Chapter 1015: The Righteous Brother

In the original course of history, April 1st was a day many people detested.

After all, in 2003, a man they remembered deeply chose to end his life. So whenever this day came, these people felt great sorrow in their hearts.

But now, because of Zhao Fusheng, the tragedy did not occur.

The person who had been suffering from depression and agony was so busy filming *Lan Yu* that he had no time to let his mind wander.

Indeed, from the end of 2002 to the beginning of 2003, Zhao Fusheng had thoroughly “tricked” Leslie Cheung.

Specifically, Future Film and Television not only invested a sum of money for Leslie Cheung to make a film but also dumped everything else on him.

In Zhao Fusheng’s words, no one was more suitable than you to do this, to make this film.

Leslie Cheung was a sentimental person himself; hearing Zhao Fusheng’s words, he felt an instant sense of a kindred spirit. But once he actually took over the filming of *Lan Yu*, he was completely dumbfounded.

Yes, he was just stunned.

The entire crew, apart from him as the lead actor, had nothing—not even the director; Leslie Cheung had to contact him himself.

At first, Bai Jie nominally held the title of producer and supervisor, but later he simply handed it all over to Leslie Cheung. Thus, Leslie Cheung took on multiple roles—lead actor, supervisor, producer, and unofficial screenwriter—and was thrown into the deep end.

But he truly loved the film *Lan Yu*, so no matter how hard it was, Leslie Cheung never complained. He went alone, repeatedly visiting the renowned Hong Kong director Stanley Kwan to personally invite him to direct the film, and used his status and connections in the Hong Kong entertainment industry to assemble the best behind-the-scenes production team.

As Chen Tai put it: "He was making this film as if it were his own life."

"In this world, some live in high towers, some in deep ditches; some shine with radiance, some are covered in rust. Everyone carries a heavy burden. To be born human is to be kind."

"How many people still don't understand that to maintain a long-lasting and comfortable relationship between people, what matters is commonality and attraction—not oppression, bondage, flattery, or one-sided sacrifice and moralistic self-gratification."

"Everyone's personality has parts that are hard for others to accept, even the most wonderful people. So don't be too hard on yourself, and don't blame others."

These golden phrases originally coined by Zhao Fusheng were deeply loved by Leslie Cheung, who added them one by one into the script. And as expected, as Leslie Cheung's swan song, *Lan Yu* swept the Golden Horse and Golden Elephant Awards, becoming a dark horse among art films in Hong Kong and Taiwan for the entire year of 2003.

And Zhang Guorong, at the Golden Statue Awards ceremony, at the very moment he won Best Actor, officially announced his retirement from the screen.

In his own words: 'A friend suggested I live a little happier, not think too much, not care about things I shouldn't care about. I think he was right; I should live more freely. So, from today, Zhang Guorong will no longer act in films, no longer sing, and will not appear on screen. I hope that from this moment, I become an ordinary person.'

He meant what he said, truly abandoning everything, no longer appearing on screen, and even declining invitations from his closest friends to attend their concerts.

Zhang Guorong had become a legend.

And now, Zhao Fusheng's call naturally went to this big shot of the Hong Kong entertainment industry.

'You never come to the temple without a reason. Calling me means you have something, right?' Zhang Guorong's Mandarin was quite good; back when he filmed 'Farewell My Concubine' in the mainland, his Mandarin surprised many.

In fact, Zhao Fusheng always believed that was the peak of Zhang Guorong's acting—when emotions ran deep, people couldn't tell if it was Zhang Guorong or Cheng Dieyi on stage.

Or perhaps he had turned the character Cheng Dieyi into a symbol, an eternal classic.

'Brother, you're clairvoyant. I'm in awe.' Zhao Fusheng smiled and, without wasting words, directly stated his purpose: 'It's like this: I've run into some trouble here and need to find a director and behind-the-scenes team in Hong Kong. Can you help me make an introduction?'

'What happened?' Zhang Guorong didn't answer Zhao Fusheng's question but directly asked what was wrong.

'Nothing much. I just offended a few people here, and they've put the word out in the circle to blacklist me.' Zhao Fusheng smiled faintly and said calmly.

'Quite the big talk.' Zhang Guorong gasped on the phone. Since it had driven Zhao Fusheng to seek help in Hong Kong, the other side must be quite powerful.

Thinking this over, he said with a smile, 'That's easy. I can introduce you to a director and behind-the-scenes team. If needed, I can even act in it myself.'

