2023

Adult banquets, even when they aren’t the filthy, sordid kind, are never without alcohol.

And word was that Investor Miss Ma especially liked to sample wine.

Before going to Hong Kong, Chi Xiaoman had made up her mind to take plenty of hangover medicine over the next few days.

After so many years in the industry, she almost never attended banquet meetings where she had to face investors directly. For one thing, although Song Yingying was the textbook definition of a businesswoman, she always did her best to keep Chi Xiaoman out of situations like that, so as not to invite unnecessary gossip. For another, in her early years, Chi Xiaoman had been stubborn and didn’t know how to make polite small talk; she offended people too easily, so she simply avoided appearing in such settings.

That also meant that after all these years in the business, even though she had reached heights she once never dared imagine, she still hadn’t accumulated much in the way of connections or resources.

What’s more, with less than two months left before her contract expired, it meant not only that she wouldn’t get Song Yingying’s help, she might also run into little obstacles from Song Yingying during this period in order to pressure her into compromise.

And as a complete newcomer to the film industry, the movie project Neon she wanted to launch this year had basically made no progress at all.

And in the team, there was currently only one producer with resources in the Hong Kong circle, besides herself, who still couldn’t get investors to make a decision on the spot.

So if she had to grit her teeth and do it, Chi Xiaoman could only go herself.

Perhaps it was because the road ahead was so full of unknowns that it was deeply unnerving. On the plane to Hong Kong, Chi Xiaoman’s heart was racing so badly and her face looked so terrible that a flight attendant even asked if she needed help.

She smiled and told the attendant she was fine.

After that, she kept clenching and unclenching her hand, trying to stay barely conscious through the dizziness and heaviness in her head.

It also gave her the strange feeling that she was carrying the past thirty years of her life above her head; she was nervous, and at the same time felt a great deal of unreality, unable to believe she was really doing this now.

Maybe it was because Hong Kong had always made her feel tense and discouraged.

Maybe that was why every time she boarded a flight to Hong Kong, it felt as though time were a knife, scorched red-hot, scraping over every inch of her skin, making each minute unbearable.

When you have a fixed impression of a city because of one person, even the pain can become physical and impossible to resist.

Chi Xiaoman knew she was making too much of it, but she also had no way to stop.

After four grueling hours in the air.

She landed in Hong Kong, pale-faced and not yet having had a chance to drink a sip of water before Shen Baozhi took her straight to the Japanese restaurant club where she was meeting Miss Ma.

In the car, Shen Baozhi handed her some water. Seeing how bad her complexion was, she looked worried. “Xiaoman, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Chi Xiaoman took a small sip and forced a smile. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.” Seeing that she insisted, Shen Baozhi could only remind her again, “Xiaoman, Miss Ma may be a pretty direct person, you—”

“Okay.” Chi Xiaoman knew what she was about to say.

She smiled and cut her off. “I know. I’ll be measured at a time like this.”

Shen Baozhi murmured assent. “But you don’t need to drink much later.”

“Didn’t you say Miss Ma is especially fond of tasting wine?” Chi Xiaoman found that odd.

At a banquet meant for investors, it was unavoidable to cater to their tastes.

And she had already prepared for it; yesterday she had urgently asked a friend she knew in Hong Kong to help her order a bottle of Pétrus in advance as a gift she could actually put on the table.

“We brought a gift, so it doesn’t have to be drunk on the spot.” Shen Baozhi spoke vaguely.

Chi Xiaoman wanted to ask more.

But it seemed Shen Baozhi had no intention of saying anything else.

She handed over a blanket.

“Try to rest a bit more in the car; once you meet Miss Ma, it’ll be best if you’re in good spirits.”

That made sense too.

Chi Xiaoman really was dizzy, so she didn’t continue the conversation with Shen Baozhi. She took the blanket and planned to close her eyes for a while.

But perhaps it was her deep-rooted tension toward the city that made it hard for her to sleep.

In the car she tried closing her eyes several times, but in the end she still didn’t fall asleep; all the way until they reached the Japanese restaurant club, she kept her eyes open, staring absentmindedly at the hazy night scenery outside the window.

Her impression of Hong Kong wasn’t especially deep. Even though she had come here many times for work over the years, her impression of the city hadn’t changed much from when she had first arrived in her early twenties.

