Old Tian was none other than Minister Tian. Word had it that because of the fake student scandal, he had been fiercely reprimanded. In turn, Minister Tian lashed out at the leadership of Zhongying's Sanping Han and the executives of Big Scissors.
The chairman of Sanping Han now bore a "temporary" prefix before his title. If this matter couldn't be smoothed over, that "temporary" tag would vanish soon enough—he'd be forced into early retirement.
Li Haoyang scratched his head and said, "It's really just the food here we can't get used to."
"I understand," Gilbert replied with a small smile. "You can always stroll through Chinatown. Just be mindful of your safety—after all, Los Angeles doesn't have good law and order in every neighborhood."
The two students nodded, promising they'd be diligent with their studies.
These days Gilbert often dropped by the set of The Adventures Of Jackie Chan. The main reason was that False hadn't begun shooting yet, so he was keeping a close eye on this production instead.
The earlier fake student incident had stirred up a storm online, casting bad publicity on that side. Those impostors had nearly walked into downtown Los Angeles and ended up surrounded by frenzied fans.
It was worth explaining—gangsters weren't exclusive to Chicago. Los Angeles was much the same, its streets under the shadow of rival factions.
There was a saying about Chicago: "By day, the streets belong to the police; by night, to the gangs."
You could apply the same line to Los Angeles. After all, it was the prototype city for Los Santos in Grand Theft Auto.
Some of the LA gangs counted themselves as Gilbert's fans. They were the very ones who surrounded the fake students.
Gilbert had mentioned this to Old Tian, who was stunned. Thankfully the gangs had been restrained and hadn't stormed the place.
If even a single shot had been fired at one of those fake students, the fallout would've been catastrophic.
Gilbert would never have dared set foot in China again. He'd have been branded one of those who wore a mask of friendliness toward China while harboring a wolf's ambition beneath it.
That would've been devastating to the image he'd carefully cultivated—his entire strategy of harvesting the Chinese market could have collapsed.
Luckily, the LAPD received massive yearly sponsorship from Gilbert, and even the gangster-fans gave him face. Nothing serious happened. Otherwise, it would've been impossible to save face.
When those impostors eventually returned home and heard the people outside their hotel had been armed gang members, they felt a twisted sense of relief.
Alive—that was enough. It could have ended far worse.
Old Tian, unlike the general public, knew more about the true state of North American security. It wasn't nearly as rosy as people imagined. Safety was relative. Only the wealthy districts had real protection.
It wasn't just Gilbert donating yearly to the LAPD—Hollywood stars, powerful directors, and wealthy elites did the same. The unspoken bargain was clear: pay up, and the police would ensure safety where you lived.
That was North America—without money, nothing got done.
Naturally, Old Tian was deeply concerned for the five students' safety. After everything that had already happened, if something befell them now, the consequences would be disastrous.
Gilbert reassured his old friend, giving his word time and again that their safety would be guaranteed.
Because of that, the five of them had hardly explored Los Angeles since arriving. Safety concerns kept them close.
After Gilbert left, the crew reached its third week of filming. They were granted a day off, and Guo Fan's group found themselves idling around the hotel.
That was when Big Brother Cheng Long(Jackie Chan) came by to check in on the young men from the mainland. After all, they shared the same roots, and as their elder, it was his duty to show some concern.
"Brother Cheng Long…" The five of them had been passing time with a game of cards when he arrived. They quickly rose to greet him.
"How's it going? Day off today—didn't go out to play?" Cheng Long asked.
Li Haoyang, ever the honest one, admitted, "The crew told us not to wander off. They said it could be dangerous."
"True enough. Some parts of LA are a mess. Outsiders like you could easily get robbed." Cheng Long nodded gravely, speaking from experience.
Back in 1995, when he first arrived in Los Angeles, he'd known nothing of the streets. He'd nearly been robbed by a gang.
In the end, it was only because a local gang leader had watched Rumble in the Bronx and loved his films that Cheng Long had been spared. They even returned his belongings.
Now, with his fame soaring, such incidents never touched him again.
But Guo Fan, Li Haoyang, and their three companions were a different story. Their broken English made it obvious they had come from halfway around the world. If the wrong gang noticed them, a knife might be drawn before anyone could intervene.
To study abroad only to be injured—or worse, killed—would be a tragedy of the highest order.
Though the consulate and the crew were keeping watch, the five didn't look like the type to always follow the rules. Guo Fan seemed more grounded, but the others? Jackie Chan wasn't so sure.
Seeing them wasting their day off idly, Jackie Chan decided to offer some advice. "Don't go wandering into remote areas. If you want to explore, stick to nearby shopping streets or Chinatown. That's safe enough."
"Thank you, Brother Cheng Long…" the five chorused gratefully.
After he left, the group excitedly began discussing where they should go.
Ma Qiang suggested, "Why don't we check out Chinatown? Grab a proper Chinese meal. I can't take another day of burgers, fried chicken, and steak."
"I heard the Chinese food here is all Americanized—not the same as back home."
"Well, we'll only know if we try, right?"
Guo Fan suddenly said, "You guys go ahead. I'll just wander around nearby."
Li Haoyang tried to persuade him. "But isn't this area just the studio lot? What's there to see? Why not come with us—it'll be more fun together."
"Eh," Ma Qiang waved him off. "If he doesn't want to go, then don't force him. We'll go ourselves."
With that, Ma Qiang shot Guo Fan a glare. This guy really won't give me any face. Doesn't he know who's supposed to be the leader of our group?
Ma Qiang had been angling for that position all along. With only five of them left, he wanted to be the one in charge.
He thought it would be easy—after all, Li Haoyang had already become little more than a bootlicker, following him like a lackey. But Guo Fan wouldn't budge, carrying himself like he was saying outright, We're not the same kind of people.
And in truth, they weren't. Guo Fan had no interest in mixing himself up with Ma Qiang and his crew. Their standing was simply different.
As he left, Li Haoyang cast one last glance at Guo Fan, sighed softly, and then followed after Ma Qiang.
Guo Fan stayed behind, eating the free lunch provided by the hotel, and then strolled aimlessly through the Fox studio lot.
Thanks to his work pass, he had access to most of the grounds. Aside from the active soundstages and storage facilities, he could explore freely. Notebook in hand, he wandered from one stage to the next, jotting down every detail he observed.
Eventually, his steps brought him to soundstages two and three, where the False crew was hard at work.
Clearly, while The Adventures of Jackie Chan was on break, False hadn't paused for a day. Gilbert was almost certainly inside, overseeing everything.
Guo Fan walked up to the entrance and spoke to the guard. "May I go in and take a look?"
"Work pass," the bald-headed guard replied curtly.
Guo Fan showed him his pass. The guard barely glanced at it before shaking his head. "Sorry. You can't go in."
"This pass doesn't work?" Guo Fan asked, surprised. He had assumed the credentials applied across both productions.
"Apologies. Your pass doesn't meet the requirements. Entry not permitted," the staff stationed outside the stage said firmly, still barring his way.
Just then, a voice called out from inside. "Let him in."
Guo Fan turned toward the sound and blinked in surprise. It was Miss Ivanka, Gilbert's assistant, whom he had seen a few times before.
"Miss Ivanka…" Guo Fan greeted her with delight, giving a respectful nod.
Ivanka inclined her head slightly and said, "Come in."
The bald guard stepped aside, letting him pass.
"Thank you," Guo Fan said politely to the guard before following Ivanka inside.
Normally, outsiders weren't allowed anywhere near an active set. Guo Fan had just become one of the rare exceptions.
...
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