Chapter 1361 Cannes

Cannes, August 28th.

It is said that May is the most popular time in Cannes, when the city is ablaze with lights and all kinds of parties sweep through the town.

By day, it is a feast of cinema; by night, a paradise of passion.

But in August, Cannes takes on a much quieter air.

On the streets, there are no drunken vagrants, nor the hustle and bustle of film pilgrims; occasionally a sailboat glides past the shore, startling a few seabirds.

On the beach, some people are sunbathing—who knows where they heard that sun-kissed skin is the healthiest.

Well, probably Zhang Ziyi thinks the same way.

Zhao Fusheng and Fan Baobao walked hand in hand along the streets of Cannes.

“Why not go to Paris?”

Fan Baobao looked up and asked Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng smiled: “What, you want to go to the Champs-Élysées?”

“Sir, when you come to France, of course you must go to the Champs-Élysées in Paris,” the tour guide beside them said with a smile. “The Champs-Élysées is the most famous avenue in Paris. According to a common French saying, it is considered the most beautiful street in Paris. The name ‘Champs-Élysées’ comes from the Greek mythological ‘Elysian Fields’.

The Champs-Élysées runs east-west through the capital Paris, about 2.5 kilometers long, with two eight-lane carriageways. The national day is celebrated on this avenue every year. The street starts at Place de la Concorde in the east and ends at Place Charles de Gaulle in the west. The eastern section is mainly natural scenery, with flat lawns on both sides, tranquil and peaceful; the western section is a high-end commercial district, where first-class clothing stores and perfume shops are concentrated.

Many novels about the 18th and 19th centuries describe its prosperity. It was a paradise of entertainment for the aristocracy and the emerging bourgeoisie. For example, Dumas’s *The Count of Monte Cristo*, Dumas fils’s *La Dame aux Camélias*, Balzac’s *Le Père Goriot*, and other works. The base of revenge in *The Count of Monte Cristo* is at No. 30 Champs-Élysées.

Also, the Chinese translation ‘Xiangxielishi’ was given by Mr. Xu Zhimo when he studied in France.”

“Haha, Jerry, you’re a qualified tour guide,” Zhao Fusheng laughed, saying to the guide named Jerry. The guy was Chinese, studying in France, and occasionally took on private tour guide jobs.

Because he was very handsome, it was said that in France, he changed girlfriends faster than he changed cars.

“Mr. Zhao, you flatter me,” the young man, whose English name was Jerry and Chinese name Wu Sijie, smiled slightly. “I always believe that no matter what you do, you must do your best. Since I have become the tour guide for you and your wife, I must provide the most attentive service. As long as it is within my ability, just let me know.”

Zhao Fusheng chuckled, gave Wu Sijie a deep look, but said nothing.

This was a smart man who knew what to do and what not to do, what to say and what not to say.

He didn’t believe that Wu Sijie didn’t know his identity. In other words, since Dong Chenxi and the others had chosen him as his private tour guide, they must have revealed his identity to the other party. But since Fan Baobao and he arrived in France a few days ago, apart from doing what a tour guide should do, Wu Sijie had not shown any deliberate flattery.

That was important.

For Zhao Fusheng, with more and more people around him, how to judge a person’s character was crucial. If Wu Sijie had been overly enthusiastic from the start, he would have felt uncomfortable.

But as it was now, defining their relationship clearly—tourist and guide—made Zhao Fusheng very satisfied with this person.

He knew his place and when to advance or retreat.

Such a person is hard to dislike.

…

…

Although it was not during the film festival, the cultural atmosphere in Cannes was still strong, and many people came here specifically to gather inspiration and shoot scenes.

“Do you think this counts as a kind of urban culture?” Fan Baobao asked Zhao Fusheng, watching the crowds on the street.

Zhao Fusheng nodded: “Of course. A small French town famous worldwide relies on film culture. They have turned cinema into a business card.”

In fact, he was speaking from the heart.

Unlike official film festivals like the Beijing International Film Festival and the Shanghai International Film Festival, Cannes truly treats cinema as a way to develop culture. Although Cannes sells red carpet and interview slots, in film selection, while dividing the spoils, they also pay attention to artistry. Simply put, political factors are minimized here.

Compared to the Golden Horse Awards, which later inexplicably mixed politics into cinema, Cannes, though it likes to cultivate its own directorial protégés, at least still cares about its reputation. Otherwise, Wong Kar-wai and Gong Li wouldn’t have served as jury presidents.

Speaking of this, Zhao Fusheng couldn’t help but sympathize with Ang Lee. Old Li worked hard to bring the big shots to the Golden Horse Awards, only to have two rotten fish spoil the whole pot—truly pitiful.

“When will I be able to come here for the film festival?” Fan Baobao suddenly sighed, looking at the cinema not far away.

As an actress, no one is indifferent to such internationally renowned film festivals.

Just as a soldier who doesn’t want to be a general is not a good soldier, a female actress who doesn’t want to be a best actress is undoubtedly a salted fish without dreams.

Although Fan Baobao was materially well-off and, to put it nicely, easily satisfied in her work, or to put it bluntly, unambitious, that didn’t stop her from longing for a film holy land like Cannes.

Of course, she wasn’t as bottomless as the red-carpet queens, who would do anything to gain attention and exposure.

To put it bluntly, Fan Baobao still had a sense of shame.

As for the red-carpet queens, well, they had already abandoned shame since entering the entertainment industry. If they cared about face, they probably couldn’t survive in the circle.

“There will be a chance,” Zhao Fusheng patted Fan Baobao’s shoulder. “After you give birth and recover for a couple of years, we’ll invest in an art film, and then you can come to exhibit.”

“That simple?” Fan Baobao blinked, curious.

Zhao Fusheng shrugged: “Of course. For the director, we can use Jia Zhangke or Lou Ye. The script should be pure art, not commercial. That guarantees you can come to exhibit. As for winning an award, that depends on luck.”

He was telling the truth. Others might not know, but Zhao Fusheng knew that Cannes’ judging was sometimes just that—there were plenty of twists and turns.

What’s Un Certain Regard, what’s Special Competition—in essence, they are all meant to expand the film festival’s influence.

Moreover, among film directors, those who are protégés of Cannes have a higher chance of winning awards.

So-called protégé directors are those who have had connections with Cannes from the very beginning of their international film festival participation. For example, Jia Zhangke started from the Nandazhou Film Festival and gradually reached the top.

That was why Zhao Fusheng was so confident when he spoke to Fan Baobao.

To others, the Cannes Best Actor and Best Actress awards might seem unattainable, but in the eyes of capital, any film festival can potentially be strategized.

It’s just a matter of difficulty.

“Alright, it’s your capital theory again, isn’t it?” Fan Baobao rolled her eyes at Zhao Fusheng helplessly.

Although she could understand what Zhao Fusheng said, the problem was that she had been full of expectations for cinema, only to find that her man could buy his way in. That feeling, how to put it, was always very strange.

Fortunately, Fan Baobao was not the kind of pretentious literary young woman. Although she found Zhao Fusheng’s theory uncomfortable, she could still accept it.

If it were the kind of female literary youth who could be moved to tears by watching a movie or reading a Miameng article, Zhao Fusheng’s words would surely be criticized as reeking of money.

Speaking of which, some people are just so奇葩. They make a living as self-media writers, ultimately for money, yet in their articles, you can always find a lofty, otherworldly attitude. You’d think they were angels of charity.

But in fact, well, they’re just whores who want to put up a chastity plaque.