Chapter 57: Xiangjiang

The Gulfstream G550 business jet pierced through the clouds, and Xiang Qian looked down through the porthole at the dazzling lights of Victoria Harbour. In the cabin, Cheng Long was discussing the welcome banquet menu with Dean Lung.

"We absolutely have to have Sham Tseng roast goose!" Cheng Long slapped the armrest. "These past few days eating French food have made me..."

"Dragon-ge," Kara Wai Ying-hung looked up from the script, "the doctor said your cholesterol is high."

Zhou Xingxing curled up in a corner seat, fingers ceaselessly rubbing the velvet case of the Palme d'Or trophy. Lin Qingxia handed him a cup of hot tea: "Nervous?"

"Mm..." Zhou Xingxing's voice was as light as a feather, "I heard there are over three hundred media outlets at the airport..."

Mona Fong was checking the itinerary: "After landing we take the VIP corridor, the press conference is arranged at the Peninsula Hotel."

The plane began its descent, and Xiang Qian fastened his seatbelt. A sudden jolt, and Zhou Xingxing grabbed the armrest in a flash, his fingernails turning white.

"Relax a bit," Xiang Qian handed him a piece of chewing gum, "chewing this can relieve the ear ringing."

The instant the cabin door opened, camera flashes poured down like a rainstorm. Zhou Xingxing instinctively stepped back half a pace, only to be pulled in by Cheng Long's arm around his shoulder: "Don't be afraid, stick close to me."

On both sides of the VIP corridor, fans held up light signs reading "Welcome Home, Palme d'Or Hero." A bespectacled girl suddenly broke through the cordon: "Xingzai! Your performance made me cry all night!"

Security was about to stop her, but Zhou Xingxing stopped in his tracks, trembling as he took the girl's notebook and signed it. The girl's eyes reddened: "I... I'm also very introverted... thank you for letting me know that introverts can also shine..."

Xiang Qian saw Zhou Xingxing's eye sockets instantly redden.

In the Peninsula Hotel banquet hall, long guns and short cannons were aimed at the crew on stage. The host had just announced the start of the Q&A session when several dozen hands shot up.

"Director Wu, may I ask when Parasite's mainland release date is?" a reporter from Southern Metropolis Daily seized the chance to ask.

"The 15th of next month." Xiang Qian adjusted the microphone, "Special thanks to the Film Bureau for their support."

A reporter from Apple Daily suddenly asked sharply: "I heard the mainland demanded cuts to some scenes?"

The room instantly fell silent. Xiang Qian's expression didn't change: "Every market has its own cultural characteristics, we made some minor adjustments, but the core content..."

"... hasn't changed at all!" Mona Fong decisively took over, "The mainland Film Bureau guaranteed it."

When it was Zhou Xingxing's turn, the hand holding the microphone was trembling. A reporter asked: "This time receiving Quentin's recognition, what does it mean to you?"

"M-Mean..." Zhou Xingxing's Adam's apple bobbed a few times, "it means I finally don't have to... don't have to force myself to become extroverted..."

This heartfelt answer drew endless applause from the room.

At a private club atop Victoria Peak, Xiangjiang's elite from all walks of life gathered. Xiang Qian was pulled aside by Run Run Shaw to chat about a new project, and his peripheral vision caught Zhou Xingxing hiding in a corner of the terrace.

"Excuse me for a moment." Xiang Qian broke away and walked toward the terrace, finding Zhou Xingxing counting the cruise ship lights on the harbour.

"Not used to this kind of occasion?"

Zhou Xingxing suddenly asked: "Qian-ge... do you think... I should keep playing marginal characters... or try to change?"

The harbour's neon reflected on Xiang Qian's face: "Just be yourself. It's precisely this authenticity that made the world cheer for you."

Late at night, Xiang Qian walked alone through the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui. Passing the Temple Street night market, the old man selling claypot rice recognized him: "Young man! When is your movie releasing in Hong Kong?"

"Next Wednesday, UA Cinema Circuit."

The old man nimbly packed up a portion of preserved-meat claypot rice: "This one's on me! Let those foreign devils know that our Xiangjiang cinema isn't dead!"

Xiang Qian held the steaming hot lunchbox, looked up and saw the giant Parasite poster being assembled on the outer wall of Times Square. A construction worker waved at him: "Director Wu! My daughter says you're her idol!"

Xiang Qian bit into the rice crust, the crispy texture bursting between his teeth. He gazed at the silhouettes of the entire cast on the poster, and suddenly understood: this was not only an ending, but a new beginning.