Chapter 7: The Street Vendor Movie Star

Xiao Ran isn’t as great as we imagine. To say he saves the world would be laughable, just like dismissing all those world-saving stories in Hollywood movies. But he believes this is all he can do, and his strengths are most evident in this area. If he has to do something in this new life, it’s undoubtedly this choice.

The only thing Xiao Ran regrets is that he likes to wander, to see different places, and to lead a simple life. But making this decision means facing fierce competition and business struggles, and everything that happens in the future will go against his original personality. However, his ability to let go is one of his strengths, proving that he can adapt to a new life better than most people.

Wasting resources isn’t in Xiao Ran’s nature; making the most of what’s available fits his principles. With such a huge advantage at his disposal, it would be foolish not to use it to build a career.

The next morning, he looked at his energetic reflection in the mirror and said solemnly, “Now that I have it, now that I’ve changed, there’s no turning back. A new life means new meanings. Cherish it and start this brand-new journey—that’s what you should do!”

After a night of thought, Xiao Ran had a rough plan. No one likes to take risks they’re not sure about, and Xiao Ran is no exception. Panicking at the last moment isn’t adaptability—it’s incompetence. Today, he has a very important task: to find Liang Jiahui.

As is well known, Liang Jiahui was banned after offending the Taiwanese authorities. And right now, the Taiwanese market is the main outlet for Hong Kong movies. With no film companies willing to hire him, this highly skilled movie star has no choice but to sell goods from a street stall—a truly ironic situation.

Although Hong Kong isn’t very large, finding a person in such a crowded place isn’t easy. He knows someone in the film industry must know Liang Jiahui’s whereabouts, but the problem is that our protagonist, Xiao Ran, doesn’t even have a single acquaintance in this industry, which makes things a bit difficult.

When he came out of his room, he saw You Zhi searching for a new job in the newspaper. This piqued his interest. You Zhi might know where Liang Jiahui is or could help him get there. With that in mind, he leaned over affectionately and asked, “Ah You, do you know what Liang Jiahui is doing now?”

“He? I think he’s selling things from a street stall. Many people know that!” You Zhi lowered the newspaper, thought for a moment, then replied. He then looked at Xiao Ran curiously, “Why? Do you need to see him?”

Xiao Ran chuckled lightly and proceeded step by step. “I do need to see him. Could you help me find his address?”

You Zhi agreed without hesitation, though his expression seemed a bit strange. Xiao Ran knew what he was wondering about but didn’t mind. You Zhi made a phone call and soon gave Xiao Ran the answer.

Having gotten what he wanted, Xiao Ran didn’t leave right away. Instead, he stared at You Zhi with a smile. After staring at him until he felt uneasy, Xiao Ran said jokingly, “Ah You, do you ever think about acting in movies?”

“Movies?” You Zhi’s eyes lit up immediately, only to dim again as he said sadly, “Forget movies—there’s not even a chance to act on TV anymore!”

“Don’t give up. You’re talented—why not keep trying?” Xiao Ran’s thinking was simple: to save Hong Kong cinema, he needed to establish a company before the 1990s, through guidance or other means—whatever it took. With a film company, he could better control Hong Kong movies. He believed that even if his performance was poor, as long as he pursued a high-quality strategy and didn’t follow trends blindly, over time he could wait until the other major film companies collapsed. That was an advantage—one that couldn’t be ignored.
“Ah, enough!” Xiao Ran thought it wasn’t the right time to say too much. He just smiled, patted You Zhi’s shoulder, and said, “I’m going out to handle some matters!”
Last night, Xiao Ran had thought about it—he had decided to do something for Hong Kong cinema and also for himself, like making some money to live more comfortably. That meant he needed to outline a general plan for the future. He knew that in this era, talent wasn’t a problem. The whole world knew that from 1980 to 1997, Hong Kong cinema had an abundance of talented people.
When it came to talent, it wasn’t difficult at all. Xiao Ran even considered having Wei Dongling manage the company in the future—the only problem was money. Without money, nothing was possible. And in this era, making money was easy, but to make a lot of money quickly, one would have to resort to illegal activities.
So, the task before Xiao Ran was to make money. He had to work hard to earn it. In the world of Chinese cinema, writing scripts would never lead to success. He knew it was different now from before—today, an average director’s salary was barely over a hundred thousand, rarely exceeding three hundred thousand, which still wouldn’t allow them to achieve great success. This damned issue of accumulating initial capital really gave him a headache.
But fortunately, he thought he still had three or four years to work hard. During those years, he needed to gather talent and earn at least fifty million—maybe even hundreds of millions by then.
As the minibus jolted along, Xiao Ran’s thoughts wandered toward the future. Soon, he found Liang Jiahui’s residence, which was not far from Tin Shui Wai. Liang Jiahui was currently living in a public housing estate. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he arrived at his destination.
Xiao Ran felt uneasy, filled with mixed emotions. He was worried that Liang Jiahui might not be home. After knocking on the door, he soon heard a familiar, somewhat tired voice from inside: “Who is it?”
The door opened, and before Xiao Ran stood a truly admirable actor. The current Liang Jiahui looked very thin, taller than on screen, with darker skin—probably due to the difficult circumstances he faced.
Xiao Ran forced himself to resist the urge to bow to his idol, Liang Jiahui. It was the first time he had met an actor he admired in this era—how could he not be excited? In his excitement, he introduced himself to the puzzled Liang Jiahui before saying, “Mr. Liang, how about we go inside and talk?”

