After finishing the magazine shoot, Zhuang Qin immediately flew to another city to record a show. It was a popular talk show from the same TV station where he had his incident before. The station invited him as a guest to smooth things over, and the appearance fee was quite high.
For an entire week, he was as busy as a spinning top. Finally, he managed to carve out one day for rest.
During that time, Guo Baozhen had sent him multiple messages and even called twice.
The first thing Zhuang Qin did after getting some free time and returning home was to contact Director Guo.
“Teacher Zhuang, you’ve finally found some time! I’ve already had the lawyer draft the contract! Where should we meet to sign it?”
Zhuang Qin responded politely, “Where would you like to meet? If it’s convenient for you, I know a club that’s good for business discussions.”
“A club?”
Guo Baozhen thought for a moment. A high-end club that a big star like Zhuang Qin would go to definitely wouldn’t be cheap, and if they needed a private room, there would probably be a minimum spend.
Gritting his teeth, he agreed, “Send me the address, and I’ll be there right away!”
Forty minutes later, Xiao Lian was driving her own car, delivering Zhuang Qin to the destination. “Brother Zhuang, how long do you think you’ll need? I’ll find a place to park. Do you need me to go in with you?”
“No need, I’ll probably finish quickly. If you’ve got things to do, just head home.”
“It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.”
Zhuang Qin had mentioned meeting with a director but didn’t give any other details, so Xiao Lian wasn’t sure if she should report this to Min-jie.
Entering the club, Zhuang Qin called Director Guo. The place was close to his university, quiet, with outdoor courtyards, perfect for tea. He had been there a few times before.
“Hey! Teacher Zhuang, over here!” Just as he was on the phone looking for the room, a sliding door suddenly opened, and a head with messy hair popped out, sneakily beckoning to Zhuang Qin.
“You’re… Director Guo?”
Zhuang Qin walked over and took off his sunglasses, looking at the somewhat down-and-out Guo Baozhen.
Director Guo had just turned thirty this year and was on the verge of making a big leap forward with this upcoming film. Among the directors’ circle, he was considered very young.
He had a youthful face, stood about 1.78 meters tall, with fair skin, large eyes, and delicate features framed by round glasses. He dressed like a scholar, standing straight, which made him look even younger.
They shook hands, and Guo Baozhen was quick to flatter, “Teacher Zhuang, you’re as handsome as ever. I’ve admired you for a long time!”
Zhuang Qin smiled, “I’ve heard of your reputation for quite a while too.”
“Hahaha.”
They both laughed, and Guo Baozhen eagerly invited him in. “Come on, come on, no need to be formal. Let’s sit and chat! Have some tea!”
On the table were traditional tea utensils for kung fu tea. Guo Baozhen poured Zhuang Qin a cup of hot tea, to which Zhuang Qin thanked him, “I could’ve poured it myself. I’m a loyal reader of XX Weekly, and I’ve really enjoyed the reports you’ve written.”
“You know about that?” Guo was surprised. He wasn’t famous, and his works weren’t searchable online, so how did Zhuang Qin know about them?
“Yeah, I’ve read a lot of your non-fiction pieces, like A Different Ji Chong En…”
“You even know about that?!” Guo was even more shocked. Now he believed that Zhuang Qin truly admired his work, especially since the Ji Chong En interview was a rare one he secured years ago, after multiple trips to the U.S.
In truth, Zhuang Qin’s words were about 20% embellished.
He only read those reports after Guo Baozhen had become famous, and many were related to criminal cases.
As a journalist, Guo Baozhen had spent six years investigating and tracking down the truth. With a high level of education, he had started at Xinhua News Agency, then switched to freelance writing two years later. But writing wasn’t enough for him; he wanted to express those stories in a more authentic way, which is why he turned to filmmaking.
In the past three years, he had transitioned into screenwriting, but no producers or directors wanted to take on his scripts. So, he decided to film them himself. He shot several short films, focusing on topics like pneumonia from infectious diseases in recent years and the lives of imams in Washington post-9/11. Only one of his full-length films, about an undertaker, made it to completion. However, due to its sensitive subject matter, it wasn’t released and didn’t make much of a splash.
Zhuang Qin was particularly curious, “Director Guo, is Cang Xin also based on a true story?” This was information he hadn’t been able to find in his previous life.
Guo took a sip of tea and smiled, “About 50-60% is fictional, but parts of it are true.”
“The character of Anke is about 70-80% based on reality. When I interviewed him… well, he talked about his time abroad as if it were a beautiful memory for him, so Jiang Zhuo’s character was artistically embellished. That article never got published, so I wanted to turn it into a film instead.”
