Chapter Forty: Transformation

A week after "The Butterfly Effect" had premiered, on a moonless and windy night, Ning Hao invited Gu Zhi out, saying he wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk. The meeting took place near the Capital Film Academy, in a café called "New Island." The café was nestled within a residential complex across from the academy. During the day, it bustled with people, but at night, apart from a few couples—new flames or old loves from the academy—lingering there in quiet intimacy, business was scant. Such a tranquil, artful place was indeed perfect for romantic encounters.

Standing before the doors of New Island Café, Gu Zhi couldn’t help but entertain some odd thoughts. It was late at night, and for a man to call him out to such a place for a "talk"—well, it was hard not to let his imagination wander. Fortunately, upon entering, he saw Ning Hao sitting close beside his girlfriend, Xing Aina, the two of them laughing and chatting sweetly.

"What nonsense are you thinking all day long!" Gu Zhi chastised himself with a pat on the head, privately relieved.

"Long nights like these—are you two deliberately trying to make me the third wheel here, Hao, Xing?" Gu Zhi greeted them playfully, then sat down across from the pair, ordering an espresso with milk and sugar. When it came to coffee, he really was clueless—as long as it wasn’t too bitter, he could manage.

At that time, many Western customs were sweeping through the country, and drinking coffee had become a symbol of sophistication—especially black coffee. It was as if holding a cup of it instantly elevated one’s social aura. Yet, over the next decade, coffee’s status would steadily decline; people would realize that in Europe and America, drinking coffee was as commonplace as drinking boiled water back home, and in terms of refinement, tea far outclassed coffee—it simply wasn’t the tool for showing off that some imagined.

In Gu Zhi’s eyes, drinking coffee was simply a matter of personal taste; there was no fixed ritual. Someone ordering a "sugar-free, nonfat, double latte" in a café was no different from someone at a street stall asking for "two eggs, an extra sausage, no scallions, and more chili."

By now, Gu Zhi and Ning Hao had gone from professional partners to good friends. Both were straightforward people, and all those pretentious formalities had long since fallen away.

"You’re a celebrity now—we wouldn’t dare ask you out during the day, or your fans would mob you," Xing Aina teased.

"Fan" was the trendy term at the time; it would still be a few years before it evolved into the homophone "fensi."

After "The Butterfly Effect" became a hit, the main cast and crew all saw their fame soar. Most notably, Tang Wei, whose goddess-like appeal drew fans of all ages. Next was Gu Zhi himself. Since the film’s marketing had centered on his name and image, and with the media covering him almost daily, he couldn’t step outside without being recognized.

Once, while he was out buying breakfast, an elderly lady stopped him downstairs and exclaimed, "Young man, you look so spirited! My husband and I watched your movie yesterday—your acting was incredible, simply outstanding!"

Gu Zhi had forced a couple of embarrassed laughs and thanked her profusely. Seeing that she was eager to go on, he quickly found an excuse to escape her grasp. He had no idea what movie she’d been watching—he wasn’t even an actor, so where did "acting" come in?

The three of them chatted for a while about the recent changes in their lives, until Ning Hao brought up the real reason for their meeting.

"Yesterday, someone from Huayi came to see me."

"Huayi?"

Ning Hao nodded solemnly. "To be precise, Wang Zhonglei himself came. He hopes I’ll join Huayi as a contracted director."

Gu Zhi’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t expected Huayi to have such a keen eye and act so decisively, already recognizing Ning Hao’s potential.

"Did you sign?"

Ning Hao grinned and shook his head. "How could I? Huayi is dominated by the Beijing circle, and Feng Xiaogang is their star. Our film just outperformed his, so he’s probably still holding a grudge. I don’t have much experience—if I joined Huayi, getting good resources would be a miracle."

"Not necessarily. Wang Zhonglei came in person—doesn’t that show real sincerity?"

"Heh. Huayi would run smoothly with or without me, but losing Feng Xiaogang would be more than a flesh wound—they’d be in real trouble. Why would I join a company like that?"

After hearing him out, Gu Zhi gave Ning Hao a thumbs-up, and the two exchanged a knowing smile. No wonder Ning Hao would become one of the most commercially valuable directors in the country—how could someone like him ever be content to live under another’s roof, always a step beneath?

Though he was still young and had only just directed his first film, Ning Hao possessed his own sense of pride and resolve.

"So, do you have any plans for the future?"

"I’ve already fallen behind on coursework at school, so I want to focus more on my studies. I’m also considering trying my hand at art films. Recently, Aina and I have come up with some good ideas. We want to write them out first and see if they’re worth filming."

Ning Hao finished, and Xing Aina picked up the thread. "So far, we’ve got two scripts in mind—one set in Ning Hao’s hometown in Shaanxi, and another, a comedy, on the vast grasslands of Inner Mongolia. Once these two projects are done, we’ll probably be ready to graduate."

"It’s good to experiment with different genres. If you ever need funding, come find me," Gu Zhi said.

He understood Ning Hao’s choices and was willing to support him with real investments. It was rare to find a director who, on the brink of fame, was willing to return to calm, to accumulate more knowledge and experience. Gu Zhi didn’t want to see him snatched away by others.

"Haha, you said it—I’ll hold you to it!"

"I mean it!"

The next day, Gu Zhi received a call from Liu Ye.

Before he could even speak, Liu Ye was already breathless with excitement, exhaling loudly several times before steadying himself.

"Gu, I’m going to Hong Kong tomorrow!"

"Got a new role?"

"A producer named Zhang Yongning saw 'The Butterfly Effect' and took a liking to me. He wants to recommend me to Hong Kong director Stanley Kwan. They’re preparing to shoot a film called 'Lan Yu,' and one of the leads is already cast—Hu Jun!"

Liu Ye spilled everything in one breath; even over the phone, Gu Zhi could tell how thrilled he was.

Stanley Kwan was a renowned director in Hong Kong, a multiple nominee for the Golden Horse and Hong Kong Film Awards, and winner of Best Director at the Hong Kong Film Awards in 1997 for "Rouge." His directing prowess was beyond question. The stars he’d worked with—Anita Mui, Leslie Cheung, Maggie Cheung, Tony Leung Ka-fai—were all top-tier actors in Hong Kong.

For Liu Ye, getting the chance to star in a Stanley Kwan film was a dream come true. Because of "The Butterfly Effect," both he and Tang Wei had endured some teasing from veteran filmmakers, so now that this opportunity had come, he was determined to seize it and prove himself to the industry.

Gu Zhi had worried that by casting Liu Ye in "The Butterfly Effect," he might make him miss out on "Lan Yu." Who could have guessed that fate would twist in such a way, bringing Liu Ye and "Lan Yu" together after all? It seemed Liu Ye was truly meant for art films—after all, that was exactly what the public wanted at that moment.

After chatting with Liu Ye, Gu Zhi thought for a while and then dialed Tang Wei’s number.

"Ring... ring... ring..."

The familiar waiting tone echoed in Gu Zhi’s ear, and for some reason, a heaviness settled over his heart.

"The film’s only been out a week, but things have already changed so much for them. Could she have already signed with another company?"