Chapter Four — Qiu Chen’s Dream of Making Films

7. The First Night in a Strange City

At dusk, the sky over the small town was tinged with a faint orange-red glow.

In front of the Qiu family’s small hotel, several old banyan trees rustled in the evening breeze. The neon sign above the hotel flickered on and off, while the old electric fan beside the front desk made a rattling sound. The aroma of the braised pork that had just been cooked in the kitchen drifted through the air.

Qiu Chen stood by the window of his second-floor room, looking at the familiar sights on the street.

He had watched this street grow familiar from childhood. When he walked home from elementary school, he passed through here. When he secretly rode his motorcycle out of town in high school, he passed through here too. Now, after completing his studies at a film and television school in California, he had returned to his hometown with a master’s degree in film. He had originally thought that a completely new path would be waiting for him.

He never expected that the path his father had chosen for him had already been laid out: take over the hotel. Handle guests’ check-ins and check-outs every day, collect money, clean rooms, deal with plumbing and electrical problems, and see whether the hotel could continue operating.

Whenever Qiu Chen thought about all this, his chest felt tight and painful.

“Xiao Chen.” His father’s voice came from outside the door.

“Come in.” Qiu Dazhan pushed the door open and walked in.

He was in his fifties, with a sturdy build and a dark complexion from years of exposure to the sun and wind. This small hotel was the work of half his life, and it was the only business the Qiu family had that could support their livelihood.

He held a ring of keys in his hand. “Starting tomorrow, you’re going to work with me.”

Qiu Chen turned around. “Dad, I’ve already told you. I don’t want to take over the hotel.”

“You don’t want to take over the hotel?” Qiu Dazhan frowned. “Then what do you want to do?”

“Make movies.”

“Make movies?” His father gave a cold laugh. “You studied film in the United States for several years, and now you come back wanting to make movies?”

“Not make movies right away.” Qiu Chen patiently explained, “I want to go to a big city and find a job first, starting with a film crew. Screenwriting, assistant director, production—anything is fine. I want to actually put what I learned in the United States to use in my work.”

Qiu Dazhan slammed the keys onto the table. “So you don’t want to take care of our family’s hotel anymore?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to take care of it.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I just want to go out and make my own way first.”

“Make your own way?” His father raised his voice. “Do you think it’s that easy out there? You think that just because you have a diploma from an American school, people will be fighting to hire you?”

Qiu Chen did not answer.

“Xiao Chen.” Qiu Dazhan looked at his son. “Your mother died when you were young. I built this hotel up all by myself. Now that you’ve graduated, I’m getting old. Do you expect me to keep working until I die all by myself?”

Qiu Chen lowered his head. Those words were like a needle piercing his heart. But he still did not change his mind.

“Dad, I know how hard you’ve worked.” He raised his head. “That’s why I hope that one day I can build a career that truly belongs to me.”

“Your own career?” Qiu Dazhan laughed angrily. “Your own career is making movies?”

“Yes.”

“Can making movies really support you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what are you going to live on?”

Qiu Chen was silent for several seconds. “There will always be a way.”

“What way will you have?” His father pointed outside the window. “Look at this hotel. Guests, rent, utilities, employees’ salaries—which one of these doesn’t cost money? And you come back, and within a few days you want to turn around and walk away.”

“I’m not running away!” Qiu Chen finally raised his voice. “I just want to follow my own path!”

“That’s called being selfish!”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Qiu Chen became agitated as well. “Spend my whole life guarding this hotel? Look at the same rooms every day, the guests coming and going, the same streets, and then discover when I’m old that I never did anything with my life?”

His father froze. The two of them stared at each other, and the air seemed to suddenly solidify.

After a long while, Qiu Dazhan finally said in a deep voice, “Fine.” He turned toward the door. “If you want to go out and make your own way, then go.”

Qiu Chen’s heart jolted. “Dad…”

Qiu Dazhan stood up and stopped at the doorway, but he did not turn around. “But remember this. If you can’t make it out there, don’t come crying back home.”

The door closed. Qiu Chen was alone in the room. Outside the window, the night grew darker and darker. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in both hands, and remained silent for a long time. On the table lay the diploma he had brought back from the United States. He picked it up and looked at it for a while, then slowly put it down.

At that moment, he suddenly made up his mind. He opened a drawer and took out a pen and paper. Under the light, he wrote a letter. When he finished, he placed the letter outside his father’s bedroom door. There were only a few brief lines:

Dad,

I know you’re doing this for my own good.

But I still want to go out and give it a try.

If I fail, I’ll take responsibility for it myself.

Please forgive me.

Xiao Chen

That night, he dragged his suitcase out of the Qiu family hotel without saying goodbye and without looking back.

Several hours later, the city was brightly lit at night. Qiu Chen dragged his suitcase along a crowded street.

Neon lights from the high-rises crisscrossed and flashed overhead. Taxis moved constantly through the streets, while cooking smoke from roadside food stalls mixed with automobile exhaust and hit him in the face. The city was noisier than he had imagined, and also more indifferent.

He stood at an intersection and took out his wallet. Only a few bills and several coins remained inside.

Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile. “Is this the price of freedom?” He looked up at the unfamiliar high-rises before him.

He had originally thought that after returning to Taiwan, with the professional film training he had received in the United States, he would quickly find a job.

But reality was not nearly as romantic. He had submitted several résumés and received no response. He had made several phone calls, but either there were no openings or they required work experience.

A little after nine that evening, he dragged his suitcase into a park. Only a few scattered streetlights remained lit in the park. The wind moved through the treetops, and fallen leaves spun across the ground. Qiu Chen sat on a bench with his suitcase beside his feet and looked down at his phone.

There were no missed calls.

His father had not called him. He put his phone away and murmured, “Where am I going to sleep tonight?”

The question suddenly became very real.

A hotel?

He had no money.

A room at an inn?

That was even more out of the question.

Friends?

He had only just returned home and had not even had time to contact many of his classmates. Qiu Chen leaned back against the bench and gazed up at the dark sky.

Just then, a voice came from not far away.

“Sir.”

Qiu Chen ignored it.

The voice came again. “Sir, can I draw you?”

Qiu Chen turned his head.

Under a mercury streetlamp in the park sat a young man. An easel stood in front of him, and he held a charcoal pencil in his hand.

He was dressed simply, with deep-set features and a cheerful smile. A handwritten sign hung beside the easel: “Portrait Sketches, NT$300 Each.”

Qiu Chen shook his head. “No, thanks.”

The young man did not pressure him. He simply looked at the suitcase beside Qiu Chen’s feet.

“You just got here?”

Qiu Chen was startled. “How did you know?”

“Your suitcase.”

The young man smiled. “And your expression.”

Qiu Chen looked down at his luggage. “Do I look that miserable?”

“A little,” the young man answered honestly.

Qiu Chen smiled instead. “You’re really good at comforting people.”

“My name is Walis Yukan.” The young man extended his hand. “And you?”

“Qiu Chen.”

They shook hands. Yukan looked at Qiu Chen. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Qiu Chen was about to say that he had. But at that very moment, his stomach let out a series of loud growls.

The two of them froze at the same time.

Yukan laughed. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Let’s get something to eat.”

“No, it’s okay. I…”

“Afraid I can’t afford to treat you?”

Qiu Chen fell silent.

Yukan put away his drawing pencils.

“You really don’t have to.”

“It’s just a bowl of noodles.” Yukan packed up his easel. “I happened to make some money today.” He patted his pocket. “Come on.”

Qiu Chen looked at him, and a feeling he could not put into words suddenly welled up inside him. In this unfamiliar city, he had met someone who did not know him at all, yet was willing to buy him a meal.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Yukan said with a smile. “When you have money someday, treat someone else.”

The two of them went to a small noodle shop nearby.

A steaming bowl of noodles was placed on the table.

Qiu Chen picked up his chopsticks but did not eat immediately.

Yukan asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Qiu Chen said quietly, “I just suddenly feel… this bowl of noodles is delicious.”

Yukan laughed. “You haven’t even eaten it yet.”

Qiu Chen smiled too. “I mean, it feels good to have someone buy me a meal.”

Yukan did not respond. He simply pushed the chili sauce on the table toward him.

“Then eat more.”

Halfway through the meal, Qiu Chen finally told him what had happened: his father wanted him to take over the family hotel, but he wanted to enter the film industry. He had argued with his father, left home after leaving a letter, and now had only a few dozen dollars on him. He did not even know where he was going to sleep that night.

Yukan listened quietly. He neither criticized him nor urged him to go home. He simply said, “Everyone has their own path they want to take.”

Qiu Chen looked up at him. “Don’t you think I’m being selfish?”

Yukan shook his head. “I don’t know.” He smiled. “But I do know that if you really want to make movies, you should at least give it a try.”

Qiu Chen stared at him blankly. “But… I don’t even have a place to stay right now.”

Yukan finished the last bite of his noodles. “Then let’s find you a place to stay first.”

“Where do we find one?”

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

Yukan said, “The Single Society.”

A little after eleven that night, the two of them walked into a relatively quiet alley. A three-story building with some age to it stood there, its windows glowing with a few warm lights. An old-looking sign hung above the entrance: The Single Society.

Qiu Chen looked up. “What is this place?”

“Where I live.”

“A hotel?”

“No.” Yukan smiled. “It’s a place where a group of people who aren’t married, don’t own homes, and don’t want to live alone have chosen to live together.”

Qiu Chen could not help laughing. “There’s actually a place like this?”

“You’ll know once you go inside.” Yukan pushed open the front door. Voices came from inside.

Sister Bao was organizing things in the living room. When she heard the door open, she looked up.

“Yukan?”

“Sister Bao.” Yukan walked in with Qiu Chen.

“It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“I happened to be organizing some things.” Sister Bao glanced at Qiu Chen. “Who is this?”

Yukan briefly explained what had happened. “His name is Qiu Chen. He just came back from the United States and wants to find a job in the film industry. He had a fight with his family today and left home. He doesn’t have much money and doesn’t know where he’s going to stay tonight.”