It always felt as if this place were made up of old films projected from one worn-out reel after another, streets so cramped they made her feel like she was walking through a maze, and one blurred patch of color after another.

Young, sultry, brief; so many dreams, so many stories, and also so many neon lights.

-

The meeting with Miss Ma went more smoothly at the beginning than Chi Xiaoman had expected.

Miss Ma smiled a lot, which may also have been why there were so many fine lines at the corners of her eyes. She was a native Hong Konger, and when she spoke there was a dialect-heavy accent that was not easy to understand.

Fortunately, Chi Xiaoman had been obsessed with Hong Kong cinema when she was younger, and there had also been a Cantonese teacher around her who was generous with his affection. He would laugh until his eyes curved whenever her accent got the better of him, and he often stroked her hair patiently while softly singing Cantonese songs to coax her to sleep.

So much so that ten years later,

when she heard a few Cantonese phrases mixed into Miss Ma’s speech again, she still felt an undiminished sense of familiarity and warmth; not only could she herself say a few half-baked lines, she could basically understand everything.

The atmosphere at the table wasn’t the cramped tension she had imagined.

Miss Ma openly expressed her satisfaction with the Pétrus, eagerly had the server open it, and later also showed no displeasure at the fact that more than half of the red liquid remained in Chi Xiaoman’s wine glass.

It wasn’t until they truly got to talking about Neon that Miss Ma suddenly dabbed at the corner of her eye and, in a tone of mild complaint, said the story made her too sad, and that she really ought to meet the screenwriter so the other person could see her swollen eyes.

When the screenwriter was mentioned,

Chi Xiaoman smiled but said nothing.

Shen Baozhi pressed her advantage and smiled as she clinked glasses with Miss Ma. “Then would Miss Ma be willing to join us and help make this story move more people to tears?”

Miss Ma smiled back at Shen Baozhi, eyes crinkling. “All right.”

They hadn’t expected things to go this smoothly.

Chi Xiaoman and Shen Baozhi exchanged a glance.

Don’t rush to speak; that was the signal she got from Shen Baozhi’s eyes.

Chi Xiaoman took a sip of the wine in her glass, which was too harsh and foreign to her taste.

Miss Ma, however, set her glass down at an unhurried pace and said, “If the director is Cheng Junyu, then yes.”

Cheng Junyu?

That male director who had just debuted in Hong Kong and liked to use a lot of discriminatory lines and narratively ambiguous intentions?

Chi Xiaoman’s brow furrowed.

She was just about to speak.

When Shen Baozhi suddenly pressed a hand to her arm.

Then, in a very elegant motion, she lifted her glass and smiled at Miss Ma.

“I know Miss Ma is joking with us.”

She said this in Cantonese.

Miss Ma didn’t answer immediately. She only took a slow sip of wine, then looked up at them for a while before suddenly laughing again. “Still, Xiaobaozhi is clever enough.”

She rested her chin in her hand and looked at Chi Xiaoman. “Xiaoman, compared with her, you’re still young.”

“Just because someone’s joking doesn’t mean you take it seriously. How do you expect to make it in this business?”

Chi Xiaoman froze. She had no choice but to take another sip of wine and force the corners of her mouth up at Miss Ma. “Miss Ma is right.”

“Mm.” Miss Ma lowered her head.

She sipped her wine.

Then added, “Looks like you’ve been protected very well by that clueless agent of yours.”

Chi Xiaoman’s movements stilled.

Shen Baozhi stepped in to smooth things over. “Miss Ma still loves joking as much as ever.”

Miss Ma looked at the two of them for a moment. “All right, no more joking.”

She braced her hands on the tabletop. “From now on, let’s talk seriously.”

After saying that, she simply smiled at them and didn’t speak again.

The assistant standing behind her stepped forward.

In a polite tone, she said,

“Miss Ma can invest in this film. But there are only two conditions.”

“First, Miss Ma hopes you can invite Chen Yue to star in it. The reason, I think, is very clear to you. For a two-hour film, before anyone has seen the full content, there still has to be a reason for an audience to buy a ticket and walk into the theater; either reputation, or actors.”

“Normally, a commercial film can choose one or the other.”

“But because yours is already a not-very-commercial art film, and Miss Ma hopes her investment can bring a return, she also hopes you can ideally satisfy both conditions.”