After getting permission from the people involved, Guo and a screenwriter friend adapted the story. For example, what originally took place in France had to be moved to a small town in Thailand because, as the director and investor, Guo didn’t have the budget to shoot in France. Thailand was affordable; even durians were only eight yuan per kilogram!
“To be honest, I’ve been searching for suitable actors. I don’t want to settle for anyone too bad, but at the same time, I can’t afford someone as good as you. It’s a tough situation!” Guo pulled out the contract from his bag, “This is the contract my lawyer drafted. Please take a look, Teacher Zhuang.”
Zhuang Qin nodded and casually asked, “Have you found someone for Jiang Zhuo’s role yet?”
“Still looking.” Guo replied. Today, he had intentionally dressed like a student, planning to sneak into the film academy to search for potential actors. The role of the assassin needed someone in their thirties or forties, so it was hard to find a fit among the students.
Zhuang Qin carefully reviewed the contract and, after a moment, said, “I’ve finished reading it, no issues.” He signed his name without hesitation, then asked, “Director Guo, how do you plan on casting the roles? Do you have anyone in mind?”
Guo sighed heavily and listed several renowned actors known for their acting prowess, “Every one of them would be perfect, but I simply can’t afford them. I even sent the script through friends, but there’s been no response. I don’t suppose you have any friends in the industry… that you could recommend?”
Zhuang Qin shook his head, his thoughts drifting to how the movie seemed to be slated for filming this summer—by the next year, it would win awards, so it had to be this year.
He was too curious about how Li Mu would end up in Guo Baozhen’s film.
Guo let out another heavy sigh, “And it’s a same-sex film. After reading the script… a lot of people turned it down.”
The struggle of filming something with no money, no chance of being released, and a niche genre was a big reason why nobody wanted to take the risk. The most important issue was that Guo lacked the fame to attract top actors.
Still puzzled by Zhuang Qin’s motives, he asked, “Does your agent know that you’ve accepted my film?”
“She doesn’t know yet, but it’s fine. I have the freedom to choose my scripts in my contract with the company.”
“That’s good. Have you finished reading the entire script? Are you familiar with the storyline?”
“Yes, I know it all.”
“So…” Guo’s expression turned a bit awkward. “Do you have any concerns? About, you know, the kissing scenes or the bed scenes?”
Zhuang Qin shook his head, “No major concerns…” though he did feel something was off.
This didn’t seem like what he had imagined. Guo observed his expression closely and said, “Don’t worry. If you have concerns, feel free to bring them up! The script can be revised.”
“For now, no… Oh, right, I left the script abroad. Do you have another copy?”
“Yes, of course!” Guo quickly pulled out a stack of scripts and handed Zhuang Qin a full copy.
Zhuang Qin noticed there were at least ten other copies in Guo’s bag. “Why are the ones in your bag so thin?”
Guo confidently replied, “You think I give everyone the full script? For others, I only hand out a third of it.”
Zhuang Qin nodded in understanding. Leaks were a serious issue, so for directors like Guo who handed out scripts across a whole campus, it made sense not to give out the complete version to unfamiliar actors. Usually, a script would first be registered for copyright to avoid future disputes.
After saying goodbye to Director Guo, Zhuang Qin left with the script, and Xiao Lian pulled the car around to pick him up.
Peeking out at the director who was seeing Zhuang Qin off, Xiao Lian frowned.
“Brother Zhuang… Who’s that director? I’ve never seen him before.”
“His name is Guo Baozhen.”
“Oh, I think… I haven’t heard of him. Has he directed anything before?” He was nervous, seeing how young the director looked. Could he be trusted? Was Brother Zhuang being reckless with his choice?
Zhuang Qin patiently explained, “Director Guo was a journalist before, worked at Xinhua News Agency. You probably haven’t seen his films, but this one is definitely going to be a hit. Trust my taste in picking roles, okay?”
“Of course I trust you, but…” Xiao Lian still sounded doubtful as he glanced at the script on Zhuang Qin’s lap, which was titled Cang Xin. “Is it a romance movie?”
“It’s that too.” Zhuang Qin muttered, “It’s a same-sex film.”
“A same-sex…?” Xiao Lian exclaimed in surprise. “Why are you taking on something like that? Min-jie would never agree!”
“Well, I know she wouldn’t, which is why I need you to keep this a secret for now.” Zhuang Qin didn’t mention that he had amended his contract with the company, giving himself the freedom to choose roles.
“Is it for the award potential?” Xiao Lian asked, worried. “But taking on a film like this could affect your reputation.”
“What reputation? Relax, this film isn’t like what you’re thinking. There aren’t even any kissing scenes.” Zhuang Qin rolled down the window to get some fresh air, his gaze drifting into the distance. “Besides, I’m not gay. Who cares about public opinion? It’s just acting. It’s not like I’m going to actually fall in love on set.”