Sister Bao looked at Qiu Chen. “Welcome.”

Qiu Chen nodded somewhat awkwardly. “I’m sorry to bother you this late.”

Sister Bao walked over to him. “Young man, have you eaten?”

Qiu Chen froze for a moment. “Yes.”

Yukan chimed in from the side. “He just had a bowl of noodles.”

Sister Bao nodded. “Good.” She looked at his suitcase again.

“Is there still a room?” Yukan asked.

“There should be.” Sister Bao thought for a moment. “There’s still an empty room on the third floor.”

Qiu Chen hurriedly said, “I… right now I…” He touched his pocket. “I only have a few dozen dollars.”

Sister Bao smiled. “Then keep it for now.”

“But…”

“We’ll talk about it after you find a job.”

Qiu Chen looked up. “Is that really okay?”

Sister Bao patted him on the shoulder. “Of course.” She turned and took out a ring of keys. “We take in tenants here, but we don’t judge you only by whether you have money right now.”

“Then what do you look at?”

Sister Bao turned back and looked at him. “Whether you’re someone who is willing to work hard.”

Qiu Chen stood there in a daze.

That day, he had argued with his father and left the home he knew so well. He had thought that after coming to an unfamiliar city, all that awaited him were cold streets. He never expected that, in the middle of the night, someone would leave a light on for him.

Sister Bao placed the key in his hand. “Welcome to the Single Society.”

Qiu Chen held the key tightly. “Thank you… Sister Bao.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sister Bao smiled. “Since you’re here, you’re family.”

Yukan stood nearby, smiling as well. And as Qiu Chen looked at these people who had been complete strangers to him, he felt for the first time—

Maybe leaving home did not mean losing everything. Sometimes, when a person walks into an unfamiliar city, they may instead find, in the most unexpected place, another home where they can begin again.

8. Lunch in the Park

Morning sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains and fell diagonally across the wooden floor of the Single Society.

The kitchen was filled with the clatter of pots and pans, mixed with the faint aroma of soy sauce and the steam rising from freshly cooked rice.

Lin Wanhua hurried down the stairs. Today she was wearing a light blue blouse with cream-colored pants. A black leather purse hung from her shoulder, and she was carrying several pages of script she had rushed to finish the night before.

“Sister Bao, I’m leaving first.” As she put on her shoes, she glanced at her watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”

Ji Baozhu poked her head out of the kitchen. “Wanhua, wait a minute.”

“What is it?”

“When you pass by the park later, help me take something to Yukan.” Sister Bao brought a paper bag out of the kitchen. Inside was a lunchbox wrapped in a clean white cloth.

“Another lunch?” Wanhua took the paper bag and could not help frowning. “Doesn’t Yukan make his own money?”

“He does.”

“Then why do you still bring him food every day?”

Sister Bao smiled. “Because he doesn’t spend all the money he earns on himself.”

Wanhua stopped. “What do you mean?”

Sister Bao dried her hands on her apron and walked over to sit at the dining table. “You know he draws portraits for people in the park every day. Three hundred dollars for one portrait. When business is good, he can make quite a bit in a day.”

“Hmm.”

“But he is very frugal with what he eats and uses.” Sister Bao pointed at the lunchbox. “Sometimes a single piece of bread and a bottle of water are enough to get him through the day.”

Wanhua frowned slightly. “He’s that frugal?”

“It’s more than just being frugal.” Sister Bao lowered her voice a little. “Most of the money he earns every month, he sends back to his tribe.”

Wanhua froze. “Back to his tribe?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

Sister Bao looked at her. “To buy books for the school library.”

Wanhua said nothing.

“And school supplies, drawing books, paints, and brushes.” Sister Bao smiled. “Some children in the tribe come from families that are struggling financially. They want to draw and they want to study, but they don’t have those things. So Yukan sends the money he earns back home for the children to use.”

Wanhua stood there in a daze, and the paper bag in her hand suddenly felt much heavier.

“He… eats so frugally himself, yet he still sends the money back?”

“Yes.” Sister Bao nodded. “I used to tell him to keep more money for himself.”

“What did he say?”

Sister Bao imitated Yukan’s tone and said with a smile, “He said, ‘It’s okay if I eat a little less by myself. If the children have one more book, they have one more chance to see the world.’”

Wanhua was completely stunned. After a long while, she murmured, “Are there really people like that?”

Sister Bao smiled. “What kind of people?”

“Someone this foolish.”

“Foolish?”

“He doesn’t even have much money himself, yet he keeps thinking about giving back to the tribe.”

Sister Bao stood up. “That’s why I asked you to take the lunchbox to him.”

Wanhua lowered her head and looked at the paper bag. For some reason, she suddenly became a little more curious about the man who usually sat in a corner of the park drawing pictures.

“Okay.” She picked up the paper bag. “I’ll take it to him.”

“Don’t forget to remind him to eat it while it’s still hot.”

“Got it.” Wanhua walked to the door, then suddenly turned around. “Sister Bao.”

“Hmm?”

“Does Yukan… have a girlfriend?”

Sister Bao raised her eyebrows. “Why are you suddenly asking that?”

