Chapter 0864: Your Old Man Is Still Your Old Man

Budget.

This is a topic that no film or television production can avoid. After all, no investment company will allow a director to spend money recklessly. Although every director deep down wants to be like Wong Kar-wai or Hou Hsiao-hsien—those who lose money—in reality, even these two gradually began to compromise with the market and capital in their later years.

This is an inevitable result, because humans are social animals; living in society means being bound by its rules.

No matter how artistically driven a director or actor may be, they must bow their proud heads before reality.

If they choose to refuse, the final outcome will be like Lou Ye’s in the past—impoverished and alone.

And even Lou Ye, after a period of destitution, reluctantly chose to submit to reality.

In fact, most of China’s sixth-generation directors, after being warned and punished for making banned films, began to gravitate toward mainstream media within about five or six years.

It’s not that they lost their longing for art, but that these people clearly understood that in the current environment, while pursuing art is important, being able to continue eating the rice of a director and survive in this circle is even more crucial.

Refusing handouts is certainly admirable, but if you lose your life, what dignity is there to talk about?

Jiang Wen is the same. This guy loves making movies, almost to the point of obsession. In fact, from Zhao Fusheng’s understanding after getting to know him closely, Jiang Wen is very self-centered when it comes to filmmaking.

For example, when you watch a Jiang Wen film, just watch it. Don’t try to talk about standards, objective reality, or film theory, because everyone interprets the things in his movies differently.

Many people think Jiang Wen made *The Sun Also Rises*, which audiences didn’t understand, and then he made *Let the Bullets Fly*, which audiences did understand. In Zhao Fusheng’s view, that’s not the case. *The Sun Also Rises*, *Let the Bullets Fly*, *Gone with the Bullets*, and later *Hidden Man* are all the same thing.

What Jiang Wen makes is what he himself likes. The elements, the expression, the romanticism—they’re all things he thinks are good. He takes them out, presents them to you nicely, and does it with great intensity. So his work—the visuals, music, rhythm, dialogue—is impeccable, and it’s all his style.

So why are the films so different?

Because sometimes, he likes a certain part, puts it in the movie, and coincidentally most audiences like it too—that’s *Let the Bullets Fly*.

Other times, he likes a different part, puts it in the movie, and coincidentally most audiences don’t like it—that’s *Gone with the Bullets*.

Later on, maybe this part or that part, when put in the movie, some audiences like it, some don’t. The result is a mixed bag, polarized—sometimes liking it, sometimes not.

It’s like durian, Maotai, or cigars. Some people absolutely love them and can tell you the layers—how good they are, where they’re good. Others dislike them, finding the taste strange, the smell pungent, or harmful to the lungs.

If you ask someone who doesn’t eat durian to say it’s delicious, they can’t. But they know durian isn’t a bad fruit, right?

But if you think people who don’t eat durian don’t understand fruit and are idiots, that’s just being argumentative.

Conversely, if people who don’t like durian think those who praise it are engaging in ‘durian worship’ or ‘durian pretentiousness,’ that’s also being argumentative.

“Isn’t every movie like that?”

Not really. Some movies are like math problems—right is right, wrong is wrong. We call that industrial standards.

Other movies are like—what? Not like problems at all. Like a strong wind. You ask me if this wind is good. I say it’s good. You ask me where it’s good. I can only say it feels comfortable to blow in. You shake your head, saying the sand is too heavy. What can I do? Do I say you’re not worthy of the wind? That would be asking for trouble.

So when someone who has seen a Jiang Wen movie says it’s good, if you ask them how it’s good, they’ll tell you about the historical metaphors behind it, about the sentiment.

Zhao Fusheng thinks it’s like when others tell him how good Maotai tastes.

Everyone knows Maotai is a good liquor, but the problem is, if you haven’t tasted it yourself, it’s hard to judge whether it suits your palate.

So even though Zhao Fusheng knew perfectly well that "The Missing Gun" was a good film, he still had no intention of letting Jiang Wen recklessly waste money. The reason was simple: if he dared to agree, that guy would really spend years making a movie, blow through the entire budget, and then come asking for more money.

This wasn't the first time Old Jiang had done something like that. When he was making "Devils on the Doorstep," that bastard had blown through the budget and then forced Huayi to keep coughing up cash.

"How much do you think the investment should be?"

Since Old Jiang had already backed down, Zhao Fusheng naturally wouldn't keep pressing. He glanced at Jiang Wen and asked.

"Hmm, at least ten million, I'd say." Jiang Wen said casually.

Zhao Fusheng blinked, making sure he hadn't misheard Jiang Wen, and then decided that this guy was simply a bastard.

"Is that a bit low?" That Old Jiang character had absolutely no self-awareness and even had the nerve to ask Zhao Fusheng if his budget was too small.

Taking a deep breath, Zhao Fusheng tried to tell himself that as a cultured, thoughtful, and principled good person, he couldn't stoop to the level of this lunatic in front of him. This guy was utterly devoid of integrity and bottom lines; arguing with him would only lower his own standards and IQ.

