Chapter Sixteen: The Flood of ’98

Quite naturally, under the brilliant performance of Huang Yi, though she had not yet reached the consummate skill she would later display as Haiqing, it was already enough—Zhang Ziyi and Qin Hailu, two future leading ladies, were gone in an instant.

It was as if two cooked ducks had suddenly flown away—whether they were truly cooked or not was, of course, Wu Xiang’s own definition.

“I say, Huang Yi, your acting is really something else, isn’t it?” With the two of them gone, Wu Xiang was fuming, pointing at Huang Yi, all but ready to unleash his anger. Still, since she was a woman, he kept some restraint for the sake of her dignity.

Huang Yi was secretly delighted—she didn’t know why, but as long as she managed to disrupt Wu Xiang’s plans, she felt a rush of joy, a kind of vindication. She could swear to the heavens that she wasn’t always like this, but now—what a thrill!

After nearly a year of washing everyone’s clothes, today she had finally gathered them all back. Laughing, she said, “Before I entered the Film Academy, I was already a nationally certified level-three actress—I have a certificate to prove it.”

Looking at Huang Yi’s triumphant smile, Wu Xiang was on the verge of exploding. He cursed silently, “Why don’t you just add ‘star’ after your level-three?”

But he didn’t dare say it aloud—he was afraid things would get bloody in such a public place.

“Seriously, how could you do this? How could you sabotage me like that? Did I ever offend you? Wasn’t it just that you lost a bet? Wasn’t it just a bit of laundry?” Well, Wu Xiang had to admit to himself, it was more than just a bit.

At his words, Huang Yi’s eyes widened. “I lost a bet, so I paid up. So what if I washed less? I’m in a good mood today—so what? Did I say anything untrue? Wasn’t I thinking for your own good?”

And to be fair, her eyes really were quite big.

Wu Xiang was frustrated—he had no way to refute her. In the end, he simply said, “Fine, I won’t argue with you anymore. I’m telling you, I’ve got serious business now—please, I’m begging you, don’t mess things up for me anymore, alright?”

“Oh, you’re begging me? That’s how you beg?” Huang Yi’s meaning was clear—he had no sincerity at all.

“Alright!” Wu Xiang slapped his thigh. “From now on, you don’t have to wash my clothes anymore, okay?”

“Deal!” Huang Yi immediately extended her plump little hand.

With a crisp clap, Wu Xiang had no other choice.

A peal of laughter echoed as Huang Yi strode away, triumphant.

“Sigh!” Watching her broad-shouldered figure vanish into the distance, Wu Xiang let out a long sigh. Truly, women and petty men are the hardest to deal with!

He returned to school, still sighing over his miserable day, not realizing that trouble never comes alone.

“Xiangzi, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Before Wu Xiang could even get back to Room 307, Brother Kun caught up with him. The way Kun hesitated, on the verge of speaking yet holding back, it was clear something was wrong.

“Go ahead, what is it?” Wu Xiang said, curiosity piqued.

The two of them found a quiet spot, but Kun seemed even more hesitant. “Well, you see, my hometown—it’s been flooded. I read it in the papers, but when I called my mom she said everything’s fine. You know how it is—she tells me not to worry, but according to the reports, this flood…”

At the mention of the flood, Wu Xiang suddenly remembered—the great flood of ’98, a major historical event, devastating in scale and impact.

“Oh!” Realizing this, Wu Xiang slapped his thigh, cutting Kun off. In his anxious northeastern accent, he said, “Kun, you want to go home and check, right? I get it, I really do. Go home, make sure your mother’s alright, don’t waste time!”

Wu Xiang knew Kun was from Mountain City, one of the first cities hit by the flood. Nothing more needed to be said—he had to go home.

“I’m just worried…” Kun tried to explain, but Wu Xiang waved him off.

“No need to say more, I understand, and I’m sure the others will, too. By the way, have you got your ticket? Or do you want to fly home?”

At Wu Xiang’s response, Kun’s eyes shone with gratitude.

After seeing Kun off, Wu Xiang and his roommates in 307 could only make whatever preparations they could. But this did have one benefit—he now had time to focus on securing a leading lady, and his sights were set on Zhang Ziyi.

“Why are you still here?” Qin Hailu had seen Wu Xiang loitering at the entrance several times in the past few days. To be honest, she admired his tenacity.

“Hey, Sister Qin, is Zhang here today?” Wu Xiang knew how silly this must look, but for his film, for the perfect “Light Dance in Flight,” it was worth it!

After Kun left, Wu Xiang had little to do but stand guard outside the Central Academy of Drama, hoping his persistence would move Zhang Ziyi. It wasn’t that he couldn’t go inside, but the campus gatekeeper already had his eye on him—always staring at the girls, what good could come of that?

