Chapter 570: My Chinese Heart

Fang Hong has no respect at all for the United States and casually insults it.

They didn't give birth to him or raise him—why should he have any respect?

Yu Xian's villa is in Beverly Hills, a district famed as the world's most prestigious residential area, nestled along the crisp, pleasant Pacific coast and at the foot of Beverly Hills.

Coming here feels like stepping into a paradise on earth—the scenery is stunning, with mountains and sea, and it's peaceful.

The mountain is Beverly Hills; the Grand Canyon lies nearby. The sea is the Pacific, its view magnificent.

The rich still have good taste.

This is also a city within a city, with its own elected mayor and independent police and fire departments.

It operates under a separate administrative system from Los Angeles—the rich know how to play, managing themselves.

It's home to many celebrities, not just international superstars like Madonna, Britney, Angelina Jolie, and Beckham.

Also global tycoons like young master bosses, Bezos.

Many wealthy Chinese and celebrities here own villas, mostly purchasing property through offshore companies or anonymously—transactions are rarely made public, so no one knows exactly who they are.

Known ones include Lao Wang Zong, Jack Ma, Qiang Zi and his wife; also Fang Long, Huang Xiaoming Da Baobei and his wife, Fan Xiaopang, and Jet Li.

There are many wealthy Chinese; owning a mansion here is undeniably a symbol of wealth and status, something to show off.

To mingle with these international celebrities and enter their circle, you must have solid financial backing—otherwise, who cares about you?

These circles aren't easy to join.

The car drives on, passing row after row of meticulously trimmed palm trees; European-style villas rise and fall in orderly arrangement, mostly separated by greenery, each with a large backyard.

"This place is beautiful," Liu Tianxian sighed.

"This is the rich man's paradise—a place full of luxury, fame, and fashion. Don't be fooled by those tycoons acting refined—gallery art, yachts, planes—they all love showing off and fighting."

Yu Xian kept driving: "They're too bored. Some like to show off their pets—not normal cats or dogs, but swans, ponies, gorillas, pigs, snakes."

"Huh!"

Liu Tianxian's face twisted in disgust at the last item—how could anyone keep snakes as pets? "Normal people don't do things like this."

"That's why some people are just overfed and idle—a bunch of abnormal, lazy folks," Yu Xian said bluntly about Americans.

Now that he's risen in status, he's met all kinds of people—he's bought several-hundred-million-yuan villas here himself, so he's officially entered the U. S. billionaire circle.

So he's seen plenty of sordid things.

"Some wealthy ladies are still normal—they just love showing off and fighting like ordinary people: you show off, I show off, neither wants to lose. Sometimes when they dislike someone, they argue like shrews."

He once saw two well-dressed white aristocratic women fighting viciously.

Some tycoons are just rich—they're not necessarily high-minded. Of course, to ordinary people, they're still contemptible and should be ignored.

That makes them seem aloof and distant, but really, they're just people.

"Then stay away from them—don't get involved with them or mess around." Liu Tianxian warned.

"I'm swamped every day—can't even finish filming. How could I waste time idling like them?" Yu Xian said.

"Good," Liu Tianxian said.

As they chatted, the car reached the mid-slope of Beverly Hills—the most expensive residential area in Beverly Hills, offering a view of the distant Pacific.

Spending hundreds of millions has its perks.

If it were a flatland villa, you wouldn't see the Pacific view.

The car stopped in front of a grand villa; the large iron gate, seemingly sensor-activated, slowly opened.

"Let's get out and see the view," Liu Tianxian said eagerly, already reaching for the door.

Yu Xian parked the car at the entrance without going in—there were already many luxury cars lining the roadside, and his was the worst here.

Of course, occasionally elegant women passed by—this place still had people.

They got out. Liu Tianxian shaded her eyes with her hand, gazing at the vast, majestic Pacific.

"Wow, let's buy a house here too!" Liu Tianxian, captivated by the scenery, once again entertained the idea of buying property—she had this habit.

"Buy what? We don't have the money. Do you think we're as powerful as Director Yu?" Fang Hong said casually.

"Get lost," Liu Tianxian kicked him—he always talked nonsense.

Shi Zhi Mao and Yu Xian both smiled.

"If you say that, then I'll gift you a villa—to show off Director Yu's power." Yu Xian boasted.

Then he could say proudly: the Principal's villa in Beverly Hills? Gifted by Yu Xian.

"Have you paid off your mortgage?" Fang Hong asked.

He didn't know how much Yu Xian earned—this famous director could make money from other gigs, like speaking engagements.

Jet Li charges $400,000 per lecture in the U. S. —Yu Xian wouldn't be worse.

"No, still paying," Yu Xian shook his head.

"Then wait till it's paid off before talking nonsense. Don't brag." Fang Hong had no intention of letting Yu Xian pay.

Though it's been a long time since any of his films were released and Yu Xian has become lazy, forgetting his hard days.

But now his pressure is lighter, not as tense as a few years ago, so there's no need to push him to struggle like before—he should relax a bit. These past few years, Yu Xian has worked hard. People are like this: once they achieve fame and success, they lose the drive they once had to grind quietly. Just look at Jay Chou's recent songs—are they as good as his old ones?

