Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Crimson Sun Rolls Forth

“Qingxia?”

For Chen Long, he was very familiar with Lin Qingxia. Lin Qingxia had once been his brother Qin Xianglin’s girlfriend for a short time, and even he himself felt a certain indescribable attraction to her.

She was widely recognized as the most beautiful woman in Southeast Asia's entertainment industry, a goddess in the eyes of countless fans. Her temperament was unmatched, her fresh and refined image brimming with charm. Even though she was now thirty-one and had recently cut back on filming, her popularity remained at its peak.

“She really is perfect for the role, but she probably doesn't have time,” Chen Long frowned slightly. “You know about her and my brother. She’s currently studying in America.”

Just last year, Lin Qingxia had publicly acknowledged her amicable breakup with Qin Xianglin, ending her four-year engagement, and had once again traveled to America to pursue acting studies at San Diego International University. Whether she went to further her studies or to heal from heartbreak, no one really knew.

This incident caused as much of a stir in the industry as when Qin Xianglin flew to New York in 1980 to propose to Lin Qingxia. Four years had passed, and they still hadn’t married. Though Qingxia and Qin Xianglin had shared sweet moments, their relationship never quite matched the depth she had with Qin Han.

“How will you know if you don’t try? I know you’re friends with her, Long, so you must have her current contact information. Besides, Miss Lin has been resting for quite some time; she should have some free time now. Anyway, it’s just an invitation. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll find someone else.”

Yan Xu looked at Chen Long. If he extended the invitation personally, there shouldn’t be a problem.

“I’ll give it a try,” Chen Long replied, though he didn’t sound confident at all.

**************************

“So here you are!” While Yan Xu and Chen Long were deep in discussion about the film, the private room’s door swung open. Along came Ah Lun and a round-faced, cheerful man. The moment he entered, his eyes landed on Yan Xu.

“Ah Lun!”

“Ah Lek!”

“Ah Lun, what took you so long?”

“Ah Lek, how’s it going at TVB lately?”

“Ah Lek, where’s Xiugu? Didn’t she come?”

…

Yan Xu was no stranger to the man following behind Alan Tam. Back in high school, he’d been a huge fan of his movies for a time.

Though he often played supporting roles, his performances always stood out—sometimes even overshadowing the leads. He was Juk Chi-san in Stephen Chow’s films, Wong Si-fu in The Iron Rooster vs. Centipede, Holland Lek in The Supreme Trickster, Ah Chi in Modern Buddha’s Palm, and the unforgettable Roland. Whenever he appeared, laughter would follow. In the industry, he was known as the cleverest man of all—Chan Baek-cheung.

At just over thirty, his life had already been a rollercoaster. He’d been a founding member of the Loosers band, which later became the Wynners. At twenty, he started his own garment factory; by twenty-three, he was worth millions—a fortune in the 1970s, when thirty thousand dollars could buy a hundred-square-meter apartment.

But at twenty-six, his factory went bankrupt, and he took his remaining money to the Middle East to do business with pirates. Later, after borrowing thirty thousand dollars from Alan Tam—money meant for buying a house—he declared bankruptcy. At twenty-nine, he joined TVB, and that same year, he married TVB’s leading lady, Xiugu. He had worked his way up from a bit player to a movie lead.

Of course, his tumultuous fate didn’t end there. Yan Xu knew that ten years later, Chan would lose his fortune in the futures market, racking up millions in debt and going bankrupt a second time.

But he quickly picked himself up. Not only did he pay off his debts, but he amassed another fortune worth over a hundred million, only to be cheated out of more than forty million a decade later. Still, he managed to recover most of the loss.

The room was filled with industry veterans who were all familiar with Alan Tam and Ah Lek. As soon as they walked in, everyone greeted them warmly.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Alan Tam said, sitting down beside Yan Xu.

“You can see for yourself—I was dragged in here by Brother Hong the moment I arrived,” Yan Xu replied helplessly, spreading his hands.

“Let me introduce you—”

“No need, this is Brother Lek. I know him,” Yan Xu interrupted Alan Tam.

“Brother Lek, I really admire you. You’re a legend in the business,” Yan Xu said to Chan Baek-cheung.

“You must be joking,” Chan said, his eyes wide. “If I’m already a legend, should I expect people to burn incense to me on the fourteenth of July?”

He joked, as everyone who knew him could attest to his playful nature and his willingness to go to great lengths for his friends. He was well-liked in the industry.

“I didn’t expect you to be so funny in person, too, Brother Lek. Your films last year were a huge hit. I also just saw Wong Jing—his Ghostly Flyers is coming out next month.”

Yan Xu smiled. Chatting with someone like Chan Baek-cheung made everything feel light and easy.

“That one stars Ah B. I’m just a supporting actor,” Chan said. His career had been closely tied to Wong Jing’s movies, appearing in nearly all of them, whether as a lead or in a cameo.

