Two months later.

It was the height of summer, the weather scorching hot, the sun beating down white and blinding on the gray cement pavement, cicadas shrilling ceaselessly in the trees.

At noon, a car quietly pulled into the back alley behind the “Red Cotton” Spinning Mill under the blazing sun.

The driver was none other than Wen Tingli.

Wearing a flat cap and Western-style sunglasses perched on her nose, driving a car rented from the Xiangsheng car rental company, she made her way cautiously and discreetly to the area near the mill’s back gate. She didn’t get out, but hid in the car, peeking out — before long, a young woman in a gray cloth qipao slipped out through the back door.

Wen Tingli quickly leaned out the window and waved to her.

The woman ran over and shoved something into Wen Tingli’s hands. “The foreman’s eyes are like a hawk’s — the moment I get near the women’s dormitory, he watches me like a hawk. And the female workers are so used to just enduring everything, it’s practically impossible to get anything out of them. Last night, while no one was looking, I snuck into the dormitory and hastily took a few photos — not sure if they’ll even develop properly. Miss Wen, you’ll have to make do.”

Wen Tingli pulled a banknote from her wallet and handed it to the woman gratefully. “If you find out anything more, please contact me right away.”

Cao Renxiu pushed the note back. “I’m not doing this for money — I just felt so sorry for these women workers, that’s why I came to you for help.”

She turned to point at the gray, lid-like factory building behind her, saying bitterly: “In this scorching heat, over forty women crammed into a room the size of a palm, with a chamber pot right beside the floor mats. At night, dozens of them take turns using it — the stench inside is unbearable the moment you walk in. Only two meals a day, thin porridge morning and night. One of them died just last month, and nobody so much as looked into it — at night the boss just had the body carried out. She was only eighteen, they say — Miss Wen, you’re a big star, you have more sway than we do. Please, help them.”

Wen Tingli fell silent for a long moment, then nodded solemnly to Cao Renxiu.

“I have to get back.” Cao Renxiu ran a few steps back toward the gate, then turned back shyly. “Miss Wen, we agreed earlier — if I lose my job over this, you’ll — you’ll help me find new work.”

Wen Tingli patted her own chest, telling her not to worry.

She and this Miss Cao had met about two weeks earlier. That day happened to be final exams — the campus full of bedraggled students — and Wen Tingli was one of them, having just wearily finished her last exam and busy comparing answers with classmates outside the classroom, when a classmate named Liu Ronghua brought a young woman over to see her.

“Wen Tingli, does what you said before still stand?”

“Which thing are you referring to?”

“You said you wanted to make a film reflecting the miserable conditions of laborers — well, here’s your material.” Liu Ronghua pushed the young woman beside her forward. “This is my cousin, Cao Renxiu. She graduated from Shanghai Normal College and has been working in the accounting office at the Red Cotton Spinning Mill in Hongkou ever since. These past few months she’s witnessed some real injustices at the mill and really wants to talk to you about it — do you have time?”

“I have time! Of course I have time!” Wen Tingli said hurriedly, glancing down at her wristwatch. “Why don’t we go to a restaurant across the street and talk over a meal?”

And that was how Wen Tingli learned of the miserable conditions faced by the female workers at the Red Cotton Spinning Mill. She and Liu Ronghua were so furious they slammed their hands on the table right then and there — beneath the glittering prosperity of Shanghai lay many unseen, sordid corners; the women workers at the Red Cotton mill were living lives worse than pigs. She resolved without hesitation to help these women get justice.

After seeing Cao Renxiu off, Wen Tingli began thinking about what to do next, and soon came up with an idea: why not turn these women’s experiences into a film, to stir up sympathy and support from all corners of society?

Of course, to carry out this plan, she’d first need Huang Yuanshan and the company’s support — and before that, she needed to work out a story outline.

It happened to be summer vacation, so she had plenty of free time — filming on set during the day, and in the evenings, gathering material and drafting the script.

By today, she’d gathered a fresh batch of material from Cao Renxiu, and couldn’t wait to head back to the company to find Sister Huang.

The moment she walked through the company’s front door, she saw Manager Bai of the Social Department putting up the monthly calendar, several colleagues chattering excitedly nearby.

