Chapter 53: The Creative Team’s Meeting
Since filming “All Because of Angels,” David Tong had been idle at school, with nothing to do. To this day, no agency had signed him, and most of his roles came through introductions from senior students, but he could only ever play marginal supporting characters, none even worthy of appearing on the cover. When he received a call from China Film Group, his first reaction was that it must be a scam and nearly hung up. Upon learning that China Film wanted him for the lead in a movie, he didn’t hesitate for a moment before saying yes, immediately beginning to pack his things and prepare to leave Shanghai.
It was merely a trip to Beijing—he would have gone to India if needed—as long as he could star as the lead in a film, David Tong would go without a second thought. Not to mention, this was a film by Student Gu.
David Tong had already seen “The Butterfly Effect” twice in theaters, and he enthusiastically recommended it to his classmates and friends, making him a devoted fan of the movie. He admired Gu Zhi as a screenwriter and envied the two newcomers, Tang Wei and Liu Ye, even more. “The Butterfly Effect” had outperformed two other major directors’ works released at the same time, and Tang Wei and Liu Ye had become the hottest up-and-coming stars as a result.
Liu Ye had caught the attention of a director from Hong Kong and was already preparing for a new film there, with a bright future ahead. Tang Wei stayed focused on her studies at the Central Academy of Drama; although she kept a low profile, news about her appeared daily in entertainment sections. David Tong heard that agents from many talent agencies lined up to meet her, a testament to her popularity.
Once “The Butterfly Effect” finished its run and the total box office numbers were released, these two would likely break the record for rookie movie earnings. And all of this was thanks to Student Gu. In the industry, everyone knew that he was the true core of the film.
His very first screenplay was nominated for Best Original Screenplay at the Golden Horse Awards. Gu Zhi himself didn’t care about this honor, but reporters and peers in film and television certainly did. Just days ago, China’s entertainment news reported on “The Butterfly Effect” receiving the Golden Horse nomination and interviewed Han Sanping. During the interview, Han sang Gu Zhi’s praises and revealed that China Film Group had already begun planning a new movie with him, again based on Gu Zhi’s own script, with casting underway.
David Tong had imagined being part of this movie, but he was realistic enough to know it was just a fantasy. After the news broke, countless artists surely wanted to hitch their fortunes to Gu Zhi, but he had no way to do so even if he tried.
Yet fate is capricious; David Tong never expected the opportunity to land squarely in his lap.
···
By late October, Beijing had turned cold, with fierce winds blowing nonstop and frequent sandstorms covering the city in a layer of yellow dust.
The pre-production work for “My Sassy Girl” was nearly complete. The crew and equipment were in place, and many of the staff were the same groups who had worked together on the previous film. This movie had many scenes, most of them outdoors, and venue rentals and permits were largely negotiated by Liu Qi and the China Film Group team.
Hotels, family apartments, hotpot restaurants, cafes, and streets were all essential locations, and the easiest to secure. The university campus scenes were set at the Beijing Film Academy. Gu Zhi had some connections with the academy’s leadership, and with Ning Hao’s assistance and China Film’s backing, both sides reached an agreement over a single meal.
For the subway scenes, after discussions with the transportation ministry and Beijing Metro Company, the crew were granted permission to film at night. For parks, amusement parks, and other venues requiring coordination of timing, the China Film Group staff were already adept at handling such matters.
With preparations complete, Gu Zhi arranged a creators’ meeting before filming officially began. It was meant for everyone to get acquainted and discuss the script.
The meeting was scheduled for eight in the morning, and people began arriving at the China Film conference room from half past seven. The first to arrive was Liu Qi, as she always came to the company at this hour and had long since grown accustomed to it; today she even brought Gu Zhi a local Beijing breakfast—mung bean juice.
Gu Zhi was the second to arrive, having recently moved to a place near the company. He had planned to buy a house, but got so busy he forgot all about it.
At eight sharp, all the principal members arrived: Lu Chuan, Gao Yuanyuan, David Tong, Ni Dahong, and Huang Haibo. Aside from Ni Dahong, who had been in the industry for nearly ten years, the rest were newcomers.
The group wasn’t well acquainted yet, except for Lu Chuan and Huang Haibo, who exchanged greetings as they had both graduated from the Beijing Film Academy and had already been in contact. Everyone recognized veteran Ni Dahong from television, though perhaps not by name, but his face was familiar; his acting was memorable to audiences.
Facing such an experienced predecessor, the newcomers couldn’t help but offer respectful pleasantries. “Clear Mouth Girl” Gao Yuanyuan was also quite famous; everyone present had seen her commercials.
As for the others, they truly hadn’t even met before.
Fortunately, the previous film had also featured an all-rookie cast, so Gu Zhi and Liu Qi were used to this scenario. Everyone in the entertainment industry was outgoing, and with Ni Dahong leading the conversation and Gu Zhi facilitating, the group quickly got to know each other and chatted happily.
Their conversation focused on the script’s plot. The lead actors were all professionals, having memorized their lines early on and practically worn out their scripts. Including Ni Dahong, everyone liked the story, although Lu Chuan felt the heroine was too naive and that the romance between the leads was not passionate or stirring enough.
“You’re being way too dramatic,” Gu Zhi thought, inwardly criticizing Lu Chuan and directly ignoring his opinion.
“If there’s anything you don’t understand about the script, speak up now. Don’t wait until filming starts to ask. We must work efficiently; I don’t want minor questions delaying the entire crew.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. They now understood Gu Zhi was the decision-maker for the whole film, and even the China Film producer was on his side. The actors had no objection to such “harsh” instructions. Besides, it wasn’t an unreasonable request—just stricter than other crews.
“Student Gu, there’s something I don’t quite understand,” Gao Yuanyuan was the first to speak up. “The time capsule that Song Mingxi and Liu Qian buried was sealed; why, when Liu Qian opens it two years later, does a frog appear? Is that just for comic effect?”
Unsatisfied after asking one question, Gao Yuanyuan unloaded all her doubts at once.
“And Song Mingxi keeps saying she hopes to travel through time and go back to change the future—is that a reference to your previous film ‘The Butterfly Effect’?”
“In the script’s final line, Song Mingxi says, ‘You might not believe it, but I think I’ve met someone from the future.’ What does she mean by that? Is it just to tie in with her earlier fantasies?”
“To describe meeting Liu Qian as encountering someone from the future seems a bit forced, doesn’t it?”