1978: Female educated youth, don’t want an illiterate husband

Inside the training room of Liu Jialiang's private martial arts school in Clearwater Bay, the atmosphere was as oppressive as the deathly silence before a storm.

Liu Jialiang was shirtless, sweat pouring down his bronze skin, but he seemed oblivious to it, pacing back and forth on the cushioned floor like a caged beast.

Several crumpled newspapers lay scattered at his feet, bearing a striking photo of Cheng Xuemin and Chen Wen shaking hands, along with eye-catching headlines such as "Completely convinced" and "Recorded in history."

"Choose that star! Be convinced?! Be recorded in history?! Bullshit!" Liu Jialiang suddenly stopped and kicked a sandbag on the ground, making it shake violently and produce a dull thud.

His chest heaved violently, his eyes were bloodshot, and he glared at his apprentices and Liu Jiahui, who stood by with their hands hanging down, not daring to breathe.

"That old senile Chen Wen! What kind of bewitching potion did that northerner give him?! And those film critics, are they all blind?!"

"Real kung fu? Isn't my Liu Jialiang's Southern Fist real kung fu?! Aren't the routines passed down by my master real kung fu?!" His roar echoed in the empty training room, making everyone's eardrums go numb.

"Master, calm down!" Liu Jiahui forced himself to step forward and persuade him. "The newspapers are full of boasting, and it's all Old Zuo exaggerating. It's all their own people bragging!"

"Once our 'Martial Arts School' is released, we'll have a real fight scene, and the audience will naturally know whether it's good or bad!"

"Calm down? How can I calm down?!" Liu Jialiang whirled around, practically shoving his face at Liu Jiahui, and yelled:
"Right now, everyone in Hong Kong is talking about how amazing his 'Shaolin Temple' is! They're saying our Southern-style kung fu is petty and weak! They're saying my 'Martial Arts School' is a terrible movie! It's defeated before it even starts! Do you understand?!"

He was panting heavily, grabbed a towel from the chair next to him, and rubbed his face hard, his eyes revealing a desperate madness.

"Screening schedule! What did Golden Harvest and Golden Princess say? Can we try to negotiate for a little more?"

An apprentice in charge of external liaison answered timidly: "Master... Golden Harvest said that they also need to protect their own films, and the number of screenings they can give us is already the maximum."

Princess Kim... Princess Kim said she needs to see the final feedback, and now... now it's very difficult."

"Damn it! Everyone kicks a man when he's down!" Liu Jialiang slammed the towel to the ground. "Cheng Xuemin has four Shaw Brothers cinema chains backing him up, what do we have?! What do we have?!"

He deflated like a punctured balloon, slumped down on the armchair next to him, clutched his head with both hands, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Only his heavy breathing and the pattering rain outside the window remained in the practice room.

An unprecedented sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him like a cold tide.

For the first time, he realized with such clarity that this contest, from the very beginning, might not have been a fair competition.

Capital, channels, public opinion... Behind that seemingly arrogant mainland guy lies meticulous calculation and powerful resource support.

“Master…” Liu Jiahui looked at his master’s back, which had suddenly hunched over, and felt a pang of pity. He whispered, “How about… we try to find a way, maybe pull some strings, and get it in the newspaper…”

"Using connections? What's the use now?!" Liu Jialiang suddenly raised his head, his eyes ferocious. "All the newspapers in Hong Kong are praising Cheng Xuemin! Who would bother with us?!"

He remained silent for a long time, until the last trace of struggle in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a ruthless determination to burn his bridges.

He slowly stood up, walked to the wall, took down a pair of eight-slash double swords for practice hanging on the wall, and ran his fingers over the cold blades.

"Good! Very good!" Liu Jialiang's voice was hoarse, yet carried a chilling calmness. "Weren't they boasting about their real skills? Weren't they boasting about real combat?"

"Then I, Liu Jialiang, will show them what real Southern Kung Fu is! Fighting in the ring, huh? If I can't beat them at the box office, I'll use these fists to have a real fight with Cheng Xuemin's men in front of the camera! Let's see who falls first!"

"Master! You mustn't!" Liu Jiahui and his disciples were shocked.

"Shut up!" Liu Jialiang shouted sharply. "Go! Spread the word! My 'Martial Arts School' will be held at the Hong Kong Stadium after its premiere!"

We cordially invite all martial arts professionals in Hong Kong to spar! Especially… we urge the masters under Director Cheng Xuemin to grace us with their presence!

