Chapter 450

The primary filming location for "Under the Bridge" was the Suzhou Riverbank in the Magic City and neighboring Suzhou.

The female lead, Qin Nan, had always left her son Dongdong with her uncle’s family in a Suzhou village, shuttling between the Magic City and Suzhou, because her son was an illegitimate child who could not be publicly acknowledged.

To accommodate Xi Zi’s schedule, they finished shooting his major scenes in the Magic City first, then came to Suzhou to film the remaining parts, and now they were on the final scene.

In this scene, Dongdong, by the river, begged to live with his mother, but Qin Nan could not grant it and had to cruelly refuse; Dongdong threw away the toy pistol she had given him and ran off crying.

On camera, Xi Zi was crying pitifully, making Gong Ying’s eyes sting; when the director shouted “Cut!”, Xi Zi’s tears stopped instantly, and he ran over to ask, “Director Grandpa, should we do another take?”

Director Bai Chen was already sixty, yet he had never seen such a gifted child before; he smiled and shook his head: “No need, you did excellently—very layered.”

In this film, Dongdong has multiple crying scenes, each with different intensities and emotional focuses, yet Wei Xi always cried with pinpoint accuracy, able to burst into tears the moment the scene started and stop instantly when it ended—his crying skills even surpassed Gong Ying’s.

Gong Teacher needed time to prepare for crying scenes, thinking about the things Wei Ming had done to upset her.

Just as she thought of him, he arrived.

“You’re Teacher Wei, right? Perfect timing—you can take over Xi Zi now,” Bai Chen said, shaking Wei Ming’s hand.

Wei Ming also thanked Director Bai Chen for accommodating the early filming of Xi Zi’s scenes; though Xi Zi had little screen time, some veteran directors preferred shooting in script order, so they had to wait.

Gong Ying hadn’t expected Wei Ming to come personally to pick up Xi Zi—he should have been busy preparing for the shoot.

Over dinner, she learned Wei Ming had just returned from the Venice Film Festival—he’d been there and was passing through.

Besides the director, the male lead Zhou Lijing was also there; he had no scenes here, but everyone said Suzhou had beautiful scenery, so he came to take a look.

“Did you win an award?” Gong Ying asked.

“Yeah, two small prizes,” Wei Ming said. “I didn’t want to go, but heard there were awards, so I made the trip.”

Gong Ying sighed dreamily: “I’ve always heard Venice, the Water City, is Marco Polo’s hometown, and home to the famous ‘The Merchant of Venice’—I wonder what it’s really like.”

Wei Ming smiled: “You might find out soon—the festival chair told me he’s very interested in Chinese cinema; you could try submitting ‘Under the Bridge’ next year.”

Over the past two years, Shanghai Film Studio had been a regular at international festivals: “The Swallow Returns” was selected for the Berlin International Film Festival, and “The True Story of Ah Q” for Cannes—though they won nothing, both were in the main competition.

In fact, “Under the Bridge” had also been selected for the main competition at Venice, but production had been moved up by a year.

Zhou Lijing said: “Venice should be a bit like Suzhou—both are water-rich cities, just more urbanized. My partner took photos there before.”

His nine-year partner, Fu Chunying, was a dancer and a National March 8th Red Flag Bearer who frequently performed abroad, including in Italy; now that Zhou Lijing had graduated and secured a job, they planned to apply for marriage next year.

Wei Ming smiled: “It really is similar—I’ll have the photos from there developed and show you.”

He said it to Gong Ying, since there were too many people around for her to whisper privately; luckily, Wei Ming was staying overnight.

That night, Gong Ying entered Xi Zi’s room under the pretense of saying a final goodbye, only to find Wei Ming swinging a pendant in front of Xi Zi’s face.

He was trying to hypnotize him, but Xi Zi’s eyes had turned cross-eyed and he showed no sign of sleepiness.

“Snow Mom!” Seeing Gong Ying, Xi Zi reached out for a hug.

Wei Ming picked him up immediately: “You’re in second grade already—stop acting like a baby. Don’t you know shame?”

Xi Zi pretended to cry, but everyone knew it was acting, so no one reacted.

Gong Ying asked Wei Ming: “All packed up?”

“Yeah, you’ve bought him a lot of toys,” Wei Ming chuckled.

Gong Ying thought: He’ll call me sister-in-law someday—of course I should spoil him.

After days apart, a passionate kiss—or at least a tight embrace—would have been perfect, but the electric lights were too bright.

Wei Ming had a sudden idea: “Xi Zi, go downstairs and buy me a pack of cigarettes.”

Wei Xi: “No.”

“Any extra money is yours,” Wei Ming pulled out a ten-yuan bill.

Wei Xi: “I just love helping others.”

The boy snatched the money and scampered out the door.

