Chapter 7: Call Time

Wenxin's call sheet said two in the afternoon.

At twenty past seven in the morning she was standing in the middle of the Bund set in full makeup, and the sun was already above the rooftops.

Sixty crew members were looking at her.

The director was looking at the sky.

"The exterior needs dawn light," he said, very evenly. "We had forty minutes of it. We had it at six."

"My sheet says two o'clock," Wenxin said.

She held up her phone. The updated sheet was at the top of her messages, timed at midnight, forwarded from the production office.

The director read it, and his face changed.

"That's not the sheet I issued," he said. "Somebody sent you the afternoon version."

"Who forwarded it?"

"Your group chat," the first assistant director said. "Xiaotong passed it along. The Gu Group's office sent it to her first."

Xiaotong, at the edge of the set, put both hands over her mouth.

"Wenxin-jie, I didn't check it," she said. "Auntie's assistant sent it to me, I just pressed forward. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Wenxin said.

She found that she meant it, again. Xiaotong's eyes were wet and honest.

The director rubbed his forehead. A day on this set cost more than Wenxin earned in two years, and he said so, not unkindly.

Thirty people stood in a half circle, waiting to learn whose fault it was.

Wenxin looked at the sky, at the empty street, at the rented 1930s tram parked on its rails.

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