Chapter 91: Then I

In the 1980s, after the success of "Shaolin Temple," a company called "Yindu Organization Ltd." was established in Hong Kong to produce and distribute co-produced films—it was the only state-owned enterprise in Hong Kong’s film industry.

In fact, Wu Yuchen could have simply registered his own Hong Kong company and shot "Run Lola Run" without anyone stopping him.

But now, with "We Two," he’s already a rising star in mainland China’s director scene; there’s no need to deliberately oppose the system.

It’s not an outlawed film, and it contains nothing blacklisted by the mainland—no need to sneak off to Hong Kong secretly. Shooting in Hong Kong or Macau via co-production is perfectly fine; just use official channels to collaborate with Yindu and shoot openly.

When Wu Yuchen arrived at the entrance of Beiyingchang, he saw a slightly overweight man with a trustworthy, earnest face smiling warmly as he approached:

“Are you Director Wu Yuchen?”

Wu Yuchen immediately knew who it was: “Are you Yu Dong?”

Hearing “Yu Dong,” Yu Dong’s heart swelled with pleasure—he felt this junior was someone worth cultivating, even if he was only at the deputy section level.

“Hey, don’t flatter me! Just call me Yu Dong—I graduated from Jingying in ’94. If you don’t mind, call me Brother Yu~”

Wu Yuchen shook his hand and said: “Brother Yu, even though you’ve graduated, your legend of drinking down a whole table still circulates at Jingying!”

Yu Dong laughed heartily: “Nothing much—just empty reputation!”

As they walked, Yu Dong continued praising Wu Yuchen:

“Junior, our Jingying really turns out talent—look at Chen Kaizi and Zhang Yimou, both ours, and now it’s your turn to carry the torch—you won major awards while still in school, bringing great honor to Jingying! I say, you’ll lead the Sixth Generation directors from now on!”

“I can’t accept that~”

Wu Yuchen wasn’t surprised by this future boss of Bona’s mannerisms—he’d half his talent in his mouth.

Yu Dong was born for sales: his alcohol tolerance was legendary, his tongue sweet and fluent. Even during his third-year internship at Jingying, the department chief singled him out, declaring he was destined for distribution.

In ’94, he was assigned to Jingying just as the Film Bureau issued Document No. 348, allowing film studios to sell directly to provincial film companies with revenue sharing.

Newly assigned, Yu Dong got the art-house film "Toasting the Past" and was sent to a city in Jinxi to handle distribution—he ran it continuously for over two months in one theater, breaking a single-screen record of 400,000 yuan, making him famous overnight; his name reached provincial companies and Beiyingchang’s top leadership. Within two years, he was promoted to deputy section level, becoming the youngest official in Beiyingchang’s history.

Now, Yu Dong was brimming with ambition, determined to expand his influence further at Beiyingchang!

Wu Yuchen responded warmly—he knew this guy’s distribution skills were unmatched; cultivating a good relationship might prove useful later.

Soon, Wu Yuchen was led to the director’s office, where a middle-aged man with a crew cut, wearing old-fashioned cloth shoes and plain clothes sat—clearly none other than the future legend Han Sanping.

“Director Han, I apologize for disturbing you!”

Han Sanping rose warmly to shake Wu Yuchen’s hand:

“Haha, Director Wu, we Beiyingchang welcome directors of your talent with open arms!

I heard from Old Huang just days ago about your Tokyo success—he said it caused a huge sensation. You’ve truly brought us honor!”

Wu Yuchen’s heart stirred—he realized it must have been Huang Jianxin; they were classmates.

“Thanks to Teacher Huang’s praise—the award wasn’t just my doing.”

After some polite exchanges, Han Sanping picked up the script and began reading.

After a long while, he closed the script and said:

“Director Wu, even if you co-produce this, do you think it’ll get released domestically?”

“Director Han, you’re right—this is an experimental avant-garde film. I know it can’t be shot here, so I’m seeking your help to connect with Yindu for filming in Hong Kong or Macau.”

Han Sanping looked at Wu Yuchen with appreciation: “I admire people like you who dare to innovate—I’ll contact them right away.”

Han Sanping was decisive—he immediately picked up the phone, made the call, and after some negotiation, put it down with a smile:

“Director Wu, I’ve arranged it—your 'Run Lola Run' will be credited under Beiyingchang. Just go to Hong Kong and contact their representative directly.”

“Thank you so much, Director Han—you’ve been a huge help!”

Han Sanping waved it off: “It’s nothing. I actually wanted to collaborate with you, but since this film won’t screen domestically, Beiyingchang can’t invest—quite a pity!”

Wu Yuchen’s mind stirred—he understood Han Sanping’s Shitan .

If it were anyone else, fine—but this was the future ruler of the Chinese-language film industry.

Han Sanping hadn’t fully risen yet, but in three years, China Film would merge with eight studios—including Beiyingchang—becoming a behemoth, and he’d become its patriarch. For him to hint at collaboration, how could Wu Yuchen refuse?

Building ties now would make his path in the Chinese-language film industry smoother for the next decade or two.

Wu Yuchen thought quickly—should he bring out "Raise Your Hands"?

That film cost over 3 million yuan to make and grossed 8 million upon release—seemed barely profitable.

But that 8 million was urban box office—the mainstream market. Everyone overlooked the rural film screening market.

According to China’s 2012 Film White Paper, "Raise Your Hands" was screened over 300,000 times in rural areas in 2012 alone, earning 60 million yuan in box office, with roughly 40 million going to the studio.

From 2004 to 2012, "Raise Your Hands" held the top spot in rural screenings for nine straight years—meaning the studio earned tens of millions annually. That was insane!

But Wu Yuchen quickly abandoned the idea: first, he couldn’t shoot it until next summer; second, revealing it now wouldn’t maximize its impact.

