Chapter 382

Because the scene was utterly silent, the song "Birthday Song" sounded exceptionally clear, and everyone heard and understood every word.

Cheng Long whispered to Yuan Biao beside him: "Is it Qiu Guan and Ah-Jie here?"

Yuan Biao: "Surprised, right?"

Hong Jinbao also thought the original singer of "Birthday Song" had come to celebrate his birthday, and he craned his neck toward the door.

At that moment, Ah-Hu was terrified—he had accidentally opened the music card, and the song had started playing automatically, right at the crucial moment when the boss was about to speak.

He was just about to turn it off when his trembling hand dropped it to the floor, and now he was scrambling to pick it up.

Hong Jinbao saw no new guests and turned toward the source of the singing: "Who brought a tape player?"

Bao, usually quiet, said: "Boss, this is a birthday gift from our brothers."

Da Xiong also stood up: "Yeah, yeah!"

Finally, Ah-Hu closed the card and stood up, his face flushed.

"What's this? Bring it here and let me see."

The three henchmen walked up to Hong Jinbao; reporters attending the banquet even took a photo.

The covers of the three cards featured movie posters he had starred in; Hong Jinbao picked up the one for "Three Virtues Monk," opened it, and the music played automatically—the Cantonese version of "Birthday Song"—and stopped when he closed it.

He opened the next one, "Fat Dragon Crosses the River," and it played the English version of "Happy Birthday."

The last one played the Mandarin version: "Happy Birthday to You."

Everyone found it novel—they had never seen a music card before. Hong Jinbao turned to Cheng Long: "Big Nose, you travel abroad often, you've seen everything—do they have these in America or Japan?"

Cheng Long shook his head: "If they did, my fans would've sent me one already."

Hearing this, Hu, Bao, and Xiong were overjoyed—they hadn't realized this was a one-of-a-kind gift.

From then on, Hong Jinbao could boast not only as the first person in Hong Kong's entertainment industry to use a Dageda, but also as the first human ever to use a music card.

Hong Jinbao was very happy—the thing probably wasn't expensive, but what mattered was how thoughtful these three newcomers were; the cards even had their crooked, handwritten wishes. Luckily, his own name was signed at the bottom, otherwise he couldn't have told them apart—they were bottom-rung stuntmen, expendable and replaceable at any time.

"Good, very good. All three of you follow me tomorrow," Hong Jinbao declared—he was personally mentoring these three young men.

This made everyone else in the Hong Family troupe envious, even angry—when the boss celebrated his birthday, he always gave us gifts; now these three brats give him presents, making us look heartless!

Countless resentful, hostile glares shot toward the three, but they were too lost in their joy to notice.

Afterward, Hong Jinbao gave a speech, praising everyone's hard work on "The Prodigal Son," expressing strong confidence and anticipation for the film, encouraging the company to achieve new glory in the new year, and then the feast began amid cheers from his friends.

Cheng Long specifically found Ah-Hu and asked: "Where did you buy that music card?"

He was thinking of buying some for his girlfriends—cheap, convenient, and showed thoughtfulness.

Ah-Hu didn't dare hide it: "A man named Wei Ming prepared this for us."

"Wei Ming??"

"Yes."

Cheng Long was thrilled: "He's in Hong Kong? He's my friend!"

At that moment, Cheng Long's friend and Zhou Hui had entered a Golden Harvest cinema.

Just in the car, Ah-Min had changed out of her school uniform—of course, Wei Ming wasn't inside the car, nor under it; he was outside, keeping watch for her.

Since Golden Harvest had no new films, they were pitting this Qingniao production against Shaw Brothers' "Red Powder in the Martial World," a traditional kung fu film starring Michelle Yeoh, Chen Guantai, Yuan Te, and Hui Tin-sze.

"Red Powder in the Martial World" had opened a day earlier, earning about 300, 00 on its first day; this old-fashioned action film with its back-and-forth fights seemed unable to satisfy audiences anymore—now, the action world belonged to Cheng Long and Hong Jinbao, though mainland kung fu films still had some clout.

Shu Qi, male, renowned film critic and founder of "Film Weekly," had seen "Red Powder in the Martial World" yesterday and found it dull—though the plot had some innovation, the filming techniques were outdated. He didn't even bother writing a review; he'd only watched it because of Gu Long's original novel and Ni Kuang's adaptation.

Today, after finishing his duties at the magazine, he specifically came to watch "Seven Days' Mistake," primarily because of the screenwriter, Wei Ming.

Earlier this year, Wei Ming's "Heroes Born in Youth" had broken new ground by casting a talkative little brat as the male lead in a kung fu film—it was refreshingly original.

He wondered what fresh thing Wei Ming would bring this time.

Wei Ming hadn't expected to sit in the same screening as the famous critic, and the theater was fairly full—he'd asked the ticket seller before entering, who said "Seven Days' Mistake" had sold well during the day.

Of course, "well" was all it was—not yet a sensation.

The film opened with the rookie cop Zhong Zhen Tao botching his assignment and being scolded by his superior Tan Yonglin; in the original version, this film was a Shaw Brothers production, and the role was played by Wang Jing.