This challenge, brimming with the spirit of江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry), was like another bucket of cold water poured into boiling oil, completely igniting the already boiling Hong Kong film industry.

Everyone realized that the contest between Cheng Xuemin and Liu Jialiang had long transcended the scope of ordinary film competition, evolving into an ultimate showdown concerning schools of thought, regions, and even film philosophies.

At the center of the storm, Cheng Xuemin, upon learning of Liu Jialiang's challenge, simply stood in the gloomy prison set of "Redemption" and said a few words to Gong Xue and Fu Qi, who looked worried, beside him:
"The outcome of a contest is never decided on the ring itself, but at the box office and in people's hearts. Tell the boys back home to focus on filming. If Master Liu wants to fight, we... will fight to the end."

His gaze swept past the prison bars, looking out at the gloomy sky over Hong Kong. The cold, stern curve of his lips was like a sharp sword piercing through the dark clouds.

……

The rain in Hong Kong seemed endless, pounding against the tin roof of the Liu Jialiang Martial Arts School, making a crackling noise that was unsettling to everyone.

The martial arts gym was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the smells of sweat, old leather, and a hint of despair.

Liu Jialiang looked like a wounded wild beast trapped in a cage, his muscular upper body bare, his bronze skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and rainwater in the dim light.

He stopped venting his anger on the punching bag and instead sat like a stone statue on the well-worn armchair, with freshly delivered evening newspapers, still smelling of ink, scattered on the floor in front of him.

In a corner of the martial arts school, a radio station was playing entertainment news. The female anchor was reporting in an exaggerated tone about the frenzy caused by the internal screening of "Shaolin Temple" and the high expectations that Shaw Brothers had given for its screenings.

Liu Jialiang suddenly grabbed the purple clay teapot on the table and smashed it hard against the corner of the wall!
"Clang!" A piercing cracking sound drowned out the radio's audio, sending shards and tea leaves flying everywhere. Liu Jialiang's chest heaved violently, his eyes bloodshot, and a hoarse, churning sound, like a bellows breaking, escaped his throat.

"Master!" Liu Jiahui exclaimed as he stepped forward.

"Get out of my way!" Liu Jialiang roared, his voice hoarse and frightening. He gripped the armrests of the armchair tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Is the martial arts school, which has staked its entire fortune and mortgaged its ancestral home, really going to be strangled at the starting line by the opponent with capital and public opinion, without even having the chance to fight?

He is not willing!

After decades of hard work on film sets, he has mastered the authentic Southern Fist style, making him a force to be reckoned with in Hong Kong's martial arts scene. Is he really going to fall into the hands of a newcomer from the North?

An unprecedented, chilling fear coiled around his heart like a venomous snake.

If "The Martial Arts School" fails, not only will he lose his fortune, but his reputation and status, built up over decades in the Hong Kong film industry, will also be lost.

A truly irreversible catastrophe!
We can no longer sit idly by and wait to die; we have to take a gamble!
I'm risking everything for a chance to turn things around!

He suddenly raised his head, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by a desperate madness.

"Jiahui!" His voice was hoarse, yet carried a chilling resolve. "Go! Prepare the car! And go to the safe and take out the highest-paying revenue-sharing contract for 'Martial Arts School'!"

"Master... are you going to..." Liu Jiahui was startled, with a sense of foreboding.

"Go find someone who can save lives!" Liu Jialiang stood up, his movements slightly unsteady with excitement. He grabbed the shirt draped over the back of the chair and haphazardly put it on, not even noticing that the buttons were all askew. "Golden Horse Film Bureau! Find Jiang Fengqi!"

As night deepened and the rain shrouded the Mid-Levels of Hong Kong Island, a secluded Western-style villa was brightly lit.

Unlike the ostentatious Shao residence, this place was not bustling with traffic. There were only two tall guards in raincoats hidden in the shadows, their sharp eyes scanning the approaching black sedan.

Liu Jialiang's car was stopped outside the iron gate and was only allowed to pass after a strict inspection.

The car slowly made its way up the slippery driveway and finally stopped in front of the main building.

A secretary in a suit with a stern expression was already waiting at the door. Without any further pleasantries, he led Liu Jialiang through the quiet and somewhat oppressive foyer to the study on the second floor.

The warm yellow light in the study was soft, yet it couldn't dispel the invisible aura of authority.

The air was filled with the mixed scents of cigars and books.

Jiang Fengqi, the head of the Golden Horse Film Bureau in Hong Kong, is a woman around forty years old, wearing a well-tailored cheongsam, her hair neatly combed, and gold-rimmed glasses. She is sitting behind a large desk, looking down and flipping through a document.

