Chapter 54: Recommending Sissi

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Zhang Min stood aside, feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders—her long-cherished wish had finally come true. She had obsessive-compulsive tendencies; every time she saw Cheng Long’s prominent nose, she felt an urge to punch it.

Since her debut, Zhang Min had worked with many big names from Hong Kong and Taiwan. Her first drama, "The Enchanted Jade," was a collaboration with Lau Tak-wah and Moses Chan. The following year, she starred alongside Chow Yun-fat, Eric Tsang, and Maggie Cheung in "The Fake Pursuit," worked with Cherie Chung and Chin Pei in "Fire Dance," and with Stephen Chow in "The Best Son-in-Law," "God of Gamblers," "God of Gamblers II," "New Fist of Fury 1991," "King of Beggars," "Fight Back to School," "Royal Tramp," and others.

Beyond these, she had also worked with Leon Lai, Jacky Cheung, Aaron Kwok, Leon Lai, Brigitte Lin, Gong Li, Joey Wong, Gigi Leung, Chingmy Yau, Michelle Reis, and Vivian Chow.

But despite collaborating with so many stars, she had never worked with Cheng Long.

Though they had never worked together, it wasn’t for lack of acquaintance. In 1993, Cheng Long organized a charity car race and invited over a dozen female celebrities to attend. Maggie Cheung, Chingmy Yau, Christy Chung, Anita Mui, Michelle Reis, Joey Wong, Sandra Ng, Sally Yeh, Carina Lau, Wu Chien-lien, Kumiko Goto—all were present, naturally including Zhang Min, with her neat short hair and a red headband, shining brightly among the beauties.

This time, Cheng Long came to see Liu Jing not through Yong Sheng’s mediation. He had had some disagreements with Yong Sheng and thus reached out to Zhang Min directly.

In the Hong Kong entertainment circle, everyone knew Zhang Min’s so-called “not a biological younger brother” had now broken into Hollywood.

Liu Jing took a deep breath. “I’ll stand still, you hit me back.”

Cheng Long felt like crying again. Could he really fight back? Did they take him for a three-year-old?

He wasn’t alone; several people followed him. They all turned their backs, stifling laughter with difficulty.

“Ahem, hello, I’m Cheng Long.” Cheng Long extended his hand, acknowledging Liu Jing’s skill.

Ordinary children, no matter how unguarded, wouldn’t evade such a punch unless asleep; it was instinctive.

“Hello, I’m Liu Jing. I’ve heard much about you.” Liu Jing stretched out his small hand and shook firmly.

Cheng Long scratched his head, wanting to ask if he should say “Nice to meet you.”

“Xixi, come move a stool.” Sister Li called out. There were outdoor stools in the car trunk.

In no time, a table was set up, and several people sat around it.

As for Cheng Long’s entourage, they scattered around at a distance, keeping far away.

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“Haha, what a lovely setting—vast lakes and misty waves. Is that the Yellow Crane Tower over there?” Cheng Long began with some small talk rather than diving straight into the matter.

Sister Li brewed tea, Auntie cut watermelon, and the trunk was well stocked.

“Gazing far, the Chu sky is vast and clear,” Liu Jing replied serenely.

“Ahem, yes, that’s the Yellow Crane Tower. Brother, have you been? It’s the landmark of Jiangcheng,” Sister Li coughed, scolding gently, “You’re either daydreaming or entranced—how could you gaze far and wide?”

She hadn’t known in advance that Cheng Long would come, and since cell phones weren’t widespread yet, she hadn’t brought any communication device.

Auntie had heard from Grandma that a few people were here and had directly brought Cheng Long to the riverbank.

“Shall we visit tomorrow, Liu Jing? Perhaps you could be our guide?” Cheng Long smiled.

“Actually, I haven’t been either,” Liu Jing said regretfully. It was strange—the Yellow Crane Tower stood right there, yet he couldn’t recall ever visiting.

“I’ll treat you tomorrow.” Cheng Long didn’t bother with formalities, biting into the watermelon. “Wow, such sweet watermelon—sweeter than Hong Kong’s.”

“No need. As the host, it’s not right to let guests treat,” Liu Jing shook his head.

Cheng Long’s expression turned odd. This kid was truly remarkable—more extraordinary than the legends.

He muttered inwardly, “What was I doing at eight or nine years old? Oh, maybe I was even more amazing.”

He tossed the watermelon rind into a bag, sighing, “Actually, I was a child star too. Started training under Master Zhan Yuan at seven, and by eight, I was already running small roles on various sets.”

“I started earlier—I was an extra at four, almost persuaded by Stephen Chow to become his apprentice,” Liu Jing reminisced. Five or six years had swiftly passed. He hadn’t grown up yet; Zhang Min was already aging.

