Overnight Fame

Shanghai. Gong Xue was the third child in her family, with an older brother and an older sister above her, and her parents were both well up in years. Her mother used to manage a photojournalism agency and was a cadre. After retiring, she took up an auxiliary role at the Shanghai People's Fine Arts Publishing House, which was essentially an advisory post. "Off work already, are you?" "Mm-hmm. Something else I can help you with?" "Hehe, I heard your daughter starred in a movie that's become a huge hit. I haven't been able to get tickets at all. Could you help me snag a few?" At quitting time, a young worker in the office stopped Gong Xue's mother. Stunned for a moment, Mother Gong replied, "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't have any tickets either. I even wrote a letter asking Xiaoxue to get some for us." "Oh, what a shame! Well, I won't keep you then!" Suppressing a subtle mix of embarrassment and pride, Mother Gong rode her bicycle out of the work unit. Instead of heading home, she pedaled straight to a cinema. When she arrived, Father Gong, Gong Ying, their eldest son and daughter-in-law, and their daughter and son-in-law were already there—all seven members of the family assembled, turning out in full force to watch *Romance on Mount Lu*. Even these tickets had taken tremendous effort to procure; there was certainly no way she could have spared any for a coworker. "Everyone's here. Let's go in!" Father Gong said, and they walked into the theater together. Last time, when Gong Xue filmed *Sacrificial Red*, the entire family had also come out in grandeur to see it. Unfortunately, that film barely made a ripple, and Gong Xue's acting drew quite a bit of criticism. But this time was different. *Romance on Mount Lu* had taken the nation by storm; even a fool could see their daughter was on the verge of superstardom. *Romance on Mount Lu* was steeped in a distinctly petty-bourgeois flavor, which suited the tastes of Shanghainese audiences to perfection. Chen Qi, out of sheer wicked amusement, had also inserted several scenes of coffee-drinking, aiming squarely for an air of "elegance." When the movie ended, the audience broke into applause, as was customary. Clapping in a movie theater felt a bit awkward, yet it genuinely conveyed the audience's deep admiration for the film. "Xiaoxue has truly produced a fine piece of work!" "Indeed. She won't come home in tears during New Year's this time... Say, how did her acting improve so drastically? Could she have studied under a master?" *I know! I know!* Gong Ying thought, listening to the family's chatter, practically bursting with the urge to spill the big secret. But she couldn't betray her sister. Gong Xue had told her that she had received guidance from an extraordinary young man named Chen Qi. His name was right there in the opening credits under Screenplay! Gong Ying couldn't help feeling intensely curious. What kind of person was he, really? After finishing the film, her older brother and sister each returned to their own homes, while Gong Ying walked back to the lane with their parents. Just as they entered the alleyway, a neighbor called out, "You're finally back! A guest has been waiting for you for ages!" "A guest?" Father Gong blinked. Looking at the visitor, he recognized a friend from Shanghai Film Studio and quickly said, "Lao Sun, what brings you here all of a sudden?" "Let's talk inside, let's talk inside!" The man followed them into the house and cut straight to the chase: "Weren't you pulling every connection you had to get your daughter into Shanghai Film Studio? Before, we didn't know much about her and didn't dare make an exception. But now the studio leadership has personally singled her out and sent me to sound out your thoughts." "Uh..." Father Gong felt awkward. "I'm truly sorry, but you're a step too late. Xiaoxue has already transferred to Beijing Film Studio." "What? The paperwork is all finished?" "All done. Her household registration and everything have already gone through." *Ce na!* The man slapped his thigh, as if sensing an invisible stroke of fortune slipping right through their fingers. That sinking feeling grew even stronger on his journey back when he spotted a young girl clutching a copy of *Popular Cinema*, pointing at a photograph of Gong Xue and shamelessly pestering a tailor to make her a skirt just like it. "It's too blurry, I can't make it!" "Then I'll treat you to the movie! We'll go to the cinema, and once you see the skirt, you'll know how to make it!" The girl was brimming with fierce energy, her eyes gleaming with an eager desire for beautiful clothing. *We lost a star talent for no reason. Beijing Film Studio really got a bargain!* The man grew more frustrated the more he thought about it, blaming those old fogies at his studio. If someone wanted to join, why couldn't they have just agreed back then? In the original timeline, Gong Xue had gone to Shanghai Film Studio. While she hadn't been in the absolute top tier initially, she became one of Shanghai Film Studio's Golden Flowers. At that time, every major studio promoted concepts like "Three Golden Flowers" or "Five Golden Flowers"—even the August First Film Studio had them. Later, on the strength of *Under the Bridge*, she swept Best Actress at both the Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers awards, vaulting into the ranks of the most popular performers. By then, Zhang Yu had already gone abroad, leaving Gong Xue as the undisputed face of Shanghai Film Studio. *** *Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling!