The Best Director

Master, Master!” Wang Yang stumbled into the courtyard, looking at the white-haired old man leisurely practicing his punches under the locust tree ahead. With an indignant face, he approached and said, “Master, this time you must teach me some powerful moves! I want to knock all those bastards flat!”

The white-haired old man was wearing a set of gray Tang-style clothing. Although he was of advanced age, his body was still robust, and his wrinkled face was spirited, with a pair of serene and sharp eyes. Hearing the childish voice, he looked over and, sure enough, his youngest disciple was dirty again and had several scratch marks on his face—he had been fighting once more!

He was very fond of little Wang, his grandson-figure, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the kid as his last disciple. The boy not only had an excellent talent for martial arts but was also resolute and clever at a young age, and had a gift for making people happy. A person like this would grow up to be a “worldly man,” no ordinary individual. But there was one thing that gave him an immense headache: the kid could be impulsive and liked to play the hero and get into fights!

Having spent decades in Chinatown, he had seen too many changes and watched too many “worldly men” become gang leaders. Therefore, when Wang’s son came to him to learn boxing, he didn’t agree, fearing the son would stray onto the wrong path. Now, however, times had changed. The boy was studying in a foreign school outside of Chinatown, destined to leave this place. So, he had taken on this disciple, teaching him Kung Fu and the culture of Tangshan…

But if the boy kept up this temperament, he would inevitably suffer. The white- haired old man sighed helplessly, stopped his hands and feet, took a towel from the copper basin stand beside him, and wiped his hands, scolding, “All day you know only to fight recklessly! Not teaching!”

Wang Yang’s face immediately showed a disappointed expression. His eyes roved as he thought quickly and then explained, “No, Master! I was protecting the weak from the strong! There’s a new girl at school, Jessica, and she’s always bullied, so I…” He swung his fists several times and hovered around the old man, smilingly saying, “I helped her chase those bastards away! But there were too many of them, and I got beaten up pretty bad. So you have to teach me higher-level Kung Fu. Like Bruce Lee, aha! I have to thrash them good!”

The white-haired old man looked at him for a long time, then asked, “You’re not lying to me? You were helping someone?” Wang Yang widened his eyes and nodded earnestly, “Yes! How could I dare lie to you, Master! If you don’t believe me, I can bring her here tomorrow to vouch for me! But she’s very shy, and her dad’s pretty tough, not sure if she can come.” The old man suddenly smacked him on the head and said, “You wanted to fight, didn’t you!” Caught with his thoughts laid bare, Wang Yang could only smile sheepishly and rub his head, admitting, “Alittle!”

Speak in Tangshan dialect! I don’t understand foreigners’ language,” said the old man in a stern voice. Wang Yang smiled and nodded, following him towards the house, saying, “But I truly helped her, and she’s very grateful to me, to you as well! Master, please teach me, let me flatten those losers! Isn’t that what learning Kung Fu is for?”

Xiaoyang, we’re not going to war to kill people. Practicing martial arts is only for strengthening the body and improving one’s health,” the white-haired old man told him, looking back seriously. “And remember, there is no such thing as unbeatable Kung Fu. Don’t think you can beat dozens of people; there’s no such technique! Your Bruce Lee is just in the movies.”

Wang Yang nonchalantly shook his head and stretched out eight fingers, saying, “Master, I don’t need to beat dozens of people, beating eight is good enough!” The white-haired old man smiled faintly, turned around and walked into the house, saying, “Not teaching.” Watching the old man’s retreating figure, Wang Yang clenched his teeth and let out a low “ah” sound, swinging his fist and cursing, “Damn old Wu…”

2001, San Francisco.

Rushing out of the Xuelan Theater, Wang Yang and Jessica hurried to Los Angeles International Airport, catching a late flight back to San Francisco. By the time they arrived at the hospital where old man Wu was staying, it was already the early hours of the morning.

Yesterday morning, old man Wu had been alright, having morning tea as usual and playing chess with old friends; then he suddenly fainted in the afternoon. His family urgently called an ambulance to take him to the hospital; the doctors said that his body and multiple organs had failed, and they should be mentally prepared. Old man Wu, having regained consciousness, told his family he knew he was about to die, beyond saving, and asked them to call Wang Yang back to see him one last time.

They all knew that of all the disciples, the old man was most anxious about and most fond of Wang Yang, even more so than his own grandchildren, to the point that the grandchildren would often complain, “Grandfather likes Wang Yang more than he likes me!” Hence, no one dared to neglect the old man’s final request, and they promptly contacted the Wang family, after which Wang’s mother immediately called her son to inform him of the news.