“Don’t you feel embarrassed waiting here? Zhang won’t act in your movie—you scared her off.” Qin Hailu was torn—admiring his perseverance, yet feeling a bit sorry for him.

Hearing this, Wu Xiang was startled. “Has Zhang left school?”

Though it was already summer break, Wu Xiang didn’t give up. Many art school students stayed in Beijing over the summer, hoping to earn a little extra money or gain acting experience as extras at the film studio.

Seeing Qin Hailu gave Wu Xiang hope that Zhang Ziyi hadn’t left either.

“She’s here,” Qin answered offhandedly, giving Wu Xiang hope. But then she dashed it, “But give up—Zhang won’t act in your film, no matter how long you wait.”

“I really think she’s perfect for ‘Light Dance in Flight.’ If she’ll act, I’ll agree to any terms.” Wu Xiang acted as if he hadn’t even heard her.

Qin Hailu realized persuasion was pointless and left Wu Xiang alone.

It wasn’t that Wu Xiang wanted to pin all his hopes on one person, but he had no better options. Of the seven Central Academy “golden flowers,” Fu Jing was too young and her achievements limited, so he ruled her out. Zeng Li, Wang Huijuan, and Wen Zhengrong were all too mature for the role. Mei Ting was already famous, having just starred in “Red Lovers” with Ge You last year. Hu Jing was off filming elsewhere, and Yuan Quan was apparently traveling with her boyfriend Xia Yu. As for Qin Hailu—well, in terms of looks, Gao Yuanyuan was a good fit, but she was already well-known. Liu Yifei, Yang Mi, and Liu Shishi were all far too young.

That left only Zhang Ziyi—he had no other choice. So he waited, hoping to move her with his sincerity.

Days passed. Zhang Ziyi did not appear, but Qin Hailu did.

“Zhang told me you’re too young—it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, but with films, experience matters. This is your first time directing, right? We checked—you don’t have a single work to your name. Who would watch a film you made?”

Qin Hailu spoke the truth. Generally, a director needs experience—even art school entrance exams require a portfolio of works, however brief. This is fundamental experience; unless you’re a true genius, it’s impossible to produce a good film without any experience at all.

This was indeed Wu Xiang’s weakness, but Qin Hailu didn’t shut the door completely. “If you make something first—a short film or whatever—then Zhang will consider being your leading lady. You’re at the Film Academy, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“She’ll only consider it?” After all that, it was still not a real promise.

“What, you think I’d lie to you? Are you a man or not? Aren’t we both from the northeast? Don’t worry, just make a film and bring it back for us to see!” Qin Hailu teased him in a thick regional accent.

But Wu Xiang wasn’t one to dawdle. The only reason he’d stood watch outside the Academy for so long was to show Zhang Ziyi his determination. Now that the condition was clear, he’d fulfill it.

“It’s a deal! I’ll make a great film—you’ll see!” With that, he turned and left, off to find inspiration.

“This fool,” Qin Hailu muttered unconsciously. But as she watched Wu Xiang walk away, her expression was complicated.

But what should he shoot?

Wu Xiang was momentarily at a loss. Should he really just make a student short film? That felt unsatisfying—he wasn’t exactly a rookie. He’d been a junior screenwriter before, and often helped direct. He was studious, with both theoretical and practical experience. He wasn’t a stranger to directing, which was why he’d decided to make a film and lead his own team.

“Extra! Extra! United forces of soldiers and civilians fight the flood, holding the Jiujiang dike!”

Waiting at the station, Wu Xiang noticed a young newspaper vendor doing brisk business, with many people buying a copy.

“That’s right, the flood…” Wu Xiang suddenly remembered—the national disaster everyone was focused on, and he’d been too absorbed in casting to pay attention to current events.

He walked over and bought a paper, thinking the flood must have ended by now.

“Here you go! Today’s headline—both the Chairman and Premier went to oversee things themselves! Our army really came through—even when the dike burst, they plugged it up!” The newsboy’s voice brimmed with pride.

So, the flood relief had succeeded. It made sense—though there would still be flood peaks, none as severe as before. Wu Xiang bought a newspaper and began to read, feeling that keeping up with national events was a good thing.

But unexpectedly, after a quick glance, his eyes grew warm and prickled with emotion.

“What a dusty wind, what a dust storm!”

Not far from the station, Huang Yi was there as well. She saw Wu Xiang holding a newspaper, his eyes brimming with tears—was he crying?

“Laughing one minute and crying the next—has he lost his mind?” In fact, Huang Yi had been observing Wu Xiang for a while; she found his silly antics rather amusing…