Chapter 00289: The Awards Ceremony
# The Awards Ceremony
Chapter 289
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 289: The Awards Ceremony
Hong Jinbao and his group tumbled into the venue in a disheveled mess.
The assembled filmmakers couldn’t help but chuckle.
They respected Hong Jinbao, but not Lam Ching-ying, Tai Bo, or Wong Ha—let alone those nameless stuntmen.
Stuntmen held a low status in Hong Kong’s entertainment industry, often seen as uncultured and rough around the edges.
But Hong Jinbao was skilled at elevating people.
He had helped many of his brothers rise to fame, and once they were famous, the world treated them differently—suddenly, everyone around them was a good person.
He found his seat and greeted familiar friends, though the mocking gazes around him made him feel like he was sitting on pins and needles.
He muttered under his breath, “Look at you lot, dressed like beggars. Shirts and jeans are bad enough, but Wong Ha, you’re wearing shorts? Have you no common sense?”
“We couldn’t even scrape together a single suit between the six of us. You know that. Besides, you’re not wearing one either,” Wong Ha protested.
“I—I sent mine to the cleaners!” Hong Jinbao retorted stubbornly. “My formal wear is all custom-tailored. They gave us such short notice—I didn’t even have time to get a new set made.”
He glanced up at the second floor, packed with fans, and felt a pang of regret. *This is terrible.
I’ve completely ruined my image!* But then he reconsidered. *What image? Do I even have female students who like me anymore? I’m not Jackie Chan.*
Just then, a sudden commotion broke out behind them, accompanied by hushed whispers.
They turned to see Fu Qi and Shi Hui leading the leftist faction in an unexpectedly grand entrance.
Each of them looked sharp and spirited, a dazzling lineup of handsome men and beautiful women, instantly becoming the center of attention.
“No way, the leftists look like this now? I remember them being poor and unfashionable.”
“Times have changed. The winds are shifting.”
“Those newcomers have great potential. With a solid acting roster and a few directors joining them, Hong Kong’s film scene is about to change.”
Tsui Hark’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, his mustache bristling with anger.
Chen Qi, calm and composed, walked past him, deliberately eyeing his outfit with a look of feigned surprise before turning away and continuing forward.
“Hahaha, Ah Qi is really something else!” Shi Nansheng laughed.
“That bastard! He’s full of tricks. He knew I was coming and didn’t even warn me!”
“It’s not so bad. Plenty of others look worse than us.”
Hong Jinbao’s group was also discussing the scene.
“Why are the leftists making such a show of it? Did they get tipped off?”
“Look at them, all flashy and smug. It’s disgusting!”
“They must’ve known in advance. Who else would dress up like that? They’re just trying to make us look bad!”
“Third Brother, let me handle this!”
The most embarrassed of them all, Wong Ha, wanted to salvage some pride.
He suddenly stood up and strode aggressively down the aisle toward the leftist group.
As Chen Qi and his entourage moved forward, they saw a man charging toward them with clear intent to cause trouble.
The aisle was narrow, and the man made no attempt to avoid them, his face practically screaming *I’m looking for a fight*.
Chen Qi frowned and subtly shifted his group to shield them.
“...”
Wong Ha wore a smug grin.
He didn’t dare do anything too drastic—just a little bump to make them stumble.
But when he was three or four steps away, someone seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
“What the—?!”
He felt two powerful hands seize him, yanking him sideways and pinning him firmly into a nearby seat.
Wong Ha had trained in Hung Gar under the father of Lau Kar-leung, yet here he was, immobilized like a helpless chick.
He looked up in panic at a completely ordinary face speaking in Mandarin:
“Sir, step aside.”
“...”
He swallowed hard, inexplicably sensing a lethal aura from the man—the kind that came from real battlefield experience.
He didn’t dare move again.
Only after Chen Qi and the others passed did the man release him. “Thanks for cooperating.”
From an outsider’s perspective, Wong Ha had turned into a limp shrimp, subdued in an instant, docile as a baby.
“Wow!”
Andy Lau and Tony Leung, witnessing the scene, felt their teenage热血 (hot-blooded spirit) ignite. “Mr. Chen, your bodyguard is amazing!”
