Chapter Thirty-Two: The Scholar and the Poetess

“Who are you looking for?” The door was opened by a woman with a doll-like face, her hair styled in the era’s most fashionable voluminous curls. Faintly, the sound of a guitar drifted from within the apartment.

“I’m here to see Lo Guofu,” Wu Mengda said, looking at the woman.

“So you’re looking for LoLo? Come in quickly.” The woman opened the door wider, ushering them in, then called out toward the room from which the guitar music came, “LoLo, someone’s here to see you!”

“Who is it?” The guitar music stopped. A man’s voice floated from one of the rooms, accompanied by the soft shuffle of slippers. Soon, a man with a slightly receding hairline and a hint of a scruffy beard on his face entered the living room.

It’s actually him? Yan Xu was startled to see the man step into the room. Growing up watching Hong Kong cinema, aside from the household names, a few actors who were never quite famous but familiar still lingered in his memory. This man was one of them.

In Yan Xu’s recollection, the man should be named Lowell Lo. He had acted in a few movies, but never achieved real stardom in the film industry. Yan Xu’s strongest impression was of him playing the boyfriend of Uncle Biao’s daughter in the “It’s a Mad, Mad World” series.

Yet his accomplishments in music far outshone his modest film career. He had worked as music director for dozens of films, won the Best Original Song at the Hong Kong Film Awards twice, as well as a Best Original Film Song and a Best Film Score at the Golden Horse Awards. Occasionally, he would even lend his voice for fun, releasing albums and singing, such as performing the closing theme for “A Chinese Odyssey.”

“Da, it’s been a long time! What brings you here?” Lo Guofu invited them into the living room, settling onto the sofa and glancing curiously at Wu Mengda. He was surprised by the visit; after all, their acquaintance was limited to brief encounters on set, and it had been ages since they’d last been in touch.

“Your place was really hard to find. There’s a sign outside that says ‘Ah Ting Studio’—I thought I’d gone to the wrong address.” Wu Mengda laughed.

“That so-called studio is just something I put up for fun. Ah Ting is me—my wife gave me the new name. I go by Lowell Lo now.” Turning to Wu Mengda, Lowell Lo added, “By the way, let me introduce you—this is my wife, Tang Shuchen.” He gestured to the doll-faced woman sitting at his side.

So it really is them. Hearing Lowell Lo introduce himself and his wife, Yan Xu’s suspicions were confirmed. They were recognized as a talented couple in Hong Kong: Lowell Lo composing, Tang Shuchen writing lyrics. Together, they guaranteed high-quality songs. Tang Shuchen’s background was also illustrious—her grandfather had been a Yunnan warlord, General Tang, who, alongside Cai E and Li Liejun, launched the National Protection Movement and fired the first shot against Yuan Shikai.

“This is Director Yan, and this is Amin,” said Wu Mengda, introducing Yan Xu and their companion to Lowell Lo. “Guofu—ah, I mean, Lowell, do you have any projects going on at the moment?”

“He? Ever since his cameo as a subway driver in ‘Queen’s Secret Order,’ he hasn’t had any work. He’s just been at home studying film scores and teaching kids,” Tang Shuchen answered for Lowell Lo.

“That’s perfect, then. We’re here because—”

“Mr. Lo, I’d like to ask if you would compose the score for our film,” Yan Xu interrupted Wu Mengda. At first, they’d just wanted someone knowledgeable about music to produce the song “Devotion for Love,” but seeing as it was Lowell Lo himself, a master of film scoring, Yan Xu didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Their budget was more than ample; a hastily thrown-together score just wouldn’t do, so a meticulously crafted one was much preferred.

“You want me to compose a film score?” Lowell Lo’s small eyes widened. He had always been deeply interested in film music but rarely had the chance to fully unleash his talents, mostly writing songs for music companies instead.

“Yes, I’m working on a new film. There are specific musical requirements, so I asked Da to help me find an expert. He recommended you.” Yan Xu explained.

“No need to be so formal—just call me by my name. What kind of film are you making?” Lowell Lo asked, his expression betraying keen interest.

“Lowell, Director Yan is quite famous these days. He directed ‘Butcher in the Rain’ not long ago, and now he’s making a film about the Taxi Judge. The investment is in the millions,” Wu Mengda interjected.

“So you’re the one behind ‘Butcher in the Rain’.” Though he hadn’t seen it, the film had been so popular recently that it was impossible not to have heard of it.

“That was just a small project. This time, Da is the lead actor, Amin is the female lead. It’s not a documentary-style detective story like before but rather an urban vigilante film tinged with hardship. The score is especially important—we need to convey tension in many scenes, but also gentle, poignant moments of human pain and helplessness. I’ve also brought the lyrics for an insert song. I’d like you to help Amin record it.” Yan Xu pushed the lyrics for “Devotion for Love” in front of Lowell Lo.

“These lyrics are excellent—really impressive. Who wrote them?” Tang Shuchen, leaning against Lowell Lo, read the lyrics and immediately recognized their poetic quality, offering her praise.

“Do you have a melody?” Lowell Lo asked.

“I wrote the lyrics, but I’m no good with music. I can’t read notation—I can only hum the tune. I’ve already taught it to Amin; she can sing it for you,” Yan Xu said, embarrassed.

“Then let’s hear it.” Tang Shuchen and Lowell Lo looked expectantly at Zhou Huimin. Since they were going to record a song for her, it was crucial to understand her vocal style and range.

“…Thoughts can never turn back, loving brings a lifetime of pain, my heart stained with tears…” Amin sang the song with deep emotion. Since it was to be recorded, she poured her soul into her performance.

“A lovely voice—very sweet, with real potential!” Tang Shuchen nodded approvingly.

“Did you really write this song?” Lowell Lo turned to Yan Xu, moved by the melody.

“Does it need any changes?” Yan Xu asked.

“No need.” Suddenly, Lowell Lo stood up, grabbed some paper and a pen from the table, and, humming the tune Amin had just sung, quickly transcribed the melody onto sheet music.

“Your song is amazing—writing it without knowing notation, that’s true talent,” Lowell Lo praised.

“You’re the real genius. You wrote out the score after hearing it just once,” Yan Xu replied, watching in awe as Lowell Lo swiftly finished the notation—one could hardly deny his genius.