Wei Ming quickly shut the door, pulled the frail Snow Sister into his arms, and kissed her deeply—no cigarette smell.

“Stop it,” Gong Ying finally pushed back when Wei Ming moved too far.

Wei Ming knew this place was inappropriate—in the film, Qin Nan was scorned for bearing a child out of wedlock; he didn’t want Snow Sister to suffer gossip on set.

Dating as unmarried partners was fine, but sleeping together was over the line.

Let’s talk about the movie instead.

“Your goddaughter didn’t make the cut,” Wei Ming told Snow Sister.

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“The girl’s pretty and loves acting, not shy at all—but she’s too pale, paler than white Europeans; casting her as a mushroom-picking girl would require heavy makeup, and shooting in the countryside under constant sun would ruin her skin—that’d be a crime.”

Gong Ying agreed—it made sense. She asked: “Does the little girl still remember you as her savior?”

Wei Ming smiled: “She forgot three years ago—she was only three then—but her parents constantly remind her, and there are photos as proof, so she still knows about it.”

It had been exactly three years since they met.

Then they exchanged amusing stories from their respective sets, chatting for half an hour until Xi Zi returned—the child had grown up.

The next day, Wei Ming took Xi Zi on a flight to Chengdu, first stopping at the Magic City’s airport.

At this time, two other major child actors arrived—one playing Little Grass, the other playing Qingqing, the mushroom-picking girl.

When Xi Zi saw the girl playing “Little Grass,” his eyes lit up; he kept running up to her, calling “Sister! Sister!” nonstop.

The sister was thirteen-year-old Xia Lin, originally named Wang Fei; after her parents divorced, she took her mother’s surname and changed her name—she was also the original singer of the song “Little Grass.”

Wei Ming needed a girl who looked stubborn and resilient; after many auditions, he decided to try the aloof Wang Fei—and the result was excellent, so he even increased the character’s age.

Middle schooler Wang Fei was very cold, but she was good friends with Wei Xi’s sister Wei Le, so she gave Xi Zi, this little squirt, a friendly smile.

The eight-year-old girl beside her was Liu Lin, born into a highly educated family—both parents worked in aerospace; she smiled with simple sincerity. She was one of the child actors selected by the Children’s Film Studio through newspaper open auditions and had loved performing since childhood.

Later, she got into the Beijing Film Academy, classmate to Xu Jinglei and Jia Jingwen; eventually, she became nationally famous for her role as “Jiang Dehua,” and even in the short-video era, “Dehua” became a proper noun.

The girl looked simple-minded, but with proper styling, she perfectly embodied the rustic charm of a rural child—Wei Ming was very satisfied.

He asked again: “Did your parents come?”

Both shook their heads. Wang Fei, being older and self-sufficient, came alone; she knew Teacher Wei well, and her mother felt safe.

Liu Lin’s parents entrusted her to the makeup artist sent by the Beijing Film Studio; both were scientists with no time to accompany her.

Accompanying them was also a makeup artist dispatched by the Beijing Film Studio, arranged earlier in the capital.

Wei Ming scratched his head—without guardians, as director he had to assume guardianship; the girls were fine, being girls, but he truly worried about Wu Jing and Xi Zi.

Right now was a peak period for child trafficking—two seven- or eight-year-old boys? Too tempting.

Wang Fei was also at risk—she was already thirteen.

So Wei Ming assigned the makeup artist to live and eat with the two girls, Gu You and his son watched Wu Jing, and Xi Zi stayed with him.

The three new children also had to go into the village to experience life alongside Wu Jing; Wei Ming also hired tutors to give them extra academic lessons—don’t think joining the set means skipping school; it’s already September, classes started long ago.

Then Wei Ming gathered his golden team for final pre-shoot preparations.

Seeing the director return, everyone asked: “Director, what awards did you win?”

Wei Ming replied: “A Silver Lion for Best Debut, and a FIPRESCI Prize for Best Film—both small awards, not worth mentioning.”

Several academically inclined members knew international awards well; Chen Kaige frowned: “Aren’t those for the main competition? And this was a short film.”

Wei Ming: “They made an exception.”

Chen Kaige: He’s showing off again—so annoying!

Feng Xiaogang hurriedly said: “Teacher Wei, show us the trophies! Let us bask in your glory!”

“Yes!”

“Exactly!”

Everyone chimed in; Wei Ming waved them off: “I didn’t bring them—they were sent straight back to Beijing. Wait a few days—you can see photos then.”

Two days later, reports of Wei Ming’s film “The Witness” winning two awards at Venice began appearing in newspapers; “Literary Gazette” even published a photo of him holding the Silver Lion trophy—taken by Feng Ge.

This report was widely republished and hailed as a landmark event in Chinese culture going global, greatly boosting national cultural confidence.