Chapter 00159: In Berlin
# In Berlin
Chapter 159
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 159: In Berlin
"Director Xu, it's a pleasure to meet you for the first time!"
"Chen, uh..."
"Just call me Mr. Chen!"
On the flight to Berlin, I unexpectedly ran into Ann Hui and a few other young directors.
They had been invited to attend a segment called the "Asian Film Seminar," and we were traveling together.
Ann Hui was in her thirties, still sporting long hair, without the tough demeanor she would later develop.
She was part of the Hong Kong New Wave directors and had already made her debut film, *The Secret*, starring Angie Chiu and Sylvia Chang.
This woman was quite bold—there was a scene in *The Secret* involving an autopsy, and she had gone to observe a real autopsy conducted by the Hong Kong police, even itching to try it herself.
She didn’t need much introduction; her list of masterpieces was long.
"Thank you, Mr. Chen, for speaking kindly of me in the media and not criticizing me," Ann Hui said, quite talkative herself.
"Ah, that’s a bit awkward. The premise of my comments was that I didn’t think I’d ever meet the person in question. Who would’ve thought we’d bump into each other like this? Good thing I didn’t say anything bad about you."
"Haha! But your assessment was quite accurate. I do love realistic themes. I’m currently preparing a film set in Vietnam, funded by your very own Ms. Xia Meng."
"Aren’t you afraid of being blacklisted?"
"I’m an art-house film director. What do I care about the market? If there’s a film to make, I’ll make it!" Ann Hui shrugged it off.
This film was *Boat People*.
Originally, they had approached Chow Yun-fat, but he was afraid of being blacklisted.
So, they turned to Andy Lau, who was a newcomer at the time.
For him, getting a role was the most important thing.
The film also starred George Lam.
The entire movie was shot in Hainan and Zhanjiang, but halfway through, the annoying Hong Kong media exposed it.
Everyone involved, including Andy Lau and George Lam, had to write letters of repentance.
Ann Hui, however, didn’t give a damn and refused to write one.
So, Chen Qi deliberately tried to get closer to her.
In the future, well, not with Director Xu, but perhaps he could pull her into his circle.
...
After more than ten hours of long-distance flying, the group finally arrived in West Berlin.
Fu Qi had also brought some people along to sell *The Deadly Curve*.
In 1979, China and the United States established diplomatic relations, signing a series of agreements, including one on film exchanges.
The attitude of the United States directly influenced the entire Western bloc, so during this period, China signed similar agreements with many Western European countries, leading to a surge in film exchanges.
By the way, some people always say that China was closed off during that era.
Please, it wasn’t that we were closed off—it was that the Western world had blockaded us! There’s a difference between being closed off and being blockaded.
Later, when Sino-Soviet relations soured, the United States saw an opportunity, believing they could pull China to their side against the Soviet Union.
China also needed to adjust its strategic direction, which led to ping-pong diplomacy, small balls pushing big balls, Nixon’s visit to China, and eventually the establishment of diplomatic relations...
The morning in West Berlin.
As soon as the group landed, they were greeted by a tall, burly foreigner who enthusiastically hugged Fang Yurong, causing Gong Xue and Fu Jingong to frown.
Fang Yurong didn’t mind; those involved in foreign affairs were quite open, and she was no exception.
"This is the director of our competition entry, *The Return of the Swallow*... Director Fu, this is Moritz de Hadeln, the president of the Berlin Film Festival!"
The president himself came to greet them?
Fu Jingong was startled and quickly shook hands, stammering out a greeting in broken English.
"These are the main creators of our participating works!"
"Welcome to Berlin!"
Hadeln also shook hands with Chen Qi and the others, his attitude very enthusiastic.
He smiled and said, "I’ve arranged everything for you. Please rest at the hotel!"
The group got into a car, and Li Wenhua couldn’t help but ask, "Xiao Yu, is he covering all our accommodations and meals?"
"Of course! Originally, we were supposed to pay for it ourselves, but the president wanted to show his respect for us, so the organizers are covering it."
