A HITCH IN TIME [287 a 294]

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A HITCH IN TIME

Speaking of family operations, it was around this time that something happened that would in some ways change my life completely, and in other ways, not at all. 

I hadn’t fully recovered from my breakup with Teresa, or at least that’s what I told myself. As a result, I put most of my energy into my work, hardly ever going out. When I did go out, I went with my brothers or with stuntman friends. 

I’d pretty much decided that romance was not a priority in my life, and despite all the gossip that still went on in the Chinese newspapers—they’re never happy unless they’re reporting that someone is having an affair with someone, or breaking up with someone else—the truth is, I was leading a pretty boring existence. 

Well, relationshipwise, anyway. 

Now, back in 1981, when I was on my way back from the U.S., I’d stopped off in Taiwan, thinking that I might have the chance to see Teresa. Unfortunately, she was on tour at the time, so I used my layover to visit other people instead. While I was there, a friend of mine named Zhou Xianglin invited me to attend a party. Despite my objections—I wasn’t all that interested in making cocktail party chatter, and I didn’t have that much time before I had to go back to Hong Kong—I eventually bowed to my friend’s wishes and came to his house. 

Zhou greeted me like a lost brother at the door, and quickly escorted me into his living room, which was filled with beautiful, well-dressed men and women. I recognized most of them as actors and actresses; some of them were big stars in Taiwan. 

“Attention, attention,” said Zhou, briskly getting the room’s notice. “Does everyone know who this is? This is Jackie Chan—Hong Kong’s second Bruce Lee!”

I groaned to myself at Zhou’s introduction—first, because it put me on the spot in front of all these beautiful people, and second, because I’d just come back from months and months of being labeled the next Bruce Lee by ignorant American reporters. 

It made me want to sink into the floor, out of sight, and away from possible humiliation. No such luck. Zhou then went around the room, introducing me to each of his guests in turn.

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“Hello,” I said. “Jackie Chan. Nice to meet you. Hello.” The faster I could go through the crowd, the sooner I could leave, I figured. 

And then Zhou came to a woman whose introduction stopped me in my tracks. 

“And Jackie, this is Lin Feng-jiao,” he said. “Have you ever heard of her?”

Who hadn’t? She was one of Taiwan’s top actresses, reputedly the most beautiful woman in the country. It was often said in Taiwan’s movie industry that “the two Chins and the two Lins divide the world.” The two Chins were handsome male actors (one of them was Charlie Chin, whose wedding I’d assisted with and who would soon be my costar); the two Lins were beautiful female actresses. One of the Lins was Brigitte Lin Ching-hsia, who later became a screen icon in Hong Kong. (She later appeared in one of my movies, too—Police Story, one of my most successful films ever.)

The other was Lin Feng-jiao. And her looks put even Lin Ching-hsia’s statuesque beauty to shame. 

“Of course I’ve heard of you,” I said to her, stammering slightly. “I’m a big fan of yours—I’ve seen several of your movies.” 

Lin’s personality was sweet and demure; she was described by the Taiwanese press as the perfect “girl next door,” if you happened to live next door to a beauty queen. Her cheeks turned rosy at my compliment, and she looked away in a charmingly shy manner as she responded. “I’ve seen many of your movies, too,” she said. “Your martial arts are so impressive. I wish I could do something like that.” 

“Really?” I said earnestly. “I could show you some moves—it’s not always as hard as it looks.” 

Lin smiled, and bunched up her fists in a mock kung fu stance. I gently corrected the position of her arms, saying, “Be careful—you could really hurt someone this way, you know.” She burst into giggles. 

Seeing us occupied with one another, Zhou slipped away to rejoin his other guests, leaving us to talk late into the evening—almost too late for me to make my plane. 

“It was nice to meet you,” I said. 

She nodded. “It was very nice to meet you, too.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Maybe if I come to Hong Kong” 

“Or maybe when I come back to Taiwan.” 

We shook hands, and I got into my car and raced to the airport. 

I never thought I’d see her again. 

I couldn’t have been more wrong if I’d tried. 

After the completion of Winners and Sinners, while I was working with Edward on the script to Project A, I found myself in Taiwan again, checking out locations for possible shoots.

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The thought crossed my mind that maybe Lin Feng-jiao might be around; despite my vow to avoid romance, any opportunity to be with a girl as lovely as she was was not to be missed. I called her up, out of the blue, and was surprised and happy when she was as enthusiastic about seeing me as I was about seeing her. 

Our dinner together was fantastic. In addition to being lovely and gently, she was very down to earth and had not much interest in the kind of luxurious things that Teresa had always loved. Despite the fact that I was still very rough and immature, she went out of her way to put me at ease, never correcting my pronunciation or grammar or etiquette, and ordering the same thing that I ordered, even when I had no idea what the fancy menu said. 

