Chapter Sixty-Six: A Frenzied Celebration

“Come on! Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
“Hahaha...”

The entire crew of “First Intimate Encounter” was gathered at a small Sichuan restaurant near the Film Academy, raising their glasses in celebration.

The joy, the excitement—so many emotions drove them to come out for a meal. They couldn’t have not come; it was practically a necessity. And why? The answer was simple: this film was certain to be a blockbuster. Just today, on opening day, Wu Xiang had led the crew to three different cinemas, holding three premiere events—in the morning, at noon, and in the evening. Every theater was packed to the brim, people filling even the aisles.

Usually, one premiere would suffice, but Wu Xiang, that guy, was a bit odd. Well, not odd exactly... Perhaps unconventional. After all, the main creative team of this crew were all students, so everyone had the time to make the rounds; the more you see and experience, the better. Although Kun and Huang Yanbo were already somewhat known among the audience, there wasn’t a single major star in their ranks.

After so many events, so many photos and autographs, Wu Xiang couldn’t possibly avoid treating everyone to a meal, could he?

Wu Xiang swore to the heavens that he truly hadn’t considered the matter of dinner beforehand. It was only when he faced the disdainful looks of his companions that he realized the gravity of the situation!

He had no money; Wu Xiang was strapped for cash. He was thirsty too.

And so, here they were at the little Sichuan place—no other reason than the affordable prices for both food and drink.

“Come on! Another pot of spicy boiled fish! And one for that table too. Let’s go, I’ll watch you catch the fish!” Huang Yanbo had made himself quite at home. Since Wu Xiang had already abandoned all pretense and invited everyone for fish, they might as well indulge.

Wu Xiang looked at the scene and found himself powerless to stop them. Fortunately, in those days, spicy boiled fish wasn’t as expensive as it would become, and the ingredients were generous, with little of the greasy chili oil that would later become common. Even so, his wallet...

“Xiangzi! Come! Let’s have a drink together!” The guys from Room 307 were all close. One couldn’t refuse Wang Hongzhi’s drink.

Gulp, gulp, gulp...

“Xiangzi! Wishing you success—don’t forget your brothers when you make it big! Let’s go!” Even Zhao Xiaopeng, who was usually quiet, came over to drink with Wu Xiang.

Gulp, gulp, gulp... There was no escape.

One after another. Wu Xiang could hold his liquor—he was a Northeasterner, after all, and couldn’t stand to lose face at the table. But this time, there were too many people, and the mood was too high.

He got drunk! Truly drunk!

In his hazy memory, he thought he might have even thrown up. But when he opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in an unfamiliar place, not alone; the other crew members were there too.

“So thirsty!” His voice sounded strange—his throat felt as if it was on fire. He went out immediately to find water and finally discovered a tap, seemingly in a restroom. He didn’t care about anything else!

Gulp, gulp, gulp... The location was a bit awkward, but the water was no different from regular tap water.

“Ah, that’s so damn good!” Wu Xiang felt as if he’d been reborn, his stomach full of water—what a relief!

“You’re awake?” At that moment, Hai Qing’s voice sounded from behind him. “Why are you drinking raw water?”

“You scared me!” Wu Xiang relaxed when he realized it was her—though he’d been genuinely startled, thinking something had happened to him.

“Giggle... What are you afraid of?” Hai Qing laughed.

“I woke up and found I wasn’t in my dorm; I thought I’d been kidnapped!” Wu Xiang was being honest.

“Giggle... You guys made such a racket, drank so much—what would the teachers and classmates think if you’d gone back to school like that? You’re famous now. So, a few of us girls who hadn’t gotten drunk brought you all here. It’s a small hotel. And you even threw up!” Hai Qing’s teasing made Wu Xiang a bit embarrassed, but he soon remembered something important.

“Right! I was too drunk to remember—who paid the bill?” Wu Xiang realized this was a critical issue.

“You, who else? I paid.” Indeed, among this group, only Hai Qing had any money; the others were all broke, mainly because Wu Xiang was so stingy.

“Oh!” Wu Xiang slapped his thigh. “You’re really my good wife. I mean, this...”

It was pure sincerity, his Northeastern accent coming out again. But could Hai Qing handle such words?

“Don’t say that nonsense—what if the others hear?” Her face flushed instantly.

“What’s the big deal...” Wu Xiang was tempted to lean in for a kiss, but seeing the set of braces on her teeth, he hesitated.

“Wife! I’ll pay you back, don’t worry. Your husband is about to come into money. Once I do, I’ll make sure you live in luxury every day!”

Hai Qing couldn’t help but laugh at Wu Xiang’s antics. There was nothing of the sharp, new director about him at this moment.

“Alright, stop boasting. I’m going back to sleep—it’s already the middle of the night.”

“Don’t go!” Wu Xiang grabbed her hand. “I’m serious, I’m not just bragging. You’ll see, I’m definitely going to make a lot of money this time! Let me tell you why I made this film: it’s because the investment is small, high risk, high reward. And right now, as long as we do things right, we’re sure to make a fortune.”

Hai Qing didn’t reply, just smiled at Wu Xiang, sensing he was about to launch into another monologue.

Sure enough, Wu Xiang continued, “Remember what I told you before? Right now, the domestic film market is in a lull. There hasn’t been a blockbuster, especially from Hollywood, because of what happened earlier. That’s an opportunity—few people see it. This year, Yu Dong told me, scheduling is easy because there are so few films going for the New Year’s slot...”

He was speaking of the market situation at the end of ‘99: few New Year’s blockbusters, only Director Feng’s “Sorry, Baby” could be considered decent. But even that, released a few days ago, hadn’t been well received.

The earlier failure of Director Chen’s “The Emperor and the Assassin,” and the box office losses of several big-budget films the previous year, had made the dangers of the film market clear to everyone. So this year, investments had dropped sharply compared to last.

It wasn’t just the investments; the market itself had shrunk dramatically without the support of Hollywood blockbusters. In 1999, the total annual box office was just over 800 million yuan.

The real winner was Director Zhang Yimou. His two films, “Not One Less” and “The Road Home,” both made substantial profits, mainly because their budgets were modest and they had overseas markets as well.

But the film market now was in crisis. A crisis means both danger and opportunity.

“The Road Home” had been released in October, so for this New Year’s slot, Wu Xiang’s only real competitor was “Sorry, Baby.”

“We’re not just releasing in 20 cities at once; we’re going to maximize screening times. That’s why I chose to release now. And with all the promotions I’ve done—using every trick in the book, some even Americans haven’t tried! Qing, you know? I just have to say it—I can’t keep it in.”

When someone succeeds at something, it’s hard to keep it to themselves. Righteous things don’t need to be hidden; you need someone to share them with.

At this moment, Wu Xiang needed a listener, and Hai Qing was the perfect one.

“Let me tell you something else—you are absolutely crucial to this film. The storyline that develops from your character isn’t in the book, because I couldn’t write it there. But if it’s missing, the symbolism is lacking. For example, you lose weight and find love—this is your rebirth. That’s right, rebirth. Only then can we soften the inevitable passing of Qing Wu Feiyang at the end—it must be shocking, but for the audience to accept it, your role is essential. You acted wonderfully—one lives, one dies... I’ve thought about this film a thousand times. I’ve dissected every aspect—how to operate, how to shoot, what to add. If with all this, it still doesn’t sell, I might as well bang my head and die...”

Faced with Wu Xiang’s almost manic, impassioned speech, Hai Qing just listened quietly, a gentle smile on her face, occasionally interjecting. Somehow, she felt that this was enough. If she could listen to him like this forever, it would be a happiness that lasted a lifetime.