CDJMM – Volume 1 – Chapter 40 Writing in the Republic Era (39)

While watching the stage play Memoirs of a Courtesan, Ji Qi had already read plenty of reviews in the newspapers and had long heard of the courtesan actresses who had stirred up much controversy. To be honest, even without the suggestion from the Watchman, he was inclined to let courtesans play courtesans.

First, because such performances would allow the actresses to enter their roles more naturally—real experiences making their portrayals especially moving. Second, it was for financial reasons.

After all, their company had just been founded and funds were limited. Famous actresses often charged high fees, while the cheaper ones came with no guarantee of acting skills. In such circumstances, courtesans who already had some stage play experience but had never acted in films were both affordable and suitable. As for the reputational issues they brought with them, that was not within his consideration at all. If he truly cared about that, he would not have thought about filming Memoirs of a Courtesan in the first place.

Even so, Ji Qi still decided to observe their acting with his own eyes. If their performances failed to satisfy him, then for the sake of the film’s quality, no matter how low their pay was, no matter that the original author had recommended them, he would not choose them.

With his principle of putting the film above all else, Ji Qi sat down in the front row of the audience with Li Jingran. Before long, the curtain slowly rose, one actor after another stepped onto the stage, performing all the joys and sorrows of life on that small square of land.

Ji Qi’s calm gaze soon turned into a storm.

In the novel Memoirs of a Courtesan, many courtesans appeared—there was the strong and brave Bai Moli, the vain and money-minded Xiao Taohong, the sharp-tongued but soft-hearted Hudielan… These women, each with their own distinct personality, were the epitome of the Eight Hutongs, and their fates represented the collective fate of courtesans.

Now these characters walked out of the book, vivid and alive on the small stage! Among them, Bai Moli was the most brilliant and dazzling! Ji Qi stared reverently at the Bai Moli laughing as she played the zither, as if he saw a flame of burning passion blazing bright.

His scalp tingled, and a long-lost thrill of joy shivered up from his spine into his mind. His whole body tightened, goosebumps rising uncontrollably. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to suppress the wild excitement surging in his chest, telling himself—It’s her. It’s them!

They weren’t acting; they were simply showing the audience their lives! Such seamless, natural performances were a rare treasure! Only with such performances could the most perfect Memoirs of a Courtesan be brought to the screen!

So when the curtain fell, it was no surprise that Le Jing heard Ji Qi’s excited voice: “I must go backstage to meet the actress who played Bai Moli!”

As soon as Le Jing led Ji Qi backstage, they were immediately surrounded by a circle of graceful figures.

“Ah, sir, did you come to see my performance?”

“I spotted you from the stage! Sir, how do you think I did?”

“Sir, why haven’t you come these days? Were you sick?”

Only then did Ji Qi realize that Li Jingran seemed very popular among the actresses. Even though he knew he was less attractive in comparison, he couldn’t help feeling a little sour inside.

Le Jing smiled as he answered a few of their questions. Seeing that the chattering was about to spiral into an endless barrage like Blue Cat Naughty 3000 Questions, he quickly cut it short: “I’m here today because I have something to discuss with Miss Bai. Ladies, would you kindly give us a moment?”

“All right, all right, stop pestering the gentleman.” Bai Shaoyao brusquely shooed her sisters away like a mother hen, protecting Le Jing behind her. “Sir, why don’t we step outside to talk?”

Le Jing shook his head with a smile. “No need, we can talk here just the same.”

He then explained that Ji Qi wanted to adapt Memoirs of a Courtesan into a film, and Ji Qi took the chance to extend an invitation to Bai Shaoyao to take the leading role.

“Film? Me?” Bai Shaoyao’s face flushed red. Tugging at her hair nervously, she asked, lacking confidence, “Someone like me… can really act in a film?”

“Of course! In my view, no one but you is suited to be the female lead!” Ji Qi said with fervor. “Your acting is exquisite, your immersion deep, and you also have profound insight into the original work. I heard that you were the one who adapted the stage script?”

