Chapter 114: The Premiere for Two

(Thank you very much to Music Inspiration, Yaya Dinging, and Polu2005 for their generous support!)

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry I couldn’t come home for the New Year this year. Your son is so unfilial. Here I am, kowtowing to you both from afar!” After saying this, Wu Xiang bowed deeply before the walnut-shaped editing machine in front of him. This move wasn’t learned from anyone else—it was Uncle Huang’s classic sketch.

“Oh, my child! Just having this thought makes us happy enough! Your father and I are both delighted! If you can’t come home, then don’t, it’s alright—this is important work, after all! Work is what matters! Your mother and father wouldn’t hold back your future, would we? Your father just said it: our son has grown up—good! Really good!”

Wu Xiang could hear the tremor in his mother’s voice, which only deepened his guilt. Was it really wrong of him not to go home for the New Year?

On the evening of January 23, 2001 — New Year’s Eve — Wu Xiang did not return home. He was alone in the editing studio of the Youth Film Studio, preparing to spend the festival by himself.

His sole thought was not wanting to interrupt the editing work. The Chinese New Year holiday lasts at least seven or eight days, and if he stopped now and resumed later, the flow and feeling might be lost. Everyone knows how intangible such feelings are—once interrupted, they’re hard to reclaim.

Mainly, Wu Xiang underestimated the workload of editing over two million yuan worth of film. He had been working day and night for more than a month, yet the film was still unfinished. The job was enormous, requiring constant, repeated viewing of the footage. Wu Xiang absolutely would not allow any mistakes in his first major production.

Wu Xiang could stay, but Teacher Zhou had to go home, and so did the other staff at the Youth Film Studio. Officially, Wu Xiang wasn’t supposed to remain in the editing room either, but rules are rigid while people are flexible. After all, the famous director Wu Xiang was quite familiar with the factory staff by now. Besides, the Youth Film Studio was essentially a subsidiary of the Film Academy, so they all knew each other well. A little courtesy was to be expected.

Though called a “studio” or subsidiary, in reality it was just a building within the Film Academy.

So Wu Xiang could continue working. Apart from the night-shift security guard, no one else was around.

Bang! Bang! Crackle, crackle... the sound of firecrackers started.

But the noise wasn’t loud, because at that time, setting off fireworks in the capital was illegal. Yes, the ban was still in effect, but people still lit them, and more and more every year.

It was a real affront to the dignity of the law. If you tried to enforce the ban, it didn’t work; if you didn’t, it was also bad. What could be done?

Wu Xiang knew that in a few years, this regulation would change greatly. At least during the New Year, setting off firecrackers wouldn’t be such a problem. It was public sentiment—although this custom caused many negative consequences, it deserved some respect. Right or wrong was hard to say.

Wu Xiang thought about these things mainly to distract himself from homesickness. Otherwise, as a grown man, his nose was actually starting to sting.

“Enough! Work! Wu Xiang! Keep it up!” Wu Xiang shouted to the empty studio, cheering himself on.

“Ah!” Suddenly, a human voice broke the silence.

“Xiao Hai?” Wu Xiang immediately turned around. He recognized the voice—it was his girlfriend, Hai Qing.

“What are you shouting for? You scared me!” Hai Qing scolded, clearly flustered.

“Why are you standing right behind me?” Wu Xiang thought about the scene just now and found it suspicious.

Of course, it was very suspicious—imagine someone standing so close behind you. That was definitely intentional!

“I, I just...” Hai Qing stammered.

Indeed, she wanted to surprise Wu Xiang. She had arrived earlier but hadn’t approached because she saw him kowtowing to his parents. When the firecrackers started, she took the opportunity to sneak up on him. Unfortunately, Wu Xiang at that moment was cheering himself on loudly.

How embarrassing!

“Why didn’t you go home for the New Year?” Wu Xiang asked, anxiously probing the question he most wanted to know.

“None of your business!” Hai Qing turned her head, refusing to look at him.

Actually, by this point, Wu Xiang had already guessed. He wasn’t a fool.

“Hehe...” Wu Xiang laughed. “Xiao Hai, you’re so great to stay and keep me company for the New Year. That’s so wonderful!”

Wu Xiang was truly touched. He just wanted to pull her into his arms and cherish her.

“Who says that? I just couldn’t get a train ticket!” Hai Qing was still shy. Imagine, the two had reached this stage, and she was still trying to hide.

Fine—shyness was shyness. Wu Xiang didn’t push. Since she was here, they’d take it slow.

“Come, come, sit down.” If he couldn’t hold her, at least she could sit. “How did you get in? Did the downstairs guard let you in?”

Sitting was no problem. Hearing his question, Hai Qing smiled, “They were all crowded watching the Spring Festival Gala. There was no one at the guard post.”

That made sense—they’d either be sleeping or watching TV at night. With all the noise from the firecrackers, Wu Xiang couldn’t sleep either. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be working overnight.

“So, you came to keep me company for the New Year?” Wu Xiang smiled broadly, clearly delighted.