"Oh, this foreigner is quite considerate!"
"Yeah, he’s so warm to us!"
"I wonder if we’ll get used to German food?"
Fang Yurong smirked.
Arriving in Berlin, she suddenly became as proud as a peacock spreading its tail, though it was unclear what she was so proud of, as if she had entered her own territory.
Of course, she couldn’t reveal the truth: the Berlin Film Festival had angered the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe and was in desperate need of fresh blood.
They had chosen Chinese films, which was why Hadeln was so enthusiastic.
On the way to the hotel.
The group peered out the windows, and Chen Qi did the same.
He had been to Berlin in his past life, but never to "West Berlin."
The streets were filled with cars, and the buildings were diverse.
Large shopping malls and small shops hadn’t opened yet, but the windows were already filled with a dazzling array of goods.
Everywhere you looked, there were big-nosed foreigners...
It was February, and Berlin was cold.
People wore brightly colored thick coats.
Gong Xue paid particular attention to their clothing, comparing it to what Chen Qi had bought for her in Hong Kong.
She felt that hers was just as beautiful and couldn’t help but feel relieved.
There was no helping it.
People from the mainland at that time felt like they were in paradise everywhere they went, yet also felt inferior.
That’s why many who went to the United States in the 80s and 90s later became the backbone of the so-called "public intellectuals."
At the hotel, Gong Xue and Fang Yurong shared a room, Li Wenhua and Fu Jingong shared another, and Chen Qi and Jet Li shared one.
Fu Qi and the others made their own arrangements.
In the room, Jet Li was unpacking his luggage while Chen Qi looked over the festival schedule: the opening ceremony was on the 13th, and the closing ceremony was on the 24th.
Eighteen films were competing for the Golden Bear Award, but Chen Qi didn’t recognize any of the directors or jury members.
"The times are still a bit early. If it were James Cameron, Quentin Tarantino, Tom Cruise, or Arnold Schwarzenegger, I’d know them."
"And Sophie Marceau, Isabelle Adjani, Monica Bellucci, Jennifer Connelly, Winona Ryder, Brooke Shields... sigh, I wonder when my tiger penis wine will come in handy?"
"Brother Qi!"
Jet Li was now very obedient to him, having witnessed firsthand how Chen Qi had led everyone in Hong Kong, especially how he had stood up to the Hong Kong media.
Such skills were enough to suppress his own awkwardness and pride, and he now respectfully called him "Brother Qi."
"Are we going to the opening ceremony tomorrow?"
"Of course, but it has nothing to do with us. We’re just here to exhibit."
"Actually, I’ve always been curious. It seems like you’ve been aiming to go abroad from the start. Why release the film in Hong Kong first and then on the mainland? And not just Hong Kong—you even came to Germany. What’s your goal?"
For the rise of China, of course!
Hah!
Chen Qi mocked himself.
This lofty reason was something even he didn’t fully believe, but it wasn’t entirely untrue either.
Human thoughts are complex.
He wanted to make money, chase fame and fortune, gain higher social status, and date more actresses...
None of these conflicted with his desire to earn some foreign exchange for the country.
"Come here!"
Chen Qi called Jet Li over and said, "Some things are very complicated. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained them now. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine. In any case, this is a very meaningful endeavor. Just rest well today. Oh, and remember, don’t say a word to Fang Yurong. Not a single word! We’re just here to exhibit. Nothing else is going on!"
"Got it!"
Jet Li nodded, then smirked, thinking it all seemed so mysterious.
The Berlin Film Festival had a market for film transactions. *Tai Chi* wanted to secure a booth, but they had to inform the festival in advance, which would have exposed their plans.
Fu Qi had been a great help, applying for two booths under the Great Wall banner—one for *The Deadly Curve* and one for *Tai Chi*.
Fang Yurong knew nothing about this.
Moreover, with *The Return of the Swallow* taking up her attention, she assumed *Tai Chi* was just there for a screening and that would be the end of it.
She never imagined that someone would dare to go behind China Film’s back and pull off such a daring move!
(End of chapter...)