“I’m just curious.” Wanhua deliberately pretended to be unconcerned. “Just asking.”

Sister Bao could not help laughing. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s never mentioned one to me.”

Wanhua softly said, “Oh,” then turned and walked out.

Sister Bao watched her leave, a knowing smile appearing at the corners of her mouth.

A little after eight in the morning, sunlight had already brightened the park. The shadows of the trees swayed across the ground in the gentle breeze. Several elderly people sat beneath a tree chatting, while several children chased one another across the grass.

In one corner of the park, Walis Yukan was sitting in front of his easel. A middle-aged woman sat in front of him, quietly allowing him to draw her portrait. The charcoal pencil in Yukan’s hand moved quickly. Before long, a vivid portrait gradually emerged.

“Done.”

The woman took the drawing paper and smiled with satisfaction. “It really looks like me.”

Yukan smiled. “Thank you.”

The woman paid him and left with the portrait.

Yukan was about to put away his drawing supplies when he suddenly heard someone calling him from behind.

“Yukan!”

He turned around. Lin Wanhua was standing a few steps away, holding a paper bag.

“Wanhua?” Yukan was somewhat surprised. “What brings you here?”

“Sister Bao asked me to bring you lunch.” Wanhua handed him the paper bag. “She said it was for lunch.”

Yukan took the paper bag. “Sorry to trouble Sister Bao again.”

“Not that I’m saying anything,” Wanhua said, looking at him, “but do you really make that much money?”

Yukan paused. “It’s okay.”

“How much do you make in a day, roughly?”

“Sometimes more, sometimes less.”

“Then why do I so often see you eating toast with bottled water?”

Yukan smiled. “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you a few times.” Wanhua sat down beside him. “Sister Bao told me everything.”

Yukan was silent for a moment. “She tells you everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she also tell you that I’m always sticking my nose into other people’s business?”

Wanhua could not help laughing. “She didn’t say that.”

She looked at Yukan. “She said you have a lot of compassion.”

Yukan instead felt a little embarrassed. “It’s really nothing.”

“You send most of the money you earn back to your tribe, and you still say it’s nothing?”

“That’s my hometown.” Yukan opened the lunchbox. Inside were neatly arranged pieces of sushi and several simple side dishes.

He took a look.

“Sister Bao made this?”

“Yeah.” Yukan picked up a piece of sushi. “It looks delicious.”

“Then hurry up and eat.”

Yukan took a bite. “It really is delicious.”

Wanhua looked at him. “How much do you actually send back every month?”

Yukan thought for a moment.

“After deducting rent and living expenses, I send almost all the rest.”

“You don’t want to save some money for yourself?”

Yukan shook his head. “I’m alone. I can eat and sleep just fine, and there aren’t many things I need to spend money on.” He looked toward the children playing on the other side of the park. “But the children in the tribe are different. If they want to study or draw but don’t even have a storybook or a box of crayons, that would be a real shame.”

Wanhua said nothing. She suddenly felt that there was something very special about this man. There was a quietness about him—not a kind of kindness he deliberately displayed, but rather someone who regarded helping others as something perfectly natural.

“Yukan.”

“Hmm?”

“You really are strange.”

“What’s strange about me?”

“You’re not exactly well-off yourself, yet you’re always thinking about other people.”

Yukan smiled. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Don’t you often help the people at the Single Society too?”

Wanhua was taken aback. “That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

Wanhua thought for a long time but could not explain it herself.

Yukan did not press her further. He lowered his head and continued eating the sushi. The two of them suddenly fell silent.

Sunlight passed through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across their shoulders. At that moment, neither of them said a word.

Yet somehow, they seemed to have grown a little closer than if they had said many things.

After a while, Yukan suddenly remembered something.

“By the way.”

“What?”

“Qiu Chen.”

Wanhua turned her head. “What about him?”

“Has he found a job recently?”

“I don’t know.”

Yukan frowned. “He studied film, and he just came back from the United States. He can’t stay idle at the Single Society forever.”

“You want to help him find a job?”

“Yeah.” Yukan said, “He really wants to make movies.”

Wanhua thought for a moment. “A film company…” Suddenly, she thought of something. “Oh, right!”

Yukan looked up. “What?”

“Huaxia Film Company seems to be hiring recently.”

“Really?”

“I have a college club classmate named Tony. He’s working as a lighting technician at Huaxia Film Company now.”

Wanhua immediately took out her phone. “I’ll call him and ask.”

The call was answered quickly.

“Hello? Tony?”

“It’s Wanhua.”

A cheerful male voice came from the other end.

“Oh, the brilliant Lin Wanhua. What made you think of calling me all of a sudden?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Is your company hiring recently?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“I think so.”

“What kind of work?”

“Script supervisor, production assistant, and some other crew jobs.”

Wanhua’s eyes lit up. “Could you possibly arrange for someone to get in?”

“Who?”

“A guy who just graduated from a film and television school in the United States. His name is Qiu Chen.”

“Does he have a résumé?”

“Yes.”

“Then have him come and see me.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

Tony laughed. “But let me make this clear first. A film crew isn’t an office. The work is hard.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“And he definitely won’t become a director as soon as he joins.”