“Brother Lek, are you free in March or April?” Yan Xu asked. The third film he was planning was already taking shape in his mind, and it was time to consider the cast.

Although the supporting roles, except for the female lead, weren’t extensive, having recognizable stars in those parts would greatly help the film.

“What’s up? Got a new project?” Chan guessed immediately.

“I’m about to shoot Fat Wong’s Modern Cinderella and Da Rong’s Love Striker. My schedule’s pretty packed.”

Yan Xu had never seen Modern Cinderella, but he was familiar with Love Striker, which starred Chan and Sylvia Chang, with Leslie Cheung in a supporting role.

“It won’t take much of your time. The role is small, just a few scenes—one or two days at most.”

“One or two days? That should be fine,” Chan replied, though he felt a twinge of disappointment.

He’d thought Yan Xu was offering him a leading role, but it turned out to be a minor part. Still, Yan Xu was a box-office hitmaker, and his movies not only became popular but also launched actors’ careers—just like Wu Mengda, who’d gone from bit parts at TVB to a flood of film offers.

“This character is crucial to the story, and there isn’t really a male lead in this film. Apart from the female lead, no one else has a big part,” Yan Xu quickly explained, noticing Chan’s disappointment.

“All right, just send me the script when it’s ready,” Chan said promptly, brushing off his earlier disappointment.

“A women’s film? Are you making an art film?” Alan Tam, seated nearby, was curious. With no male lead and a cast dominated by women, what else could it be but an art film? But art films were a risky business in Hong Kong. They might win awards, but rarely made money—and often lost a fortune.

“Of course not. I’ll probably never touch that genre in my life,” Yan Xu laughed. Though art films could win many awards, he had no interest in them. He knew himself well—he was too much of a commoner and would only curse at things he didn’t understand.

“It’s still a horror movie. That’s my specialty.”

“If you’re interested, why not do a cameo?” Chan suggested to Alan Tam.

“A cameo?” Alan Tam looked at Yan Xu. “Is there a role that suits me?”

“There is, of course!” Yan Xu quickly replied. Alan Tam’s involvement would be a dream come true.

“Just so you know, my cameo fee isn’t low. At the very least, you’ll have to buy me dinner,” Alan Tam joked. Apart from preparing for his summer concert at Hong Kong Coliseum, he didn’t have much else going on.

“I’ll not only buy you dinner, but I’ve got something even better for your fee,” Yan Xu said, pulling a sheet of music from his pocket. He hadn’t forgotten Alan Tam’s request for a song.

“You finished it?” Alan Tam’s eyes lit up when he saw the sheet music. He took it eagerly and unfolded it.

“Even if fate tosses you about, even if fate twists and turns, even if fate tries to scare you into thinking life is dull—don’t shed tears or despair, and never give up. I wish I could always stay by your side…”

Another inspirational song. Alan Tam only glanced through the lyrics but was instantly captivated, even humming along to the melody.

“This is fantastic!” After humming it once, Alan Tam nearly jumped up from the sofa. The song was stirring and powerful, and he could already predict it would sweep across Hong Kong.

ps: Many readers have expressed their dislike for the recent chapters, so let me explain a bit.

The entertainment industry is a vast cauldron of connections. To survive here, relationships are crucial; it’s far more complex than just acting or making movies. The protagonist, though he has successful films, is still a newcomer and lacks connections. Right now, anyone with a bit of power could easily crush him—just like Cheng Gang, who was a hot director but, after offending the wrong people, never got to make another film, or Wu Yushen, who made a string of hit comedies and, after a single failure, was exiled to Taiwan for over a year.

The protagonist gives away movies, songs—even if it looks like flattery—it’s all to build connections for the future. In this circle, most relationships are based on mutual benefit; at the very least, he needs to create some goodwill. Brotherhood and loyalty are mostly nonsense here. Look at how many “brothers” turn on each other overnight, or how many groups can share hardship but not prosperity. Affairs and betrayals are countless, and everyone knows the story of that former duo and a certain Japanese woman.

As for Chen Long, I haven’t written him as a particularly good person. Everyone knows what he’s really like; at least in public, he’s well-dressed. But which influential actor, director, or producer hasn’t slept with dozens of actresses? Not just third- and fourth-tier ones—there’s no shortage of first- and second-tier “public buses” either.

As for Police Story, the plot is pretty average. As mentioned, it was mainly the scenes with cars plowing through the shantytown, the solo chase after the bus, and the leap from several stories inside the mall that attracted Chen Long.

My writing isn’t the best, and there are many things I’d like to express but can’t. Romance is especially not my strong suit. But in the entertainment industry, you can’t avoid relationships between men and women. Please bear with me and keep supporting the story. I welcome your suggestions.

Thanks to Duan Jiang Can Yue for the feedback—I’ll pay more attention in the future! And thanks to Da Baicai for the reward!