Golden Boy

Rome was not built in a day, and neither did it collapse in a day.

It was past midnight, and Su Pei was still rushing to finish a script. He was currently stationed in a hotel near the studio, and the room that he was staying in was pretty small. Hence, it could just barely fit him comfortably. His unpacked luggage occupied one bed, while his books and writing materials were piled up on the other. Amidst this clutter, he would catch three or four hours of fitful sleep whenever he could.

The old air-conditioning system droned on in the background as he worked. He was thirsty, but the thermos and electric kettle were empty and he was too lazy to boil water again. To tell the truth, he was craving a glass of alcohol more than anything, but he suppressed that urge—the crew was almost a week behind schedule and they had to speed up filming. He was supposed to deliver the new script to the director at dawn.

Su Pei had been a screenwriter for several years. At the moment, he was working on an espionage drama set in the Republic of China1The Republic of China (ROC) was commonly recognised as the official designation of China from 1912 to 1949, when it was a country in East Asia based in Mainland China, prior to the relocation of its central government to Taiwan as a result of the Chinese Civil War. (source: Wikipedia).

The actors who played the male and female lead parts were newcomers. They had low seniority, but had secured their roles through their great connections. As such, their words took precedence over his, given that he was but a measly screenwriter, and he constantly had to scramble to change the script at their whim.

First, the heroine thought that the scenes she had were too little, and wanted more. Then, the hero felt that his character’s personality was not perfect enough and demanded for it to be modified. With all these alterations, the script had long since changed beyond recognition, as had the storyline.

Currently, Su Pei was adding a few more scenes for the male lead. He was trying to write as many lines as possible while padding out the dialogue to give the hero more time in the spotlight.

Su Pei stared at the computer screen, silently reviewing the lines as he massaged his aching wrists. Then, he took a cigarette out of its case and lit it. He had been trying to quit smoking for the past few years, but all his progress would go out the window every time he began working on a script. He relished unhurriedly in the familiar burn and taste of nicotine, using the impromptu break to check the notifications on his phone.

Some advertisements.

Several notices of loan repayment deadlines.

Su Pei quickly scrolled past those, not daring to look too closely.

Little Cookie had sent a message at half-past nine.

[Stay strong, Dad! Come home soon. I’m going to bed first. Good night!]

Su Pei smiled, firing off a good night message in return. Then, he looked at the time. It was well over twelve o’clock and Little Cookie should have fallen asleep by now.

After the divorce, Little Cookie had come to live with him. Whenever he was away on business, his mother helped with looking after the young girl.

Su Pei went to an online shop and began browsing for toys his daughter might like. Just as he had settled on a charming Lego set, a chat notification popped up.

[Are you in L City right now? I heard that He Yiming will be stopping by for a couple of days. Why don’t you meet him for a meal?]

Su Pei held his cigarette in one hand, pursing his lips. The text was from his old college friend, Yao Zhicheng.

He Yiming was going to L City.

Sue Pei stared at the message. Nowadays, every time he saw He Yiming’s name, he would be overcome by a strange, surreal feeling. Nowadays, he often saw He Yiming in the news and heard about him through snatches of other people’s gossip. He Yiming’s company had been successful in raising capital and going public, and his fortune was soaring. He Yiming was spending a fortune on a mansion. He Yiming was having an affair with an actress.

Was it really possible that this He Yiming was the same person Su Pei had known twelve years before?

A few seconds later, Su Pei realized he had become lost in thought. He flicked the ashes off his cigarette, before tapping out a response. 

[I’m busy with filming, I’m afraid I don’t have time.]

Almost immediately, a reply came in from Yao Zhicheng.

 [Come on, your fight wasn’t a big deal. Just have a simple meal together.]

Su Pei smiled ruefully at his phone screen. He sighed, before typing out another response.

[Got it. Talk to you later, I have a script due in the morning.]

As far as Yao Zhicheng was concerned, there was no deep hatred between Su Pei and He Yiming, and there had been no disagreements. If there had been any conflict between the two, all they needed to do was just talk it out and smooth things over. In his eyes, things were simple. 

