Chapter Twenty-Three: Continuing Cul

“When did you prepare another film? How come I didn’t know about it?” As soon as the reporters left, Bald Qiang could no longer suppress his curiosity and looked at Yan Xu, asking.

“I just decided on it—literally just now,” Yan Xu replied, meeting his gaze.

“What kind of film are you planning this time?” Ji Mao leaned in, equally intrigued.

“A story about a taxi killer,” Yan Xu said.

“A taxi killer?” Ji Mao eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re making a film out of that fight you had?”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea. The whole thing is all over the news right now. If you put it on screen, a lot of people would be curious enough to watch, and it wouldn’t need a big budget. You’d probably make a profit,” Bald Qiang chimed in, clearly interested.

“You’re both wrong. This isn’t as simple as a ‘Butcher on a Rainy Night.’ The scale is much larger—you’ll understand once you see the script,” Yan Xu promised.

In truth, Yan Xu had been pondering his next project for quite some time. Although his last film had done decently, it was still a small production in every respect, and he knew he wasn’t yet ready to helm a blockbuster. The highest-grossing films in Hong Kong in the coming years would be big productions or boast major star power. More importantly, while many of the action-packed movies he remembered were thrilling to watch, he didn’t truly love them.

But during the reporters’ questions just now, the title of a film suddenly flashed through his mind.

The Taxi Judge—one of Lau Chiu Leung’s cult classics. The story follows an insurance broker, Ah Kin, an earnest and hardworking man with a promising career and a happy family. But one stormy night, a taxi driver refuses to pick up his wife, who’s in labor. Forced out of the cab, she suffers a fatal accident. Tormented by grief, Ah Kin embarks on a path of revenge, murdering several taxi drivers. The case causes a sensation, and the officer investigating is none other than Ah Kin’s close friend, Yu Wei Chung—a man known for his cool-headedness and his intolerance for evil. This sets the stage for a dramatic chase and shootout.

Because the film was meant for wider release and to avoid being labeled as restricted, the violence was kept subdued, relying on suggestion rather than explicit gore. It was rated Category II B, edging it toward a standard cop-and-crime drama. But lacking the intense shootouts and explosive action typical of the genre, the story felt rushed, the characters stiff, and the pacing uneven. The result was an awkward film, relegated to obscurity for a long time, earning just over 4.9 million at the box office—enough to break even, but not to make a real profit.

Despite this, Yan Xu genuinely liked the film. While many scenes were borrowed from “Taxi Driver” and “Falling Down,” and Wong Chau Sang’s performance wasn’t yet on par with Robert De Niro or Michael Douglas, his transformation before and after his wife’s accident was rendered naturally and without affectation. The film’s theme directly confronted the ugly realities of Hong Kong society at the time—taxi drivers routinely refused fares, and stories of vigilante justice were exceedingly rare in Hong Kong cinema.

For Yan Xu, now was the perfect moment to make such a film. He could already predict that, starting tomorrow, every entertainment paper in the city would cover today’s events—most likely splashing his name across the front page. The journalists' reactions made it clear that, beyond clarifying his recent incident, there would be a heated discussion about taxi drivers. Refusal of fares was rampant—almost everyone who had ever taken a taxi had experienced it, especially at night between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. Most drivers refused to cross the harbor, and heading out to the New Territories late at night meant drivers would often return empty, so they’d either refuse or demand extra payment.

Of course, if Yan Xu were to direct the film, he wouldn’t use the original script. That script, in trying to please the mainstream, abandoned the heart of the story, turning it into an awkward hybrid crime drama.

As a devoted fan of splatter films, Yan Xu believed that ramping up the blood and sensory thrills—even though the rating would exclude part of the audience—would stoke the curiosity of thrill-seeking youths, who might return to the cinema multiple times for the experience, especially young couples. For some men, it was a chance to display their courage and draw closer to their partners.

Just as Yan Xu anticipated, for several days, every entertainment magazine in Hong Kong was awash with news from his press conference. His name dominated the headlines, with detailed accounts of the fight and coverage of his two films. Notably, Bai Zhan’s new film, “Hong Kong Cases: Dr. Lamb,” made a rare appearance in the papers, much to Bald Qiang’s delight—it was free publicity.

The taxi driver who had been clamoring for compensation from Yan Xu was now silent. Faced with such evidence, not only could he not accuse Yan Xu of assault, he was lucky not to be charged with hit-and-run himself.

But Yan Xu no longer cared about any of this. His entire attention was focused on preparing his new film. Although he wrote the script in just one night, he didn’t hand it over to Bald Qiang as casually as he had with “Dr. Lamb.” Instead, he revised it repeatedly, painstakingly refining each scene.

This time, the casting was even more critical. For a film like this, the actors needed real skill—no more inviting random acquaintances for cameo roles, as in “The Butcher on a Rainy Night.” The lead, especially, had to convey profound emotional shifts before and after his wife’s tragedy—a true test of talent.

At this point, Wong Chau Sang’s acting was still raw, in the midst of honing his craft. Even if his abilities reached Yan Xu’s standards, his current status was only third-tier, not enough for the lead. At just twenty-two, despite his mature looks, he did not fit the image of Ah Kin—a man in his thirties, responsible for his family and dedicated at work. Only a man of that age could make such a transformation resonate with most viewers.

Then there were Ah Kin’s police friend, the officer, the officer’s daughter—every role needed to be cast with care.