Romance on Mount Lu

After Liang Xiaosheng left, Chen Qi walked over to the door of Room 304 next door. He rapped three times: *knock, knock, knock.* Who even made the rule that one had to knock three times? "Come in!" The door was unlocked. With a soft creak, he pushed it open and stepped inside. The layout was much the same as his own room, but the place was cluttered. The bed was strewn with manuscript paper, the walls were covered with taped-up storyboards, and an elderly man in his sixties sat hunched over a desk, writing. He wore glasses, his hair was salt-and-pepper, and his features were well-proportioned and dignified. *Come to think of it,* Chen Qi mused, *the Great Director had been tall and handsome in his youth, chanting poetry and composing verse. It was all in his genes. Otherwise, he never could have scored Sister Hong, Sister Ni, Chen Hong, and Christopher Doyle.* "You are?" Chen Huaikai looked up in confusion. "Hello, Director Chen. My name is Chen Qi. I just moved in next door today, here to work on script revisions." "Oh, right! You're the one who wrote that romance screenplay, aren't you? Have a seat! Have a seat!" Chen Huaikai pulled over a chair, looked him up and down, and smiled. "So young! How old are you this year?" "Nineteen!" "Young and promising! I had only just passed the college entrance exams at twenty-one. You're from the city, aren't you?" "How could you tell?" "Only city folk wear red-soled cloth shoes." Chen Qi glanced down at his black cloth shoes with red soles and smiled bashfully. These shoes were from Neiliansheng, available with either red or white soles, colloquially known as *pian'erlan*—slip-ons. Folks from within the city wore red soles, while those outside the Second Ring Road wore white soles. It was just like the luxury brand pecking order of later years: LV buyers looked down on Gucci buyers, Gucci buyers looked down on Prada buyers, and Prada buyers looked down on Zulijian senior sneakers... As an aside, a certain paramount leader had favored Neiliansheng shoes above all else. In the 1990s, he had specially commissioned a pair of leather shoes from them, hoping to set foot on Hong Kong soil in person after the handover, though in the end, they were never used. Later, that pair of shoes was collected by the National Museum of China. "You have a meeting tomorrow?" "Yes!" "Ah, I've heard about your screenplay. It's quite good. Do your best to get it approved." "Thank you for the kind words!" After sitting for a brief moment, Chen Qi took his leave. His impression of the old man was quite favorable—he seemed very amiable. If circumstances permitted, Chen Qi wouldn't even mind treating him as an equal and becoming friends across their age gap. In the future, when the Great Director saw him, he’d have to address him as "Little Uncle"! Chen Huaikai was a Third-Generation director, from the same cohort as Xie Jin. He wasn't particularly famous because he mostly directed traditional Chinese opera films and possessed a deep understanding of traditional performing arts. That was why, during the shooting of *Farewell My Concubine*, the old man had presided on set to offer guidance, rounding up a group of celebrated Peking opera masters to assist, earning himself the title of "Artistic Director." Rumors circulated in later generations claiming that *Farewell My Concubine* hadn’t actually been directed by the Great Director, but by his father. That was simply not true. Chen Qi had always believed in criticizing with solid evidence; one shouldn't hate just for the sake of hating. *Farewell My Concubine* had of course been directed by the Great Director. As screenwriter Lu Wei once put it: back then, Kaige had been humble and open-minded, never above seeking guidance, and receptive to suggestions. On top of that, the production brought together the most formidable talent of that era, and together they forged a classic. Yet after winning the Palme d'Or, the Great Director fancied himself high society and could no longer stomach plain, honest human speech. As Lu Wei put it, "It was like having an audience with a high-ranking official." *** The sky gradually darkened. The guesthouse was peaceful, the budding trees swaying gently outside the window. After washing up, Chen Qi fetched a kettle of hot water and soaked his feet in his room. Actually, it brought back a wave of nostalgia. In his past life, when he was in university, he and his girlfriend had rented a place off-campus. They had been poor back then, only able to afford a two-hundred-yuan room with conditions similar to this. The tenants were all students, and every night was heavy artillery fire—each bed squeaking louder than the next. Chen Qi let out a sigh. *Alas, when you’ve been single for too long, even Cai Ming starts looking pretty.* *"I must be hungry! —Zhou Shuren"* In these days, there was no nighttime entertainment, so everyone turned in early. Chen Qi suddenly regretted not bringing a few books along; otherwise, it was just too boring. He closed his eyes, mentally organizing his talking points for tomorrow's meeting, and wondered what his parents were doing at this moment... Who knew how much time had passed before he hazily drifted off to sleep. *** April, the turning point between spring and summer. Dawn broke early, and the dust storms had passed, leaving behind rare, fine weather. Chen Qi crawled out of bed early and headed downstairs with the meal voucher he’d been issued—his golden ticket to free food and drink. The cafeteria wasn't open yet, so he jogged a few laps around the studio grounds. A few others were working out too, though he didn't recognize them. After his run, he found a large willow tree and began stretching his arms and kicking his legs beneath it, looking as though he were doing calisthenics. "Xiao Chen!" Liang Xiaosheng