But Su Pei knew better. For those long, countless years after graduation, he and Yiming had been faced with more than just external changes.

He could barely even remember when the first cracks in their relationship had appeared. Like marriage and friendship, small frictions often accumulated and caused deep rifts over time. All Su Pei remembered was that they had had a big fight at a party the previous year. He had drunk too much and had spoken harshly to He Yiming, who had not taken his screenwriting job seriously.

Truthfully, he and He Yiming had made things this way through their own actions, but Su Pei preferred to blame time. After all, it was time that had changed and eroded everything.

Su Pei snuffed out the cigarette and ran his slender fingers over his keyboard.

On such a night, it was best to sit on the balcony of an old but comfortable apartment, pour oneself a glass of wine, and think about past and distant friendships. In the right setting, even a sense of loss could be romanticized into something appealing.

This was not the right setting. At this moment, Su Pei was busy living life, and dwelling on unhappy memories only served to make his chest ache. This pain was not something imagined, either; it was real enough that it could almost be considered physical torture. He had struggled against his own emotions until he was completely and utterly exhausted.

Su Pei held himself back from falling too far into a pit of remorse, forcing himself to return his attention to the computer screen. He told himself to think about the crew, the script to be delivered at dawn, and the handsome yet dim-witted face of the drama’s hero.

Finally, he resumed his mechanical typing on the keyboard.

At around three o’clock, he finally finished the script. Without even changing his clothes, he collapsed onto his bed. He was too tired to move any more, and soon sleep claimed him.

Early in the morning, Su Pei’s phone began vibrating violently, startling him awake. He contemplated continuing to lie there and letting the phone ring on its own, but after a while he realized that the vibrations seemed to show no signs of stopping. Hence, with a groan, he grabbed it and accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Su,” It was the assistant writer, Xiao Yan.

“Yeah?” Su Pei croaked into the receiver. He felt as if his brain had been squeezed dry and now his head was an empty husk.

“Is the script ready?” The young woman asked. She was straightforward to the point of rudeness, but her tone was lively rather than disrespectful. Su Pei sometimes felt that this was precisely what he was lacking; a boundless vitality that could be used with reckless abandon.

He stretched and sighed. “What time is it?”

Xiao Yan answered, “Six-thirty. You told me to call you at six-thirty last night, sir. We have to be on set by nine. Should I go to pick you up now?”

As he grew slightly more awake, he remembered that, true enough, he had asked Xiao Yan to wake him up the previous evening. The script had already been revised, but it had been too late at night to do anything. Now they had to rush to the set and show the new script to the director before nine. However, besides that, Su Pei could not shake the feeling that he had forgotten something incredibly important.

There was no time to try and remember what it was. Su Pei took a quick shower and went downstairs to join Xiao Yan in the cafeteria. In the morning, Su Pei often only had a light meal. All he needed was a cup of coffee and two slices of bread. Once he had sat down with his breakfast, he sent the script to Xiao Yan’s mailbox and asked her to print it later.

Xiao Yan skimmed over the file on her phone. She raised her eyebrows, looking impressed, before exclaiming, “You really are incredible, Mr. Su! You wrote so many cool plot twists in one night. It’s amazing… Why can’t I write like this?”

Su Pei made a muffled noise of acknowledgement, but did not speak further, choosing to down his coffee instead. He had to drink coffee early in the morning to fully wake himself up. Unfortunately, the coffee provided by the hotel was very weak. Thus, he dumped more sugar into it, hoping the extra glucose would keep his mind active. Busy as he was thinking about his coffee, he did not pay much attention to Xiao Yan’s compliments.

“Oh, Mr. Su!” Xiao Yan seemed to remember something newsworthy. She lowered her voice and said, “You know, I heard that Bai Wenchen is coming to our set today!”

Su Pei smiled. “Is that really so exciting?”

Xiao Yan did not mind being teased, and she merely repeated excitedly, “Bai Wenchen! It would make sense that a busy bigwig like him wouldn’t come to the set, even if his company has invested in our drama. But”—she lowered her voice even further and continued gleefully —“now there’s a rumor circulating that Fang Ziling is Mr. Bai’s new mistress.”

