Less than a meter into the room stands a large wooden board, plastered with movie posters of various sizes, with the largest featuring Wang Zuxian.
On the left side of the board is a passageway where you can enter, provided that you have purchased a ticket at the small table to the right.
Behind the desk sits a woman in her early thirties, clad in a red tank top and jeans, tall and slim. Her top’s low neckline reveals the floral butterfly tattoo on her collarbone.
Currently, with a cigarette in her left hand and paging through a beeper with the right, she doesn’t even bother to look up as she asks, "How many of you?"
"Four, Sister Mei. It’s been a while since we last saw you; you’ve become more beautiful again."
"Sister Mei, isn’t your husband around? Are you tending the shop alone today?"
Panzi and Leizi pay while making chitchat and compliments.
In reality, they aren’t particularly familiar with Sister Mei, but since they’re at an age neither entirely adults nor teenagers, a little sweetness in their words and understanding the art of flattery would allow them, during less busy times, to stay for an extra movie or two on one ticket.
After taking the money, Sister Mei puts it in the drawer and hands out four tickets while blowing smoke rings, cursing:
"Who knows where that son of a bitch has gone off to today?"
Sister Mei’s man is nicknamed Leopard, a well-known local hoodlum in town, referred to as Brother Leopard.
Without such a background, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Sister Mei, a woman, to run a video hall .
Having got their tickets, Li Zhiyuan and Run Sheng follow Panzi and Leizi through the passageway on the left; the wooden board not only sections off the path but also blocks any doorway light.
Inside is a fairly spacious area with low benches placed in a circle, resembling a makeshift movie theater.
In the past, local movie theaters relied on group tickets from state-owned factories and institutions, as well as being temporary event stages to keep up the popularity. Now, gradually losing its public enterprise nature, it’s inevitably declining.
This decline has created the opportunity for private video halls like Mei’s to sprout and spread rapidly.
Under the north wall is a long counter with an old color TV on top and a VCR below it.
Run Sheng, much excited, whispers to Li Zhiyuan, "Xiao Yuan, this TV is much bigger than the one Grandmaster bought yesterday."
Li Zhiyuan chuckles in response, "No matter how big this is, everyone watches it together. At home, even if it’s smaller, you watch it by yourself."
Run Sheng nods, "That’s the truth. But after night, all the channels would freeze on one screen with a ’beep’ sound. I almost thought the new TV was broken after buying it, scared me to death, glad it’s back on in the morning."
"Brother Runsheng, maybe the TV station staff need to rest at night too."
"Yeah," Run Sheng laments, "It’s a shame, can’t they just work night shifts?"
"Brother Runsheng, let’s take a seat."
Though it’s the afternoon, there are already some people seated; the movie currently playing is "Prison on Fire," starring Zhou Runfa and Liang Jiahui.
The film is only halfway through.
Unless there’s a major interruption, the screening times are fairly fixed, so the moment Panzi and the others chose to enter with their tickets was deliberately timed to catch part of the movie for free.
The teenagers don’t get much pocket money, so they’ve learned to stretch every penny and maximize their entertainment with minimal spending.
Li Zhiyuan also notices in the southeast corner of the video hall, there’s a mysterious door covered with curtains, not likely used for cooking as there’s no smell of grease.
Even though it’s halfway through, it doesn’t prevent the audience from getting quickly absorbed into the movie plot.
Time flies during the viewing, accompanied by the trademark desolate and nostalgic camera language of Hong Kong cinema at that time, the movie ends.
In fact, before it concludes, Sister Mei comes in and stands by the TV set, not caring about breaking the atmosphere, announcing that the next movie will be "A Better Tomorrow," and those who want to stay for it should get ready.
After it ends, a few people leave with things to do, but most choose to buy additional tickets.
Sister Mei’s gaze sweeps over Panzi and the rest without saying anything, essentially acknowledging that they paid for this showing.
"A Better Tomorrow" starts playing.
Hong Kong cinema is in its heyday at this moment, not only dominating the entire Chinese-speaking cultural circle but also having a tremendous influence in Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia.
The videotapes in the video hall mainly feature Hong Kong movies, with occasional foreign films that all have rather suggestive covers.
However, having just watched one Brother Fa film and now watching another, Li Zhiyuan feels somewhat disconnected.
This feeling is just like in the past when the older boys in the residential compound, to thank him for helping with their homework, insisted on dragging him to watch a whole day of "King of Beasts Golion."
They fast-forwarded through the opening and closing titles of each episode, which when normally watched at a rate of one per day, was indescribable happiness. But after binge-watching, only aesthetic fatigue remained from the repeated patterns and formulas.
Leizi had stepped out earlier to change tapes and returned from the nearby store with four bottles of soda, one for each person.
Earning money from hauling bricks at the kiln wasn’t much, and their parents had taken half of that, leaving just enough for expenditures .
Just fifteen minutes into the movie, four young men walk in, the leader of whom is not bothered by the heat, wearing an ill-fitting suit vest, while the other three have their shirts off, draped over their shoulders, exuding an air of ruffians.
Puffing on cigarettes with loud voices, they also intentionally let out exaggerated laughter during their conversation.
They must have seen this movie before, chatting while spoiling the plot and routinely peppering their sentences with profanities, both at the beginning and the end.