“Miss Wen, you’re back just in time. Boss Liu just announced that the sequel to Graceful Detective has broken the box office record of the first film — everyone’s calling you the box office charm now. Won’t you treat everyone to a nice meal at Jinchun Restaurant? Wouldn’t that be fitting?”

Wen Tingli laughed. “Saturday evening, private room ‘Mingshi’ on the second floor of Jinchun Restaurant. I’m treating everyone — no excuses, everybody has to come.”

The room erupted in cheers. Wen Tingli lingered a moment, exchanging a few jokes with her colleagues, then hurried upstairs to find Huang Yuanshan. But as she reached the hallway, she heard Huang Yuanshan and Liu Menglin arguing.

This was already the fourth time they’d fought this month. The rift between the two of them had clearly been deepening by the day.

“Why turn down a money-making picture to go film some factory girls? Have you lost your mind, or has Wen Tingli lost hers?”

“Did you even bother reading the draft I gave you properly? The conditions those women workers face at the Red Cotton mill are beyond imagination — this is prime material for a social-issue film. If we build a proper script around the material Wen Tingli’s gathered, we could very well make something both critically acclaimed and commercially successful.”

“Nonsense! Films like that do nothing but make enemies — what good could that possibly bring the company? Yuanshan, don’t act like this the moment the company mentions filming Graceful Detective 3. If a film makes money, what’s wrong with shooting ten sequels? Graceful Detective has already become Golden Age Film’s most prized signature title, and it’s become her — Wen Tingli’s — personal trademark. These days, when she walks down the street, doesn’t everyone call her ‘Detective Fu’? We’ve got a ready-made fanbase, don’t need to remake props or costumes from scratch — spend two more months and we’ll have a whole new picture done. No—”

Liu Menglin suddenly laughed. “Wen Tingli’s on summer break — three months could easily net us two sequels. Do the math on her earnings from the last two months and you’ll know whether she’s willing to keep filming or not. She’s no fool.”

“I’m not willing!” Wen Tingli pushed the door open and walked in. “I’ve read the script for the third installment — compared to the first two, it has nothing new to offer. Keep going down this road and it’ll only hurt Graceful Detective‘s reputation. Better to quit while we’re ahead.”

“The script can be revised! I’ll have Manager Liu from □□ come right over and revise it in front of you until you’re satisfied, how’s that?”

Wen Tingli sat down on the sofa, smiling. “Boss Liu, right now there are at least ten film companies in Shanghai planning campus detective films — all sorts of gimmicks, every trick in the book. I hear one company’s hired the famous writer Zhuang Xiaosheng to write their script, and another’s planning to adapt the flower-queen kidnapping-murder case from a few years back for the screen. Keep this up, and our Graceful Detective may not be able to maintain its original pull. Why not seize this chance to strike out in a new direction instead? Remember, we only succeeded with the Graceful Detective series in the first place because we didn’t want to repeat the same old wuxia formula.”

Liu Menglin laughed. “You little troublemaker, that tongue of yours is truly sharp — arguing both sides back and forth until you get your way. You do have a point, though. That said, the company’s already done its market assessment for this year. Graceful Detective‘s popularity is nowhere near fading yet — we already formally announced this morning that we’re starting production on the third installment. So your objections don’t count. Yuanshan, don’t sulk over this — what does it matter what we film? The company certainly won’t be shortchanging you on pay.”

Huang Yuanshan suddenly switched to an extremely serious tone. “Boss Liu, do you remember what you said to everyone on the company’s very first day? ‘Film is the eighth great art of the world, capable of sowing seeds of virtue and suppressing evil widely in people’s hearts. As filmmakers, we shouldn’t merely court sensation, but should be brave enough to shoulder social responsibility.’ Back then, it was exactly those words that made me join your company without a second thought — but look at you now, how narrow-minded, how ignorant, how stubbornly self-righteous you’ve become. You’ve turned into nothing but a shameless film profiteer!”

Liu Menglin, far from angry, laughed instead. “Refusing to film factory girls makes me a profiteer? Fine, then I’ll be a thorough profiteer! Let me be perfectly clear: even if I don’t make another Graceful Detective sequel, I still won’t be filming any factory-girl picture — simple as that, I don’t want the company to lose money.”

