“Achoo! Achoo!”
“Who’s whispering about me?”
On the drive from the Capital Airport toward the city, Chen Qi sat in the van sneezing like crazy and said, “It must be my enemies. They curse me every day — if I sneeze I’ll die.”
“Why can’t it be your wife muttering your name?” Xu Ke asked.
“No way. She wouldn’t even stand by and let me sneeze,” Chen Qi said.
Tch!
Xu Ke made a face as if he’d been grossed out and said, “Honestly, you two have gone far enough. Look at those people in Hong Kong — whether married or not, it’s a mess. Men and women running around on each other, a tangle you can’t sort out.”
“You mean you too?” Chen Qi teased.
“What does that have to do with me!” Xu Ke looked a little guilty.
He’d had his share of scandals; the worst was the ambiguous relationship with Ye Qianwen.
Ye Qianwen’s earliest film contract had been signed at Xu Ke’s studio.
“You, don’t let Nan Sheng down. She treats you so well.” Chen Qi, as an outsider, didn’t want to meddle too much but still said, “Tomorrow we’re having a meal with the relevant parties to discuss co-producing The Black Hero. If we want big set pieces, we can’t pull it off without the mainland’s help.”
“How far can they help?”