Self-Confession Notebook

Author: Liu Xiaoqing
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-04-01
Features: A woman with a thousand faces and countless styles on screen, yet leaving audiences full of suspense in real life. She once moved the hearts of hundreds of millions with a frown or a smile, and her every move once stirred great waves. After the storm, do you want to hear an honest confession from Liu Xiaoqing? "Liu Xiaoqing Collection" includes two books: one titled "Confessions," which contains her 1995-published "My Confessions: From Film Star to Billionaire Businesswoman"; and another titled "The Road," which collects her previously published "My Path" and "These Eight Years," as well as selected content from her "Xiaoqing Mailbox" column in the magazine .
Excerpt: On my first "performance tour," two unexpected guests arrived at the Xiyuan Hotel where the production team was staying. They were here to ask me to perform, in Handan, Hebei. I bluntly refused and treated them very poorly. They didn’t get angry. It seemed my reaction was exactly what they expected. They said the evening show had invited all the famous actors in China, and their task was to make sure I performed. I shook my head firmly and decisively. They exchanged glances, and then one of them suddenly said, "The Handan performance will pay me 50 yuan per show." Fifty yuan! That was a huge sum. "And four days of performances, 25 shows each day," the man continued. Twenty-five shows, 50 yuan each! Although my mind was still trying to process it, I realized in my heart that this was a substantial amount of money. Recently, rumors had been circulating in the arts world about performance troupes secretly paying actors 2 yuan per show. When I first heard the news, I thought 2 yuan was already too much, but now they were offering me 50 yuan per show. Fifty yuan was a lot—it was almost my monthly salary. But what would I perform? And I didn’t even have clothes to wear; it would be humiliating enough. Besides, I was filming a movie at the time, and I was the lead actress. The production team would definitely not let me go—even if I agreed, it would be useless. "No. Forget it." I shook my head again and stood up to see them off. Back then, the temptation of money wasn’t as great for me. "We’ll come back tomorrow." The two men left. I continued filming, just as frustrated and poor as before, still craving chicken but having none, still sleeping on my makeshift bed. They didn’t come back the next day. The third day, they arrived. Seeing them, I once again put on a cold, indifferent demeanor. I had already forgotten the negotiation from the previous day. The initial thrill had completely vanished. As the impulsive person I was, I had to seize the opportunity while it was hot. If I waited too long, it would be too late. They continued to persuade me tirelessly, exhausting their eloquence. I still shook my head, shook my head, my head swaying like a rattle. It made me dizzy just watching my own head sway. They didn’t stop, quickly and firmly telling me that the local offer was 150 yuan per show if I agreed. I paused for two seconds. Under such a heavy reward, no one could remain silent. I immediately nodded and agreed. Then we sat down to discuss the details—how to travel, and more importantly, how the money would be paid. Since every other actor was paid 50 yuan, I would receive 150 yuan, and the confidentiality had to be absolute. Finally, the only issue left was my leave. Which day could I perform? Including the round-trip travel time, it would take six days. I told them to wait for my notice. After they left, I lay in bed pretending to sleep for a while. My mind was buzzing with excitement, my heart racing. I had never done anything like this before. Was this unjust wealth? Should I take it? But no matter how I looked at it, the money, the whole situation—it was all incredibly stimulating. I jumped out of bed and went to find the assistant director. He was a teacher at the Film Academy, and we had a close personal relationship. I told him the whole story, emphasizing that it was "well-paid" and asked him to make sure my schedule was cleared. I knew it would be very difficult for him, but I had to go. After much pleading, he reluctantly agreed.
The train moved forward. Thump! Thump! It was just like any other train ride. The actors participating in the performance were crammed into soft-sleeper compartments, chatting and laughing heartily. Many great beginnings start with the ordinary and the mundane. Thirteen years later, thinking back to that trip to Handan, I always felt that train was carrying us toward the cave filled with treasures in Alibaba’s palace. In Handan, we sang together the spell that opened the treasure chest: "Sesame, open up!"
In the compartment, Wang Jieshi, Xie Lisi, Jiang Kun, Li Wenhua, Tang Jiezong, Su Xiaoming, and Lü Wenke—all of them the most famous and popular actors at the time—were all there. After greeting everyone, we exchanged knowing glances, feeling a bit embarrassed. Usually proud and aloof in the arts world, I was now just an ordinary person in the eyes of the actors, willing to work for five, feeling truly ashamed. Unlike my usual aggressive and flamboyant personality, I quietly found my bunk and sat down, only coming to my senses after a while. Opposite me sat Xie Lisi, my hometown friend from Sichuan. Her duet with Wang Jieshi had been wildly popular across the country at the time.
"What will I perform?" I asked her. "You can do the opening remarks," she replied after thinking for a while. "It’s just making money, not filming a movie," I told myself. But someone else was already handling the opening remarks, and I had been told so before leaving.
"You should sing," Xie Lisi enthusiastically suggested. "With so many singers here, why not you?" I exclaimed. Xie Lisi quickly comforted me, "It’s different. Everyone loves to hear you sing."
By the time we arrived in Handan, it was noon. We rushed straight to the theater, and the show was about to start. The actors were brushing their teeth, washing their faces, combing their hair, and applying makeup, in a flurry of activity. I still had to find the band leader to discuss the songs we planned to sing on the train. Fortunately, I was a top student from the Music College, and my skills came in handy. I found some paper, put my leg on a stool, and hummed while writing the musical score. After finishing, I made a few copies—three sheets were needed for a band of five.
Just as I handed out the scores to the band, the audience had already entered. The actors were full of enthusiasm and determination, taking the stage one after another. The theater was buzzing with excitement. That energy made me think that the spirit of the Great Leap Forward—when everyone worked with such fervor—must have been like this. Everyone had a clear purpose, knowing why they were doing it.
It was my turn. The theater erupted in thunderous applause. Even film actors in Handan could see the audience’s delight. I bowed and began to sing. My singing career had begun at that moment. After that, my singing skills improved day by day, and I recorded five singing cassettes, one of which, "Liu Xiaoqing’s Songs," won the "Sparrow Award" from the Pacific Audio-Visual Company. My voice was a bit like a chicken’s neck being stepped on—I coughed a few times during the transitions and then saw money flying everywhere. One hundred fifty yuan! A song with less than fifteen lines, ten yuan per line! It was so easy to earn money. After finishing, I bowed again and awkwardly exited the stage amidst sparse applause. Although it felt a bit humiliating, I quickly forgave myself, reminding myself that I was a film actress, not a singer. Then, the excitement of earning 150 yuan quickly took over. Everyone was in high spirits. Everyone knew why. Because the feeling was shared.
One show, two shows, three shows—by the third day, we had already performed four shows. No one complained about being tired. The next day, we started with five shows, performing for three consecutive days. I wrote new scores and sang new songs every day. The applause I received for my performance was far less enthusiastic than when my name was announced. I blamed it on the song choices. The entire show was singing, with only two pairs of crosstalk and even the film actress me singing. The musicians’ hands playing the accordion were swollen, with big bumps on their palms. But no one gave up. No one fled the battlefield. Everyone even asked for more shows. The actors performing in the second half of the show were particularly exceptional. After each performance, they were immediately driven back to the hotel to rest, so they wouldn’t be surrounded by the audience during the changeover. We were like energized by stimulants.
Soon, the last day arrived.