“You—”

Liu Menglin pointed at Huang Yuanshan. “You’ve got seniority, sure, but don’t think the company can’t run without you. Always objecting to this, protesting that — I’ve put up with it long enough! There are plenty of talented directors at this company; if you won’t shoot it, there’s no shortage of people who will. Starting today, take a half-month’s leave, go home and sort your thinking out properly before you come talk to me again.”

Huang Yuanshan gave a cold laugh. “No need. Different paths don’t make for common plans — I quit, right now.”

The moment these words left her mouth, both Wen Tingli and Liu Menglin were startled. Wen Tingli hurried to stop her. “Sister Huang, don’t say things in anger.”

“I’m not speaking in anger at all. There’s no point staying at a company like this any longer. If he won’t film it, I’ll film it myself.”

Liu Menglin, already somewhat embarrassed, said with a sarcastic edge upon hearing this: “Sure, sounds like you’re planning to start your own film company now? Go ahead, I, Liu Menglin, certainly won’t stop you from striking it rich — but don’t say I didn’t warn you: running a film company isn’t like directing, you can’t just casually say ‘action’ and expect it to run itself. If you can manage even a single film that doesn’t lose money, then I, Liu Menglin, will admit you’ve won — but you truly have no idea what you’re getting into!”

“We’ll see about that.” Huang Yuanshan pulled the door open with a flourish and walked out.

Wen Tingli started after her, but Liu Menglin barked from behind: “Are you planning to go start a film company with her too? Her head’s not on straight, and you’re going to follow along and lose your mind too?”

Wen Tingli ignored him entirely and hurried after Huang Yuanshan.

The Huang residence.

Wen Tingli plopped down onto the sofa, panting as she pulled out her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow. “You ran way too fast — I couldn’t even keep up chasing after you.”

Huang Yuanshan didn’t respond, just kept rummaging through drawers and cabinets, searching for something.

Wen Tingli watched her. “It’s just the two of us now, Sister Huang — tell me honestly, were you just venting your anger at Boss Liu, or do you really intend to quit?”

Huang Yuanshan set the cash box in her hands down heavily on the coffee table. “Of course I really mean to quit. A promise made is a promise kept — do you think I’d joke about something like this?”

Wen Tingli was taken aback. “You’re really going to strike out on your own? But setting up a film company from scratch is no small feat — just building a soundstage alone would cost a fortune.”

Huang Yuanshan, however, seemed remarkably optimistic, pointing at the cash box before her. “I’ve got a bit of savings put aside — enough to cover a few cameras and carbon arc lamps, no problem. As for the soundstage, I can rent one — I’ve already looked into it, there are several old factory buildings for rent in the Chinese-administered district right now, and the rent’s not out of reach either.”

Wen Tingli thought to herself that Sister Huang must have been planning this resignation for quite some time already. She had always admired Huang Yuanshan’s boldness, and so set about seriously helping her calculate the details. “Equipment and film stock are secondary — staffing costs are the real burden. A film company needs a production department, a studio department, a publicity department at the very least… costume and makeup will need staff too, and accounting — the company can’t run in a muddle. Sister Huang, where will you find so much talent on such short notice? And once you do, you’ll need to pay them all monthly wages.”

Huang Yuanshan glanced around the room, then smiled with great ease. “Worst case, I sell this house. This place was my mother’s own dowry — she specifically left it to me alone before she passed. My father had a whole brood of children, but my mother only ever had me. If she hadn’t fully supported me studying abroad back then, I’d never have learned filmmaking in the first place. Now that I’m starting my own film company, if my mother knew from beyond, she’d surely be proud of me.”

Wen Tingli felt her heart strangely moved by these words. Lowering her head, she opened her handbag, and resolutely wrote a figure on her checkbook.

“Since Sister Huang’s already thought everything through, I should be the first to lend my support. Take this money for now — if it’s not enough, I’ll add more.”

Huang Yuanshan was startled. “Wen Tingli, I knew you were well-off, but I didn’t realize you’d gotten this well-off. Are you planning to hand over your entire savings to me? Take it back this instant! I’m not short on money!”

Wen Tingli pressed the check into Huang Yuanshan’s hand without room for argument. “Sister Huang must have forgotten how you helped me back when I was in trouble. Besides, this money isn’t a handout — think of it as me investing in your new company, how about that?”