Liang Jiahui didn’t seem to understand why Xiao Ran had come looking for him; he simply invited him in, looking a bit puzzled. Xiao Ran sat down and glanced around. Liang Jiahui’s living conditions were indeed poor, as could be seen from the handicrafts scattered around the room. It was tragic that a former film emperor had fallen so low as to have to make such trinkets to make a living.

Ironically, later generations regarded this as an amusing story. Almost everyone knew about the former film emperor selling goods from a street stall, yet they had no idea just how difficult Liang Jiahui’s situation really was.

When Liang Jiahui asked what he wanted to drink, Xiao Ran shook his head and declined, then said with great respect, “Mr. Liang, I’d like to ask you to return to acting!”

“Return to acting?” Liang Jiahui’s voice was very distinctive. Xiao Ran now guessed that he must have voiced his own films, as in Xiao Ran’s memory, most of Liang Jiahui’s films used the same voice.

Liang Jiahui was already puzzled by the respect in Xiao Ran’s tone. Hearing this, he was first delighted, then surprised. “Which film company do you work for?”

“I don’t belong to any film company. I work for myself!” Xiao Ran finally calmed down. His adaptable nature proved effective. “We all know you’re a good actor. Other film companies lack the courage to hire you—that’s their mistake. I think continuing this will be a waste of your acting skills!”

“There’s no such thing as a waste!” Although Liang Jiahui didn’t quite understand Xiao Ran’s meaning, he replied calmly, “One has to live. I can live just fine without acting!”

Indeed! Xiao Ran thought to himself. If Liang Jiahui never returned to acting, he might even have a chance to become a wealthy businessman. But since Xiao Ran knew the future, he would never let this former film emperor slip away.

He hesitated for a moment, coming up with various reasons to persuade Liang Jiahui to return. After some thought, he quickly came up with an idea. Indeed, no one was willing to hire Liang Jiahui at the moment. But Xiao Ran had a friend who was a screenwriter and knew some little-known things.

That friend once mentioned in a conversation with Xiao Ran that Liang Jiahui could also write scripts, and quite well at that—showing his versatility. Thinking of this, Xiao Ran smiled, feeling confident. “Mr. Liang, I’m a screenwriter and currently independent. I need help right now, and I know you can write scripts.”

At this point, how could Liang Jiahui not understand? Yet he seemed disheartened by the ban on him acting, his face showing a hint of melancholy. “Thank you for your appreciation, but I think I don’t need it. Please go back.”

Rejected? Xiao Ran was stunned, his mouth hanging open in shock. Anyone who had gone through what Liang Jiahui had endured would likely refuse to miss the chance to regain fame. That Liang Jiahui could be so indifferent was a great surprise to Xiao Ran. But it seemed too late to say anything more.

Leaving Liang Jiahui’s home, Xiao Ran went to ask the neighbors about the location of his street stall and left disappointed. As the day grew darker, the smile on Xiao Ran’s lips resembled a sneer, yet strangely, his flashing eyes revealed an indescribable sense of respect.

Xiao Ran didn’t know that history could change, nor did he deliberately try to verify it, fearing disappointment. However, he believed that since he had arrived in this world, it was already a sign of historical change. Thus, he wasn’t sure whether Liang Jiahui would truly stop acting.

This time, he wasn’t acting for himself but for his favorite actor. To this day, he still remembered several classic films starring Liang Jiahui, especially the utterly dominant character in “Black Gold” and that iconic line, “I’ve finished speaking. Who agrees? Who disagrees?” He couldn’t bear to see such an outstanding actor vanish from the screen. With that in mind, he made a bold decision.

Liang Jiahui was at his stall in Mong Kok. Xiao Ran moved through the crowd, scanning around with his eyes like radar. Soon, he spotted Liang Jiahui hawking his goods. He stepped forward and stared coldly at the astonished actor.

Suddenly, he started moving frantically, kicking all the items off Liang Jiahui’s stall. Passersby quickly stepped back, while others were stunned. Filled with rage, Liang Jiahui rushed at him, grabbed him by the collar, and shouted, “Are you crazy?”