“That naturally leads to our second condition.”

Here the assistant paused for a second and shifted her gaze toward Chi Xiaoman.

It would be a lie to say Chi Xiaoman felt nothing. She could no longer tell whether she was suffering from the aftereffects of motion sickness, or because a few sips of red wine had already made her dizzy. But she still forced herself to stay composed; noticing that Shen Baozhi sensed something was wrong and wanted to interrupt, she turned and held Shen Baozhi back.

Then she smiled indulgently at the assistant and said softly, “Go on.”

The assistant glanced at Miss Ma.

Miss Ma smiled and nodded.

So the assistant continued,

“Miss Ma hopes that, Teacher Chi, you’d be best not participating in this project.”

The words were brief. Although both conditions used the phrase “best,” lenient wording did not mean lenient action.

Even after the assistant finished speaking, Chi Xiaoman still felt unreal, and politely paused for a moment.

Then she discovered that the second condition hadn’t even explained any reason at all.

As if—

Chi Xiaoman ought to have some definite self-awareness, and not dream of participating in the film project she herself had started from scratch with her own script.

So, before Shen Baozhi, frowning, could try to object,

Chi Xiaoman spoke first. “Sorry, may I go to the bathroom for a moment?”

Miss Ma took a sip of red wine and still smiled at her. “Xiaoman, don’t misunderstand.”

“If you want to act yourself, of course I’m willing to invest in you. But now that you want to direct, the risk is still too great..."

“Besides, news came out some time ago, and the outcome wasn’t very good. There were also quite a few voices saying they wanted to boycott your entry into the film industry..."

Perhaps because she saw that Chi Xiaoman looked bad, she didn’t finish her sentence and instead made a gesture for her to go. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Ignoring the worried and apologetic look Shen Baozhi gave her, Chi Xiaoman also rose with a smile, walked steadily out of the private room, and then could no longer hold herself together; she had to lean against the wall and stagger to the club restroom.

She turned on the cold water.

Not bothering with the makeup on her face, she splashed water over herself and washed her face, then braced her hands on the sink and stared absentmindedly at the sunken whirlpool.

In this line of work, rejection was never rare.

She couldn’t remember who had said it, but since the day she debuted, Chi Xiaoman had agreed with that saying—

An actor spends two-thirds of their life in a waiting state.

Maybe making films was the same.

Chi Xiaoman didn’t feel too wronged by the investors’ discourteous attitude.

She had experienced it, and imagined it too; she knew very well that this wouldn’t go smoothly.

Of course she wouldn’t agree to Miss Ma’s conditions. If this investor wouldn’t do, there would be another one; the script was in her hands, and she wouldn’t let it go lightly.

More humiliating situations than this had happened before too.

Cold water slid down her face one drop at a time.

Chi Xiaoman stared at her own face in the mirror, pale with a flush of red mixed in, making it look almost sickly, and suddenly she could no longer tell whether the expression on her face was genuine humiliation, or whether this kind of situation felt so familiar that it had produced a detached sense of déjà vu.

Then she received a call from Wang Aimei.

She hadn’t expected it to be at a time like this.

Before answering.

Chi Xiaoman forced herself to calm down.

She washed her face again.

She patted herself, still not quite clearheaded from alcohol, and only then dared to press the answer button.

The second the call connected.

She saw herself in the mirror break into a smile at once.

“Why are you still not asleep so late?”

These past few years Wang Aimei’s health had been poor, and Chi Guoqing had run off who knew where. Chi Xiaoman had originally wanted to bring her to live with her, but Wang Aimei refused to come to Beijing and also refused to leave her county hometown.

So Chi Xiaoman had no choice but to arrange for her to stay in a local nursing home.

“I saw all those people talking about you online.”

Wang Aimei was fuming over the phone. “I’ve been so mad I haven’t been able to sleep these last two nights!”

She was using dialect, so her tone sounded even fiercer.

Chi Xiaoman braced herself on the sink. Cold water dripped from her collar. Though it was summer, she felt as if the chill were cutting to the bone. “Ms. Wang Aimei, do you know your internet addiction is really serious now?”

“If I don’t look at my phone, how am I supposed to get through life right now!” Wang Aimei argued with her, sounding furious. But after a second she seemed to cool off, and said awkwardly, “My granddaughter is so capable; if I don’t show her off to people, how would they know my granddaughter is so capable?”

