Who's Picking on My Sister?

"It's not that I'm giving up. I've just come to realize that material security is the foundation of everything." Liang Xiaosheng carried an air of newfound clarity as he spoke freely. "At my age, caught between being too qualified for low jobs and not qualified enough for high ones, without even a wife to come home to, chasing grand dreams is just nonsense. Saving money is the real priority. I'll write popular fiction for now, and once I've built up some capital, I can talk about dreams again. Who knows, maybe by then I'll have a wife too." "Hey, that's a great mindset. The worst thing in life is acting like a diode." "A diode?" "You know, swinging between two extremes. The moment someone talks about dreams, they chase them blindly to the exclusion of all else; the moment they talk about reality, they become completely cynical and worldly. Both are mental illnesses. Living in this world is all about staying nimble and adaptable. You're doing just fine." "Ha! There you go lecturing me again," Liang Xiaosheng chuckled. "You're so young, yet I have no idea where you get all these philosophies from. And what's worse, I actually find myself listening to you." "..." Chen Qi hesitated for a moment before deciding to share his plan. "Old Liang, truth be told, I've had an idea for a while now. I want to find an affiliated institution and launch our own magazine." "What kind of magazine?" "A very commercial, popular one. We'd publish martial arts, romance, sci-fi, detective stories, and the like. On top of that, we'll throw in historical secrets, bizarre tales from home and abroad—UFOs, the Bermuda Triangle, the Shennongjia Bigfoot, stories about how an American kid peed in a reservoir and the government drained the entire thing just so residents wouldn't drink a single drop of urine, or a sparrow landing on an American high-voltage power line and the government cutting off power to the entire city just to save a bird... People will definitely eat it up!" Liang Xiaosheng was dumbfounded by the pitch. "So you... uh, when do you plan to make a move?" "Once *Tai Chi* wraps up and I've got some free time, I'll see what channels we can use. Telling you in advance, as you've probably guessed, means I'll need your help." "Of course I'll help. It's just..." "I know, I know. Don't worry, I won't put you in an awkward spot. Once I've laid the groundwork, we can sit down and talk through the details." Having given him the heads-up, Chen Qi watched Liang Xiaosheng leave, then washed up before finally lying down in bed. Just last year, a magazine called *Spring Breeze* had been born in Changchun. A pure literary journal, its circulation had been abysmal; in the early 2000s, it would be revamped into a comprehensive digest called *Yilin*. And next year, a new king would emerge in Gansu: *Reader's Digest*, later renamed *Reader*. That same year, the China Youth Publishing House would launch *Youth Digest*. Along with *Zhiyin*, founded in 1985, the "Four Great Masterpieces of the Reform and Opening Era" would soon all be accounted for, dishing out sheer fabrication to the reading public for over forty years. Tales of the all-powerful American passport, the oiled-paper-wrapped German spare parts, and the legendary Japanese summer camps would become widely circulated gospel. Forty years later, the tables would turn, and foreigners of every stripe would start singing China's praises—truly a case of "there will always be foreign scholars to preach our gospel!" For now, Chen Qi had two goals in mind: films and magazines. Even if he could hardly make a dent against the decades-long dogma that the grass was always greener on the other side, he still wanted to make his money standing on his own two feet. ... The Yuen brothers departed quietly, just as quietly as they had arrived, waving their sleeves and taking not a single Little Jie with them. *Hey, that actually rhymes quite nicely,* Chen Qi mused. With the action sequences mostly wrapped up, all that remained were the dialogue scenes and on-location shoots. Chenjiagou didn't offer much in the way of scenery, but this was a feature film, not a documentary. Li Wenhua chose Yesanpo in Hebei for the scenic backdrops, and selected Xiaodianhe Village in Weihui, Henan, to stand in for Chenjiagou. Like Chenjiagou, Xiaodianhe lay in northern Henan. Built in the thirteenth year of the Qianlong reign, it was a remarkably intact fortified village complete with defensive walls, gates, courtyards, and houses—making it an ideal filming location. The *Tai Chi* crew filmed dramatic scenes while preparing to set off for the location shoot. Shooting had begun in May, with wrap-up expected around August. If all went smoothly, post-production would be completed early next year. ... Back in 1905, proprietor Ren Jingfeng, in celebration of Peking opera master Tan Xinpei's sixtieth birthday, had collaborated to produce China's very first motion picture, *Dingjun Mountain*, which was screened at the Daguanlou Cinema. Daguanlou thus became the birthplace of Chinese cinema. Located