“I know.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

The call ended, and Wanhua breathed a sigh of relief.

Yukan asked beside her, “Is there hope?”

“Yes.” Wanhua smiled. “At least there’s a way for him to get his foot in the door.”

Yukan smiled too. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“If it weren’t for you, Qiu Chen might not even know where to look for this kind of job.”

Wanhua looked at him. “You’re so concerned about him. Why don’t you go look for a job for him yourself?”

Yukan smiled. “Different fields are like different mountains. I only know how to draw.”

“You can make money from drawing too.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“I draw people on the street.” Yukan looked at his easel. “He wants to make movies.”

Wanhua suddenly felt that although the two men had different dreams, there was something very similar about them.

Both were working hard to find a path for their own lives.

8. Lunch in the Park — Continued

In the evening, Wanhua returned to the Single Society.

Qiu Chen was sitting in the living room, looking through several newspaper job advertisements.

“Qiu Chen.”

He looked up. “What is it?”

Wanhua took a piece of paper out of her purse. “Here.”

Qiu Chen took it.

It said: Huaxia Film Company

Address, telephone number, and Tony’s name.

“What’s this?”

“A job.”

Qiu Chen looked up and stared at her in disbelief. “I asked around for you.”

“They’re hiring script supervisors, production assistants, and general crew workers. Go directly to Tony tomorrow.”

Qiu Chen gripped the piece of paper tightly. “Really?”

“Really.” He stood up. “Thank you!”

Wanhua smiled. “Don’t get too excited yet.”

“Why?”

“Working on a film crew is actually very hard.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” Qiu Chen’s eyes were determined. “As long as I can get into the film industry, I’m willing to do anything.”

Looking at his expression, Wanhua suddenly remembered what Yukan had said earlier—everyone has their own path they want to take.

She nodded gently. “Then I wish you success in finding a job with a film crew.”

Qiu Chen carefully put the piece of paper into his pocket.

Outside the window, the setting sun was slowly sinking between the high-rises of the city. No one knew that this small piece of paper would lead Qiu Chen into a world of opportunities, setbacks, schemes, and dreams in the film industry.

And no one noticed that—in the park that afternoon—a new invisible thread had quietly formed between Lin Wanhua and Walis Yukan, a thread of affection that would grow tighter and tighter in the days to come.

9. The Monk Who Studied Abroad

At nine in the morning, people were coming and going in front of the entrance to Huaxia Film Company’s production studio. Several trucks loaded with filming equipment were parked at the entrance, while staff hurried in and out carrying lighting equipment, tripods, and cameras. In the distance came the sound of actors rehearsing their lines, and from inside the soundstage, the sharp “clack, clack” of the slate could be heard from time to time.

Qiu Chen stood outside the entrance and took a deep breath. He had taken special care with his appearance today. He wore a white shirt and dark pants, and his leather shoes had been polished until they were spotless. He also carried a folder containing his résumé, academic credentials, and footage from several short films he had made at the American film school.

He looked up at the words “Huaxia Film Company.” Could this be his starting point?

“Qiu Chen!” someone called from behind him.

Qiu Chen turned around. A man wearing a staff ID badge and a black T-shirt was walking quickly toward him.

“Tony?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Tony reached out and shook his hand.

“Wanhua called me yesterday and told me about you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Tony patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll take you to meet Director Pei.”

The two of them entered the production studio. Qiu Chen looked around as they walked. Large soundstages, lighting rigs, camera dollies, cameras, set panels… The things that had once existed only in film textbooks and on the sets of his American film school were now right before his eyes.

His eyes lit up slightly.

Tony noticed. “What do you think?”

“It’s great.” Qiu Chen smiled. “This is where I want to be.”

Tony smiled too. “Then you’d better be mentally prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“Making movies isn’t a school assignment where you follow an SOP step by step.” Tony gave him a meaningful look. “And no one here is going to treat you with special courtesy just because you’re a film master’s graduate from the United States.”

Qiu Chen nodded. “I know that.”

The two of them arrived at the director’s office.

Tony knocked on the door.

“Come in.” A deep voice came from inside.

Tony pushed the door open. “Director Pei, I’ve brought the person.”

The man sitting behind the desk looked up. He appeared to be around fifty, with neatly slicked-back hair and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A thick stack of scripts lay on the desk, beside a cup of tea that had already gone cold.

“Who?”

“Qiu Chen.”

“The one who came back from the United States with a master’s degree in film?”

“Yes.”

Pei Lingxian did not answer.

He held out his hand. “Résumé.”

Qiu Chen handed it over with both hands. “Hello, Director Pei.”

Pei Lingxian took the résumé and lowered his head to read it. The office immediately fell silent. The sound of the pages turning was especially clear.

“California Film and Television Academy?”

“Yes.”

“A master’s degree in film?”

“Yes.”

Pei Lingxian raised his eyes.

“How many films have you made?”

Qiu Chen listed several of his school projects.

After listening, the corners of Pei Lingxian’s mouth lifted slightly. “Not bad.”

