Chapter Forty-Three: The Respect Given by Liu Qingshan

In Tianzhu, its proximity to the equator and its underdeveloped state meant that many naturally beautiful women appeared sallow and thin, or their skin was rough and dark. In this country, innate wealth was, in truth, an indispensable ingredient in becoming a true beauty.

Aishwarya did not come from a wealthy high-caste family; fortunately, thanks to her elder sister Marika, at just seventeen, she possessed the qualities to become a lady of beauty and fortune. Their family’s mixed heritage was another blessing: the sisters inherited tall, elegant figures and extraordinary loveliness. They possessed the athletic build and large eyes, straight noses of the West, together with the Eastern traits of thick black hair and milky, delicate skin—a true gathering of a thousand graces in one body.

Indeed, Aishwarya’s beauty seemed almost innate, and with her youthful advantage, she appeared even more graceful and radiant than her sister. Luckily, Liu Qingshan was not a man driven by lust; otherwise, with her sister so readily entrusting the girl to him, her reputation for innocence might not have survived until adulthood.

At present, this young lady was not in the hospital room, but had stayed behind at the hotel with Marika’s agent. Perhaps she had received some instructions from Marika, for in recent days she had frequently and deliberately entered Liu Qingshan’s room. Each time he returned to the hotel, he would bring Kunal along, not knowing that his carefulness only made Kunal more admiring of his character.

With the most challenging scenes on the conveyor belt completed, the upcoming chase through the marketplace was a routine that Chen Long found increasingly easy. Though these comedic chase sequences had grown rather clichéd, Chen Long had little choice; his signature style was deeply imprinted in the audience’s mind. Any attempt to change it by eliminating the classic scenes that had made him famous would only make it harder for the market to accept his new work.

As someone directly involved, Liu Qingshan keenly felt Chen Long’s distinctive approach to filming. Facing hundreds of extras, a crowd of foreign faces speaking a different tongue, Chen Long still displayed masterful control on set. No matter how busy he seemed, he never lost his temper over a couple of extras failing to get into character. Liu Qingshan could not help but secretly marvel—truly, every person’s success has its reasons.

Chen Long’s directorial skills were impressive, especially in the action genre, where he was a true pioneer. His strengths as a director were on full display. Yet it was undeniable that his works were highly entertaining action films—simple, direct, and straightforward in meaning, using few artistic devices to ensure greater audience appeal. In some ways, this ran counter to the criteria of the most prestigious awards, which tended to favor stories with more narrative and artistic depth.

Thus, Liu Qingshan focused on Chen Long’s ability to mobilize the set. Perhaps this skill had little to do with cultural or artistic accomplishments, but such command over a scene was not something just anyone could achieve. Nor could one ignore the sensible coordination of director Tang Jieli, whose guidance shaped most of the film’s structure.

In nearly a month in Tianzhu, Liu Qingshan learned much from both men. The most direct benefit was the change in data readouts on the super star-making device in his mind. In particular, his professional skills had soared dramatically. His delivery, stance, and body language were now approaching the critical threshold of 100. His ability to control facial expressions, too, had jumped from a novice’s 6 to a solid intermediate actor’s 53.

He knew very well that even if he were given the chance to play the lead, he might not be up to it. His skills were advanced in only one area; the rest were still at the entry-level C grade. He would need all his weaknesses to reach at least B level before he could be considered capable of leading a production.

Fortunately, the upcoming filming of “The Myth” would feature massive scenes of Qin dynasty armies squaring off against an opposing host. He was confident that in capturing such epic moments—scenes beyond the reach of ordinary people—he would learn even more. The knowledge he gained would continue to drive his skills forward, and breaking through to the next level seemed only a matter of time.

When the filming schedule wrapped up, Chen Long announced that everyone would have a long holiday—three whole days of freedom, to begin after the entire crew returned to Delhi. The two-day journey back was again a continual switch of various modes of transportation.

Once in Delhi, Liu Qingshan received an invitation from both Kunal himself and Marika Sherawat’s company to visit Bollywood. Lu Huiguang and Yu Rongguang were also invited, making the intentions of the so-called Treasure Pictures studio obvious. This company was one of Bollywood’s big seven, owned by Karam Singh, son of a hotel tycoon and a major film star—a young man of immense power in Mumbai.

