Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Fine Brow Painter

Shooting the music video for "Flower Field Mistake" as the fourth promotional single, following "Fairytale" and "Ten Years," was a strategy already set in stone back when I was still in Taiwan.

Lin Jianlu had insisted from the start that once back in the mainland, he would hire a local team for the production. Ge Fuhong and Duan Zhongtan were willing to let him go, though they had repeatedly urged him to get it done as soon as he returned.

Since he was idle anyway, and as a young man he felt no concept of fatigue, Lin Jianlu lounged on his bed for a few more minutes to collect his thoughts. He then flipped open his small notebook, found Gu Changwei’s number, and dialed. Given their previous collaboration, it was easy for "Old Gu" to grasp his requirements. Plus, in his memory, Gu eventually became a director with his own acclaimed works, so rather than seeking someone new, it was better to stick with the familiar. He would simply have him handle the cinematography and direct as well—much like the roles he performed for "Cold to the End" and "Bie Er Shuang."

The call went straight to voicemail; the phone was off.

Checking the time, it was just past three in the afternoon, still early before his parents returned from work. He got up, locked the door, and pushed his old roadster bicycle outside. Dodging the vague, probing questions from neighbors as he went, he mounted the bike and pedaled hard. Old Gu was technically with the Xi'an Film Studio but had been settled in the capital for years. Lin had visited his home once before and still remembered the way.

Despite his years as a cinematographer and his awards, Gu hadn't made much money; he was still living in a rental.

When he reached the building, Lin locked his bike and climbed the stairs, knocking on the door. "Old Gu, are you home?"

The door opened to reveal Jiang Wenli. "Oh, you? Why are you here? Come in, come in!"

Lin stepped inside. "Is Old Gu not home? Why is his phone off?"

Jiang crouched down to fetch his slippers. "Oh, he went to America for further studies! He said the roaming charges were exorbitant, so he didn't even bring it. I just keep it turned off."

"Oh..."

Hearing this, Lin, who had one foot inside, promptly retreated. "I'll be going then!"

Jiang blinked, standing up. "Wait! What’s this? You’ve gotten famous, so you’re too good to talk to us now?"

"Come on! At your age and mine, you looking like that and me looking like this, with Old Gu away—if word got out, people would talk..." Lin patted his own face. "I have to protect my reputation!"

Jiang leaned against the door, laughing heartily. Old Gu might have been a bit of a schemer, but Jiang was not; she had a bright, generous personality and could certainly take a joke. Seeing him determined to leave, she didn't insist, but sensing an opportunity, she said, "If it's urgent, I can call Old Gu and have him come back. Your business must be important."

Lin was already heading downstairs, waving his hand behind him. "No need! It wouldn't even cover the airfare!"

That was a real opportunity. Jiang knew Gu had a bit of a rapport with Lin—the two had spent plenty of time drinking and boasting during their previous MV shoot. She also knew how popular Lin had become; rumor had it that his solo album had swept through Hong Kong and Taiwan, with media outlets there calling him the "New Heavenly King." His projects were all important, regardless of the size. It wasn't about the money; his very presence spelled opportunity. "Hey, Jianlu! He’ll be back in a week at most. I’ll have him call you when he returns."

"Got it!"

As he pedaled to the mouth of the alley, he was hailed by Zhou the Second from the convenience store. "You’ve got a call, international long-distance! They said they’d call back at 4:30!"

Great.

With no choice, he parked and stood by the shop window, chatting with Zhou. Zhou was a few years his senior and had once been quite the bully. Lin had stood up to him since childhood, and at eleven, he finally gave him a solid thrashing. Since then, the guy had been incredibly well-behaved.

At exactly 4:29, the phone rang. Zhou said it had to be the long-distance call. Lin picked it up, and sure enough, it was Old Gu. Jiang Wenli—she was truly generous, but also incredibly sharp!

After a few words, Old Gu realized it was just a single MV—a job worth maybe ten thousand yuan. Even as a favor, it might stretch to twenty thousand. Thirty thousand, including two round-trip flights, would barely cover the cost, not to mention the missed classes. He hesitated. "I have plenty of friends from the studio here in the capital. Should I put you in touch? I guarantee the work will be top-notch!"

He just wouldn't let go of the connection.

"Fine, put me in touch. I’ll drop by your place later to visit your wife; she’s probably bored."

