Chapter 3
Two and a half years later in Los Angeles, CA
WHY WASWalter hyperventilating?
Bing Wen Hao narrowed his eyes as he peered across the soundstage at his friend and business partner. He’d always been hyperaware of Walter’s physical and mental state, and now was no different. It was a carryover from when they’d first met in China and Bing had realized just how attractive Walter was. Beneath his good looks and humble attitude, Walter was an artist in the truest sense of the word. He was brilliantly creative, highly intelligent, and unfortunately sometimes suffered from the self-doubt that tended to haunt true creators.
He was also unfailingly kind, which made him a lodestone for Bing’s lust. Years ago, in a moment of weakness, he’d allowed a kiss between them—a kiss that still haunted his dreams. But homosexuality was an unforgiveable sin in China, and so Bing had torn himself away, locked his feelings down tight, and thought no more of it.
Or so he’d told himself. Instead of lovers, they’d become friends and then business partners. And even if he often wished things were different, nothing could ever induce him to risk their business relationship. Finally, after years of work, their dream of making a movie about Red Wolf’s origin was coming true. It could establish Bing as a serious actor and Walter as a talented screenwriter. They’d both get their SAG cards—that alone made it worth it. Those with SAG cards made good money in Hollywood. Anyone else was paid peanuts.
Except Walter was acting as if his world was ending, and Bing had no idea why. Filming was to begin tomorrow.
Bing headed to the soundstage door, about to greet their most important investor, while on the other side of the soundstage, Walter’s hands shook as he used his inhaler. Fortunately the medicine worked, and soon Walter was breathing freely. Better yet, their gazes connected across the vast space, and the two shared a moment of mutual reassurance, though Walter’s gaze remained troubled.
Something was up, but Bing didn’t have time to find out what before the investor arrived. His fingers tingled with excitement as he walked, and he clenched them at his sides, though he allowed himself a small smile. Sometimes emotions were acceptable, and this was one of those times. His teacher, mentor, and the man who was more of a father to him than his own had been had arrived. He’d come to see the first days of filming Red Wolf’s origin story, which featured none other than Bing Wen Hao in the starring role.
It was all thanks to Grand Master Wu, the man who had taught him kung fu, who had brought him into his home when his parents couldn’t afford to stay in Beijing, and who was so powerful in the Chinese television industry that he decided who got a part in any kung fu production… and who did not. He had also said the right words to the right people, which allowed Walter and Bing to produce Red Wolf’s origin story. Even Yaz had been unable to wrest the film rights back from the Chinese production company, but Grand Master Wu had come through for them.
Bing and Walter had sunk every dollar they had into the production, including both of their families’ savings. They’d found cast and crew, plus studio space in Los Angeles, and would start shooting tomorrow morning. And now Grand Master Wu would see Bing’s great moment.
It was enough to make him grin, though his mentor wouldn’t approve. So instead, he schooled his features into a warm smile that brightened even further when he saw that Grand Master Wu had also brought his son Kong. Though the son stood behind his father, his head slightly dipped, Bing knew Kong intimately. They’d lived as brothers starting at the age of eleven, when Bing had been brought into the Wu household. Eventually they’d become adult roommates in a tiny apartment and finally lovers, starting one drunken New Year’s night. It had been a relationship filled with shame and fear of discovery, but it had been real.
There was no hope of rekindling their romance. That had ended the second Bing met Walter. But he was glad he’d get to talk with Kong again.
“Welcome, Grand Master Wu and Master Wu,” Bing intoned, greeting them both in the formal way with his right palm set to the back of his left hand. He extended them both together as he bowed. “I am so pleased that you could visit. Come, come, I have tea waiting in the conference room.”
The conference room contained nothing more than a beat-up dining room table that Walter had found at a garage sale, but it worked, and Bing had purchased special tea for this occasion.
“Is this how you appear before me?” Grand Master Wu said with a sharp bite in his voice. “Hiding your true face like a coward?”
Bing’s head snapped up, and his back tightened. He wasn’t hiding his face; he’d come from makeup, where they’d been making decisions on his look for the movie. And yes, his vanity told him he looked good right now, so he’d left it on because he’d wanted to honor his mentor with his best appearance.
But he knew better than to contradict the grand master’s words. He spoke in a soothing tone. “My apologies for my appearance. I was delayed and did not properly prepare.” It was a complete lie, but that was what one did with an elder. Especially one who was like a father to him. He glanced at Kong, trying to share a WTF look, but the man had his gaze lowered and his hands clasped before him.
Unease shivered through Bing, souring his mouth. Something was wrong here, which was strange because Grand Master Wu had been happy moments ago. He knew because Bing had spent years tracking the changes in posture and tone that reflected the old man’s mood. When the elder man had arrived on the set, there had been a gleeful hop to his step.
Whatever was wrong, there was nothing for Bing to do except ride it out. And nothing—not even a grumpy old grand master—was going to dull the shine of his accomplishment. Filming would start tomorrow. He wanted to shout the words from the middle of the set just to hear them echo back to him.
“Tell me what you’d like to do now, Grand Master,” Bing said, hoping to cajole his mentor out of his grumpy mood. “Would you like to see the sets? We have the palace and the teahouse finished. We will start filming in those tomorrow. Or we could chat in the conference room over tea. I think you will be surprised by the blend.”
“Nothing in the West surprises me,” the grand master griped in a tone that indicated his disdain for everything outside of China. Grand Master Wu believed that the United States was filled with beach-bunny bimbos and surfer potheads. His favorite insult waslazy American.
“There are good things here,” Bing said gently. It was as far as he could push his mentor, and he wasn’t surprised when the man snorted and turned away.
“I do not want your surprising tea. Show me the work you have done.”
“Gladly, Grand Master,” he said. He escorted them to the palace set, pointing out the details crafted into the tiniest nooks and corners. They had skimped on the construction staff by doing much of the work themselves. There wasn’t one inch of this set that he hadn’t worked on.
His sense of unease grew as they walked around. He expected that the grand master would nod silently in approval as Bing talked of everything that had been done to make the production as authentic as possible to the spirit of Red Wolf. He had worked hard to mix the tenets of traditional Chinese values into Red Wolf’s character, and the movie was meant to teach the viewer about their beliefs as much as it was to entertain. But instead of understanding what he was trying to do, the man pressed for financial details. How much money was spent on paint, on props, on staff? How much of Bing’s wealth was tied up in his success? It was crass to ask about money, and yet the grand master kept pressing for specifics, his mood improving as the dollar amount increased. It was like hewantedto hear that Bing had invested every dollar he had. Hisandhis family’s.
“And what about the contracts for cast and crew? Do you pay them even if shooting does not begin?”
“Yes,” Bing answered with a grimace. “It was the only way to get the people we needed. But do not fear, Grand Master. We begin filming tomorrow. Everything is going exactly as planned.”
The grand master grinned at him, but it was a sly smile, one Bing had never seen before. “I do not fear. Remember, you signed the insurance payout over to me. If the movie is not finished by June, I will make a handsome profit.”
“I remember.”