Liu Tianxian looked at the grand villa—it resembled a European palace, luxurious yet elegant, its exterior like an art temple.

Most villas here are like this: combining noble grandeur with artistic charm, both equally emphasized.

And the vegetation is lush, the landscaping perfectly balanced—only the rich know how to enjoy life.

From outside, you could see inside: the villa was decorated with lanterns everywhere, red lanterns hanging, and red inverted "Fu" characters pasted on every window.

Red couplets were pasted on both sides of the iron gate, radiating a festive New Year atmosphere.

It was only the fourth day of the New Year—still the holiday season.

"You're celebrating the New Year?" Liu Tianxian, seeing the villa's decorations, felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Their own home was also filled with lanterns, red couplets, and red inverted "Fu" characters!

"Of course, I always remember I am Chinese, with a Chinese heart."

Yu Xian finished speaking; whether from intense patriotism or something else, he raised his hand and sang loudly toward the distant Pacific Ocean:

"The rivers and mountains haunt my dreams; my homeland has been distant for many years, but nothing can change my Chinese heart."

Latest novel updates at the first release!

"Though I wear foreign clothes, my heart remains Chinese; my ancestors long ago stamped all of me with Chinese marks!" Fang Hong joined in singing.

"The Yangtze River, the Great Wall, Mount Huang, the Yellow River—they weigh a thousand jin in my heart; no matter when, no matter where, I feel the same closeness."

This was sung by Liu Tianxian, mainly because she too got into the mood.

Since the place was open and spacious, their singing carried far, reaching white and Black passersby nearby, who turned to look toward the sound.

"Shit, who's howling like wolves and jackals!"

Some Chinese residents lived here too; a delicate-looking woman opened her second-floor window and stared, lost in thought, at the four people standing by the roadside singing toward the Pacific.

If you saw her face, you'd realize she was Milk Tea Sister.

In truth, Yu Xian missed home; after so many years drifting abroad, how could he not miss home? After all, home was always more comforting.

Staying abroad for one or two years was fine, the feeling wasn't too strong—but the longer he stayed, the more he missed home!

Chinese people naturally felt nostalgic and drawn to home!

Fang Hong and the others toured around Yu Xian's Villa for a while, but before finishing, they headed to the Star Walk of Fame; his Villa was too large to finish touring in one go.

"Living here, can your women find you?" Fang Hong joked with Yu Xian.

"They find me by smelling my scent," Yu Xian whispered a risqué joke back.

Of course, Liu Tianxian and Shi Zhi Mao didn't hear their crude remarks.

They arrived early at the Oscar ceremony venue because Liu Tianxian needed several hours beforehand to get dressed and made up—this took time, so they had to come early.

At such an event, she had to maintain a polished image; her photos would be sent back to China by the media.

Usually, female stars find hotels or dressing rooms near the red carpet to prepare; if they dressed elsewhere and then drove over, it would be troublesome, mainly due to restricted movement.

Gowns are inherently troublesome—even using the toilet requires help.

Liu Tianxian's gown and makeup team were provided by the LV brand; for a global event like this, she couldn't buy the gown herself—she absolutely needed brand support.

And as the brand's global ambassador, she had to uphold the brand's image.

This was both advertising and a matter of face.

On February 23, the 87th Oscar Ceremony would begin at 5:30 p. m., which, by China's time, was 9:30 a. m.

At the plaza in front of the Dolby Theatre on Hollywood's Star Walk of Fame, stars began arriving two hours early, gradually stepping onto the red carpet.

Of course, these were mostly unknown minor stars, since there was no live broadcast yet.

Live broadcast began one hour before the ceremony, when ABC's red carpet feed officially launched—ABC held the Oscar broadcast rights.

At that time, over 200 countries and regions worldwide would watch the Oscar Ceremony via TV or online streaming.

The TV networks broadcasting it included TV, Sky Movies, CTV, WOWOW, ILM1, Skycinema1, and Azteca7.

Major Chinese portal websites also provided live photo and text reports, though the Movie Channel would not broadcast the Oscar Ceremony live.

But netizens could watch the 87th Oscar Ceremony live through Movie Network, the Movie Channel's subsidiary—Movie Network offered full-web live streaming.

TVB in Hong Kong would also rebroadcast the Oscar Ceremony; this was TVB's 46th consecutive rebroadcast, never interrupted over the years.

Pearl, TTV, and OX in Macau would also rebroadcast this year's Oscar Ceremony.

This was the power of the Oscars—the hallowed ground every star and filmmaker aspired to reach; standing here meant standing at the most watched place on Earth, enough to boast about for a lifetime.

Fang Long won a Lifetime Achievement Award and boasted about it his whole life; he forgot all other prizes, but the Oscar Lifetime Achievement Award left a deep impression and earned him special treatment.

Simply because the Oscars had sufficient reach and scale—no other award could match its fame or exposure.

The European Big Three fell short.

If Liu Tianxian won an award here, she would be the first Chinese, the first Chinese pioneer, creating multiple world-firsts for Chinese people—unprecedented, with successors to follow.

Yang Ziqiong won the Oscar ten years later.

This surpassed any position held by Man Shen or Gong Huang by far.

(End of Chapter)