Chapter 40: Cheng Long's Sudden Celebration

Xiang Qian stood before the floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel, a glass of whiskey in hand, the ice already half melted.

Outside the window was the night view of Victoria Harbour, neon lights flickering, a cruise ship gliding slowly past, the reflections on the water stretched into fine golden threads.

"The Ni family matter is finally wrapped up," he murmured, tilting his head back and draining the glass in one go.

His throat burned, but nowhere near as much as the restless agitation in his heart.

The news that Parasite had been selected for Cannes had already swept across all of Xiangjiang, with newspapers running page after page of coverage, and along with it, the name of this rising director had been catapulted to the skies.

"Qian-zi, the Golden Image Awards nominations are out." Fang Yihua pushed the door open and walked in, a fax in hand. "Twelve nominations—Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor… we've got a share in all of them."

Xiang Qian took the list, glanced over it, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly: "Dragon Brother's going to go crazy with joy this time."

"And not just him? Lin Qingxia, Zhou Xingxing, Kara Hui… they've all called to ask what to wear on awards night." Fang Yihua laughed. "Your film has carried half of the Xiangjiang film world on its back."

Xiang Qian shook his head: "It's because they acted well."

After hanging up the phone, the ringtone suddenly went off again.

Xiang Qian picked up, and Wang Jing's signature booming voice came through the receiver: "Qian-zi! We've started shooting the desert scenes for Ghost Blowing Lamp over here, freezing to death! A-Min is running across the dunes in a vest and shorts, her lips have gone purple!"

Xiang Qian's brow furrowed: "How many degrees is it over on the mainland right now?"

"Minus five! And the wind in the desert is brutal!" Wang Jing blustered on. "But don't worry, I've had people prepare hot ginger soup—your A-Min won't freeze!"

Xiang Qian didn't take his teasing, only asking: "Where have you filmed to?"

"The entrance to the Ancient City of Jingjue, about to enter the underground palace." Wang Jing paused. "Oh right, are you joining the TVB gala? A-Min says she's coming back."

"Mm." Xiang Qian gave a single syllable. "Before the Golden Image Awards, everyone should get together."

After hanging up, he walked to the window and gazed at the distant sea.

The Ancient City of Jingjue was a desert scene, but it was winter now, the actors filming in summer clothes in the bitter wind… that girl Zhou Huimin was probably going to be stubborn again.

The calendar had flipped to late December; in a few more days it would be Lunar New Year.

The Golden Fragrance Awards, the Golden Donkey Awards, the music awards ceremony… a pile of events crammed in before the new year, and just the schedule alone was enough to give one a headache.

Xiang Qian rubbed his temples and muttered to himself: "Really going to be busy."

He opened the script for Ghost Blowing Lamp, on which Zhou Huimin had made marks with a highlighter—"Shirley Yang's lines need to be cooler."

Thinking of her bent earnestly over the script making annotations, the corners of Xiang Qian's mouth lifted unconsciously.

A knock sounded, and his assistant poked his head in: "Qian-ge, Brother Cheng Long is here."

Xiang Qian looked up, and Cheng Long had already burst in like a whirlwind, a bottle of red wine still raised in his hand: "Qian-zi! Celebrating Parasite's selection! Tonight we don't go home till we're drunk!"

Xiang Qian laughed despite himself: "Big Brother, it's only three in the afternoon."

"Who cares what time it is!" Cheng Long plopped down on the sofa, saying excitedly, "Cannes! I've never been there in my life! What do you think, should I learn a couple of lines of French?"

Xiang Qian poured a glass of wine and handed it to him: "Learning one 'thank you' is enough."

Cheng Long nodded, didn't ask further, just raised his glass: "Cheers! To cinema!"

Xiang Qian clinked glasses with him, but in his heart was thinking—

Cinema is the art of light and shadow, but reality is far more brutal than any film.

Night fell, and the lights of Xiangjiang lit up one by one.

Xiang Qian stood at the window, looking at this bustling yet cold city.

In a few more days, Zhou Huimin would return from the mainland—the TVB gala, the Golden Image Awards red carpet, the New Year's bell… everything was proceeding in order.

But he knew the real challenge had only just begun.

"Next year…" he murmured, "will be a better year."

Outside the window, fireworks suddenly burst over Victoria Harbour, illuminating the entire night sky.