The building Chi Ying entered was actually the office building of the China Film Research Center.
The building had more than a dozen floors, but only one housed the organization she had been assigned to: the China Film Script Planning and Production Center.
As a newly established institution that had only been around for a year, the entire center employed barely more than a dozen people. However, its administrative rank was high. It held the same status as the Film Research Center, and its top leader, the Center Director, was a vice department-level official who also served as Deputy Director of the Film Bureau. As a result, he spent most of his time working over at the Film Bureau.
The person responsible for the center’s day-to-day operations was Executive Deputy Director Han, a middle-aged literary woman.
Chi Ying had been personally selected by Director Han from among the graduating class of the Film Academy. She was also the very first fresh graduate assigned to the center since its establishment. In other words, she was one of Director Han’s own people, someone in whom she had placed great hopes.
When Chi Ying stepped into Director Han’s office to report for duty, she was greeted warmly.
However, Chi Ying’s previous performance had not exactly been impressive. During her internship, she had shown up only sporadically and was rarely seen around the office, leaving Director Han with lingering doubts.
The center currently had two subordinate divisions. One was the Administrative Office, which handled the organization’s daily non-film-related affairs. The other was the Script Planning Office, the center’s core department, and that was where Chi Ying had been assigned.
This time, Chi Ying had come with the right attitude.
Director Han immediately noticed that the young woman looked refreshed and full of energy. Still, given her less-than-stellar internship record, she deliberately gave her a mild warning.
“Xiao Chi, your academic performance has always been excellent. But during your internship, it seemed you weren’t particularly interested in our center. Young people are ambitious and full of ideas. If you had a better opportunity elsewhere, we’d certainly understand…”
“No, no, Director. I’m incredibly grateful that the center chose me. It’s not only a perfect match for my major, it also solves so many practical problems for me.”
Having already lived through an entire lifetime in the workplace, Chi Ying immediately understood the hidden meaning behind Director Han’s words and quickly explained.
“I’ve mainly been busy with our graduation production at the academy lately. And… well, since I was about to graduate, I didn’t want to leave my classmates, so we got together quite often. That’s why I neglected things over here.”
She first made herself sound pitiful, then adopted an especially humble attitude. After that came the inevitable declaration of loyalty. She explained that she had now officially graduated and was ready to devote herself fully to work. She had even brought her graduate assignment certificate along with all her personal documents, so her onboarding paperwork could be completed immediately. She could even start work today if necessary.
Throughout the conversation, she kept an exceptionally modest demeanor. Coupled with her understanding of exactly what women of Director Han’s age liked to hear, it didn’t take long before Director Han finally felt reassured.
It was obvious that Director Han had already made discreet inquiries about Chi Ying beforehand, because during the conversation she casually asked about her personal life.
“You still have a boyfriend from school, don’t you? Where was he assigned?”
Chi Ying knew exactly what Director Han was really asking.
These days, graduating couples were often assigned to different workplaces. If they stayed in the same city, it wasn’t too bad. But if they ended up in different cities, even if they eventually married, one of them would probably have to apply for a transfer. After all, no young couple wanted to live apart indefinitely. Director Han was really trying to determine whether Chi Ying would be able to stay at the center long-term.
That scumbag?
Chi Ying sneered inwardly before putting on a resigned expression.
“He… started acting a little dishonest before graduation. We broke up.”
Director Han understood immediately.
There were countless couples who broke up around graduation, especially at arts academies filled with handsome men and beautiful women like theirs.
Speaking as someone with experience, she comforted her.
“Xiao Chi, don’t dwell on it. You’re talented, and your professional skills are excellent. I’ve always thought very highly of you. You’re a newcomer I personally selected. Work hard from now on. Our organization has only just been established. There’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to show what you’re capable of.”
She paused before continuing.
“But the whole country is undergoing tremendous change, and before long we’ll be joining the WTO. As filmmakers, we also have to change the way we think.”
“I know students from art schools all dream of making lofty artistic films and winning international awards. But once we join the WTO, we’ll inevitably face competition from abroad. Once the market opens up, mature film industries like those in Europe and America will have a tremendous impact on our domestic market.”
“You’re young, adaptable, energetic, and full of drive. You’ll be one of the first to shoulder this responsibility.”
Only then did Chi Ying finally understand.
No wonder Director Han had been so tolerant of her. Despite all the reckless things she’d done during her internship, the center had still welcomed her so enthusiastically.
It wasn’t just because Director Han appreciated her personally.
More importantly, Director Han needed someone to do the work that the other directors and screenwriters at the center didn’t want to touch.
Since the Planning Center had only recently been established, the six or seven directors and screenwriters in the Script Planning Office had all been transferred in from other organizations. They already had established reputations in the industry, so naturally none of them wanted to make commercial films. As someone who hadn’t graduated from a film school herself, Director Han found it even harder to direct these proud artistic veterans.
The older generation of filmmakers looked down on commercial films completely. Forget commercial films—even making anything that strayed slightly from serious art cinema was considered unacceptable.