“I told you, I didn’t get a ticket!” Hai Qing emphasized this, then pulled a lunchbox from her bag. “I was worried you hadn’t eaten, so I brought you some food...”

By the end, her voice was barely audible, delicate as a mosquito’s whisper, and her face was flushed bright red.

Wu Xiang understood—Hai Qing was just too shy. Honestly, he still didn’t quite understand why she acted so bashfully around him, given how deeply in love they were.

He had seen Hai Qing perform in school plays—on stage, she was completely at ease, her expressions fully immersed in her role. Not only in drama, but in film as well, Wu Xiang admired her openness and naturalness of performance. This was no exaggeration; it was the truth.

“Maybe because that’s acting, but this isn’t,” Wu Xiang thought, but didn’t ponder much further. Since she’d brought food, he had to be gracious!

“Dumplings! Oh, wonderful! Did you make these?” Wu Xiang was ecstatic to see dumplings. Where else could he find such a wife?

“I bought frozen ones from the supermarket!” Hai Qing adamantly denied it. With that shape, how could they be frozen?

“Fine! Frozen ones are good enough,” Wu Xiang laughed, plucking one and popping it in his mouth.

“Hey! Don’t use your hands, there are chopsticks!” Hai Qing had come prepared.

“Delicious! Chive filling, my favorite!” Wu Xiang happily devoured them. “By the way, darling, have you eaten? Let’s eat together.”

Not bad—Hai Qing was secretly pleased. Her cooking skills praised so highly brought her great satisfaction, though she protested, “Eat your own! Dumplings can’t shut your mouth, I’ve already eaten!”

“Hehe...” Wu Xiang munched happily, never forgetting to compliment her, “My wife is wonderful, really wonderful. Hehe...”

“Eat, don’t talk so much!”

Wu Xiang was thrilled, and this joy made him want to give something back. What to give?

Got it!

“Xiao Hai, since you’re here and can’t watch the Spring Festival Gala, how about I show you something even better?”

“What?”

“Movies!”

After saying that, Wu Xiang got to work. There was a projector right there in the studio, so it was easy to set up quickly.

Of course, it was the very film he was still editing: The Emperor Wu of Han.

Watching Wu Xiang fumble with the equipment, Hai Qing smiled softly. She didn’t know when she had come to like watching this man work—he was truly captivating.

“All set! Xiao Hai, you’re the first audience of this movie, hehe...”

Like presenting a treasure, Wu Xiang’s new film appeared on a small black screen.

There was no sound, no subtitles, and she couldn’t understand the dialogue. Yet somehow, Hai Qing could follow along.

The opening scene showed many horses galloping in a scattered formation. Soon, they encountered a squad of soldiers, and a fierce battle broke out. The cavalry emerged victorious, apparently capturing a great deal.

The scene then shifted to a newborn baby—of course, this was Liu Che, Emperor Wu of Han. Soon after, he was betrothed and ascended the throne at sixteen. He hoped to make great achievements but realized power was not fully his. Frustration and anger followed. At eighteen, he met Wei Zifu, a woman who brought him great fortune.

At this point, Hai Qing saw Deng Xu, acting opposite Huang Xiaoming as Liu Che. Although she didn’t understand the lines, the scene seemed interesting, revolving around horses.

Then political struggles began. Hai Qing noticed Huang Xibo playing a role she didn’t know. At first, his character was respectful to an old man, sharing meals and drinks, but after gaining power, he turned against the old man, first targeting his friends.

What a petty man!

In truth, Hai Qing was unfamiliar with the historical details. Tian Fen’s obsequiousness was not only due to his thirst for power but also Emperor Wu’s indulgence—using Tian Fen to suppress Empress Dowager Dou’s faction. This was a necessary step for Liu Che to consolidate his rule.

Eventually, the old man and his friends died, and Huang Xibo’s character triumphed.

Finally, Emperor Wu obtained absolute power with no one to stand in his way. He planned to campaign against the northern Xiongnu. Though still advised against it, his resolve was firm.

The scene changed again; the light and shadow on the screen shifted. Horses appeared—many, many horses—signaling the start of the northern campaign!

“Wow!” Hai Qing gasped, seeing countless soldiers spread across the boundless grasslands.

The troops were impeccably disciplined, marching as one. Though there was no sound, Hai Qing imagined hearing the rhythmic “clank, clank” of marching feet.

Historically, such military discipline was unlikely, but Wu Xiang filmed it this way to highlight the spirit of the Han army.

After all, this was a drama for modern audiences.

The great battle began!

The Xiongnu cavalry charged the Han infantry square. The Han used crossbows in coordinated volleys, creating a spectacular scene.

“Ah! It’s over!” Hai Qing exclaimed. Indeed, the screen went blank—this was all that had been edited so far; the rest remained incomplete.

Just then, Wu Xiang suddenly caught Hai Qing off guard with a swift kiss.

“Mmm~” No more words were needed. They began a playful contest to see who could hold their breath the longest...