When Bai Shaoyao nodded, Ji Qi’s gaze grew even more fiery. He asked eagerly, “Miss Bai, have you ever studied this formally?”

Bai Shaoyao misunderstood his meaning and lowered her head, murmuring: “I know I haven’t studied and that my learning is shallow. That’s why I showed this script to many senior colleagues in the theater, and I rewrote it at least ten times.”

Ji Qi nodded, then asked, “And may I ask—the extra dialogue added in the play, who wrote that?”

Bai Shaoyao answered nervously, “It was me. But… was there something wrong with it?”

Ji Qi chuckled, shaking his head firmly. “On the contrary! In my view, the added lines were ingenious and perfectly matched the original text. People would believe it was written by a master. Without formal training, you can still write such dialogue—you are truly gifted by heaven.”

Bai Shaoyao blushed even redder, waving her hands in denial.

After a few more polite exchanges, she finally asked curiously: “May I ask how you plan to adapt Memoirs of a Courtesan into a film?”

It was the same question Le Jing had asked him before, and Ji Qi gave the same reply: “The film will generally follow the original content unchanged, except for the ending—I intend to rewrite it.”

Bai Shaoyao frowned, a trace of displeasure flashing in her eyes. “How do you plan to rewrite it?”

Ji Qi answered: “I want to change the tragic ending into a happy one. Bai Moli doesn’t die—instead, she succeeds in redeeming herself and becomes a free woman.”

Bai Shaoyao’s brows furrowed even tighter. Those words sounded simple, yet they practically rewrote the main thread of the story, and even weakened its core message. From being a thought-provoking tale, it had turned into an unrealistic fairy tale—this was an insult to the author’s work!

Seeing that Bai Shaoyao looked ready to explode with anger, Le Jing quickly explained:  “Director Ji Qi already obtained my consent for this matter.”

Although Bai Shaoyao didn’t fully understand, she knew that Mister Watchman must have his own reasons for doing this.

“Because only with such a change can we stir the audience’s passion to fight against fate and persevere.” The young man’s gaze grew distant, as if lost in memories, and a faint smile hovered at his lips. “Admittedly, tragedy is great. But does that mean comedy isn’t? Humans are practical creatures. If they cannot see the benefits of resistance, they will never choose to resist.”

Bai Shaoyao nodded half-understandingly. So, Le Jing explained further: “The novel version of Memoirs of a Courtesan is a tragedy. Through Bai Moli’s tragedy, I stirred readers’ indignation toward the darkness and injustice of society, and their sympathy for courtesans. But if such a story is turned into a film, it will have a negative impact on many viewers. They will think that even though Bai Moli worked so hard, she still failed to realize her dreams, and was ultimately forced to death by the madam. In the end, it was all in vain. If that’s the case, they’ll feel it’s better to resign themselves from the start and not hold on to unrealistic hopes.”

Bai Shaoyao suddenly understood. “So, sir, you want to change the movie’s ending into a comedy, so that the heroine Bai Moli’s success in redeeming herself through perseverance can inspire people!”

Le Jing nodded with a smile. “Exactly. Compared to the profound yet solitary depth of tragedy, it is still the seemingly clichéd comedy that can draw more people into the cinema and play a positive role in motivating them.”

Back then, when the Japanese film Oshin came out, it caused a nationwide sensation in China. The protagonist Oshin was born humble, yet through her own hard work she became the owner of a large supermarket. Her legendary life inspired countless women to strive for independence and self-reliance. Some businesswomen even said that their decision to start their ventures had been influenced by Oshin.

This shows how excellent positive characters can serve as powerful guides for society and the people.

Now Bai Shaoyao fully agreed with Ji Qi’s vision for the adaptation. However…

“I do want to act in the film, but regarding the matter of the female lead role, I’ll need to ask the Marshal at home first before giving you an answer.” She bent her body apologetically and explained, “I owe everything I have today to the Marshal’s support, so I must consult him before making this decision.”