In the hospital corridor’s resting area outside the ward, there were the old man’s eldest disciple, his son and daughter-in-law, and Wu Yue, his granddaughter studying at the University of San Francisco; also present were Wang’s father and mother.

Huff, huff…” Wang Yang, who had run there like a madman, looked at them gasping for breath, sweat dripping from his forehead, his face full of urgency, and for a moment couldn’t speak a complete sentence, “I, I…” Wang’s mother stepped forward and patted her son on the back, saying, “Xiaoyang, your master is still here.” Wang Yang then showed a bitter smile, nodded, and after catching his breath, said, “Uncle Wu, Auntie, Mom and Dad, Yiyeta… what the hell, you should have told me earlier!”

Xiaoyang, we called you back as soon as we could,” Wang’s father said, also patting his son on the shoulder. “Everyone is very sad; don’t act like this.” Uncle Wu and Auntie Wu both let out a sigh, and Wu Yue comforted him, “Yang, grandfather knows about the seven awards you won. He was very happy about it.”

“I’d rather have none.” Wang Yang said softly, his eyes filled with sorrow. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, so why did it suddenly turn out like this! Although it was normal for his master’s advanced age, but… wouldn’t they be able to practice boxing together forever after this? He wiped the sweat from his forehead and, blinking back slightly reddened eyes, he asked, “Can I go in to see him now?” Seeing Uncle Wu nod, he opened the door to the ward and went in.

At this moment, Jessica, who was lagging behind, also quickly arrived. She was still dressed for the award ceremony, having only changed into a pair of jeans. She was slightly out of breath and looked at everyone. Wang’s mother gave her a smile, and said, “Jessie, he is in the ward.” Jessica nodded, her brows knitting slightly.

Wang Yang entered the ward, gently closed the door, and walked softly to the side of the hospital bed. He saw the old man, Wu, lying on his back on the bed, wearing an oxygen mask, with a respirator and other medical equipment by his side. He lay there peacefully sleeping, not very different from usual… Sitting down on a chair, Wang Yang gazed at the familiar, wrinkled old face, feeling very pained. How could a perfectly fine person just die like this?

He held the old man’s rough, aged right hand in his own and softly called, “Master, I’m here. It’s me, Xiaoyang, Ji Fei…” Ji Fei was the courtesy name that the old man gave him on his 18th birthday. Even though he usually forgot that he had such a courtesy name, ever since he turned 18, the old man almost always called him Ji Fei, and only Wang Yang when being serious.

Seeing that the old man was still sleeping, he didn’t call out anymore, just silently watched over him. At that moment, the door to the ward was gently opened; he glanced over before returning his attention to his master. Soon he felt a hand lightly pressing on his shoulder and a gentle voice in his ear, “Yang, the Lord will protect us.” He responded with a low hum, his grip slowly tightening unconsciously.

Is that you, Ji Fei…” The old man Wu slowly opened his eyes, his gaze dull and lacking the vivacity of past days. Wang Yang’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly nodded and replied, “Yes, master, it’s me, I’m right here!” Hearing his voice, the old man’s eyes brightened, becoming clearer, and he pushed away the oxygen mask and said, “Wearing this thing is really uncomfortable.”

Seeing him regain some liveliness, Wang Yang couldn’t help but chuckle, his optimism getting the better of him, “Master, you’re just scaring me, aren’t you? Look at you, full of vigor; you could live several more years! We’ll move you to a better hospital right away, trust me, you’ll be fine!” Although he could barely understand what he was saying, seeing him laugh made Jessica also give a relieved smile.

No need, I know myself, this is just the resurgence of a dying flame,” the frail old man Wu laughed, feeling his body gradually deteriorate but his mind still clear, “I’m already 87, passing away now isn’t so bad, you don’t need to feel sad for me, master.” Wang Yang furrowed his brows, unwilling to believe in any resurgence of a flame, he insisted, “No, master, you’ll be okay!”

Old man Wu looked at his youthful and vigorous face, but saw many visions of him as a young boy. He raised his hand feebly, wanting to touch his face, and said, “In the blink of an eye, you’ve grown up so much.” Wang Yang hurriedly leaned in closer, taking the old man’s hand to his face, and said with a bitter smile, “Yes, master, I’ve grown up. Please live a few more years. Don’t you want to see me and Jessie get married, to see my son, my daughter?”

Hearing her name mentioned, Jessica smiled at old man Wu and said in English, “Master Wu, you must take good care of yourself.” As she listened to Yang seemingly translating her words, she felt a bit guilty and silently made up her mind; she would learn Chinese.