Chi Xiaoman sighed. “You’re using me to show off again.”

“So what?”

“I just promised Aunt Wang your signed photo. Among good friends, isn’t a granddaughter worth showing off?”

Seventy-something-year-old Wang Aimei was in good health; in recent years her biggest hobby had been wearing reading glasses and learning to use the internet. She would proudly hand out Chi Xiaoman’s signed photos, and even chase trends with great youthful enthusiasm; she had even learned from somewhere how to use the phrase “good friends.”

After saying that, she asked very matter-of-factly, “Chi Xiaoman, have you eaten dinner?”

“I’m eating.” Chi Xiaoman was very patient, trying hard to keep her voice low so Wang Aimei wouldn’t hear anything amiss. “I’m out talking business with some adults.”

“Oh.” Wang Aimei didn’t deny her use of the word “adults.” As if worried about delaying her, she seemed to want to hang up, and moved on the other end of the line. Then she brought the phone back to her ear and muttered, “I picked up a lot of chestnuts the other day.”

Chi Xiaoman froze for a moment.

Leaning very tiredly against the counter, she smiled.

“Your health is already bad. In this hot weather, why were you out picking chestnuts?”

Wang Aimei sounded sleepy and yawned, then rambled on, “You loved chestnuts the most when you were little.”

Chi Xiaoman froze. She subconsciously lifted a finger to block her warm eyelids, smiling by habit as she tried to speak.

But she didn’t get the chance.

“Sometimes you’d get greedy and eat so much you wouldn’t even want dinner. We even fought over that because of it.”

“I remember I was so angry that I slapped your calf because you secretly ate the snacks and still refused to eat dinner. And then you, so stubborn, got angry on the spot, packed up your bicycle and ran off to your aunt’s house. I chased after you yelling—this bicycle was bought by me; if you’ve got the guts, don’t come back.”

Maybe because Wang Aimei, now in her seventies, had become much weaker in recent years, her memory had also gotten much worse; sometimes she had to repeat herself many times. So after recounting this past that even Chi Xiaoman herself remembered only vaguely, she seemed very sleepy and said again, “Chi Xiaoman, have you eaten dinner?”

So Chi Xiaoman stood before the mirror for a very long time, watching the corners of her eyes slowly turn red.

“I’ve eaten. I... I’m out talking business with some adults right now.”

“Alright.” Wang Aimei’s voice gradually lowered.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore, then come back. I don’t support you going into that entertainment business.”

As if she had fallen asleep, she repeated vaguely,

“Chi Xiaoman, I picked up a lot of chestnuts the other day.”

The call ended amid Wang Aimei’s repeated half-dreaming, half-nonsense mutterings.

Chi Xiaoman looked up again.

She saw that her own eyes were already red, and the habitual curve at the corners of her mouth looked pathetic and ugly.

Her hands braced on the sink had gone stiff and numb.

Little by little, she gathered the ugly, pale corners of her mouth back into place. Then she lowered her eyes and turned on the water again.

She stared at the swirling drain for a long time.

Trying hard to stay calm, she splashed cold water over her face once more.

The cold water stung the skin of her face painfully, but it did make her dizziness much lighter.

She bent over. After a long while, she finally managed to brace herself against the sink and straighten up; many drops of cold water that scratched painfully at her skin slid down from her face.

Her vision was blurred by the mist.

In her staggering state, she wiped her face with difficulty, then saw in the mirror that there was someone standing behind her—

a woman.

A blurred woman.

A blurred dark green coat.

Long, straight black hair, blurred too.

Most blurred of all was her expression.

Chi Xiaoman froze.

The woman seemed to have been standing behind her for a long time. Noticing her gaze, she hesitated before taking a step forward.

She explained the situation now.

“I happened to be eating here and ran into Shen Baozhi. She said you’d had quite a bit to drink.”

“Are you all right?” She took another step closer, her tone concerned.

As if feeling that the question was too thin, too insufficiently considerate, after a few seconds she added a fitting form of address. Her voice was very light, very hazy, like tenderness; like they still had far too much intimacy between them.

“Xiaoman.”

[Author’s Note]

On time for the eighteenth day of Little Neon [sunglasses]

Our Xiaoman and Yue finally meet again