Fang Ziling was the heroine of their drama. Bai Wenchen was married with children, and did not seem to have any intentions to divorce. However, that did not prevent this sort of gossip from spreading far and wide, taking root like a poisonous weed until many took it as the truth.

“If Mr. Bai really shows up today, doesn’t that mean he’s basically confirming it?” Xiao Yan concluded.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” said Su Pei.

Although he said as much, his tone was rather mild, and it was clear that his attitude toward such gossip was rather disinterested. Xiao Yan asked, “Mr. Su, aren’t you interested in this at all? Or have you been in showbiz for so long that you’ve seen gossip juicier than this?”

Su Pei lifted his gaze and examined her face. “You curled your hair today. You must have had to get up early to do so. Is it because Mr. Bai is coming?”

With her true intentions exposed, Xiao Yan turned red. She said, “I pay attention to my looks sometimes… Hold on, don’t try to change the topic! Are you not interested in gossip, or are you just used to it?”

“I admire you very much,” said Su Pei. “Your curiosity and imagination knows no bounds.”

Xiao Yan scratched her head. “What does that mean?” She wondered if Su Pei was criticizing her, but she had not heard him say anything out of line. Besides, Su Pei’s face had remained gentle during their conversation, even giving off the impression of being soft like a blurry picture. He did not seem to be fully awake yet.

In the end, Su Pei did not answer her question, and regardless, they did not have much time to engage in too much idle chatter. Once they had printed the script, they were picked up by the driver and taken to the set. On the way there, Su Pei finished polishing up the script.

In the past, he used to dislike modifying the script according to other people’s requests. It was one thing if the director had asked for it, but the truth was that there often were too many people asking for changes in the script besides the director and the producer. It took Su Pei a long time before he eventually gave up the fight and accepted it as an unfortunate fact of his job. After all, he was a scriptwriter not for the sake of writing a timeless masterpiece, but for the sake of supporting his family. With this in mind, it would only benefit him and the crew to finish the script efficiently.

The crew was preparing to shoot in a remote part of a scenic area. The weather was getting colder and there were few tourists in the off-season. When Su Pei arrived, only the crew members were there, and they were busy making preparations for the formal shooting.

The crew trickled in one after the other, and the group of actors had to wait around for some time. Su Pei remained on standby at one side with his laptop. He was wrapped up in his trench coat, which was the only protection he had from the cold. As he revised the script for the scenes to be shot in the next two days, he waited for the crew to come and discuss with him what minor adjustments might be needed.

After ten o’clock, the male and female leads finally put on their make-up and arrived at the set surrounded by their assistants.

The deputy director went to speak with the main actors, and Xiao Yan listened intently to their feedback. Sue Pei sat a short distance away and just watched them. However, just by looking at the expression on the hero’s face, he already had a feeling that the day would not go smoothly.

Their male lead was handsome, with a straight nose and a smooth forehead that made his features look sharp and elegant.  He was relatively well-known, young, good-looking, and supported by the company. He seemed to lack nothing—except some acting skills.

Sure enough, despite countless re-takes, the man could not shoot an important scene well.

The hero was supposed to harshly question the heroine on whether she had stolen some information. Then, he would deliver a series of rapid-fire questions. The intention of the scene was to show that despite his suspicions about the heroine, he was struggling with his adoration for her.

“Cut!”

The director called things to a halt once more.

The actor had made a mistake with his lines again. By this point, his eyes were muddled and even panicked. He had just memorized the lines, and his nerves were occupying his mind. There was no room for him to even attempt to bring out the subtleties of his painfully suppressed love.

Sue Pei rubbed his forehead. After the sixth failed attempt, Fang Ziling, who was in the scene with the male lead, finally could not take it. She yanked off the shawl draped over her shoulders and said, “I want to touch up my make-up and take a break!”

It was obvious that she was upset. An assistant quickly brought her some vegetable juice to drink. She smiled nastily and asked out loud, “Who on earth wrote that line? Isn’t it too difficult? Mr. Su, it seems that your script is getting more and more complicated. I’m not sure if the audience will be able to digest it. When the show airs, people might wonder if the screenwriter can actually write a script.”