Hehehe!” Old man Wu suddenly laughed weakly, realizing that when a person is about to die, they really do remember a lot of things. He remembered the day when his little disciple pestered him to learn some advanced Kung Fu, saying he wanted to protect a girl… He said, “Ji Fei, is this Jessica the girl you wanted to protect when you were nine? Back then, you fought every day, your eyes swollen…”

Wang Yang nodded, and old man Wu seriously added, “Don’t get into fights anymore, don’t end up in jail again! And no matter whom you marry in the future, your children must not forget their roots; they must know how to speak Tangshan dialect. Wang Yang, do you understand!”

I know, I know.” Wang Yang kept nodding, his face rubbing against the old man’s hand, choking up as he said, “Master, I know, I won’t end up in jail again… I promise you everything.” Seeing him become sorrowful again, Jessica couldn’t help but show her own distress, comfortingly squeezing his shoulder.

Then I can leave this world in peace,” said Old Wu, his expression content. His face, which had been full of life, slowly returned to a pallid, deathly hue. Wang Yang’s eyes turned red, and a surge of sorrow tumbled in his heart. Was his master really going to leave? Old Wu slowly said, “I heard from Xiaoyue that tonight you won some 7 big awards again.”

Wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, Wang Yang nodded with a smile and said, “Yes, Master, many, many awards!”

The old man gave another weak smile. The little guy had not let him down and had become someone remarkable, bringing honor to their Chinese people! With a face full of reminiscence, he spoke, “Back then it was tough. We took a ship to America in big storms, and when we arrived in San Francisco, we didn’t have a penny to our names, chased into Chinatown by those foreign devils… What use was it being good at fighting then? Useless. Wang Yang, seeing you achieve all this now, I have no regrets in dying.”

Master…” Wang Yang’s tears suddenly gushed forth. Old Wu mustered the strength to scold him: “What are you crying for! That’s no way to behave.” Wang Yang sniffled, fighting back the tears in his eyes, and listened as Old Wu continued, “I don’t really understand those films you make, but Xiaoyue says you’re amazing, some kind of miracle director. You’re in the papers, on TV, getting all those fantastic awards… I truly have no regrets in dying, no regrets… You need to keep making those movies well, strive to excel… When we were on the boat, we all said we had to make something of ourselves once we reached America… It was really tough back then, you need to excel, to make good movies, to earn money and win awards…”

Listening to his increasingly incoherent words, and seeing his eyes become cloudy and lifeless, Wang Yang could no longer hold back, and tears poured down uncontrollably as he shouted, “Master, please don’t go, okay?! Just live two more years, just two!” His tears fell on the old man’s wrinkled hand, and he choked out, “I’ll bring you an Oscar to see soon, it’s the most prestigious and remarkable award, okay? I’ll win Best Director, okay? Don’t go… I’ll get Best Director!”

He cried aloud, clenching his master’s hand tightly, crying out, “I’ll win lots and lots, starting the year after next, okay? I promise! Don’t leave, don’t you want to see me do you proud…”

Seeing the one she cared for so deeply unable to pull himself from his grief, Jessica’s eyes also reddened, her hands resting on his trembling shoulders, silently offering him comfort without words.

Xiao Yang…” Old Wu’s face flushed slightly, calling him “Xiao Yang”, a name he hadn’t used for a very long time. It seemed he had become lucid again, but before Wang Yang could rejoice, he heard his master mumble incoherently, “I have no regrets now… You’re married with children, winning some award… You must make something of yourself, no more jail, understand? Remember what you have promised, your promises to me… Once in America, you must make something of yourself, to do well…”

I remember, Master, I’ve promised you…” Wang Yang kept nodding tearfully, watching Old Wu’s pallid face slowly close his eyes. He hurriedly grabbed the oxygen mask and put it back on, crying out loudly, “Help! Doctor, come quickly — ” Jessica swiftly pressed the call button by the bed, then ran outside to seek help.

Old Wu still passed away, perhaps to the underworld, perhaps to heaven, but he left this world forever.

The entire funeral was very solemn and quiet. Since the old man had reached the grand age of 87, his family members, apprentices, and friends were not too distressed. Wang Yang, in a black suit from head to toe, was silent throughout. He watched as Old Wu was laid in the coffin, as the lid was sealed, as the casket was lowered into the ground…

As he personally shoveled earth over the casket, as he saw the tombstone inscribed with Old Wu’s name erected, as he placed fresh flowers beside the gravestone, Wang Yang knew his master was truly gone. The master who had loved him, who was strict yet kind, was gone. He would no longer hear that steady voice; he would no longer see that aged face scolding, encouraging, smiling… All these things could only be sought in memory and photographs.