“What do you expect? He’s killed who knows how many Vietnamese, won first place in military combat tournaments, a true imperial guard. His iron body skills can shatter gold and snap jade. Give him a bayonet, and he’d charge through enemy lines seven times!”
When traveling, one’s reputation was self-made.
Chen Qi had no idea about Xiao Mo’s actual background, but it didn’t matter.
He cranked the hype to the max and was quite pleased with Xiao Mo. *After all those lavish meals I treated you to, you finally proved useful!*
Meanwhile, Wong Ha slunk back to his seat, only to face Hong Jinbao’s scolding: “Seriously? Who told you to go? You think we’re not embarrassed enough?”
“I just wanted to test his mettle!” Wong Ha grumbled.
Hong Jinbao shook his head.
Unlike these lower-tier stuntmen, his grandparents were renowned industry veterans.
The drama school run by Yu Jim-yuen had been funded by his grandmother.
When he went to study opera, he was treated like a young master from a wealthy family.
People like Run Run Shaw and Raymond Chow, the big bosses, understood Chen Qi’s mainland official background.
Even someone like Hong Jinbao, who had seen the world, grasped it.
The ones who dismissed Chen Qi were usually the grassroots types.
The minor incident went largely unnoticed.
The leftist faction took their seats, forming a stark contrast with the rest—comfortable and at ease.
After all, the leftists were supposed to be the poor and unfashionable ones, but today, the tables had turned.
Around 6 o’clock, the ceremony began.
Before the awards, a slideshow on the brief history of Hong Kong cinema played, followed by the hosts—one from Hong Kong Radio, the other from TVB—neither of whom Chen Qi recognized.
Apart from the added formalities he had introduced, the content remained rather lackluster.
After the opening remarks, the awards were handed out immediately.
Five main categories were limited to Hong Kong-produced films.
The Top Ten Chinese Films and Top Ten Foreign Films were selected from movies screened in Hong Kong.
There were no complicated judging procedures or bureaucratic hurdles—just a relaxed, casual affair.
Michael Hui won Best Actor for *Security Unlimited*, though he wasn’t present, so Ricky Hui accepted on his behalf.
Kara Hui won Best Actress for *My Young Auntie*.
She was visibly emotional on stage, thanking everyone over a dozen times, though later, she didn’t think much of it—the trophy ended up stored under her bed for years.
Best Screenplay went to Alfred Cheung for *The Story of Woo Viet*.
Best Film and Best Director both went to *Father and Son*, directed by Allen Fong, a leading figure of the Hong Kong New Wave.
Fong had only made five films but won Best Director three times—an incredible feat.
The film was produced by Phoenix, whose boss also took the stage to speak.
Among the three leftist studios—Great Wall, Phoenix, and Sun Luen—Chen Qi was deeply tied to Great Wall but less familiar with the other two.
Listening to the speech, he inwardly shook his head. *Same old rhetoric.*
In a place like Hong Kong, ideological preaching alone wouldn’t cut it.
You had to beat them into submission *and* make them money—only then could you truly unite them.
Tsui Hark: “I never thought anyone would dare to organize a film awards ceremony. I’m glad someone’s willing to pave the way!”
Ann Hui: “Honestly, today’s event completely surprised me. I hope you keep improving!”
The Top Ten Foreign Films aside, the directors of the Top Ten Chinese Films gave their acceptance speeches—not entirely perfunctory, as many genuinely hoped Hong Kong would establish a prestigious award to encourage the industry.
Hong Jinbao went up for *Encounter of the Spooky Kind* and quipped, “I sent my suit to the cleaners. Fine, I didn’t plan to wear one… But next time you invite me, I’ll dress properly to support our own film awards!”
“Clap clap clap!”
Amid applause, winners took the stage one after another.
The Top Ten Chinese Films included three mainland productions—*Legend of Tianyun Mountain*, *Rushing Home*, and *The Tai Chi Master*—all introduced by the leftists.
None of the mainland filmmakers attended, so the leftists accepted on their behalf.
Then, the host finally announced:
“Next, please welcome the award recipient for *The Tai Chi Master*—Mr. Chen Qi!”
(End of Chapter)