Su Pei listened as the complaints against him piled up, but he did not argue with her. He simply turned to see what the director had to say.

The director, sensing the tension, half-joked, “Mr. Su, your lines are too complex. You have to take the actual situation into account when writing.”

Helpless, Su Pei asked, “Should I change it?”

He felt numb.

The director thought for a moment. Then, as though he were some benevolent figure, he said, “Well, this line’s so good that I don’t want to get rid of it. Think of a way to keep it.”

After a lot of trouble, the crew staff dug out a board. They painstakingly wrote the hero’s lines on it one by one. Then a staff member held it up, standing opposite the male lead instead of the female lead. This way, the male lead was only responsible for reading his lines with the right emotion. They filmed his face with one camera, and then they shot several angles showing the hero and heroine being in the scene at the same time. The director would be able to use these segments later when editing to make the scene look cohesive.

While filming this segment, the male lead’s agent and assistant purposely cleared out all the unrelated personnel. Those who stayed were not allowed to use their phone for fear that someone might take a picture and put it on the Internet.

Everyone did their job seriously, and no one showed any disdain. Fang Ziling sat aside and sneered, “Didn’t you say you wanted to speed things up today? Is this speeding up or slowing down? I still have scenes to film.”

As soon as she spoke, half of the crew gathered around her to comfort her.

Xiao Yan murmured to Su Pei, “So much drama. Fang Ziling is too sharp-tongued. Is Mr. Bai really supporting her?”

Su Pei just smiled uneasily. For some reason, he kept feeling like he had forgotten something. The constant chaos on the set was not helping, as it made it difficult for him to concentrate and think about what it was.

After all kinds of means had been used, that day’s re-take finally drew to a painful close. It was then that the legendary boss Bai Wenchen made his appearance.

The atmosphere of the whole group changed. Xiao Yan fixed her make-up and borrowed a pair of high heels from the costume crew. Su Pei closed the computer and called out to the deputy director, saying that he also wanted to meet Bai Wenchen.

Xiao Yan smiled at him knowingly. It was as if she was saying, ‘I knew you were curious.’

Su Pei did not bother to explain his intentions. He wanted to say that it was always good to rub elbows with a big shot. In addition, if one had the opportunity to talk to someone like Bai Wenchen, it would also be a good was to accummulate reference material.

Bai Wenchen went to speak to the director, and both actors joined them. They were discussing the evening meal. As soon as Su Pei approached, the director immediately gestured at him.

“This is our screenwriter, Mr. Su Pei…”

However, though the director’s mouth was moving, Su Pei did not hear a word of what he was saying, nor did he spare a glance at Bai Wenchen. It was as if his vision had tunneled out, and all he saw was the person standing beside Bai Wenchen. He looked straight at that person, and finally remembered what important thing it was that he had forgotten.

Su Pei finally remembered that last night Yao Zhicheng had told him something.

[You should contact He Yiming.]

The man in question, He Yiming, raised his head and looked at him. Su Pei smiled at him, but He Yiming only looked at him impassively.

He Yiming had deep-set eyes, which made him look aggressive when he stared. However, at that moment, Su Pei could not understand the look in He Yiming’s eyes. He looked a little unhappy, and even slightly in pain. Su Pei immediately remembered the last time they had seen each other, as well as their unhappy parting.

“Do the two of you know each other?” Bai Wenchen asked, seeming to have noticed his friend’s silence and the simmering tension between them.

He Yiming said, “Mr. Su was my senior in college. I didn’t expect to see him here.”

His tone was calm, without the slightest hint of surprise.

However, Su Pei knew better. He was a screenwriter after all, and while this was no drama, only a poorly-written script would contain such a coincidence. Knowing He Yiming’s character, this was by no means a chance encounter.

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The author has something to say:

Su Pei is a straight man with a lot of emotions.

He Yiming is a deep cabinet with big curves and straight lines2A funny way of saying he’s in the closet.