Ji Qi understood Bai Shaoyao’s concerns. After all, in the old days, actors were regarded as mere performers—no different from courtesans in many people’s minds. It was no surprise that many conservatives held prejudices against actors.

Ji Qi nodded, showing he understood. But before he could say a few polite words, the actresses—who had been blatantly eavesdropping with long necks—rushed forward, surrounding them eagerly.

“Director, do you still need more actors? How about me?”

“Director, pick me! I’m so handsome—it’d be a shame if I weren’t on screen.”

“Director, director, you just saw my performance, right? How was it?”

Ji Qi’s head throbbed from the bombardment. Under the siege of this “army of young ladies,” he had no choice but to sign a “humiliating treaty,” promising that each of them would get a chance to audition. Only then did the ladies disperse, satisfied.

Meeting Le Jing’s mischievous gaze, Ji Qi recalled the sour feelings he’d had earlier. He couldn’t help but give a wry smile and shake his head. “The hardest thing to resist is the kindness of a beautiful woman.”

…

By the time they left the theater, it was already noon.

Le Jing glanced at the sky. It was an overcast day—the sun was hidden behind dark clouds, leaving only a pale yellow halo. The autumn wind swept through Beiping’s dilapidated streets, making the scene all the more bleak and desolate.

“It’s about time. Let’s go, come have lunch at my place.” Le Jing warmly invited. “I’m not exaggerating—my cook’s skills are top-notch!”

Ji Qi wasn’t a reserved person. He immediately laughed. “Then I’ll look forward to a good feast!”

The two chatted and joked as they walked. Le Jing’s new home wasn’t far from the theater, so they didn’t bother taking a carriage.

It was on this desolate late-autumn day that Le Jing encountered those children.

Some wore rags, running barefoot on the ground; some were completely naked. Without exception, they all had oversized heads, thin necks, and stick-like limbs.

“Please, have mercy, give us something to eat!” They surrounded Le Jing and Ji Qi, kneeling on the ground and kowtowing skillfully. A disabled girl supported herself with one hand while raising a broken bowl high with the other. Her large black-and-white eyes were filled with numbness. 

“Please, master, reward me with a bite of food.” As she spoke, she knocked her head on the ground with difficulty.

Who were they?

They were the Sanmao children.

They were the children of the Republic.

Shelley once asked: If winter has come, can spring be far behind?

But for the children before their eyes, it was unlikely they’d live to see the next spring. Their lives were as fragile as candles in the wind, liable to be extinguished at any moment.

Wilde said: Every man is born a king, but most die in exile.

These children, too, had once carried infinite possibilities. But now, they were destined to die silently, dirty and forgotten, in some dark corner of the street.

Children are the future of a nation. And a nation so poor that its children cannot survive—such a nation has no future.

Le Jing instinctively wanted to take out money from his pocket, but Ji Qi stopped him. Instead, Ji Qi went into a nearby shop, bought some fried cakes and steamed buns, and silently handed them to the children.

The children’s previously dull eyes suddenly lit up. They fought and scrambled for the food, devouring it even as they beat each other.

Ji Qi pulled Le Jing a short distance away, then urged him to look back. They saw several fierce-looking men snatch away all the money the children had begged for, leaving only the food behind. The children stuffed the buns and cakes desperately into their mouths, protecting the food with all their might.

Ji Qi sighed and said, “Now you understand, don’t you?”

When Ji Qi had first stopped him from giving money, Le Jing had already guessed. He recalled seeing similar reports in the modern era—where adults trained disabled children specifically for begging. Clearly, it was no different back then.

From ancient times to today, the darkness in human nature has always been the same.

Le Jing thought: perhaps he already had the inspiration for his next serial.

These “Sanmao children” had given him that spark.

He would make street children the protagonists, telling a fairy tale filled with hope.

Because humans always need hope. Only hope can give people the strength to endure suffering and the drive to keep fighting.