Having made up his mind, Wu Yuchen smiled at Han Sanping:

“Director Han, I’d really like to collaborate with Beiyingchang too. I’ve got an idea—I’ll shoot it right after finishing 'Run Lola Run,' during winter. It’ll pass censorship easily, and I’m targeting domestic box office—interested?”

Han Sanping instantly perked up:

“I’m very interested! What’s the theme?”

“A tearjerker like 'Mother, Again I Love You'—it won’t be highbrow, maybe even a bit vulgar, but I guarantee it’ll make audiences cry—and earn big.”

Han Sanping knew "Mother, Again I Love You"—it premiered in June 1990, caused a massive sensation, and by year-end had drawn over 200 million viewers and earned over 100 million yuan.

He recalled Wu Yuchen’s "We Two"—he truly excelled in this genre. He trusted him more now.

Han Sanping had backed Feng Kuzi, who had no track record—how could he not back Wu Yuchen?

“Good! Let Beiyingchang take half the investment.” He didn’t even ask about budget—just demanded a share.

Wu Yuchen smiled: “Director Han, you’ve got guts—I guarantee we’ll make it back.”

“Haha, Director Wu, if you need anything for 'Run Lola Run,' don’t hesitate—just ask!”

Han Sanping wanted Wu Yuchen to finish quickly so they could start the next project.

“If you say so, I do have a favor—I’m considering two actresses, but I can’t reach one of them…”

Wu Yuchen wasn’t worried about troubling Han Sanping—relationships deepen through mutual help.

“Haha, just name both—I’ll contact them!” Han Sanping waved his hand.

Wu Yuchen smiled: “Gong Li and Ning Jing.”

"Run Lola Run" is a “woman saves hero” story—the lead can’t be too petite, eliminating Zhou Xun.

Lola isn’t a traditionally elegant woman—she’s bold, persistent, fearless, even boyishly reckless, bursting with vitality.

The original Lola, Franka Potente, was physically sturdier than most slender actresses.

Honestly, Gong Li was Wu Yuchen’s first thought—her physique and image fit perfectly, and her acting is flawless—but she’s a bit old.

Ning Jing, however, radiates health and wild energy, has great acting skills, and at just 24, she’s the perfect choice—Wu Yuchen’s top pick.

Han Sanping thought a moment, then said: “I can contact both, but I heard Gong Li signed on for a film about the handover—she might not be available.”

Wu Yuchen’s mind flashed—he recalled a film called "China Box," starring Gong Li and Maggie Cheung, about an English journalist with terminal cancer arriving in Hong Kong in 1996 and falling for a mainland woman.

He hadn’t realized it was already in production?

After a while, Han Sanping hung up:

“Done—both agents answered. I’ll notify you when I hear back.”

“Thank you, Director Han!”

…

Wu Yuchen drove over to Li Xiaoran’s place, but found her gone—he left the items on the table, lay on the bed, and propped his hands behind his head.

He’d budgeted $400,000 for "Run Lola Run"—Ning Jing’s fee wasn’t that high; if Ning Jing couldn’t come, Gong Li’s salary could be raised.

For the male lead—a petty thug with a cocky edge—Hong Kong actors playing triad types would fit, but he dismissed the idea: their arrogance toward mainlanders was obvious, and language barriers would cripple filming.

He suddenly remembered Huang Mao Chen Kun—he looked right, but the guy was in a depressive state; his homeroom teacher Cui Xinqin said he looked half-dead. Plus, he’d only just enrolled—his acting skills were unknown.

Forget it—hold an open audition for the male lead.

As he thought, Wu Yuchen drifted off to sleep.

Later, when he woke, it was dark outside—Li Xiaoran sat at the table, an apple in hand, only half-bitten, reading the script Wu Yuchen had placed there.

Wu Yuchen walked over, hugged her from behind, hands cupping her chest, and instinctively kissed her cheek.

“Hey, stop it—I haven’t finished reading!” Li Xiaoran shifted.

Wu Yuchen chuckled, holding her, chin resting on her shoulder:

“What do you think? Interesting?”

“Pretty interesting—it’s like the Moonlight Box in 'A Chinese Odyssey,' zipping back in time. Is this your new script?”

“Yeah, in preparation.”

“Who are you casting?”

“Gong Li and Ning Jing—I’m waiting for their replies.”

“Wow, no wonder you’re the award-winning genius director—you’re already calling big stars!”

“I’ll make you a big star too.”

Li Xiaoran snorted twice but said nothing, continuing to read the script.

She actually loved the female lead—she’d been called a wild girl since childhood, acting without thinking—this character felt tailor-made. But hearing Gong Li and Ning Jing’s names, she snapped back to reality.

From extras to now, she’d been acting for months and completed nearly two months of training—she’d improved, no longer a rookie, knew how to act. But she now clearly saw the gap between her and them—like a level-5 mob versus a level-50 boss.

So she didn’t even speak—didn’t want to humiliate herself, didn’t want to embarrass Wu Yuchen—not out of distance, but pride.

That night, to celebrate Wu Yuchen’s return from Japan with his award, they stayed up late.

The next day, sunlight high, a phone call woke Wu Yuchen.

“Hey, Wu Yuchen, are you free these days?”

Wu Yuchen instantly woke up—he recognized Ceng Li’s voice. Seeing Li Xiaoran still asleep, he sighed in relief, took the phone to the kitchen, and closed the door.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“It’s… my classmate, uh, my roommate, wants to invite you to dinner and ask you about acting.”

Ceng Li was hesitant on the phone, but Wu Yuchen was not: “Sure, no problem at all—how about today?”

How could one miss such an opportunity to infiltrate the enemy’s ranks!