* The mailman rang his bicycle bell, came to a brisk stop outside the Beijing Film Studio gates, and tossed in a hefty sack with a slap. "Mail!" "This much?" "Who knows what you folks have been up to. Take your time sorting it!" The old attendant in the reception office grunted and opened the sack. Part of his job was sorting incoming mail and scribbling notices on a small blackboard: *Mail for so-and-so, package for so-and-so!* "Gong Xue!" "Another one for Gong Xue!" "Hey, why is it still Gong Xue?" The old man sorted out more than a hundred letters, all addressed to her. The senders hailed from the city, outer suburban counties, and even all the way from Tangshan... Having seen plenty in his years, the old man grabbed the blackboard and scribbled with a flourish: *A whole sack of mail for Gong Xue!* Then he propped it outside the reception office. People bustled past the main gate all day, creating heavy foot traffic. Everyone noticed the blackboard, and their reactions varied. Zhang Jinling: "Wonderful!" Liu Xiaoqing: "Hmph!" Li Xiuming simply rolled her eyes. Cai Ming: "Whoa, the world's turned upside down!" Wang Yang saw it too, showing no reaction on his face. He strolled into his office before summoning an assistant to give instructions: "Gong Xue isn't at the studio right now. Keep those letters safe, pick out a few to mail to the film crew, and have her write an open letter to be published in *Popular Cinema*. It'll serve as a response to our audience friends." "Understood!" Wang Yang was delighted, feeling as though he were Bole himself, discerning exceptional talents across the realm. Ever since Beijing Film Studio resumed production in 1977, its most popular release had been *Little Flower*, which propelled the "Big Three"—Chen Chong, Liu Xiaoqing, and Tang Guoqiang—to stardom. Yet even the fervor of *Little Flower* couldn't hold a candle to the sensation of *Romance on Mount Lu* today. He knew China Film was frantically striking additional film prints, bringing the total to an astonishing 380 copies! Wang Yang was the first studio head to introduce the concept of "Golden Flowers" to a production studio. He might not have fully realized it himself, but his actions were, in truth, an early form of star-making. The importance of movie stars to a film went without saying. Yet, as before, he had his limitations. Once he propelled these Golden Flowers to fame, he had no idea what the next step should be. *** In July of the previous year, Deng Gong had delivered his famous Huangshan Speech: "Huangshan is where you can make a fortune. The provincial authorities should draw up a plan. When foreigners travel to China, sometimes they're dissatisfied if they don't spend enough money. You must create proper conditions and get transportation, lodging, and facilities up to par." History remembered it as China's Declaration of Reform and Opening-Up for Tourism! From that moment on, the curtain rose on the tourism industry. Initially, the focus was entirely on earning foreign currency by hosting foreigners and overseas Chinese. Toward domestic tourists, the policy was governed by the "Three-Nos" principle: no encouraging, no promoting, and no opposing! In essence, it wasn't officially encouraged, but if you showed up on your own, you would still be allowed to visit. Mount Lu. At the newly constructed ticket booth built that year, a worker yawned out of sheer boredom. A sign pasted on the window read: *Ticket Price: 50 Fen!* Later, that would climb all the way to 160 yuan. *Beep-beep!* A horn sounded as a small passenger bus drove up, pulling to a stop. The door swung open, and a whole vanload of passengers poured out in a rush. The ticket clerk stared at them, and they stared back at him, both sides noticeably tense. The group seemed to confer among themselves before sending two men forward to ask hesitantly, "Hello, comrade. Are you open for tourism?" "What unit are you with?" "Here are our credentials... We're from Nanchang, here for a technical exchange program. We thought we'd stop by Mount Lu while we're in the area. Are you taking visitors?" "Yes. Just buy tickets." "Is there food and lodging up on the mountain?" "Uh, yes!" "Great, twenty tickets then!" The ticket clerk's mouth fell open. Twenty tickets—what a massive haul! Once the group had their tickets in hand, everyone was beaming with excitement. Snippets of chatter drifted through the air—"We definitely have to visit Pillow Stream Rock," "Where's that little grove where they recited English?" and "Can we stay at Mount Lu Hotel?"—phrases that meant nothing to the clerk. Mount Lu had long been a sanatorium retreat reserved for high-ranking cadres and was closed to the public. Not to mention people from other provinces, even among the tens of millions of locals in Jiangxi, very few had ever set foot there. The group marched inside in high spirits, brimming with eager anticipation. Indeed, domestic tourism wasn't promoted, but the release of a film like *Romance on Mount Lu* was far more effective than any official promotion could ever be. In modern internet parlance, this was a deluge of heaven-sent fortune.