"Go to hell! Wait for my call!"

"Wait, let me give you my number."

"Right, let me find a pen."

Having transmigrated less than half a year ago, Lin had already navigated the Beijing, Taiwan, and Hong Kong circles. He had built a solid reputation. Despite his penchant for dirty jokes, he never took advantage of anyone in reality. He looked the way he did, and frankly, if he had even the slightest bit of impropriety or lingered his gaze on anyone, any girlfriend would be too worried to sleep. But he didn't. In fact, women who got to know him felt comfortable enough to joke around with him, with no concerns about his character.

Checking the time, it was 4:30 in Beijing. If Old Gu was in America, it was the dark hour before dawn, yet he hadn't delayed at all. Just as Lin returned home and had stoked the stove to boil water, the overseas call came through again. "Two guys. One is Zhang Yang, a graduate of the Central Academy of Drama's directing department. He's at the Beijing Film Studio, and we're great friends—his technical skills are solid. The other is Zhang Zi'en, an alumnus. Have you seen that show on TV lately? 'Prime Minister Liu Luoguo.' It's airing on CCTV and it's quite popular; he directed that. I asked, and both are free!"

Fair enough.

Lin thought for a moment and said, "Let's go with the latter. My piece involves period costumes—well, stage costumes—so it’s better to find someone experienced in period dramas."

It was settled on the spot. The director's fee was set at thirty thousand, with other miscellaneous expenses—renting cameras, costumes, locations, film—to be reimbursed based on actual costs. The director would need to bring his own cinematographer and lighting crew, which was covered under the director's fee. For a three-to-five-day shoot, this was well above the market rate. The original thirty thousand for two MVs had been the standard price.

***

"Listen to this, just listen! Everything he talks about, I feel like it doesn't keep you full!"

"He ate three plates of barbecue! How much more does he need to stay full? Listen to him—those plates weren't small. With his appetite, that's three or four pounds of cooked meat! Are you still worried he's starving? Don't you know your own son? He’s like a wolf. In a famine, with his personality, he’d dare to head up the mountain and become a bandit! Could he ever go hungry?"

Nighttime, after dinner.

After dealing with curious neighbors, the family of three sat around chatting. Before and after dinner, neighbors had come by to probe, but Lin's mother hadn't let a single detail slip. She was the best at handling disputes and gossip at the factory; there was no way she would let these neighbors pull a fast one on her. She admitted he was a bit famous and had made some money, but claimed he hadn't been paid yet—who knew when those Kuomintang-types would actually cough up the cash? Whether the neighbors believed her or not, she held her ground.

As they chatted, listening to Lin talk about his experiences in Hong Kong and Taiwan, the conversation drifted to how he had polished off four pancakes and over two pounds of braised pork knuckle at one sitting. Being his mother, she felt a pang of concern, but his father offered a rare retort that left her speechless.

He was right. The kid was just playing the pity card; there was no way he'd let himself starve!

Thinking of this, her maternal concern faded.

Lin Guodong continued to lecture his son. "Don't go stuffing your face just because there's meat. When you're out, at least maintain some decorum. If you want to eat, we can buy it ourselves back home! Eating three plates of someone else's food makes you look like you've never seen meat before. You ate it all, and someone else might not have even gotten a bite... it looks uncultured!"

The elder Lin clearly had no idea what a barbecue party was, so Lin decided not to explain.

He lowered his head obediently. "I understand, Dad!"

His mother brought over a small magazine and flipped it open. "These two girls are quite nice. This one looks tall, not much shorter than you. You don't see girls that tall often. Have you taken a liking to either?"

Wait? Weren't they supposed to be discussing looking at apartments in Fangchengyuan? How did the topic shift so far?

"Mom, do you really think I could handle such beautiful 'thrushes'?"

"Get out of here! Stop using that old talk to block me! Times have changed!"

"Well... how about this: I'll trick them both into coming over, and you can choose for yourself!"

With that one sentence, Lin's mother knew there was no chance for either—it was clearly just him boasting. She was very disappointed. "Both... with the few pennies you make, if you could even bring back one of these girls, I'd go burn incense at the Lin family grave for three days! Don't think I don't know anything. This magazine says these Hong Kong and Taiwan stars make tens of millions a year! And you with your few hundred thousand... forget it, go to sleep!"