Something about her just made me feel comfortable. She let me be myself, and she seemed to like me for who I was. I think that on her side she found me different from the guys who usually asked her out— the handsome, suave actors and businessmen who always knew exactly what to say, how to dress, and how to act. Even though I’d improved a lot from when I was with Teresa, I was still full of wild stories and crazy ideas. We had several dinner dates together before I headed back to Hong Kong, and each one was more fun than the last. When I realized it was finally time to go, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. But Edward was finishing the script for Project A, and work, as always, came first. 

“I still haven’t had a chance to give you those kung fu lessons,” I joked to her as I said good-bye. 

She playfully punched me in the shoulder, and it felt like a butterfly’s kiss. “Well, I guess I know who to call if I ever need to learn how to fight,” she said. “Or other things.” 

I smiled. “Or other things.”

So we went our separate ways again, still not knowing when we’d see each other next. But I couldn’t get the thought of her out of my mind. It wasn’t the way it had been with my first love, or with Teresa—I didn’t dream about her in a passionate way. It just felt as if there was something missing when we were apart. Like something about her completed me.

I threw myself into preproduction for Project A, putting Feng-jiao out of my mind. Samo had heard I’d gone on some dates with her and bugged me for more information. Every time he asked, I told him that nothing had happened, that she was very sweet, but not my type.

“We’re just friends, okay?” I said, as he made moon-eyed faces in my direction. “I probably won’t even see her again.”

He made a rude noise. “Sure, Little Brother. Whatever you say.”

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Then one day, I got a phone message at our production office. “It’s your girlfriend,” said Samo, his eyes dancing with mischief. “She wants you, oh, she wants you.”

I kicked in his direction and he dodged my foot. “Gimme the message.” 

The note said that Feng-jiao had called me looking for help. I immediately dropped what I’d been doing, which was talking with my stuntmen about some ideas I had for the movie, and called her back.

“Hi, Feng-jiao?” I said, as I was transferred to her line. She was at her studio, about to begin a new movie, so I had to navigate through a couple of different receptionists before I finally got to her. 

“Hi, Jackie,” she said. “Remember what you promised me before?”

 My mind went blank. What had I promised her? “Uh... which promise?” 

She laughed. “To teach me how to do martial arts,” she said. “Sifu, I need help!” She went on to explain how the film she was doing had some action sequences—not fighting, but stunt work—and that she was going to be doing them herself. They weren’t very dangerous stunts, but she knew she’d need training in how to use protective padding and how to keep from getting hurt. 

“Is that all?” I said. “Don’t worry, you’ve called the right guy. I’ll see you tonight!” 

Before she could protest that she didn’t want to cause me trouble, I said good-bye and hung up. Samo had drifted over to where I was talking on the phone and was looking at me with disapproval. “You’ll you see her tonight? What about the stunt meeting?” he said. 

I shrugged at him coolly. “We’ll have it on the plane,” I said. “Come on guys, pack up; we’re going to Taiwan.” 

Samo exploded. “What? You’re taking the stunt team with you?”

I ignored him and started instructing different stuntmen on what equipment we’d have to bring. Finally, Samo threw up his hands and helped the stunt team gather their things. “All I can say, Brother, is that if this is the kind of thing you do for your friends, I can only imagine what you do for your girlfriends,” he grumbled. 

That evening, the entire Jackie Chan Stuntman Organization and I showed up on the set of Lin Feng jiao’s movie, without warning or notice. 

The director had a fit. “What are you doing here? How come you didn’t let us know you were coming?” 

I was the biggest star in Asia, and my arrival anywhere was newsworthy. To descend suddenly on a movie being shot by a studio I had no connections to, with my entire stunt team—well, it was like an invasion from another planet.

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But who was going to stop me? 

My guys and I took over the production for several days, showing Feng-jiao exactly what to do in her stunt sequences, and lending her and the other actors our equipment. 

And then it was time for us to leave. 

“Thank you very much,” she said. “You kept your promise.”

I grinned. “I do my best.”

“Does that mean I won’t see you anymore?” she said. “I mean, now that you’ve done your job?”

“It wasn’t such a bad job?” I said. “And don’t bet on not seeing me again.”

Well, let’s just say that I did see her again. A lot.

Though I was shooting in Hong Kong, I’d take off on weekends, fly to Taiwan, and spend time with Feng-jiao.

It was almost perfect.

That is to say, it was perfect for me, and nearly perfect for her. We enjoyed each other’s company when we were together, and at the end of each weekend, I went back to Hong Kong and back to work—free and happy. But even though she wasn’t the kind of girl to complain, it slowly dawned on me that our relationship wasn’t enough for her. She was a very traditional woman, with traditional expectations. And the Taiwanese papers were beginning to write rumors about our relationship: was I seeing her seriously, or just playing around? Would I marry her, or was I simply having fun? What were my intentions? 

She was one of Taiwan’s most popular actresses, and as much as they liked me there, they also knew my reputation, as a wild boy who worked too hard, who didn’t know the meaning of the word commitment. I knew the rumors were hurting her, but she never said a word. 