Qiu Chen said nothing.

Pei Lingxian lowered his head and looked at the résumé again. “You studied directing and screenwriting?”

“Yes.”

“You studied directing, and you can write scripts too.”

“You know cinematography and editing as well?”

“I learned all of them at school.”

“Oh, my.” Pei Lingxian put the résumé down on the desk. “You’re quite impressive. And you’ve come here to apply for a script supervisor position?”

Qiu Chen froze for a moment. “I want to start from the bottom.”

“Start from the bottom?” Pei Lingxian laughed. “Good.” He stood up and slowly walked over to Qiu Chen.

He looked him up and down. “But just because a monk has studied abroad doesn’t mean he knows how to chant sutras.”

Tony frowned.

The smile on Qiu Chen’s face also stiffened slightly. “What do you mean, Director Pei?”

“The meaning is simple.” Pei Lingxian waved his hand. “This isn’t a school. I don’t care what you learned in the United States. Making movies isn’t about sitting in a classroom and discussing theory.”

He pointed toward the door. “If you really have what it takes, then start with the basics.”

Qiu Chen asked, “Then… what about the script supervisor position?”

“No.”

Qiu Chen froze.

Tony was also stunned. “Director Pei, didn’t he come here to apply for the script supervisor position?”

Pei Lingxian glanced at Tony.

“I changed my mind.”

“Then what should he do?”

Pei Lingxian sat back down in his chair. “Production assistant. Run errands, move things, organize props. Whatever the crew needs, he fills the gap. And he can also work as a stand-in and an extra.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “A stand-in?”

“That’s right.”

Pei Lingxian said calmly, “Since he studied film, he should understand even better how a film crew operates.”

Qiu Chen was silent for several seconds. “When do I start?”

Pei Lingxian looked up. “Today.”

“Today?”

“Any problem?”

Qiu Chen looked at him. Finally, he shook his head. “No.”

Pei Lingxian picked up the script. “Then go outside and report to the producer.”

Qiu Chen turned around. As he reached the door, Pei Lingxian suddenly spoke again.

“Oh, right.”

Qiu Chen stopped.

“Don’t think that carrying an American diploma means you can order other people around. On my crew, you’re just a gofer for now.”

Qiu Chen clenched his fist. “I understand.”

He walked out of the office.

The door closed. Tony immediately followed him out.

“Qiu Chen!”

Qiu Chen stopped. “What is it?”

“Don’t get angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not angry.”

Tony frowned. “He’s obviously deliberately trying to put you in your place.”

Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile. “I know.”

“You have a master’s degree!”

“So what?” Qiu Chen looked at him. “I need this job. I’ll get inside first and worry about the rest later. As long as I can stay with the crew, I’ll do anything.”

Tony fell silent. After a while, he patted Qiu Chen on the shoulder. “Good brother, hang in there.”

Qiu Chen smiled. “I will.”

The First Day on the Job

Qiu Chen quickly learned what the so-called “gofer” job really meant.

“Qiu Chen!”

Someone was calling him.

“Coming!”

“Carry these boards to the soundstage and give them to the carpentry crew!”

“Okay!”

He had barely finished moving the boards.

Another voice came from somewhere else.

“Qiu Chen!”

“Coming!”

“Go to the props department and get two chairs!”

“Okay!”

He had not even brought the chairs back yet.

Someone called again:

“Qiu Chen, help buy some ice!”

“Okay!”

“And pick up the boxed lunches we ordered while you’re at it!”

“Okay!”

“Oh, right, the soundstage is out of tape!”

“Got it!”

He was like a ball being kicked back and forth. He ran from the props department to the lighting department, from the lighting department to the set department, and then from the set department to the wardrobe department. He hardly stopped for the entire morning. Sweat quickly soaked through his shirt.

His once-clean leather shoes were covered in mud.

His arms were also scratched with thin cuts from the wooden boards.

“Qiu Chen!” someone called again.

He turned around. “What is it?”

“Move this box over there.”

He looked at the cardboard box in front of him. It was nearly as tall as a person.

“Okay.” He bent down. “One, two, three!”

The box lifted off the ground, so heavy that he nearly stumbled.

But he gritted his teeth and hoisted the box onto his shoulder.

Someone nearby watched him.

“You came back from the United States?”

“Yes.”

“Master’s degree in film?”

“Yeah.”

The man laughed.

“Then take your time and enjoy it.”

Qiu Chen did not answer. He simply continued working.

At 12:30 p.m., the crew began lunch. Everyone else sat together in groups of two or three, but Qiu Chen was still moving equipment.

By the time he finished, all the boxed lunches were gone. He touched his stomach.

A crew member nearby saw him. “Qiu Chen, you haven’t eaten yet?”

“It’s okay.”

The man pointed toward the corner of the table. “There’s still some bread over there.”

Qiu Chen walked over.

There were only two dry pieces of bread and a bottle of mineral water left on the table.

He picked them up and sat in a corner outside the soundstage. He tore open the wrapper and took a bite. The bread was very dry. He took a sip of water, then took another bite. Around him came the sounds of the crew members chatting and laughing.

