Chapter Eight: The Familiar Young Actor

"If you pass, I'll give you a call," Yan Xu said with a smile to the woman in front of him. After two hours, his face felt as if it might cramp from all the forced grinning.

Recruiting child actors was already something Yan Xu regretted, having listened to Chicken Feather’s hare-brained idea of setting up a sign downstairs to advertise for child actors. This was Qinzhou Street, after all, one of Hong Kong’s main shopping avenues, and with it being the weekend, the place was teeming with people. Never mind that two hundred dollars per scene was almost the same as a stuntman's fee—many parents were eager for their children to become the next child star.

In just two hours, Yan Xu had interviewed at least a hundred kids—tall, short, fat, thin, beautiful, plain, boys and girls—until his vision was nearly blurred from it all. A few children were decent, but for the main role, Lin Guoyu’s childhood, he still hadn’t found the right one, not even a clue.

"That last one was really something," said Chicken Feather as he came in—not the next child actor for the audition, but wearing a broad grin and glancing back over his shoulder.

"That one was outrageously plump, and that was one of the better ones. Earlier, there was one who was only ten but must have weighed at least a hundred and thirty or forty pounds, like a ball—just as wide as he was tall!" Yan Xu chuckled, half complaining to Chicken Feather. "This was all your idea, and now not only have all the locals come, but even people just out shopping are here for the audition. I’m exhausted."

"Did you find a place for me like I asked?" Yan Xu pressed.

"Of course I did. How could I forget something you asked of me?" Chicken Feather pulled up a stool and sat next to Yan Xu, grabbed a soda from the table, bit off the cap with his teeth, and took a long drink. Then he pulled two sets of keys from his pocket. "Guess what these are?"

"You’ve got it settled?" Yan Xu took the keys.

"Two places, both close by. One is a regular house—three rooms with a living room, fully furnished and with appliances, two thousand for two weeks. The other is an abandoned warehouse, just as you requested; I rented three rooms, one large and two small, also for two weeks, fifteen hundred in total," Chicken Feather explained.

"Only thirty-five hundred altogether. You really do have a way with these things."

"Of course. I’m not unknown on the street these days; people have to give me some respect," Chicken Feather replied, clearly pleased with himself at Yan Xu’s compliment.

"And what about the photo developing shop? Did you find a suitable one?"

"This time you really lucked out. Guess what I found?" Chicken Feather said, his tone mysterious.

"What? Don’t tell me you found a studio that’ll let you use it for free?" Yan Xu asked.

"Exactly. And this one is different—it’s in Wan Chai," Chicken Feather continued.

"Wan Chai?" The name made Yan Xu’s eyes light up. For Chicken Feather to be so secretive, there had to be something special about this studio. Indeed, there was one in Wan Chai—where Lin Guoyu had actually developed his photos, and it was the staff there who called the police, leading to Lin Guoyu’s arrest. "You mean the one where Lin Guoyu was caught?"

"Yes, that one. That area’s under our 15k’s turf too—not the same branch, but I know a few people there. They took me to the studio, and the owner was generous; hearing we were filming a movie, he let us use it for free. He only asked that we give his shop a few extra shots when we film and list his name in the credits at the end. I already agreed to it for you," Chicken Feather nodded.

"Thanks for that. Tonight, I’ve arranged dinner with Brother Nine and Ghost Dong. Brother Nine will bring some girls borrowed from Ma Furong’s crew. You can all help me decide on the casting," Yan Xu said.

"Perfect, that’s just my kind of job. I’ll need to give them a full examination," Chicken Feather rubbed his hands, his face full of excitement and mischief.

"You scoundrels are getting lucky," Yan Xu laughed heartily.

***************************

"Where are your parents?" Yan Xu asked instinctively, glancing toward the door as a child walked in alone.

"It’s just me—no one else," the boy blocked Yan Xu’s line of sight, patting his own chest.

"Hmm!" Yan Xu sized up the boy. He looked about ten, just the right age for the role he was looking for, about the right height, neither fat nor thin, with close-cropped hair and a lively face. His forehead was a bit broad, and he had single eyelids, giving off a slightly roguish air. His clothes showed that he wasn’t from a wealthy family—probably a village kid from the outskirts of Hong Kong. His trousers were faded from washing, and the knees were worn white, suggesting he was a mischief-maker.

He was, without a doubt, the most satisfactory boy Yan Xu had seen all morning. The age was right, the height was right, and even though his eyes were small and single-lidded, they were piercing and spirited. Most importantly, the hint of rebelliousness in his gaze was exactly what Yan Xu wanted.

For some reason, looking at this boy gave Yan Xu a sense of familiarity, as if he’d seen him somewhere before.

"How did you get here by yourself, kid? Do you know what we’re doing?" Yan Xu asked.

"I may not be the best student, but I can read. You’re recruiting actors, right? I’m here to audition," the boy replied, taking a seat across from Yan Xu. "When do we start? My time is valuable."

Yan Xu was nearly at a loss for words, taken aback by a child telling him his time was precious.

"Alright then, what’s your name?" Yan Xu picked up a form. Since no adult had accompanied the boy, he’d have to fill it out himself.

"Li Canchen—Li as in ‘wood,’ Can as in ‘brilliant,’ and Chen as in ‘king,’" the boy replied methodically.

"Li Canchen?" Yan Xu wrote the name on the form. The name immediately reminded him of someone. He looked up sharply, studying the boy’s face more closely.

Was it really him? As he stared at the boy’s features, they began to merge in his mind with another, slightly roguish face from his memory, and Yan Xu grew more certain.

Li Canchen—he would later change his name to Lee Chan-sam. Short in stature and plain in looks, he was often cast only in cameos or supporting roles, yet he was unforgettable. His very first film, Hong Kong Production, earned him a nomination for Best New Performer at the 17th Hong Kong Film Awards and Best Actor at the 34th Golden Horse Awards in Taiwan. In later films like Last Year’s Fireworks and Dog Bite Dog, he received nominations for Best Supporting Actor at the 18th Hong Kong Film Awards and Best Actor at the 43rd Golden Horse Awards. In the fashion world, he was a prominent figure—his own brand, Subcrew, was a renowned trendsetter in Hong Kong.

His discovery was equally dramatic. He was spotted by director Fruit Chan while skateboarding on the street and cast in his first film, Hong Kong Production. Because it was an independent film with a small budget and crew, he not only acted but also handled a slew of odd jobs behind the scenes. At that time, acting was grueling and even the most menial tasks were left to Lee Chan-sam to complete.