”
(The previous chapter was really poorly written. As an apology, I’ll add an extra chapter today to make up for it. I hope everyone can forgive me.)
(One more thing: I’m open to any criticism, but I hope everyone avoids personal attacks.)