Chi Ying remembered a senior alumna from her department.
Back when her class graduated, many of them were considered rising stars. After graduation, that senior had been assigned to one of the film studios.
The studio asked her to direct a genre film. It wasn’t even a pure commercial production. It was a crime investigation film with documentary elements.
The senior had cried from sheer frustration.
In the end, several close classmates had to persuade her before she reluctantly accepted the assignment.
When the film was finally released, it became an enormous success. Calling it a nationwide sensation wouldn’t have been an exaggeration.
Yet throughout the entire production, the senior had worn a miserable expression, as though she weren’t making a movie at all but marching off to her own execution. Even after the film was finished, she carried herself with an overwhelming air of tragic resignation, as if every inch of her was proclaiming, I’ve been tainted.
Back in her previous life, however, Chi Ying had never shared that kind of rigid prejudice while she was still in school. Nor had she bought into the industry’s hierarchy of artistic superiority. Otherwise, she never would have followed her ex-boyfriend to work at a provincial satellite television station.
She remembered clearly that when the wave of commercial filmmaking swept across China, those same reserved veterans all rushed into the commercial market. Later on, many of them became willing to do almost anything for box office revenue.
Money had a way of moving people’s hearts.
Having witnessed the frenzy of that golden era firsthand, and later watched the tide recede, leaving many filmmakers stripped of everything they’d gambled on, Chi Ying believed that the later obsession with box office numbers and shameless money-grabbing had been misguided.
But as for hating commercial films?
She couldn’t honestly say she did.
She believed that making commercial films was indeed the direction the industry was heading. So she broadly expressed her attitude, that she was willing to follow national policy and carry out whatever assignments her superiors gave her.
Director Han was even happier.
She thought to herself that her painstaking efforts and half a morning of earnest persuasion hadn’t been wasted after all.
“Good! Good! Good!”
Director Han said “good” three times in a row.
“Then I’ll take you to complete the paperwork right now. After that, I’ll have Personnel help you transfer your household registration into our center’s collective household registration through the local police station.”
“We still have a dormitory room available. The conditions aren’t luxurious, but it’s close. It’s in the old Film Bureau residential building just behind the center, only about a five-minute walk away. It’s safe too, and at the very least it’ll save you some rent.”
All Chi Ying could do was thank her repeatedly.
Under the circumstances, these weren’t the very best conditions possible, but they were already exceptionally good.
Many of her senior classmates who had also been assigned to Beijing work units still had to wait for their household registration to be processed. As for dormitories, forget it. Quite a few of them were still renting basement apartments.
How had I been so stupid in my previous life…
Why did I give all this up?
No wonder I ended up so miserable. I had no one to blame but myself.
The person in charge of Personnel in the Administrative Office was another woman around Director Han’s age. From the introduction, she seemed to have transferred over from the Federation of Literary and Art Circles.
Together with the woman in Finance, who was just over thirty, and now Chi Ying herself, they made up the center’s entire female workforce.
As the Finance woman jokingly put it:
“Everyone else here is just a bunch of pompous old men with their noses in the air, reeking of pretentious scholarship.”
The Personnel officer was equally enthusiastic.
Since Director Han had personally brought Chi Ying over to complete the paperwork, the entire process went remarkably quickly. Stamp after stamp came down with a series of loud thunks, and just like that, Chi Ying officially became part of the center.
After locking the official seals back into the safe, the Personnel officer glanced at the time.
“It’s still early. Lunch isn’t for a while yet. Let’s head over to the neighborhood police station behind the block and transfer your household registration. You’re the only new arrival this year, so it’ll be easy. Besides, I know everyone there.”
Director Han added from the side, “Good. Let’s get it done quickly. The new era calls for greater efficiency. I’ll ask Xiao Zhang from Logistics to find your dormitory key while you’re gone. Xiao Chi, go back to school this afternoon and move whatever you can. You can start work tomorrow.”
Chi Ying was almost overwhelmed by the warm reception.
With her head lowered in gratitude, she obediently followed the Personnel officer to the police station.
By the time everything was finished, including inspecting her dormitory, it was finally lunchtime.
She then followed the women to the center’s cafeteria.
The Planning Center shared the cafeteria with the Film Research Center.
The food wasn’t anything special.
But it was free.
So this really was room and board included.
Only then did Chi Ying let out a long sigh of relief.
Everything had finally fallen into place.
She had truly embarked on a completely different path from the one she had walked in her previous life.
Beep. Beep. Beep…
A series of crisp electronic beeps rang out.
It took Chi Ying several moments to realize the sound was coming from inside her bag.
She hurriedly unzipped her backpack and pulled out a small black rectangular device.
It was the signature communication device of the era—a pager, commonly known as a BP machine.
Hers was one of the more expensive models, capable of displaying Chinese characters.
Holding it in front of her, she carefully read the few words on the tiny screen.
Tan Yi. Please call when you’re free. 6XXXXXX
Tan Yi.
What a name from another lifetime.
…
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