Chapter 0857: Brother

The greatest character of a person is to turn a momentary impulse into the most ordinary action.

And all greatness actually originates from a brave beginning.

In an office in Central, Hong Kong.

A man with bright eyes and a handsome, restrained demeanor sat there, beside him a tall, sunny, gentle, and refined man. The latter looked at the former, his eyes filled with tender affection.

“There’s a script that Wah sent over. Do you want to take a look?”

The person sitting opposite the man was named Chen Shufen. Those familiar with the Hong Kong entertainment industry called her “Mrs. Chen.” She was known as a super agent, having discovered countless stars and artists, including Leslie Cheung, Anita Mui, Jacky Cheung, Lydia Shum, and Julian Cheung, all of whom were once under her management.

Among them, she had the best personal relationship with Leslie Cheung, truly close friends and confidants.

It’s worth noting that in the 1980s, when Chen Shufen left Huaxing Records to establish Hong Kong’s first professional agency, all the artists under her chose to follow her without regard for pay or consequences, without any “smart” people like a certain Bing appearing.

Also known for her meticulous care of stars, Wang Jinghua only skimmed the surface, but Chen Shufen truly became friends with the artists.

“Wah’s script?” The handsome man smiled slightly, his gaze shifting to the tall, handsome man beside him, whose face always bore a warm, spring-like smile.

“Yes, I took a look. You might like it.” Mrs. Chen didn’t mind the tall man’s presence; to her, whatever the handsome man liked was fine.

“Is that so? That interesting?” The handsome man was naturally Leslie Cheung, known in the industry as “Brother.”

Regarding the origin of “Brother,” there are basically two confirmed versions: one says that when he was filming with Brigitte Lin, the entire crew called Lin “Sister” and Cheung “Brother,” and later the nickname “Brother” stuck with Leslie Cheung forever.

Another says that when Leslie Cheung and Joey Wong filmed “A Chinese Ghost Story,” she always called him “Brother,” and then everyone else started calling him “Brother.” Since the rumors are quite old, people gradually stopped caring which version was most certain; everyone just called Leslie Cheung “Brother.”

“Mm, not bad. I just read some of it,” said Leslie Cheung’s partner, Daffy Tong.

While waiting for Leslie Cheung, he had been idle and picked up the manuscript to read for a while; he had to admit it was indeed very good.

Hearing Ah Tong say that, Leslie Cheung shrugged and showed a childlike smile. Originally, he wasn’t interested in the script, but now he had some interest.

At his status and position, he truly no longer needed to consider whether to take on a role. Leslie Cheung himself came from a wealthy family and didn’t lack money. To put it bluntly, whether acting or singing, it was more of a personal hobby.

Speaking of which, actors in Hong Kong generally had low educational backgrounds. This was similar to the so-called traffic stars in the mainland a decade or so later. The only advantage over those traffic stars was that because of their humble origins, most Hong Kong actors had worked their way up from the bottom of the film industry, with top-notch skills and experience, but lacking in knowledge reserves.

In other words, when these people acted in movies or TV shows with a Hong Kong-accented Mandarin, it wasn’t intentional; they simply didn’t have the ability to speak standard Mandarin.

Of course, this didn’t include Leslie Cheung.

In singing, he was a protagonist in the “Tan-Zhang rivalry,” adored by the future famous host Wang Han, who even actively attacked dorm mates who were fans of Principal Tam.

In acting, he won the Hong Kong Film Award for Best Actor for “Days of Being Wild” and almost won the Best Actor at Cannes for “Farewell My Concubine,” losing by just one vote because “Farewell My Concubine” had already won the top Palme d’Or, and the judges considered spreading the awards.

Even when he was gradually stepping back from the entertainment industry, in 1999, to revitalize the depressed Hong Kong film industry, twenty Hong Kong directors formed a “Creative Alliance,” and director Jacob Cheung’s film “The Kid” was an important part of that. Jacob Cheung approached many top Hong Kong actors, but only Leslie Cheung agreed to star in the film, accepting a symbolic fee of just one dollar.

Gentle and refined, elegant and graceful, like a cultured gentleman, yet like a boy next door.

He was forty-six years old, and his name was Leslie Cheung.

One year later, on April Fool’s Day, he would leap from the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, ending his painful life.

What he left to the world was an endless legend.

Giving others hope for a lifetime, yet when he most needed courage, he left in the most cowardly way.

This was Leslie Cheung, a legend of Hong Kong cinema.

And now, he picked up a story that Zhao Fusheng had mailed to Andy Lau, which Andy Lau had forwarded to him.

…

…

The reason Zhao Fusheng couldn’t go to Hong Kong to meet Leslie Cheung in person was simple: he didn’t have a Hong Kong and Macau permit, and to get one, he needed to return to his place of household registration, which would take about half a month.

That was a sad story.

So, left with no choice, Zhao Fusheng mailed the manuscript to his only acquaintance in Hong Kong, Heavenly King Lau, asking him to hand the manuscript to Mrs. Chen, who would then pass it to Leslie Cheung.

When Heavenly King Lau received Zhao Fusheng’s call, he was somewhat surprised. How did Zhao Fusheng come up with the idea of writing a story for Leslie Cheung? He even wondered if he might be able to play a role in it.

But after reading the entire manuscript, he understood what was going on and naturally dropped that thought.

Everyone has roles they are suited for and those they are not. Not every role fits every actor. The most obvious example: if you had Wang Qiang play a historical great, it would always feel incongruous because his image is deeply ingrained in our minds.

By the same token, Andy Lau knew clearly that he couldn’t play the lead in this “Capital Story.”

As for Brother, perhaps he would really like this story.

Although his relationship with Leslie Cheung was average, Andy Lau also knew that Leslie Cheung had been in a very bad state in recent years. His earlier role in “Infernal Affairs” was also due to the prolonged slump in the Hong Kong film market; when a big production that could save the market finally emerged, he felt a sense of responsibility as a Hong Kong filmmaker not to stand idly by.

In reality, Leslie Cheung’s condition at the time was very poor.