Someone was discussing the next scene.

Someone was complaining that the weather was too hot.

Someone was busy smoking.

Qiu Chen, however, sat quietly in the corner.

He looked at the bread in his hand.

Suddenly, he remembered his days on the American campus. Back then, he had sat in bright, spacious classrooms discussing movies.

They talked about shots. Narrative. Directorial styles. His professors had told him that film was an art. And now, he was sitting in a dirty corner of a soundstage, chewing on two pieces of bread. He suddenly understood. There was another side to filmmaking: sweat, dust, running around, and endurance.

Qiu Chen lowered his head and smiled. “At least… I’m in.” He stuffed the last bite of bread into his mouth.

He took a big drink of mineral water. Then he stood up.

Someone in the distance called again, “Qiu Chen!”

He immediately answered, “Coming!” He turned and ran toward the soundstage.

No one knew that this young man, covered in dust and sweat, would one day stand behind a camera and truly call out those words—“Action!”

But for now, he was simply the most insignificant gofer at Huaxia Film Company.

10. This Is Where My Journey Begins

Night had already fallen.

The city’s neon lights came on one by one. The traffic on the streets flowed past Qiu Chen like a constantly moving river of light. He dragged his exhausted feet as he walked out of Huaxia Film Company’s production studio. He had barely sat down to rest at all that day. His white shirt had long since lost its original brightness. Dust covered his sleeves, and mud stained the cuffs of his pants. The sweat on his forehead had dried and then returned, dried and then returned again, while his messy hair clung to his forehead.

He lowered his head and looked at his hands. There were several small abrasions on his palms.

“Is this what the film industry is like?” He gave a bitter smile. Thinking about all the film theories he had learned at the American film school, they seemed so far away at this moment. But he had no regrets. At least, he had already stepped inside.

Qiu Chen walked along the street. As he passed the park, he saw from a distance a familiar figure beneath a mercury streetlamp.

A small table.

Several sheets of drawing paper.

A folding chair.

Walis Yukan was sitting in front of his easel, his pencil moving quickly. A young woman sat in front of him, quietly allowing him to draw her portrait.

“Qiu Chen!” Yukan suddenly looked up.

Qiu Chen stopped. “Yukan?”

Yukan put down his pencil and waved him over. “Come over for a minute.”

Qiu Chen walked to the drawing stand. Yukan looked him up and down. “What happened to you?”

Qiu Chen looked down at himself. “Do I look that terrible?”

“Not terrible.” Yukan smiled. “You look like you just escaped from a construction site.”

Qiu Chen could not help laughing. “Pretty much.”

Yukan put down the drawing pencil in his hand. “Your first day at work?”

“Yeah.”

“How did it go?”

Qiu Chen was silent for a moment. “I guess… I went to work.”

Yukan could tell from his tone that something was wrong. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Qiu Chen sat down on the bench beside him. “They didn’t let me work as a script supervisor.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Everything. Production work.” Qiu Chen smiled helplessly. “Moving things, running errands, getting props, buying ice—wherever the crew needed an extra pair of hands, that’s where I went.”

Yukan froze for a moment. “Didn’t you study film in the United States?”

“Yes.”

“And you have a master’s degree?”

“Yeah.”

Yukan looked at him, covered in dust, and could not help shaking his head. “So they’re obviously giving you a hard time?”

Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile. “Maybe.”

“You didn’t say anything to them?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Qiu Chen looked up. “That I’m a master’s graduate from the United States?”

Yukan laughed.

Qiu Chen laughed along with him.

“I just don’t want to rely on that.” He looked at the streetlights in the distance. “I want to truly learn how to make movies.”

Yukan was silent for a moment. “Then you must be having a hard time.”

Qiu Chen nodded. “I know.”

“Do you regret it?”

Qiu Chen shook his head. “I don’t regret it.”

“When I left home, I knew this road wouldn’t be easy.” He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

“My father wanted me to go home and take over the hotel, but I refused. Since I chose this path myself, even if I have to grit my teeth, I have to keep walking it.”

After listening, Yukan looked at him with admiration. “Your spirit is admirable.” He patted Qiu Chen on the shoulder. “Remember one thing.”

Qiu Chen looked at him. “What?”

“As long as you know where you’re going, you don’t have to be afraid of moving slowly right now.”

Yukan pointed toward his drawing stand. “Look at me. I sit here drawing every day, and no one knows what I used to do. But I know I love drawing. So I just keep drawing.”

Qiu Chen nodded. “Thank you.”

Yukan smiled. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Back to the Single Society.”

“I haven’t packed up yet.” Yukan glanced at his easel. “I need to finish this one first.”

A little after eight that evening, the two of them finally returned to the Single Society.

The moment the front door opened, several people who had been chatting in the living room all looked up at the same time.

“Oh, my!” Lin Wanhua was the first to cry out. “Qiu Chen, what happened to you?”

She hurried over.

Liu Dingtian also stood up from the sofa.

Lin Wanhua exclaimed in surprise, “My God! Did you go to study film, or did you go work in a coal mine?”

Zhu Erdong stuck his head out for a look. “You’re covered in dust.”