appeared, dressed in a Meihua brand tracksuit. Manufactured in Tianjin, it was the official apparel of the Chinese sports delegations. A few years down the line, Xu Haifeng would be wearing a red Meihua tracksuit when he clinched China's very first Olympic gold medal. "Whoa! You're doing well for yourself, Teacher Liang, wearing Meihua!" "This suit costs dozens of yuan. How could I afford it? It's just hand-me-downs someone gave me." Liang Xiaosheng was clearly out for exercise as well. Seeing Chen Qi's unusual postures, he asked in surprise, "Which set of radio calisthenics is that? How come I've never seen it before?" "It's not calisthenics. I read it in an old book; it's called the Eight-Part Vajra Exercise..." Chen Qi explained as he moved, bending his left knee into a lunge, leaning forward, and sweeping both hands backward, pushing gently along both sides of his spine down toward his waist—this movement was called "Hands and feet forward and back to strengthen kidneys and waist," a fine remedy for male comrades suffering from kidney deficiency. "Eight-Part Vajra Exercise???" Liang Xiaosheng was startled by the name, then grew slightly nervous. He lowered his voice. "Is this some kind of Buddhist or Daoist thing?" "You could say that!" "Then you need to be careful. Even though the attitude toward religion has softened somewhat, it's still a sensitive issue. Just say you made it up yourself, and don't go mentioning any 'Vajra Exercise.'" "Thanks for the heads-up!" Chen Qi thanked him sincerely. Naturally, this was something he had practiced in his past life: the Vajra Exercise in the morning, the Longevity Exercise at night, sipping goji berry tea throughout the day, keeping himself rock-hard and feeling great... It couldn't be helped; once men crossed forty, they all turned into health and wellness gurus. Although Liang Xiaosheng had cautioned him, curiosity got the better of him. "What's the use of practicing this?" "It relaxes the tendons and bones, strengthens the body, and builds up your health—just wellness maintenance." "Then teach me." *Huh???* Chen Qi blinked in surprise. *Has the Qigong craze started already? If I meddle in this, will I become some grandmaster? Consecrating starlets every day?* Of course, it was just an idle thought. Having lived through the future, he knew the so-called Qigong fever all too well. He only practiced the Vajra Exercise for physical fitness anyway, so he replied, "Sure, we can practice together tonight." "Great! I'll definitely come by tonight!" Liang Xiaosheng said eagerly. A short while later, the cafeteria opened. In terms of sheer scale, the Beijing Film Studio couldn't compare to massive industrial factories—those colossal plants had their own hospitals, schools, radio stations, and eventually even their own television stations. Still, the studio's amenities were quite good, and as a cultural and arts institution, it had a unique atmosphere. Chen Qi ate his first breakfast there. He seemed to spot a few familiar faces, but didn't go out of his way to approach them; there would be plenty of chances to interact in the future. After breakfast, the two headed to the main building. On the east side of the third floor lay the offices of the Literary Department and the editorial board of *Film Creation*. *Film Creation* was the Beijing Film Studio's platform for accepting submissions. Every film studio had a similar magazine; whenever a literary screenplay was selected, it would be published inside. In those days, there was no concept of "spoilers," and the readership of such periodicals consisted mostly of industry insiders. The Literary Department's job was to select screenplays, liaise with authors, make revisions, and finalize the scripts. Chen Qi stepped into a small conference room. After waiting a few minutes, people began trickling in. There weren't many—just five editors, including Liang Xiaosheng. Leading them was a man in his forties with a southern accent. His name was Jiang Huaiyan, the director of the Literary Department. "Hello, Director Jiang!" "Welcome, welcome! I intended to visit you at the guesthouse last night, but something came up and delayed me... Come, come, let me introduce you first!" Jiang Huaiyan was very warm. He pulled Chen Qi to the front and said with a smile, "You've already met Xiaosheng; he's our youngest editor." "This is Teacher Shi Wenxin. She's been doing this work since 1954, making her our most senior veteran." "Hello, Teacher Shi!" "Quite a fine-looking young man indeed!" Shi Wenxin was a petite, elderly woman in her fifties. Her looks were unremarkable, but she carried an unmistakable air of cultured elegance. She politely stood up slightly and replied with a smile. Chen Qi stole a few extra glances at her. Her husband was Ge Cunzhuang, and her son was Ge You. "This is... and this is..." Chen Qi didn't pay much attention to the remaining two, mentally labeling them Extra A and Extra B. Once the introductions were complete, six people sat around the table in the small conference room. Jiang Huaiyan held a screenplay in his hands—the very one Chen Qi had submitted. He spoke up: "When we received this script, we were tremendously excited, though we also had some concerns. "Everyone discussed it for several days, and only after reaching a consensus did we send you the invitation. "Today, we're here to have a formal discussion to see where its strengths lie and where it falls short. Xiao Chen, don't be nervous. Speak your mind freely. Our Literary Department's standards are very strict, but our atmosphere is relaxed... Why don't you start by sharing your creative vision?" "I might not express it well, so please bear with me, teachers." Chen Qi took the manuscript and placed it before him. On the cover, three large characters stood out boldly: *Romance on Mount Lu*!