Chapter Twenty-Six: The Sun Brothers

Only then did Sun Zhou respond, “Shanzi has been mingling in Hengdian for years; if he’s met anyone with even a hint of fame, he’ll remember them. In this, I can’t compare to him—my personality is somewhat peculiar, and I don’t pay much attention to these trivial matters.”

In truth, this man was no longer young; he was the same age as Chen Long, turning fifty this year.

He was known for his assertive work style, always having his own opinions, and, above all, he was highly capable.

Twenty years ago, his directorial debut in television drama, “A Stormy Night,” was an instant success, sweeping across China and winning countless awards.

Yet, his true passion lay in film. At the height of his success in television, he made the unexpected decision to step away and enroll at the Beijing Film Academy, where he studied directing for two years.

During those two years, he had already begun making films. His first was a military-themed piece; although it was never publicly released, it did not dampen his devotion to cinema.

But the period following his graduation was exceedingly difficult. No one was willing to invest in his films, he couldn’t earn money, and he lived in straitened circumstances.

Often, he would lock himself away, withdrawing from the world, eating only once a day—a five-yuan claypot rice from a street stall, scraping the pot clean.

In 1992, by chance, a friend recommended him to direct a toothpaste commercial for a Guangdong company. Out of curiosity, he took the job.

Only then did he realize he had a knack for this line of work. Quite by accident, he discovered that shooting commercials could earn him money and keep him busy.

Gradually, he found his way into the advertising world, making a name for himself with a string of visually stunning and original commercials for major brands.

Yet, as he made more money, his interest in directing films only grew, so he returned to his old profession once more.

Now, with a solid financial foundation and a network of contacts in the industry, he found investors and went on to direct several widely influential films.

His entry into this crew was arranged through personal connections, as he planned to explore the world of commercial filmmaking—gaining experience at Chen Long’s side was no mere pretext.

Liu Qingshan immediately understood Chen Long’s intention but said nothing, listening quietly and attentively.

As expected, once Sun Zhou finished speaking, Chen Long laughed and said, “With your distinctive personality, it’s no wonder you’ve made such works. But I know your ambitions go beyond commercial films—your ultimate goal is to bring your movies onto the international stage, isn’t it?”

From their conversation, it was clear that the two had never broached this subject before.

Today, Chen Long spoke of it openly, and Sun Zhou showed not the least embarrassment. Instead, he replied obliquely, “There was a saying in the industry for a while: if you want to commit slow suicide, make movies. It’s a joke, but it rings true—those experiences can drive a person mad!”

Clearly, he was alluding to the most desolate eight years of his life.

“I admire the writer Shen Congwen—for his integrity, and for his famous words: ‘If I am not allowed to speak, I can remain silent, but that does not mean I do not have the ability.’ Some people used to joke that I should switch careers: ‘It’s so much easier to be an actor—you make money, people put on your shoes, hold umbrellas for you, and if you’re upset, someone will console you. But as a director, who consoles you? You shoulder everything, big and small, alone.’ It was you, Brother Chen Long, who encouraged me. One thing you said made me begin to reassess myself.”

“Oh, really? Why have you never mentioned it to me?” Chen Long exaggerated a look of surprise.

“You once told me, ‘If you love it, take your movie seriously. At the very least, when you’re old and nearing the end, you’ll have no regrets.’”

“Did I really say that? My god, does that mean I dragged you back into this muddy water?”

“‘Muddy water’ is apt, but isn’t every profession like this? As you once said, ‘Where there are people, there are rivalries!’ As for your claim that my ambition is to break into international cinema, I don’t deny it—though I know my temperament might be a huge obstacle.”

Among the group from the mainland, only Shao Bing knew him well enough to add, “Yes, you’re far too sentimental. Whether in work, life, friendship, or conduct, you always follow your own nature. You don’t care much what others say, because you believe that seeking others’ approval isn’t a filmmaker’s true task.”

Sun Zhou wasn’t entirely stubborn, at least not today. He immediately joked, mimicking Chen Long’s Hong Kong accent, “Did I say that? My god, how can I not remember?”

The mood in the room instantly lightened.

He kept talking, but his words were now directed at Jin Xishan. “That’s just who I am—always interrupting others and saying whatever comes to mind! I understand what Brother Chen Long meant earlier. In a few days, I’ll contact my younger brother for you. Have your agent get in touch with him directly!”

Liu Qingshan was not only acting as interpreter for the group, but also promptly explained everything to the two Koreans present.

“Sun’s younger brother, Sun Chun, is even more famous—a national-level actor who’s much more sociable and well-connected than his elder brother!”

Sun Zhou gave Jin Xishan no chance to thank him. “My brother is more capable than I am; he’s made so many connections in the industry I’ve lost count! Ending your contract as an actor in Korea was the right move. Take this opportunity to focus your career on our domestic market—it’s the best decision you could make. Just wait and see—in three to five years, the potential of the mainland’s entertainment industry will be fully unleashed!”

Chen Long agreed, “I met him even earlier, but I’m actually closer to his brother. That’s because Sun here is too old-fashioned and unsociable—drinking with him is no fun!”

Sun Zhou didn’t refute the claim, just chuckled, “Then why did you agree to let me join the crew this time? Don’t tell me you were waiting for me to thank you?”

“Please, I never expected that! These days, everyone in the industry says I, Chen Long, would go through fire for my brothers. I’m just keeping up appearances by agreeing to help you—otherwise, what would happen to my good reputation?”

“Haha, that’s the truth—I believe you! But you know I rarely join drinking parties; tonight, I came as soon as you called, didn’t I?”

“Come on, tell us, I’m curious!”

Sun Zhou pointed at Liu Qingshan. “It’s because of Qingshan. What he did a couple of days ago, saving someone, made a deep impression on me. I think that if it hadn’t been his sister in danger, he would have done the same for anyone. I’ll just call you Shanzi—is that right, brother?”

Asked again, Liu Qingshan answered honestly, “To tell the truth, I didn’t think about it at the time. The job you assigned us was to ensure everyone’s safety. Besides, danger happens in a split second—you just react on instinct.”

“Your answer is clever, but it’s still the truth. If it were me, I’d have said, ‘It depends on the situation, on how urgent things were at the time.’ My brother, however, would answer, ‘Of course—being on the same crew is fate. How could I stand by and do nothing?’ So, you see, I’m not suited for socializing, while he can easily blend into any crowd. And as for you, Shanzi, you’ll gain many friends because of that.”

“There you go again, changing the subject. You still haven’t told us what moved you so much!” Chen Long interrupted, unceremoniously.