Then the male lead was betrayed by his girlfriend, played by Zhao Ya, who in the original timeline was a cameo by Anita Mui—minimal screen time, unlikable.

The other man in the girlfriend's affair was Zhang Guorong; the husband, a wealthy man, was played by Lin Zixiang, filmed before he went to Hainan to shoot "Fleeing to the Sea"—Wei Ming hadn't paid them for the songs, but he wasn't entirely without benefit; this cast was already a touch of luxury.

If Wei Ming had known Zhao Ya would be cast, he'd have suggested she play the female lead—what a perfect, alluring married woman! He even thought of playing the male lead himself—or letting Ye Tong play the male lead.

Thanks to the massive success of "Let Everything Go with the Wind," Zhong Zhen Tao's pop music popularity had finally caught up to Tan Yonglin's; this time, Tan not only made a cameo but also sang a theme song; Chen You, one of the Five Tigers of Wynners, also played a key role.

The high first-day attendance and the attention-grabbing cast were also major reasons.

Since Wei Ming had already seen the film once, he wasn't fully focused—he paid more attention to the audience's reactions.

The cinema wasn't far from Hello Kitty, and a couple even entered with a full Hello Kitty meal box—now munching a McChicken, now an Spicy Chicken Wing—the smell drifted far; Wei Ming regretted not buying one himself, and settled for popcorn and cola.

The critic Shu Qi sat right in front of Wei Ming, but Wei Ming didn't recognize his face—he didn't know what the famous Shu Qi looked like. If it were the other Shu Qi, he'd have recognized him instantly—even if she covered her face with clothes, he'd have known.

Besides watching the audience, Wei Ming also observed Ah-Min's reactions—she was deeply absorbed, since this was Ah-Ming's first romantic film, though it was a romance with a married woman—a forbidden love!

But it seemed light and easy—the male lead was naive, and Ah-Min, who knew Zhong Zhen Tao, insisted he wasn't like that at all, so the acting was excellent.

Moreover, Tan Yonglin, Chen You, Zhang Guorong, and Lin Zixiang were all acquaintances Ah-Min had met at concerts; her entertainment connections were all built through Ah-Ming, and seeing familiar faces act was uniquely enjoyable.

Ye Tong wasn't a great beauty, and her skin was dark, but she acted brilliantly—Ah-Min silently affirmed this; she herself couldn't act—her school had a drama club, and she thought acting seemed terribly hard.

The romantic scenes between the two leads were subtle, gradual, plausible, and packed with humor.

As their relationship slowly improved, the female lead faced new trouble—her parents were coming from abroad to visit her and her husband, but this marriage had never received their approval or blessing.

To deceive her parents, the female lead, Nai Dong, asked the male lead, Yang Du, to pretend to be her husband; she didn't want her parents to see her current predicament.

Their bond deepened further, even forcing them to sleep in the same bed, and Yang Du's kindness and simplicity won over her parents, who finally approved and blessed their marriage.

Watching their affection grow, Ah-Min couldn't help but grasp Wei Ming's hand; their fingers intertwined.

Hmph, you never take the initiative—then I'll do it myself, Ah-Min's love was possessive.

But the next scene made Ah-Min nervous—the male and female leads were about to sleep together.

She thought it would just be a kiss, then "one night later," but the director filmed it in detail—Ah-Min blushed furiously, yet still held his hand tightly.

Though there was no nudity like the original, Director Tan Jiaming's filming was more stimulating than nudity, and he somehow made Ye Tong, with her dark skin and flat figure, look irresistibly alluring—the entire audience held their breath; some couples even kissed openly.

Ah-Min wanted to too, but she knew Ah-Ming had principles and was restrained; after a mental struggle, she placed his hand on her thigh—just to soothe herself.

There's an old Hong Kong saying: Chen Huimin's fists, Zhou Huimin's legs—both are deadly weapons!

Fortunately, Ah-Min was wearing pants—like putting a sharp sword into its scabbard, the danger was greatly reduced.

Fortunately, that scene ended—but the two, now having broken through their barrier, became even more awkward; the female lead felt guilty.

But then a gang of thugs appeared, kidnapping the female lead in her villa, and the story turned light and cheerful again.

"Puff!"

"Hahaha!"

"What's with the water spray later?!"

The male lead, half-dazed, heard the female lead's cry for help—he was lost in thought, imagining a Shaw Brothers-style kung fu hero rescuing a damsel.

Zhong Zhen Tao and Ye Tong donned ancient costumes; B-ge wore white robes and held a long sword—but this was meant to be funny, so the Shaw Brothers' wuxia style was exaggerated; Wei Ming felt Director Tan Jiaming outdid the original—more jokes, the whole theater roared with laughter, like "The Ultimate Kung Fu Master Lu Xiaoyu."

Who would've thought Shaw Brothers' wuxia could become a comedy?

Even Shu Qi, who wasn't fond of comedies, had just watched a typical old-school Shaw Brothers kung fu film yesterday; now, seeing this scene, he couldn't help laughing—more loudly than when he'd seen "Modern Bodyguards" earlier in the year.

Just for this, Shu Qi decided he'd write a review for this film—and for the next issue of "Film Weekly," he wanted Ye Tong on the cover—this woman acted brilliantly, and she still looked so young.