Hearing footsteps, she slowly raised her head, her gaze falling on Liu Jialiang through her glasses, calm and undisturbed, as if she had already anticipated his arrival.

"Master Liu, a rare guest. Please have a seat." Jiang Fengqi's voice was not loud, carrying a kind of indifference that comes from someone who has long held a superior position. She pointed to the sofa opposite the desk.

"Director Jiang." Liu Jialiang took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and sat down as instructed, his back straight, placing the carefully wrapped contract in a brown paper bag on his knees.

Rain dripped from his hair, leaving dark stains on the carpet. "It's raining heavily outside, Mr. Liu must have had a long journey." Jiang Fengqi put down the documents, leaned back slightly, and placed his hands on the table in a businesslike manner. "What brings you here so late?"

Liu Jialiang knew that in front of this kind of person, any attempt to beat around the bush would be futile.

He picked up the contract from his lap, handed it over with both hands, his voice hoarse with nervousness, but he tried to remain calm:

"Director Jiang, let's not beat around the bush. I, Liu Jialiang, have been defeated this time, defeated by that northern... that Cheng Xuemin."

My film, *The Martial Arts School*, is only getting less than 30% of screenings from Golden Harvest and Golden Princess combined, scattered across a dozen or so small theaters. It simply can't compete with *Shaolin Temple*, which is being fully supported by Shaw Brothers!

Jiang Fengqi did not accept the contract, but gestured with her eyes for him to continue.

Liu Jialiang gritted his teeth and went all out: "Director Jiang, I know you, and... Jinma has always disapproved of Lao Zuo's activities in Hong Kong."

This Cheng Xuemin is their pawn! He made US dollars with "Tai Chi" and now he's making "Shaolin Temple," clearly trying to plant his flag in the Hong Kong film industry!
"If he really gains power this time, will we still have a voice in the Hong Kong film industry? Will the Golden Horse Awards still have a voice?"

He noticed that Jiang Fengqi's crossed fingers twitched slightly, and knew that he had hit the nail on the head, so he immediately raised his stakes: "I, Liu Jialiang, am a rough man and don't understand any grand principles."

But I know I can't let Chifei be so arrogant in Hong Kong! My book, "Martial Arts School," is a labor of love, and it's authentic Southern-style kung fu!

"As long as Director Jiang and the Golden Horse Film Bureau can lend me a hand and put pressure on Golden Harvest and Golden Princess to secure more decent theater chains and screenings, so that I can have a fair fight with Cheng Xuemin in the ring..."

He pushed the contract forward again, his tone filled with desperate earnestness: "I am willing to donate half of all the box office revenue from this film, 'Martial Arts School,'... no, half of the net profit after deducting costs, to the Party and the State free of charge!"
This is my way of showing my loyalty to the Party and the country in my fight against the Red Army and the Japanese! I only ask for a fair chance to compete!

A brief silence fell over the study, broken only by the patter of rain outside the window.

Jiang Fengqi finally reached out and picked up the contract, but did not open it immediately. Instead, he gently tapped the surface of the kraft paper bag with his fingertips, making a dull tapping sound.

Her face remained expressionless, but a sharp, calculating glint flashed in the depths of her eyes.

Liu Jialiang's surrender was exactly what she expected, and she was even happy to see it.

Headquarters was extremely dissatisfied with the storm that Cheng Xuemin, this suddenly emerging fat man, had stirred up in Hong Kong, especially with the success of "Tai Chi" overseas and the pre-release hype of "Shaolin Temple," which had already led to several calls from higher-ups questioning her work.

Suppressing Cheng Xuemin and curbing the influence of the "old left" in the cultural field is the top priority at present.

Lau Kar-leung, a local strongman with a certain foundation in the Hong Kong film industry who happened to have a direct conflict with Cheng Hok-man, was undoubtedly a very good pawn.

Using internal conflicts within the Hong Kong film industry to deal with Cheng Xuemin is far more sophisticated and better at concealing the true intentions than having the Golden Horse Awards intervene directly.

“I can feel Master Liu’s sincerity.” Jiang Fengqi spoke slowly and steadily, saying, “Cheng Xuemin’s actions in Hong Kong are indeed irregular and have disrupted the market.”

Supporting outstanding local filmmakers who are loyal to the Party and the country is also one of the responsibilities of our Film Bureau.

She finally opened the contract and quickly skimmed through the key terms, especially the sections on profit sharing and donation methods.