“As a child, I often fought and caused trouble. I dropped out after first grade,” Cheng Long said regretfully.

“I’m better—I fought through the orphanage and the kindergarten. But in elementary school, I was well-behaved, winning arguments with reason. Unfortunately, the principal was stubborn, and Sister Li never gave me a chance to explain,” Liu Jing also expressed regret.

Sister Li opened her mouth to speak, wondering how this conversation had started. Was it appropriate for a middle-aged person to chat like this with a nine-year-old?

Cheng Long paid no mind, seemingly entering a certain state, continuing, “Later, I studied at the drama school my master founded. Back then, I wasn’t called Cheng Long. The teacher gave me the stage name Yuan Lou. I had the honor of being one of the Seven Little Fortunes alongside Yuan Long, Yuan Biao, Yuan Kui, Yuan Hua, Yuan Wu, and Yuan Tai. By the way, Yuan Long is Hong Jinbao’s senior brother. He spoke highly of you and regretted missing the chance to bring you into the Hong family troupe.”

“Yeah! I know about that. You changed your name several times, only settling on this one when you starred in ‘New Fist of Fury,’” Liu Jing nodded, glancing at Xixi. “The name change really gave you wings. My ugly… uh, Xixi’s name isn’t very pleasant. Next time we meet White Dragon… uh, uh…”

“Eat your watermelon. You talk too much,” Xixi interrupted, stuffing a piece into Liu Jing’s mouth.

Cheng Long chuckled dryly. The little one was blunt, openly discussing the name change.

Liu Jing chuckled dryly too. The ugly girl had no respect—speaking of these things to his face.

Auntie took a deep breath, deciding to stop their chatter. These two oddballs—one big, one small—had no sense of propriety.

“Wooden one, Brother wants to invite you to act in a film, a new Hollywood production,” Auntie got straight to the point, tired of their rambling.

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Liu Jing took a tissue from Xixi and wiped his face, puzzled. “What film? Neither of us really calls the shots.”

Yong Sheng had transferred the fifth-year contract payment of 16 million as promised.

It was said that when this payment was made, the brothers had a quarrel. Except for the tenth brother, no one wanted to pay this sum.

Others, including the tenth brother’s new girlfriend, were looking for excuses to terminate the contract with Liu Jing.

The Hong Kong film industry, once at its peak in 1997, was in decline. Many filmmakers left, watching the grand edifice crumble and the glory fade.

Artists signed by Yong Sheng also left, scattered, retired, or went independent.

Fatty Wong teamed up with Liu Weiqiang and Man Jun to establish Best Partner Film Company and left Yong Sheng as well.

The tenth brother insisted on fulfilling the contract, and ultimately, Liu Jing received the money and numerous business deals and endorsements.

He would be very busy in the coming year.

“The company said they’ll leave it to you; they won’t intervene,” Auntie sighed. The company hadn’t arranged any films, just wanted Liu Jing to take on more business work.

Liu Jing could refuse but didn’t. He was short on money now.

Before the 16 million warmed his hands, he had already gathered 18 million, repaid Zhang Min, bought a large house in Jiangcheng, and purchased a car.

With less than a million left in his account, Liu Jing felt insecure again.

If he didn’t take more business, even the home internet bill would be a problem.

“I’ll take it,” Liu Jing agreed without hesitation, not even asking about the film. If someone was handing over money, why ask so many questions?

“Great! Straightforward. Let me tell you the general plot. When the Hong Kong governor is on a diplomatic mission in the US, his child is kidnapped by an arms dealer in Los Angeles…” Cheng Long began explaining, watching in surprise as Liu Jing jotted down notes and sketches. “I play Detective Lee, Chris Tucker plays an LA cop, and you play the kidnapped child. Originally, the script had a girl being kidnapped, but the director changed it after hearing a kung fu kid had broken into Hollywood.”

“Looks like an action film. Do I have any martial arts scenes?” Liu Jing asked.

“Of course. You’ll have chances to fight when you’re kidnapped and rescued,” Cheng Long explained, then added, “But your role isn’t big, so the pay isn’t much.”

Hearing the pay was low, Liu Jing’s enthusiasm waned. “Look! She’s skilled too. Why not use her? Her pay isn’t high, and you wouldn’t have to change the script.”

Xixi, initially happy that the wooden one was thinking of her, darkened as she listened. Was this implying she was cheap? Another notch in the little notebook.

Cheng Long scrutinized them. “I’m afraid not. She’s taller and doesn’t look like a child of that age.”

“What do you mean?” Liu Jing was puzzled. Why would the kidnapped child’s age matter?

“It means you’re short and look like a five- or six-year-old brat,” Xixi said coldly.