Ah-Ma Burns Movie Poster
A Blessing in Disguise
After the scam, once I had reported it to the police, the very first thing I did was call Maria, my agent.
“Please don’t send me any auditions for now,” I told her.
“I’m not in the mood to act.”
At that time, even forcing a smile in front of a camera felt fake.
Two weeks later, Maria suddenly called me in a rush.
“A director is asking why you didn’t submit your self-tape.”
Since COVID, almost all auditions have been done through self-tapes—actors record themselves at home and send the video to the producers. I deliberately chose not to participate this time. Maria wanted me to give it a try; I originally intended to decline, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no to her, so I reluctantly went ahead and did it.
I never expected what happened next.
The very next day, the director personally called me.
On the third day, he came directly to my house.
He was a young Chinese-American director. The short film he was making was meant to commemorate his grandmother. During her lifetime, she had never spoken about her hardships. Only after his grandfather passed away did he discover her diaries while cleaning out the room.
When he opened those journals, one after another, he finally learned how difficult his grandmother’s life had been.
As he spoke, I looked into his eyes.
It wasn’t the passion of someone chasing fame.
It was something else—a desire to make amends.
He wanted to make up for the regret of never truly understanding his grandmother while she was alive.
The story’s main character was someone crushed by pressure, someone who had almost lost the will to live. There was a scene where the character released all her emotions—crying, shouting, and collapsing.
To be honest, at that time, I didn’t really need to act because the role allowed me to confront my pain directly, making the scene more powerful.
I had just been scammed out of all my savings. The depression and repression inside me felt overwhelming, making me realize how hardships can deeply affect us, which helps the audience feel understood and connected to your experience.
This role became an outlet.
So I said yes.
What I didn’t realize was that by accepting that role, I wasn’t just releasing my emotions. It quietly began to change the direction of my life.
Sometimes I even feel that the appearance of that film was like the appearance of the rose garden—
It suddenly emerged when I was at my lowest point.
I believe everything is in God’s hands.
I simply walk forward along the path He arranges.
The filming only took one week.
After that came the long process of editing, music scoring, and revisions, and I almost forgot about the project entirely.
Six months later, the director called.
“The rough cut is ready. Do you want to come see it?”
I drove to his company and sat down in the screening room.
The lights dimmed.
Within a few minutes, tears were already streaming down my face.
The film felt almost as if it had been written directly from my emotional state at that time.
What surprised me even more was this—
He had cut out one-third of the film.
Almost every scene that wasn’t essential to my character had been removed.
I asked him, “Why?”
He said, “I want the audience to watch you—one hundred percent.”
I thought to myself:
This director is very brave.
It was almost a gamble.
Around that time, my daughter and I went back to Taiwan for ten days.
I suddenly remembered a friend.
Back in 2012, she had told me, “Ten years from now, you will become involved in government matters.”
At the time, I laughed.
“If I’m going to get involved in politics, why wait ten years? I’ll be so much older by then!”
But what actually happened?
After the scam, I found myself frequently traveling to Sacramento, testifying in the State Senate and Assembly, and participating in legislative proposals.
It turned out she hadn’t been joking.
While I was in Taiwan, I called her. We talked for a long time. She gave me a few more predictions.
This time, I didn’t dare dismiss them.
Two days after I returned to California, the producer, Max, called me.
“Do you want to come to the Cincinnati Film Festival? Our film was selected.”
I said yes.
He told me he would email me the program.
Two days later, he couldn’t help but call again: “Why aren’t you reacting? You’ve been nominated for Best Actress!”
I was stunned.
My name was listed alongside several well-known actresses.
All I could say was, “Wow.”
It truly felt like a miracle falling from the sky.
At the festival, Max and I went on stage for a Q&A session with the audience. Later, we continued chatting with people in a park venue nearby.
It was my first time attending a film festival.
What was even more remarkable was this—
Originally, Max hadn’t wanted to cast a professional actress. He wanted someone “real,” someone with a genuine life story. He had already found a woman in the Chinese community to play the role.
But two weeks before filming began, she suddenly became ill and had to withdraw.
With time running out, he had no choice but to return to the traditional audition process.
And that’s when he found me.
Some things truly don’t feel like a coincidence, and setbacks like the scam opened doors I never expected.
In the end, I didn’t win Best Actress at the Cincinnati Film Festival.
But the nomination alone already made me incredibly happy.
Then at the Philadelphia Film Festival, our short film won the Best Short Film Award.
When people at the festival called my name, the feeling was very surreal.
Our short film also won Best Arthouse Short at LA film festival.
Later, because I had to prepare for the lawsuit, I couldn’t attend the Columbus Film Festival.
To my surprise, Max brought back the Best Actress Award for me.
When he told me, I cried. I could hardly believe it.
Someone once asked me, “How were you able to act so well?”
I answered honestly:
“I wasn’t acting. I was simply expressing what I was feeling at the time.”
A friend laughed and said, “Shouldn’t you thank the scammer? Without him, how would you have won Best Actress?”
We all laughed.
That friend who studies Zi Wei astrology had been right again. She had said the last time that I would become more and more famous.
I thought being scammed had already made me famous enough.
I never imagined that a short film would bring me a Best Actress award.
All I can say is—
It was a blessing in disguise.
This whole experience slowly taught me something:
When many things happen, they look like disasters.
But after some time passes, you may realize that they were simply gifts wrapped in a different package.
When I became quiet and accepted God’s arrangements, my heart gradually settled.
The pain didn’t disappear.
But it began to glow.
And now I can finally say with peace:
Nothing is accidental.
Some blessings simply arrive in disguise.
Attending Asian American Film Festival
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