Yeah, that's it.

"What's wrong? You look terrible."

Jiang Wen, that bastard, had no clue at all and even put on a clueless expression as he looked at Zhao Fusheng.

Zhao Fusheng gave him a cold look: "Director Jiang, could you at least tell me the script?"

"Huh? Sure, sure." Jiang Wen was taken aback, then cheerfully began introducing the story of "The Missing Gun" to Zhao Fusheng.

The story of "The Missing Gun" wasn't actually that complicated: Ma Shan was an ordinary policeman in a small town in the southwestern mountains. He had a pistol that he carried with him every day. Though he had never used it, he knew the town was peaceful and calm because of him and his gun. One morning when he woke up, Ma Shan found his pistol missing. Staring at the empty holster, Ma Shan's spirit nearly collapsed. His gun had three bullets in it, and he knew whoever stole it was going to kill someone.

Ma Shan carefully recalled the events of the previous night. His younger sister had gotten married, he had gotten drunk, and someone had taken him home. Suddenly, everyone who had attended the wedding became suspects. Like an anxious ghost, Ma Shan walked through every corner of the town, scrutinizing everyone around him with suspicious eyes. Liu the Stutterer, who sold rice noodle soup, stopped stuttering when he saw Ma Shan, which left a doubt in Ma Shan's mind.

Through meticulous investigation, Ma Shan went to find Zhou Xiaogang, the owner of the car that had taken him home that night. To Ma Shan's surprise, the person who opened the door was Li Xiaomeng, his lover from over a decade ago. Li Xiaomeng had been in love with Ma Shan but had left without saying goodbye. Now she was back and living at Zhou Xiaogang's house. What was going on? Li Xiaomeng's appearance made the case even more complicated. His complex feelings for her became entangled with his suspicions about the missing gun, and this was further complicated by his wife, a primary school teacher, who thought Ma Shan had fallen for someone else and didn't understand him. Then, late one night, Li Xiaomeng was suddenly killed at Zhou Xiaogang's house, and the murder weapon was Ma Shan's missing gun. Ma Shan was detained as a suspect in Li Xiaomeng's murder. His peaceful family life was shattered, and his eight-year-old son and wife were plunged into fear and worry.

Overcoming extreme mental tension and the heavy burden that there were still two bullets in the gun and two or more people could still be killed, Ma Shan calmly analyzed in his cell that the murderer was after Zhou Xiaogang. Li Xiaomeng had been killed by mistake, dying in Zhou Xiaogang's place. The bullet's trajectory confirmed his analysis, and Ma Shan was released. Following the clues, he also uncovered Zhou Xiaogang's counterfeit liquor operation, but there was still no trace of the gun. The focus centered on Zhou Xiaogang; the murderer would come for him again. Ma Shan put on Zhou Xiaogang's clothes, disguised himself as Zhou Xiaogang, and went out. As he expected, the murderer appeared and fired a shot at him.

It turned out that the thief was Liu the Stutterer. He hated Zhou Xiaogang for making fake liquor, which had killed his relatives, and had taken the foolish and extreme method of stealing the gun to kill him. Facing the dark muzzle of the gun, Ma Shan suddenly understood that to prevent anyone else from being killed, the only place for the bullets was his own body. In the fourteen days of searching for the gun, fate had destined this outcome—it was the only way to make up for his mistake. He struggled and shouted, forcing the stutterer to shoot him again. As the shot was fired, Ma Shan handcuffed the murderer to himself. Ma Shan's soul left his body. He held the recovered gun in his arms, stood up from the pool of blood, tears in his eyes, but walked into the distance with a smile.

Listening to Jiang Wen vividly recount the script, Zhao Fusheng frowned deeply. After Jiang Wen finished, he looked at him.

"Where do you plan to shoot this film?" Zhao Fusheng asked.

"Hmm, what do you think of the southwest?" Jiang Wen thought for a moment and said to Zhao Fusheng, without any awareness that he wasn't the director or screenwriter.

"Any big scenes?" Zhao Fusheng continued, expressionless.

"No, nothing like that. It doesn't involve any." Jiang Wen was quite honest, since this film relied mainly on the actors' performances and didn't involve so-called special effects or explosions or other big scenes.

"Do you need any big-name actors?" Zhao Fusheng glanced at Jiang Wen and asked.

"No. If I'm the lead, the rest of the cast can be picked casually." Jiang Wen chuckled.

This was true. The main story of the film required the lead actor's performance to carry it, which he could do himself. As for the other supporting roles, they weren't that important.

"In that case, can you tell me why you deserve a budget of ten million?" Zhao Fusheng rolled his eyes at Jiang Wen and said contemptuously, "Have you, Old Jiang, gotten too big for your britches, or do you think I can't handle you? Believe me, I'll die right in front of you any second!"

Jiang Wen was instantly embarrassed. He had to admit that Zhao Fusheng was right; he had indeed been asking for too much.