A moment later, she closed the contract, looked up at Liu Jialiang, and said with a more serious tone: "Helping you put pressure on the theaters to get more screenings... this is difficult to do, but not entirely impossible."

Raymond Chow of Golden Harvest and Raymond Lui of Golden Princess Film Bureau always have to give our Film Bureau some face.

A huge weight lifted from Liu Jialiang's shoulders, and he was so excited he almost stood up: "Thank you so much, Director Jiang! Thank you!"

“However…” Jiang Fengqi changed the subject, staring sharply at Liu Jialiang, “Master Liu, words alone are not enough.”

"If you want our Film Bureau to endorse you, you have to take some concrete actions first, to show your...determination and stance to those above and outsiders, right?"

Liu Jialiang immediately understood: "Director Jiang, please tell me! What do you need me to do?"

Jiang Fengqi leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and said with an unquestionable tone, "You need to publish a statement in the newspaper before the movie is released."

"As for the content... it emphasizes that as a Hong Kong filmmaker, you uphold orthodox Chinese culture, oppose certain foreign forces using films for malicious infiltration, and are determined to use genuine Chinese kung fu to defend the purity and local characteristics of Hong Kong films."

The wording can be strong, and the stance must be clear. I'll have someone review this statement for you.

Publish a statement in the newspaper?

This is to make him completely take sides, publicly distance himself from Cheng Xuemin and Lao Zuo, and even, to some extent, attach the label of counterattack to himself!

Liu Jialiang's heart clenched; this was nothing short of a high-stakes gamble!
Once you take that step, there's no turning back.

If they win, they might be able to turn the tide; if they lose, they will be utterly destroyed, with no place left to stand in Hong Kong.

But at this moment, does he still have a choice?
The overwhelming praise for "Shaolin Temple" flashed through my mind, as did the vast cinema network of Shaw Brothers, and the ancestral home I had mortgaged... A surge of passion rushed to my head.

Bet!

He slapped his thigh and said decisively, "Okay! I'll write it! We'll do it the way Director Jiang says!"

"I, Liu Jialiang, am a man of my word, as firm as a horse on my arm! I never mince words!"

Jiang Fengqi finally revealed a faint, almost icy smile: "Very good. Master Liu is a sensible man. Then you should go back and prepare the statement. Bring it to me for review once it's written."

I will personally call and follow up on the theater arrangements. I will definitely give you a satisfactory answer before the film's release.

She stood up, which meant she was seeing the guest out.

Liu Jialiang quickly stood up and bowed again: "Thank you so much, Director Jiang, for your great help! I, Liu Jialiang, am deeply grateful!"

"It's all for the cultural cause of the Party and the country," Jiang Fengqi said calmly, pressing the call button on the table.

The secretary appeared silently and saw Liu Jialiang, who was feeling excited and as if he were walking on clouds, out of the villa.

Back in the car, the rain outside continued to fall, but Liu Jialiang felt hot all over and his palms were sweaty.

He glanced at his own bloodshot eyes, burning with a mad flame, in the rearview mirror, and knew that from this moment on, he had embarked on a path of no return.

Meanwhile, Jiang Fengqi, who was in the study, walked to the window and watched Liu Jialiang's car taillights disappear into the rain.

She picked up the internal phone, dialed a number, and her tone returned to its usual calm and authoritative: "Hello, it's me."

"Contact Raymond Chow of Golden Harvest and Raymond Lui of Golden Princess, and tell them I have some questions about the healthy order of the film market and want to talk to them."

Also, have the publicity department prepare an important statement that needs to be published in the newspaper in a few days.

She put down the phone, a cold smile curving her lips.

Cheng Xuemin? Old Zuo?

This time, let's see how you respond. It's time to really stir up the waters of Hong Kong.

A few days later, several influential right-wing newspapers in Hong Kong simultaneously published a strongly worded statement by Liu Jialiang.

In his statement, he identified himself as a Hong Kong filmmaker and denounced certain foreign forces for not knowing the rules, using films to infiltrate negative ideologies, and damaging the tradition and purity of Hong Kong cinema.

He passionately declared that he would use his authentic Southern-style Hung Kuen kung fu to defend the dignity of Hong Kong films and speak out for true Chinese culture in the upcoming tournament.

This fiery statement was like throwing a string of firecrackers into an already boiling pot of oil, instantly elevating the personal feud between Cheng Xuemin and Liu Jialiang to the level of ideological struggle and a battle for cultural orthodoxy.

The storm in Hong Kong's film industry has suddenly escalated!
……

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