This was only for Zhao Fusheng; if it were anyone else, Zhang Guorong would never break his vow of retirement.

'I appreciate the sentiment, but this film is a pure comedy, not suitable for you, Brother.' Zhao Fusheng said seriously. 'Just help me get in touch with Stephen Chow.'

'Sing Jai?' Zhang Guorong was startled, then laughed. 'Alright, I'll give him a call later and tell him your number.'

He was Zhang Guorong. Whether it was Stephen Chow, later known as 'Sing Yeh,' or any other big name, before him they were all juniors.

After all, back when filming 'A Better Tomorrow,' even Fat Gor was still called 'Poison Fat.'

Yes, Fat Gor's TV dramas were hits one after another, but when it came to films—well, the promising career of a TV actor suited him better.

At that time, Zhang Guorong was already the hottest star in Hong Kong. Wu Big Head's excuse for tricking him into making a movie was that the film was tailor-made for him, and he was the lead...

As a result, halfway through filming, Zhang Guorong felt something was off. After the movie was released,

it bombed!

That bastard Wu Big Head had actually fooled me!

But unexpectedly, that movie "A Better Tomorrow" became a huge hit. Everyone involved in the film benefited, so even if Zhang Guorong wanted to fall out, he couldn't bring it up and had to swallow his anger.

In short, in the 1980s and 1990s, Zhang Guorong was essentially like a traffic idol in the internet era—a top-tier star with his own fan base.

Even today, Zhao Fusheng could be certain that if Zhang Guorong made a comeback to shoot a movie for him, regardless of the genre, it would guarantee at least ten million yuan at the box office.

But to be honest, Zhao Fusheng couldn't do it. He didn't think he was despicable enough to exploit someone who just wanted a peaceful life to promote his film.

So, Zhao Fusheng had to politely decline Zhang Guorong's goodwill.

"By the way, kid, you haven't written another script as good as 'Infernal Affairs,' have you?" Zhang Guorong asked casually before hanging up.

Zhao Fusheng chuckled: "Something like that."

But Zhang Guorong, after hanging up, was stunned.

A script on par with "Infernal Affairs"—what did that mean?

After all, "Infernal Affairs" was hailed as the film that saved the Hong Kong film market and pioneered a new genre.

And now, Zhao Fusheng had written another movie of similar quality.

Was this guy really a genius as rumored?

Zhao Fusheng didn't know that his words had set Zhang Guorong thinking. His attention was now on Stephen Chow. He had thought it would be easy to contact him, but Bai Jie tried many connections without success; Stephen Chow's side never responded.

In desperation, Zhao Fusheng finally thought of using Zhang Guorong's connection.

As it turned out, it was fine. The handsome Zhang had a good impression of him and agreed to help.

The only question was how Stephen Chow would react. After all, although his acting was unquestionable, he was notoriously difficult to deal with in private.

Even Zhao Fusheng, who loved watching his movies in his previous life, had to admit that Stephen Chow was a complete contrast on and off screen.

Or rather, all celebrities are the same.

Someone who is lively and humorous on screen might be extremely quiet in private. Someone who plays a villain on screen might be a gentle person who loves plants and animals in real life.

People have to play roles to make a living. Celebrities are people too, and it's the same for them.

Zhao Fusheng didn't mind Stephen Chow's image crumbling, because he was past the age of blindly idolizing stars, even ignoring the truth.

Nostalgia is nostalgia, but it belongs to oneself, not owing someone a movie ticket.

...

...

Leaving aside Zhang Guorong contacting Stephen Chow, the next day, Zhao Fusheng met Bai Jie at home, and they drove to the People's Art Theatre.

You have to eat your meal one bite at a time, and handle things one by one.

Zhao Fusheng had learned this lesson at a considerable cost in his previous life.

Haste makes waste. Since the People's Art Theatre was willing to invite him, the cooperation was almost certain; the rest was just discussing the details.

And to be honest, Zhao Fusheng was quite curious as he entered Fan Baobao's workplace for the first time.

Yang Lixin personally led a group to greet Zhao Fusheng at the entrance. Apart from him, none of the theatre's leaders appeared.

Seeing this, Zhao Fusheng had a rough idea. It seemed the theatre wanted to keep a low profile and make a fortune quietly; otherwise, they wouldn't be so discreet.

But that was fine. Zhao Fusheng himself didn't want this to be too high-profile. The theatre's approach coincided with his own thoughts.

Glancing at Bai Jie beside him, Zhao Fusheng felt today's negotiation would go quite smoothly.