Chapter 111: A Complex Flavor

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(Thanks to srqg for the generous tip, truly appreciated. Don’t forget to bookmark and recommend, much gratitude from Black Car.)

If a film’s plot unfolds in a smooth, predictable manner, hardly anyone would watch it—it would be dull.

Soon, the crisis for the two young migrant workers emerged, first sparked by that pair of men and women ganging up on them.

“Damn you!”

“Fatso! If you’ve got guts, let’s settle this one-on-one!”

One-on-one? Who the hell wants to fight you one-on-one!

A sudden flurry of blows—Gao Hu and Huang Bo were cornered by that couple, who had even brought a few others along. Their numerical advantage made the fight a foregone conclusion.

At first, it was just two small minibuses racing each other, even injuring passengers, which was bad enough. But soon, it escalated to outright fighting. The root cause? Money. If you two keep stealing customers, what are others supposed to live on?

A single minibus couldn’t carry all the passengers, reflecting a harsh reality: xenophobia.

This is a societal issue. To be honest, this problem isn’t too severe in our country. Compared to the island nation, what we have isn’t xenophobia but mutual affection.

Yet the problem undeniably exists, especially among the lower-middle strata of society. Guan Hu’s film was made precisely to spotlight this issue.

Misfortune never comes singly; when career troubles arose, love life didn’t fare any better.

The woman Gao Hu fancied got entangled in his troubles, while Huang Bo’s love interest, Sun Yifei, took a job at a nightclub to earn more money.

Two miserable youths, everything going against them—what to do? Resist!

“Isn’t that fat guy blocking us? Let’s block him back!”

They did just that, and the fat man indeed ended up isolated. Gao Hu and Huang Bo came armed, but...

“Heh heh heh... Give me some money, please, I... I’m not well, need to buy some stuff...” It turned out that fat man was a drug addict, absolutely no good!

From a plot perspective, this coincidence might be a bit much, but since the film reflects social realities, it needs to guide the audience and ideally serve an educational purpose. This scene fulfills that role.

Who are the xenophobes? Good people? Would cultured individuals behave this way?

Hence, this coincidence is necessary and reasonable, and it’s a key point Wu Xiang values most.

“What’s going on here?”

“Could it be a drug withdrawal?”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen this in movies!”

Well, these two naïve boys, seeing the fat man’s state, hesitated to act.

“Please! Just a little money, I need to buy some stuff...”

Huang Bo and Gao Hu exchanged looks; they intended to deal with the fat man but...

“Give him some money!”

“What? Give him money?”

“Yeah, give it. He looks like he’s about to collapse.”

“But he showed no mercy when he hit us!”

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“But we can’t just watch him die!”

In the end, Huang Bo yielded to Gao Hu and pulled out a few dozen yuan. Honestly, he had no idea if it was enough to buy drugs.

“Here! Get lost! Don’t ever let us see you again!”

“Yeah, yeah...”

This scene carries some humor—no fight, yet they ended up paying, truly two big fools!

But it also reveals a truth: people can rarely stand idly by when confronted with someone’s downfall. Kindness and simplicity emerge at critical moments. It may seem foolish or even laughable.

This is precisely Wu Xiang’s favorite part. The film portrays many troubling, dark aspects of society, but here, a small amount of money, a bit of sympathy, and some harsh words—though silly—shine a light on human nature.

Thus, even in darkness, there is light...

However, sometimes kindness doesn’t bring reward. The fat man bought drugs, got high, and caused trouble again.

Crash! Bang!

Gao Hu and Huang Bo’s vehicle was sabotaged by the fat man and crashed!

The vehicle was wrecked, and someone was injured!

This was serious. They went after the fat man, but he overdosed and died, harming both himself and others!

Originally, Gao Hu’s script had the fat man surviving, getting arrested by the police, and forced into rehab for drug use.

But after watching it, Wu Xiang insisted the fat man had to die. If he lived, the film wouldn’t make much money.

Such a villain can’t get a happy ending—wouldn’t you be upset as an audience member? This is a commercial film; no matter how you shoot it, you can’t upset the audience, or the box office will suffer. If you don’t kill him off, who are you doing justice to?

The script was revised. Guan Hu accepted Wu Xiang’s advice—the box office results spoke volumes, and Wu Xiang was the producer. How could he refuse?

“Damn son of a bitch!” Liu Tiesheng cursed loudly. That bastard deserved to die, but it still felt too easy. He wished he had killed him himself for satisfaction. Yet on second thought, murder is wrong and illegal.

Undeniably, Wu Xiang’s changes were effective. Sometimes punishing evil and rewarding good requires finesse. In today’s society, unlike ancient times, justice isn’t swift and straightforward. A reasonable approach is needed to satisfy the audience, so creativity is essential.

The car wrecked, someone got hurt, and the love between two young souls was shattered.

The “older sister” told Gao Hu she saw him as a brother. Sun Yifei changed—flashy and gaudy, no longer pure—she ran off with a rich man.

It was truly disheartening, deeply upsetting. Yet life had to go on amid the turmoil.

“As I walk down every street here,
My heart never seems to find peace.
Beyond the roaring engines and electric hum,
I almost hear his fragile heartbeat.
I laugh here,
I cry here,
I live here,
And I die here.
I pray here...”

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“I’m lost here,
I search here,
And here I lose.
Beijing, Beijing...”

They had lost too much. Huang Bo no longer wished to stay in the capital. At this moment, Wang Feng, playing a young rocker, appeared, singing to see Huang Bo’s character off.

Liu Tiesheng usually disliked this music style—Wang Feng’s rock wasn’t to his taste—but this song, in this context, deeply moved him. The softest part of his heart seemed to beat along with the melody.

“...If one day I must leave,
I hope to be buried here,
Where I can feel my existence,
Where so many things hold my affection.
I laugh here,
I cry here,
I live here,
And I die here.
I pray here,
I’m lost here,
I search here,
And here I lose.
Beijing, Beijing...”

In the end, Gao Hu chose to stay. He was determined to live and carve out his own place in this city...

Unconsciously, Liu Tiesheng shed tears. He didn’t know when it started, but after the tears fell, his heart felt much lighter.

The film’s ending may not be cheerful, but it is profound.

“Get in, let’s go,” a low-budget film, premiered in the capital—the very setting most fitting for a story about migrant workers. The film’s success here would directly influence its box office fate.

Overall, though the film included many comedic moments, it wasn’t quite enough. Amid the festive release period, it remained a somewhat unconventional work.

Wu Xiang felt the comedy wasn’t sufficient, but Guan Hu insisted on his original intention: this film was not meant to be a laugh riot but a reflection on social issues.

The subtle melancholy at the end isn’t for everyone, but Wu Xiang could not make further changes. Likely, if he pushed harder, Guan Hu would refuse to continue.

It’s a complex blend of homesickness, career, life, love... intertwined. Though this sounds like something from “A Bite of China,” the film truly embodies this sentiment.

So, can such a film succeed in the capital’s competitive market?