He now understood what it felt like to lose a dear one—an unbearable mix of grief, sadness, loneliness… Never to be experienced again! And he gained a new appreciation and understanding of the transformed story: After Wikus transformed, his wife and parents, all his dearest people were still alive. But the one who had died was him; he had lost all his dear ones in an instant. How desolate was that?

On the balcony of the hotel apartment, gazing at the half-missing moon in the night sky, Wang Yang fiercely crushed the empty beer can in his hand into a ball and threw it to the ground. Then he opened another bottle and took a few gulps. Suddenly, he faintly heard a scolding in his ear: “Wang Yang, those who practice martial arts must not indulge, you must cherish your body!” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself mockingly, setting the beer on the table beside him and murmuring, “Wu, the old ghost, satisfied now?”

As he fell into silent reverie once again, his phone on the table suddenly started to vibrate with urgency. He grabbed it and saw the name… Natalie Portman. He lay back in the wicker chair, answered the call, and said calmly, “Hello, Natalie.”

Good evening, Yang,” Natalie’s voice sounded very gentle, lacking her usual edge. She spoke sincerely, “I’m really sorry about your master passing away. I’m very sorry. It’s such a sad thing, but please don’t be too heartbroken, okay?” Wang Yang shrugged and twisted his lips, replying into the phone, “It’s nothing, I’m fine. My master was 87, he left this world happily, it’s really okay, I’m fine.”

Natalie chuckled softly and said, “Hmm! That’s reassuring to hear. I know you’re strong.” At her words, Wang Yang smiled faintly and said lightly, “Natalie, it’s really strange to hear you speak to me with this tone.”

Natalie gave a little laugh over the phone, and then there was silence between them, neither in the mood for any jokes.

A moment passed, and just as Wang Yang was about to say, “Let’s leave it at that,” Natalie suddenly said, “Actually, Yang, maybe I shouldn’t bring it up, but today… um, today’s my birthday.”

Wang Yang immediately felt a jolt. Today was her birthday? He then remembered, indeed today was her 20th birthday. A few days ago, she invited him to come to New York for her birthday celebration and to not bring Jessica… But then his master had passed away. He sighed, shaking his head; twenty was not a joyful memory for either of the two girls who liked him.

He put on a faint smile and wished her, “Hmm, happy birthday, Natalie. Anyway, he was unable to feel happy at the moment. Natalie chuckled again and said, “Buddy, I’m going to save that wish. Then when you’re feeling better, I’ll take it out and use it then. It would be a waste now since your voice can’t cheer me up.”

Wang Yang no longer pretended, his tone remaining even as he said, “Yeah, save it for now.” Natalie replied, “OK, buddy, goodnight then!” Wang Yang said goodnight and ended the call. Looking at that distant moon, he remembered Wu’s last words and the promise he made to himself—he wouldn’t go to jail again, he would make an effort to do well.

As for winning the most incredible, impressive Oscar award for Best Director two years later—did that count as one of his promises? Wang Yang blinked and thought, if he had promised his master, then he must try his best! He absolutely had to make District 9 the best it could be, every detail of the story and each line of dialogue needed extensive work, as did the acting, the visual scenes, editing, and music… he had to give it two, three hundred percent!

Of course, whether he’d promised his master or not, he would have done it anyway, he always had.

And as for the Oscars, regardless of the award, there were always inside and outside factors to consider, but first and foremost, you need a great film with persuasive power—that was the ticket to entry. If District 9 could make the audience and film critics alike give a thumbs up, saying, “If it doesn’t make it to the Oscars, it’s a disgrace to America,” then he’d have a shot at that Oscars ticket, a chance to fulfill his promise.

Yet even with a ticket, winning would clearly be very difficult. Whether it was District 9’s sci-fi genre, R-rated Cult style; or his age, skin color, and experience—all considered together, then expecting those old folks at the Academy to hand him the Oscar for Best Director? It was nearly a fool’s dream, an impossible task.

Ha ha!” Wang Yang laughed, shaking his head, telling himself not to think about what might or might not be possible. Pondering these things was foolish. What he needed to do now was to make the story he wanted to tell great and secure that entry ticket. He chuckled and shouted into the night sky, “Hey, master, even though you didn’t stick around, I will show it to you! Just in two years’ time! Okay?”

At that moment, Jessica, who had just finished showering and was dressed in a set of pajamas, walked out. She kissed him on the face and sat down in the wicker chair next to him, asking, “Yang, what were you just saying?” Wang Yang laughed and said, “Just some nonsense.” He turned to look at her face and suddenly felt inspired, “Jessica, let me tell you about some funny things my master used to do… um, back when I was ten…”

Jessica wore a sweet smile, looking at him now lively and animated, listening quietly to the stories he told.