Huang Yuanshan refused to accept it no matter what. “The day I actually need money, I’ll come to you first, how about that? As for the investment, we’ll discuss it once the company’s officially established.”

Both of them carefully avoided the question of Wen Tingli’s own future — though both knew perfectly well that making films required the right actors too.

But Huang Yuanshan, though blunt by nature, wasn’t reckless. Short-handed as she was, she wouldn’t dream of coaxing Wen Tingli into resigning alongside her at a time like this — she knew all too well how brutal the competition in the film market was, and for Wen Tingli, who had only just gained a solid footing in the industry, staying with the well-established Golden Age Film Company was clearly the wiser path.

Wen Tingli returned to the company with a heavy, conflicted heart.

Seeing her come back, Liu Menglin said not a word about Huang Yuanshan’s resignation, only saying coolly: “I’ve got old Liu from □□ ready for you — go revise the script for Graceful Detective 3 together. Manager Bai from wardrobe will be up shortly too — we’ll change all the costume designs to match your preferences, how’s that?”

Wen Tingli understood perfectly well that this was Liu Menglin’s way of backing down, but with her mind still in turmoil, she had no choice but to sit down and discuss the script as though nothing were wrong.

News of Huang Yuanshan’s resignation spread through the company like wildfire. Huang Yuanshan was famously a workaholic — in recent years, nearly half the company’s most influential films had come from her hands. Her departure inevitably stirred up unease among the staff.

The production’s assistant director, Tan Guiwang, turned pale the moment she heard the news and rushed over at once to ask Wen Tingli what had happened. Cinematographer Deng Qizhang, along with veteran actors Wen Guanyun, Duan Miaoqing, Luo Shuhong, and others, all came by one after another to inquire further.

Wen Tingli said little to any of them.

By this point, Liu Menglin, surprisingly, displayed remarkable resolve, urgently convening a meeting of the entire staff. At the meeting, he announced that production on Graceful Detective 3 would begin shortly, with Wen Tingli still starring in the lead role, and Tan Guiwang tentatively appointed as director. In front of everyone, he raised Tan Guiwang’s salary to top-tier company standards, elevating her at a stroke to a status equal to Huang Yuanshan’s.

The reaction on everyone’s faces varied. Tan Guiwang had been personally trained and groomed by Huang Yuanshan — the moment Huang Yuanshan left, the company promptly promoted her own protégée to take her place, which amounted to a public slap in Huang Yuanshan’s face.

It seemed the rift between Liu and Huang had grown truly irreparable.

Liu Menglin said amiably: “Since the start of this year, the company’s films have all achieved impressive results. Looking across the entire film market, Golden Age Film’s growth trajectory is the envy of everyone. I have every confidence that, with the joint efforts of our colleagues, ‘Golden Age’ will scale even greater heights… Xiao Tan has worked tirelessly and without complaint since joining the company. Anyone who works diligently and faithfully for this company, I, Liu Menglin, will never shortchange. Of course, if any of you believe you have better prospects elsewhere, the company will never stand in your way.”

Once the meeting concluded, the restless mood among the staff settled considerably. With self-interest at the forefront of everyone’s mind, and Liu Menglin still, at the very least, a reasonably generous boss, only a fool would abandon a secure “iron rice bowl” to go chase after some independent venture.

Even Tan Guiwang, who had wholeheartedly intended to stand up for her mentor, sat stunned in her seat, having been abruptly promoted to top-tier director status by the company.

Throughout the meeting, Liu Menglin kept a close eye on Wen Tingli’s reactions, and seeing that she showed no sign of displeasure the entire time, couldn’t help but look rather pleased with himself.

Wen Tingli had, indeed, compromised.

She had many practical matters to consider. Back during the days of her father’s troubles, she’d already learned one hard truth: without money, there was no talk of dignity; with money, at the very least, she and Xiao Taozi need not live a life of displacement and hardship.

And leaving Golden Age Film would mean giving up everything she currently had.

That was too great a risk.

This was an area where she could not afford to lose. No one understood better than she did how difficult it had been to get to where she was today; every step going forward, she had to remain just as cautious.

But she’d forgotten — sometimes, life offers no middle ground between compromise and resistance; once you compromise once, you may well compromise a second time, a third time, and on, without end.