novellhall Chapter 22 I Only Pay
Chapter 22 I Only Pay
Lin Dong picked up his beer glass, took a sip, and wiped the foam off his upper lip with the back of his hand.
"Director Jiang, let me be frank with you. Although I grew up in America, I know that the War of Resistance Against Japan is not just a historical event for us—it's something ingrained in our bones. We don't need to look up how to write the word 'Japanese devils'."
He put down his cup. No one at the table spoke.
"Since returning to Hong Kong, I've invested in quite a few films. There are comedies, romances, and gangster films. I just invest, whether I make money or not doesn't matter."
He looked up at Jiang Wen, "But this kind of subject matter—if you want to make a film like 'Devils on the Doorstep'—I, Lin Dong, will pay for it. Even if it loses everything and I don't get a single penny back, I'll still pay. Because I like it. Because this kind of film should be made."
The private room fell silent for a moment.
Then Jiang Wen laughed. Not the fleeting, shallow laugh he had shown before, but a deep, resonant laugh that came from his chest.
He tapped the table, and the beer glass on it bounced slightly.
"Okay!" He picked up his wine glass, raised it to Lin Dong, said nothing, and downed half of it.
As he put down the cup, he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes shining.
"Mr. Lin, to be honest—I've approached several people in mainland China about this script. Some wanted to see it, so I gave it to them."
After watching it, he talked to me for three hours, asking if the ending could be changed, the Japanese characters' roles reduced, and the villagers' awareness raised. I said I couldn't change it.
He picked up the cup and took another sip, his voice deepening.
"Later, we found another one. They said, 'Director Jiang, why are you making this kind of film? The War of Resistance Against Japan has been over for so many years. Wouldn't it be better to make something joyful?' I said, 'Okay, then go find someone else to make something joyful.'"
He put down his cup and looked at Lin Dong. "That's what I hate most—taking my money means you have to listen to me. Listen to my script revisions, my casting choices, my editing. Is that still my movie? It's your movie."
Wen Xie stood beside him, holding a teacup, his lips twitching slightly. He had seen Jiang Wen grumble like this countless times, but tonight's grumbling was different—tonight's grumbling was being listened to.
Lin Dong leaned back in his chair and looked at Jiang Wen.
"Director Jiang, I have two things to tell you."
Jiang Wen looked at him.
"First, I like your personality." Lin Dong held up one finger. "A person who can make 'In the Heat of the Sun' has to be this tough. If you're not tough, you can't make that kind of thing."
"Secondly," he held up a second finger, "I'll invest in your film, and I won't care about anything else. No changes to the script, no casting requests, no interference with the editing. I'll just do one thing—pay up."
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes fixed on Jiang Wen.
"But you have to promise me one thing."
"you say."
"Film it well. Show the evil deeds of the Japanese devils. Show them—"
He paused for a moment, as if he was considering his words, or as if he was recalling something from a long time ago.
"Film the evil as it is, without glorifying it, without leaving any room for embellishment, and without giving those beasts any reason to be understood."
Murder is murder, invasion is invasion, evil is evil. Don't give the audience a middle ground. You can't, and that middle ground never existed.
Jiang Wen's brow twitched. It wasn't dislike, but the kind of reaction that comes from having something stuck in your bones. He moved his lips, as if he wanted to say something, but then thought it was unnecessary and picked up his cup.
"good!"
He slammed his hand on the table. This time, he used tremendous force, causing all the bowls and plates on the table to jump, and a drop of hot pot soup splashed onto the table, sizzling and steaming.
He stood up and held the cup in front of Lin Dong. Jiang Wen was a burly man, and when he stood up, he pushed the chair behind him back two inches.
He stood there, looking down at Lin Dong, but his posture was that of bowing and raising a glass.
"He doesn't care about anything, he just gives me money. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. Mr. Lin, this is a toast to you."
When two cups clink together, the sound is crisp.
Lin Dong tilted his head back and downed the beer. It was icy cold as it went down his throat, but his chest felt a little warm.
"Lin Sheng, don't worry." Jiang Wen put down his cup. "The kind of evil you want—I'll give it to you."
Wang Jing laughed heartily across from him, picked up a strainer and scooped a spoonful of fatty intestines from the red soup, then poured it into Jiang Wen's bowl.
"Come on, come on! Let's eat now that we're done talking! Director Jiang, eat more, the hot pot in Beijing just doesn't taste like this!"
Jiang Wen looked down at the fatty intestines in the bowl, picked up a piece, chewed it a couple of times, and the muscles on his brow relaxed.
"It really tastes good."
"Of course!" Wang Jing scooped a full spoonful for himself as well.
Wen Xie put down his wine glass and slowly replied, "Last time I came, this guy ate half a jin by himself."
"Shut up!" Wang Jing pointed at him with his chopsticks, and the private room erupted in laughter.
As the laughter subsided, the hot pot was still bubbling away. The aroma of chili peppers mingled with the malty scent of beer, making everyone's faces flush slightly.
Jiang Wen noticed that Lin Dong's bowl was empty. Without saying a word, he picked up a strainer, dipped it into the red soup, scooped up a full strainer of fatty intestines, and poured it into Lin Dong's bowl.
He didn't care that soup had splashed on the table.
"Lin Sheng, eat."
Lin Dong looked down at the overflowing bowl of fatty intestines and chuckled. He picked up a piece, put it in his mouth, chewed it, and nodded.
"It's delicious."
After saying that, he took the initiative to clink glasses with Jiang Wen and Wang Jing, and downed his drink in one gulp.
At this moment, Li Jiaxin picked up her chopsticks, put a few slices of beef in his bowl, and then ladled out a bowl of white soup to cool it down.
Soon, the bottles of wine on the table were empty, and Wang Jing ordered a few more. Jiang Wen, enjoying his drink, rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, revealing a section of his thick forearm.
He clinked glasses with Lin Dong more and more frequently, and each time he would say "Mr. Lin, that was great!" and then tilt his head back to drink it down.
Wen Xie didn't drink much anymore. He took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt, put them back on, and ladled himself a bowl of soup to drink slowly.
Wang Jing was so drunk that his face was red to the roots of his ears, and his voice grew louder and louder. He talked about everything from Peking duck in Beijing to Jiang Wen's performance in "A Native of Beijing in New York", and then from that show to his old days as a screenwriter at TVB.
No one stopped him.
Li Jiaxin pushed the cooled soup to Lin Dong's side and lightly tapped the back of his hand with her finger. Lin Dong picked up the soup and took a sip; the temperature was just right.
It was just past ten o'clock. Wen Xie was the first to stand up, saying he had something to do at home. Jiang Wen glanced at his watch and also got up.
Wang Jing was still sitting when Wen Xie pulled him up unsteadily, muttering, "Let's have another round."
Downstairs at Ningji, the April night wind blew in from the other end of Lockhart Road, carrying the salty smell of the sea and the fumes of the food stalls closing up shop.
Jiang Wen stood on the steps and shook hands with Lin Dong, this time holding hands for a long time.
"Mr. Lin, I'll come to your company tomorrow to discuss this in detail."
"it is good."
Jiang Wen turned and got into a taxi. Wen Xie helped Wang Jing into another one. The doors closed, the taillights flashed twice in the neon lights of Causeway Bay, and disappeared around the corner.
Ah Qiang has already driven the Mercedes downstairs.
Li Jiaxin took Lin Dong's arm and sat in the back seat. As the car drove away, she rested her head on his shoulder, the scent of alcohol mixed with her perfume warmly caressing his neck.
"Ah Dong."
"Um."
You're different tonight.
"What's different?"
She thought for a moment, then didn't answer.