Of course, none of this concerned Liu Qingshan personally. The key point was that Treasure Pictures, via Marika, had invited him, Lu Huiguang, and Yu Rongguang—all martial artists—in the hopes of enhancing the quality of their action choreography.

After consulting with Chen Long and the others, Liu Qingshan agreed. Chen Long believed that, however influential Bollywood might be, it had little connection to China’s entertainment industry, but it would be impolite to refuse such a warm invitation outright. The three would go, find out the true purpose, and perhaps gain something unexpected.

Bollywood was in Mumbai, the largest city in Tianzhu, its greatest port, financial center, film industry hub, and textile capital. Though it was some 1,100 kilometers from Delhi, a direct flight took only about two hours—very convenient.

Aishwarya traveled with them. Her cousin and agent disappeared shortly after landing, leaving her in Liu Qingshan’s care—whatever Marika’s intentions might have been. That afternoon, they arrived in Mumbai and checked into the five-star hotel that shared its name with Treasure Pictures.

While the local hosts returned to their company, the guests had a short break. Only Aishwarya stayed behind. According to her, her only family in this city was Marika, and with no acting credentials and no other contacts in Mumbai, she had nowhere to go without her cousin.

By now, Lu Huiguang and Yu Rongguang were on very familiar terms with Liu Qingshan and spoke quite freely. Yu Rongguang teased him, “Qingshan, since you’re getting along so well with Aishwarya, introduce me and Huiguang to a couple of local girls. Nothing more—just to practice our English!”

Liu Qingshan was not so easily fooled by their words.

“Aishwarya just told me she barely knows anyone here. She’s only been in the city two years, always with her cousin.”

“You believe that? Don’t let her youth fool you—she’s quite calculating. All the attention she’s lavished on you along the way isn’t without reason.”

“Brother Guang, you’re no youngster yourself. Don’t let your little brother look down on you. Why the sly grin, anyway? You look awfully suspicious.”

Both men had the character “Guang” in their names, so the crew distinguished them as Brother Guang and Ah Guang, following local custom. But as the younger man, Liu Qingshan always addressed them with due respect. He turned to Lu Huiguang, “Brother Huiguang, don’t just laugh—you’re every bit as sneaky. The young lady is right here listening!”

Lu Huiguang grinned, “I haven’t said a word to trouble you, have I? All right, I’ll take Brother Guang and let him nap in his own room. But you should consider his request—life is short, after all!”

Once they had left, Aishwarya asked curiously, “What were you and the uncles talking about?”

Liu Qingshan, still annoyed at their irresponsibility, shook his head helplessly. “Nothing important. Aishwarya, why not take a shower and a nap? I hear the hotel has a gym—go get some exercise, don’t mind me.”

“Brother Qingshan, I’ll be an adult soon. You can stay in the room; I don’t mind.”

“Aishwarya, our country’s customs are different from yours, but in China we, too, have rules to live by. For me, respecting women is a basic principle. Some things you shouldn’t listen to your cousin about—I truly see you as a younger sister.”

Perhaps moved by his words, Aishwarya’s eyes reddened and her lips trembled, as if she were about to cry. “I know you’re a good person, Brother Qingshan.”

He patted her hair gently. “You’re a good kid, too. Be good—go shower. I’ll leave now, and you should lock the door behind me. I’ll knock when I return.”

At the elevator, instead of heading to the gym on the third floor, he pressed the button for the lobby. He decided to take the opportunity to go for a walk, planning to return when enough time had passed.

But he soon found himself weary of wandering. Though the hotel was in the city center, the lack of highways meant the streets were choked with traffic, and the blaring horns quickly wore on his patience.

Fortunately, not far from the hotel stood Victoria Terminus, its grand Gothic architecture a striking landmark. Yet the crowded station square convinced him to forgo entering, and he chose instead to sit on the high steps and watch from afar. The old building, blending traditional local style and covered in exquisite stone carvings, was truly deserving of its status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The longer he sat, the more beautiful the station looked in the deepening glow of sunset, even more so than in photos online.

Had he been able to see the surroundings, the jumble of shabby civilian buildings would have spoiled the reverence he felt for the place. When his phone rang, he answered and got up to return. Watching the traffic lights on the bustling street, the dense crowds, and the messy roadside shops, he could only shake his head in silent resignation.