on Dashilar in Qianmen, it still operated as a movie theater today. In these days, production studios were only responsible for making movies, not promoting them. China Film didn't handle publicity either; marketing fell to local film distribution companies and theaters. Theaters maintained their own publicity teams, which hand-painted large posters for major releases and compiled promotional materials. Whenever a blockbuster came along, workers had to put in overtime, riding bicycles across town with buckets of watercolor and brushes to paint the movie title, showtimes, schedules, and ticket prices onto public cinema noticeboards. Theaters generally operated under municipal film companies and shouldered many responsibilities, which meant they employed large staffs. The nationwide industry numbered roughly five hundred thousand workers—truly a grand enterprise upon which hundreds of thousands depended for their livelihood. Outside Daguanlou, several young members of the publicity team were hurriedly pasting up posters under their master's direction. The posters were all hand-painted. There were two designs: one featuring Gong Xue alongside Tang Guoqiang, and another featuring Gong Xue alone. Against a backdrop of Mount Lu's breathtaking scenery, the figures were rendered with exquisite, lifelike brushwork. The text identified the film as a color feature produced by Beijing Film Studio, listing the key creative team—including Chen Qi's name among the credits. "All done! It's up!" "Master's painting is amazing!" The young workers flattered their teacher, then leaned in to examine the poster. "I've never heard of this actress Gong Xue before. Is she a newcomer? The stills look gorgeous, though." "I heard she's even prettier in person. We'll find out once it premieres. Hey, Master, how are the film prints being divided this time?" "One print shared between four or five theaters!" "That's way too tight. I just hope it's not like *Murder at 405*, where Little Zhang ran his legs off shuttling the reels around." Little Zhang was the theater's film runner. As they chatted, none of them noticed that one of the people featured on the poster was standing right behind them. With the *Tai Chi* crew preparing to head out on location, Chen Qi had made a quick trip home, only to spot the poster for *Romance on Mount Lu*. His eyes went straight to the release date: July 5! July 5 fell on a Saturday, followed by Sunday off, and July marked the start of the summer vacation corridor when students would be out of school. People of this era were by no means clueless; they knew perfectly well to schedule major pictures during peak audience windows. "..." Chen Qi hopped on his bicycle and pedaled away. After a moment's thought, instead of heading straight back to Beijing Film Studio, he swung by Xidan. Gong Xue's official transfer to the studio coincided with the release of *Romance on Mount Lu*—a double blessing. It was the perfect occasion to get her a thoughtful gift, and also make amends for keeping the extra royalties. "Oh, sir, you're back!" The moment he stepped through the doors of the Overseas Chinese Store, the saleswoman who had previously slipped him a note beamed with delight, looking ready to pounce on him. *Hmph.* Chen Qi gave a quiet scoff. He had seen that look countless times in his past life—from bit-part starlets in Hengdian to female livestreamers on Douyin, escort girls on apps, and even tea-scam salespeople who acted as though you were their beloved husband. "I'd like to look at skincare products." "Right over here, please!" The saleswoman's heart sank. *Skincare products? Does that mean he's taken? Which little vixen got so lucky, landing herself a young, handsome, wealthy meal ticket!* Chen Qi walked over to the counter. The shelves were stocked with premium imported goods, bearing brands he recognized well. Knowing women's products inside out, he deftly selected a complete skincare set, along with a bar of imported soap and a bottle of shampoo. He avoided makeup; wearing noticeable makeup in everyday life back then only invited public criticism. He picked out two lipsticks and a tube of lip balm, then headed over to the footwear section. *What size does she wear again? Thirty-five, thirty-six... Better to go slightly bigger than too small. I'll get thirty-six.* With that, he picked up a pair of light-brown women's calfskin heels. Carrying his bag of purchases, he returned to Beijing Film Studio in high spirits, eager to ask Gong Xue out. Just as he reached the main building, he caught sight of her walking out, wiping her eyes with her head lowered. "Sister Xue!" he called out. Gong Xue looked up abruptly. Her delicate brows were furrowed, tears glistening in her eyes, looking fragile and utterly heartbreaking. "What happened?" "I..." She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Shaking her head, she turned and ran off. *Who picked on her?* Chen Qi froze, a surge of fury instantly boiling up in his chest. He hurried toward the film set, determined to find someone and get to the bottom of it.