Finally, I surprised her one day by leaving the production of Project A behind and flying to see her in the middle of the week. When I walked onto the set, she was filming a scene; as soon as she saw me, she ran to embrace me, before the director even had the chance to say, “Cut.” 

“Get him off the set!” the director shouted, enraged that I’d interrupt while the cameras were rolling. 

I held up one hand and looked sternly in his direction. “I’m sorry about making trouble, sir, but I have to borrow your star for a few minutes.”

The director shook his fists at me. “You can’t do this!”

“Hmm. Well, just watch me,” I said, grabbing Feng-jiao’s hands and pulling her away and out of the soundstage.

Her eyes were huge and a little bit frightened.

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“Jackie, what are you doing here?” she said, wondering if something were wrong. “I didn’t expect you until Saturday—is there trouble on your set?”

“I have something important to ask you,” I said.

Her eyes widened even further. I’m sure she thought I was going to tell her that our relationship was over. I guess, if I could do it all over again, I would have tried to make things more romantic. But it was difficult for me, the decision I’d made. I’d agonized for weeks about what to do, and finally I’d realized that if I were going to be a real man, I had only one choice. As soon as I came to that realization, I’d headed for the airport—knowing that the longer I waited, the harder it would be.

“What is it, Jackie?” she said, her lip trembling.

I let go of her hands and faced away. “Feng-jiao,” I said, my throat feeling dry. “You know I’m not a very good guy. I don’t think I can ever be good enough for a woman as nice as you...”

I heard her sob, and I turned back toward her, to see her put her hands to her face. Tears were making her makeup run, and she looked as if she were about to run away at any second.

“No! Don’t cry, Feng-jiao,” I said, beginning to panic. “Just listen to what I’m saying!”

She continued to sob, and I reached over to try to wipe away her tears. “Feng-jiao, all I’m trying to say is, do you think I have to change? Be a different kind of guy?”

She shook her head. “Why should you have to change?” she said. “You never fooled me about the way you are; I just wanted to be with you anyway.”

It was true. I hadn’t tried to be anything I wasn’t around her, and still, she cared about me. What other woman would be so kind? Who else could deal with my personality and lifestyle?

When I’d started to see her, I’d opened a certain door in myself—one I’d never really shown to anyone else. And she, in turn, had not held back anything, remaining devoted to me despite my absences and despite my wild reputation.

If you start a movie, you have to finish it. All things change eventually, and all phases in life must pass. She’d said to me when we first started seeing each other that she’d never try to change me, and even now, with the whole world gossiping about her, she was holding to her vow.

It was time for me to change myself.

Even if I couldn’t be the man of her dreams, at least I could stop being the irresponsible wild boy. I could give her the security and the comfort and the commitment that a traditional girl like her wanted from her man.

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“Feng-jiao,” I said, taking both of her hands again. “Marry me.” 

She let out a gasp. 

I went down on one knee. 

“Marry me!” 

And so, the following weekend, in 1983, under a veil of extreme secrecy, Feng-jiao and I flew to Los Angeles, California, and got married. The only person to attend the ceremony was Willie, who served as my best man and gave Feng-jiao away. 

Soon after completing her film, Feng-jiao announced that she was retiring from acting, sending waves of anger and distress through the media. Many people thought, somehow, that it was my fault, and I guess in some ways it was. 

We’d thought about making our marriage public, but were warned by Willie and Leonard that any such announcement could have unusual consequences. They were right: when a publication in Japan finally printed the rumor that I’d gotten married, a young Japanese girl threw her body in front of a subway and killed herself. Another girl flew to Hong Kong and came to the offices of the JC Group, taking poison in front of Willie and a horrified bunch of staffers. She was rushed to the hospital and saved. 

I’d never thought of myself as a marquee idol, like a pop singer or a romantic leading man. Still, I had a lot of fans, and it was impossible to say what people’s reactions would be. Besides, Feng-jiao had no interest in being a part of the celebrity love scene, with photographers following us around and making trouble. When, a year later, our son Jackson was born, we decided that we would raise him outside of the media spotlight and do our best to keep our personal lives personal. 

Of course, what this has meant is that some people have continued to talk about us. The gossip columns always print rumors that I was seen kissing this actress, or fooling around with that singer. It’s ridiculous. If I actually did all of the things that the newspapers say I do, I wouldn’t even have the time or energy to make movies. 

The truth is, fifteen years after we got married, Feng-jiao and I are still together, and still happy, and our son is devoted to both of us. Our marriage may seem nontraditional, at least by American standards, but what matters is that it works. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like, but when we’re together, we’re a family. 

I’ve been in Hollywood and I’ve been in New York and I’ve been in places all around the world. I’ve seen how many couples are. In America, people marry, spend one passionate year together, and then get a divorce.

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Feng-jiao and I spend months and months apart from one another, and lead very independent lives. On the other hand, we’ve been together fifteen years, and I believe we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. 

So you tell me:

Which is better?