Chapter 00126: The Lunatic
# The Lunatic
Chapter 126
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 126: The Lunatic
"Knock, knock, knock!"
"Come in!"
Chen Qi knocked on the door of Wang Yang's office.
The old man was inside, puffing away on a homemade cigarette.
He had rolled some tobacco leaves in white paper, lit it up, and was now enjoying his smoke.
"Finished the script for Central TV?"
"Wrote one about Judge Bao. They took it back to study. Let them study it. I’ve already sold it anyway."
"Haha, you’ve really been money-minded lately! That courtyard you bought—if it were a few years ago, they’d have labeled you a capitalist."
Wang Yang stubbed out the remaining half of his cigarette and sighed, "I’ve been thinking for days about how to bypass China Film and get Tai Chi out there. There’s only one way—act first, report later!"
"Agreed!"
Chen Qi nodded with a smile, "I was thinking the same thing. Someone has to take the first step, so why not us?"
First, they needed to understand one thing: Tai Chi was meant to earn foreign currency, and that currency had to be handed over to the state.
Whether it was Beijing Film Studio, China Film, the Film Bureau, or even the Ministry of Culture, none of them would get a cut.
The key was to make sure everyone knew that we were the ones earning this money.
Otherwise, all the effort would be for nothing.
But the distribution rights were in the hands of China Film.
So, the problem became: how could they bypass China Film and earn that money themselves?
"Luckily, with the new policies, we hold the copyright to Tai Chi. As long as we can get it out there, we can negotiate with overseas distributors. If China Film comes knocking, I’ll handle them!"
Wang Yang chuckled, clearly enjoying the idea of a fight.
"My plan is to sell it to Hong Kong first. The leftist factions there are quite independent. Let Great Wall buy it and screen it in Hong Kong. We’ll apply to go there under the pretext of promotional activities."
"You mean, sell it overseas through Hong Kong?"
"Exactly!"
"But Hong Kong’s reach isn’t that wide, is it? I think it’s better to go straight to Europe and America."
"Europe and America? That’s tough. Do you have a plan?"
"I’ve heard there are many film festivals in Europe. Could we go and participate?" Chen Qi suggested.
"Film festivals…"
Wang Yang paused, deep in thought.
"There’s no precedent for that! And the Film Bureau controls this. If we want to go, they have to agree first, then the foreign affairs department. Otherwise, we can’t even leave the country. I’ll look into it. For now, let’s focus on finishing Tai Chi."
After discussing for a while, Chen Qi took his leave.
He went back to the guesthouse to pick up some snacks he had bought at the Overseas Chinese Store, then headed to the editing room.
In the cramped room, a 50-something-year-old editor was hard at work.
Li Wenhua sat beside him, occasionally exchanging a few words.
He turned and said, "Xiao Chen, you’re here!"
"Yeah, brought something for Teacher Fu."
"Why are you always bringing stuff? I don’t need your bribes. Take it away!"
"You just got a grandson, right? These are nutritional supplements for the kid. If you don’t want them, I’ll just throw them away."
Chen Qi grinned and placed the items at the old editor’s feet.
The old man snorted, muttering, "A weasel paying respects to a chicken—I see through you. Every time you bring something, you start giving me orders. Who’s the editor here, you or me?"
"You are, of course. But I’m the screenwriter, and I’ve got some ideas itching to come out!"
The success of a martial arts film depends half on the editing.
A well-edited film can turn actors who can’t fight into martial arts masters.
The cuts, the rhythm, the sharpness—it’s all crucial.
Most of the old-timers at Beijing Film Studio disliked Chen Qi, but he had the power of money.
Who could resist that?
"How about this part?"
Once again, Chen Qi started giving directions.
"When Chen Shaomei is teaching Yang Yuqian martial arts and throws pebbles at him, don’t use a long shot. Cut it up—quick, sharp, like pa pa pa!"
"What do you mean pa pa pa?" the old editor asked, exasperated.
"Stance!"
"Relax the waist, but keep the core tight!"
"Raise your arms!"
"Wrists two inches higher!"
"Focus your energy, calm your mind, steady as a rock!"
"Every time she says something, cut to the pebble hitting Yang Yuqian’s corresponding body part. One line, one cut. Quick and sharp, with the sound of the pebbles hitting. That’s pa pa pa pa!"
"..."
The old editor wanted to argue, but then he glanced at the imported health supplements.
Fine, let him have his way.
…………
"Another package of letters for you!"
"Thanks, Uncle. I’ll pick it up later!"
Meanwhile, Gong Xue rode someone’s 28-inch bicycle out of Beijing Film Studio.
She didn’t own a bike herself.
The area around the studio was quite remote, with little going on.
Since joining the studio, she had made a few friends, but her life mostly revolved between the guesthouse and the canteen.
She rarely went out unless necessary.
Today, she was heading into town to buy a birthday gift for her mother.
She went to Wangfujing and bought a silk scarf.
Naturally, she was surrounded by enthusiastic fans.
In the afternoon, as she was riding back near the studio, she suddenly heard someone shout from behind, "Zhou Yun!"
Huh?
She stopped and turned around.
A plain-looking middle-aged man was jogging after her, his eyes shining with an odd light.
"Zhou Yun! It’s really you! I’ve been waiting for so long!"
"Comrade, do I know you?"
"I’ve written you so many letters. I said I’d wait for you at the studio gate every Sunday. I’ve been coming every week, but you never showed up. I thought you were ignoring me!"
Ah!
Gong Xue suddenly remembered the strange letter she had received in Henan.
It was from this man.
"I’ve been away filming. I just got back."
"I know, I understand. I’ve watched Romance on Lushan Mountain six times. I don’t know what to say. I’ve finally met you! You’re even more beautiful in person than in the movie. You can’t imagine how much I love you, Zhou Yun!"
Gong Xue was a little scared, and she noticed that he kept calling her by her character’s name.
"Thank you, but I have to go now!"
"No, no, don’t go!"
She got back on her bike, but the man ran alongside her, babbling incoherently.
"I don’t know when I’ll see you again. Stay and talk to me a little longer! Did you get the ration tickets I sent you? Look at me! Look at me!"
He even reached out to grab the back of her bike.
"Comrade, that’s too much!"
Gong Xue shuddered, nearly falling off.
She spotted the studio gate ahead and sprinted toward it, shouting, "Uncle! Uncle!"
"What’s wrong?"
"Someone’s following me!"
"Ho!"
The usually lethargic gatekeeper suddenly sprang to life, pulling out a gun—yes, a gun!
"Kid, you’ve got some nerve causing trouble here! Who do you think you are?"
The gatekeeper brandished the dark barrel of his gun.
Physical persuasion still worked wonders.
The man immediately stopped, turned on his heel, and bolted.
The gatekeeper chased him for a few steps before returning, panting.
"I’m getting old. Back in the day, I’d have kicked him down before he could run."
"Thank you so much! That really scared me."
"Do you know that guy?"
"No, he just sent me some letters."
"Ah, we’ve had a few like that before. They’re like lunatics, treating movie stars as their wives. Bet you anything, that guy’s single!"
The gatekeeper scoffed and went back into his booth, his duty done.
He was part of the studio’s security team.
In those days, security teams were well-equipped—Type 56 assault rifles, semi-automatics, even anti-aircraft guns.
The militia was even more extreme; they could take their guns home, and kids played with them.
Truly, a time of martial prowess!
(End of Chapter)