Qiu Chen looked down at himself. “Is it really that bad?”

“That bad?” Liu Dingtian walked over and rubbed his hand across Qiu Chen’s shoulder. His fingers immediately turned gray-black.

“Look!” He held his palm out in front of Qiu Chen. “You could use this to paint a wall.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Qiu Chen laughed along with them.

Just then, Sister Bao came out of the kitchen. The moment she saw Qiu Chen, the smile disappeared from her face.

“Qiu Chen.” She walked over to him. “What happened?”

Qiu Chen shook his head, pretending to be casual. “Nothing.”

“Would you look like this if nothing happened?” Sister Bao patted his arm, and dust immediately floated into the air.

“Cough, cough…” Sister Bao quickly stepped back. “My goodness! What on earth did you do?”

Qiu Chen said with a smile, “It was my first day at work. The director wanted me to start from the bottom.”

Wanhua frowned. “What do you mean, start from the bottom?”

“Being a gofer.”

“A gofer?” Wanhua’s frown deepened. “Didn’t you graduate from a film school in the United States?”

“Yes.”

“And you have a master’s degree in film?”

“Yes.”

“And they made you do odd jobs?”

Qiu Chen nodded. “I also had to work as a stand-in and an extra.”

The living room suddenly fell silent. Liu Dingtian was the first to explode. “What?” His eyes widened. “A stand-in?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you kidding me?” Big Liu slammed his hand on the table angrily. “You have a master’s degree from the United States! They’re treating you like a laborer?”

“Big Guy.” Qiu Chen quickly tried to calm him down. “It’s not that serious.”

“How is it not that serious?” Liu Dingtian became increasingly angry. “When I worked for a moving company moving furniture, at least they treated me like an employee of the moving company. And you? You studied film for all those years, only to end up moving tables and chairs, running errands, and doing odd jobs?”

Qiu Chen laughed. “Doing odd jobs is also part of filmmaking.”

“You’re actually defending them?” Liu Dingtian looked at him with exasperation.

Lin Wanhua, however, had remained silent the entire time. She looked at Qiu Chen, clear indignation in her eyes.

“Is it that Director Pei?”

Qiu Chen looked up. “How did you know?”

“Didn’t you tell me yesterday that Tony was taking you to meet Director Pei?”

Wanhua said coldly, “I think that man did it deliberately.”

Qiu Chen smiled. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Wanhua raised her voice slightly.

“He clearly knows your education and abilities, yet deliberately made you do menial work. If that isn’t deliberately giving you a hard time, then what is?”

Qiu Chen did not answer. He knew Wanhua was right, but he did not want everyone to worry about him.

“Forget it.” He waved his hand. “I’m really fine.”

At that moment, Sun Qing came out of the bathroom with a wet towel. “Enough talking for now.”

She walked over to Qiu Chen and handed him the towel. “Wipe your face.”

Qiu Chen took the towel. “Thank you.”

“What about your hands? Wipe your hands too.” Sun Qing pointed at his palms. “They’re all scraped up.”

Qiu Chen lowered his head and looked at them. “Just minor injuries.”

Sun Qing glared at him. “What do you mean, minor injuries?”

She turned around and brought over a bottle of antiseptic. “Sit down.”

“Do I really need to?”

“Sit down.” Sun Qing’s tone left no room for refusal.

Qiu Chen had no choice but to sit down obediently. Sun Qing cleaned the wounds on his palms.

When the antiseptic touched the wounds, Qiu Chen could not help pulling his hand back slightly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not too bad.”

“Then why did you pull your hand away?”

Qiu Chen gave a bitter smile. “It really is nothing.”

Sister Bao stood nearby, watching the scene with concern written all over her face.

“Qiu Chen.”

“Hmm?”

“If you really can’t take it anymore, don’t force yourself.”

Qiu Chen looked up. “Sister Bao, I can do it.”

“But…”

“This is the path I’ve chosen to take.” His tone was very calm.

“Maybe they’ll tell me to move things again tomorrow, just like they did today.”

“That’s okay. As long as one day I can truly stand behind a camera, it will all be worth it.”

Everyone fell silent.

Lin Wanhua looked at him, and for the first time, there was something different in her eyes. It was not sympathy, but a kind of understanding and respect for his dream.

Liu Dingtian finally stopped talking too. After a few seconds, he reached out and patted Qiu Chen on the shoulder. “You know how to bend without breaking. Good for you.”

Qiu Chen smiled. “Thank you.”

Yukan stood to one side, quietly watching everyone. He knew that although Qiu Chen had been treated unfairly outside that day, once he returned here, he was no longer alone. Because inside this somewhat rundown house lived a group of people who were not related by blood, yet were willing to care about one another.

There was no luxurious living room here, no expensive furniture. In fact, none of them could be said to live a wealthy life. But whenever someone came through this door exhausted, there would always be someone asking—

“Have you eaten?”

“Are you hurt?”

“How was your day?”

Perhaps this was the true meaning of the Single Society’s existence. It was not about letting a group of lonely people live together.

It was about making sure that every person who was wandering through life knew there was still a place they could come home to.