Morning.
It was the middle of the workday, and Lechunfang Hutong was quiet and deserted.
Gong Xue rode her bicycle, heading straight inside through the corner gate of the rear courtyard. She shut the gate securely, then turned to look at the open yard. Every time she came, it gave her an indescribable feeling of tranquil, solitary beauty.
Several new potted flowers had been added to the courtyard—on windowsills, steps, and doorways, pots of blossoms blooming vividly, autumn not yet having stripped their color.
In the patches of earth reserved for planting trees, a pomegranate and a crabapple had been put in. In the front courtyard, magnolias, lilacs, Chinese roses, and the like had also been planted. Liang Xiaosheng had arranged all of that; she never could have managed it on her own.
Gong Xue went into the kitchen, slipped on a pair of oversleeves, drew a basin of water, and briskly set to cleaning.
Since Chen Qi left, she had come by often, tidying up roughly once a week. She kept strictly to the rear courtyard—the property was simply too vast, and cleaning the whole place by herself would have worked her to death. Even so, her waist and legs ached every time.
The master bedroom, the living room, two secondary bedrooms, the study, the library... Room by room she tidied, and before long half the day had slipped away.
"Phew!"
Gong Xue wiped her sweat, gave the floor a final sprinkling of water to settle the dust and sweep it down, took off her oversleeves, and lay down on the large bed in the master bedroom to rest for a while.
Then, unable to resist, she picked up a letter to read. Chen Qi had gone to Hong Kong, and his letters arrived roughly once a week. They went into meticulous, nagging detail about everything, but she loved reading them; they made her feel as though she were right there beside him.
*They're finally going to film Orphan. I hope everything goes smoothly for him.*
*He's really working with Americans, too. I wonder if communicating with them will be difficult...*
She missed Chen Qi terribly, wishing she could fly straight to Hong Kong. But as she lay there, drowsiness crept in. Her eyes slowly drifted shut, only for her to jerk her head awake and sit bolt upright. "Oh dear, I almost fell asleep. I have to go."
Gong Xue wheeled her bicycle out through the corner gate again.
She took a detour to circle Shichahai. Early autumn in the capital was the finest season of the year; green ripples danced across the lake, and a few people were even swimming, with nobody around to mind in these years.
Returning to Beijing Film Studio, she picked up a large bundle of mail as usual, took it back to the tongzilou first, and then headed over to the guesthouse. On the floor where female comrades stayed, a little boy was playing in the hallway. Spotting her, he charged over cheerfully.
"Mama!"
"Hey there, Dongdong!"
Gong Xue smiled and scooped him into her arms. "Have you been good and obedient, reading your books like you're supposed to?"
"I read them! I already know them inside out, but Grandma keeps making me read them, like I'm stupid!"
This boy was the son in *Mama, Love Me Once More*, named Fang Chao, whose character was called Dongdong.
His parents had to work, so his grandmother had come along to keep him company. A plain, ordinary older woman, she stepped out of the room at the sound of their voices and said, "Comrade Gong Xue, I'm just afraid he won't memorize his lines properly and will end up making a fool of himself in front of everyone."
"When children are filming, we all understand if there are a few slip-ups. Don't push him too hard; he still needs to rest when it's time to rest."
Carrying the boy inside, Gong Xue brought out some fruit she had brought for him. Picking up an apple, she carefully peeled the skin, sliced it into small pieces, and fed them to him—treatment even Chen Qi had never enjoyed.
Fang Chao was clearly very fond of this pretty auntie, and the two got along splendidly.
Watching from the side, his grandmother sighed. "I never expected you to be so kind and approachable. We were nervous before we came."
"Listen to you—I'm an ordinary person too. What's this about approachable or not? The boy is so sensible, I adore him from the bottom of my heart... Here, have another piece. All done? We'll have more later, then..."
With her scenes in *Tai Chi 2* finished, she was already preparing for *Mama, Love Me Once More*. The specific production work fell under Wang Haowei's charge; Gong Xue had only one assignment, and that was to build a bond with the child.
Fang Chao was five years old this year, making their ages just right for a mother and son.
Every day, Gong Xue played with him, washed his clothes, fed him meals, and told him stories, truly developing a touch of maternal affection.
For Fang Chao to become a defining child star of the 1980s, he was naturally precocious—clever beyond his years and exceptionally sharp. He kept acting continuously before eventually transitioning to behind-the-scenes work.
"You really have so much patience. Even I can't handle this boy sometimes. Whoever marries you will have earned a lifetime of blessings over eight reincarnations!" the grandmother praised again.
Gong Xue paused slightly, then smiled. "Please don't say that. You've given far more to him than I ever could; the little I do can't compare... Dongdong, I'll come back to see you around dinnertime."
"Okay, Mama!"
Fang Chao called her Mama with practiced ease—a chronic habit born from playing so many sons.
After spending a little more time with him, Gong Xue left the guesthouse. She still had to head back and write a letter to that exasperating sweetheart of hers.
***
Meanwhile...
Liang Xiaosheng had borrowed a tricycle and was pedaling with all his might. Jiao Dan sat in the cart bed holding a plaque draped in red cloth, being scrupulously careful for fear of bumping or scratching it.
They arrived at Lechunfang as well. Liang Xiaosheng had a key to the front gate. With a loud clatter, he unlocked it, and together they carried the plaque inside, moving it all the way into the main house of the front courtyard.
Jiao Dan's curiosity was piqued, and she asked, "Can I uncover it to take a peek?"
"No, no, that has to wait until Xiao Chen gets back so he can unveil it himself."
"Oh, come on, just one glance?"
"No way. Lifting it in secret would be like lifting a bride's veil before the wedding night. Don't put me on the spot!"
Old Liang was steadfast on matters of principle. Jiao Dan didn't press him, only asking, "How did you get in touch with Mr. Qi Gong anyway, and even convince him to write the calligraphy for the title?"
"Xiao Chen went through the Ministry of Culture. I wouldn't have the clout for that. In any case, once Mr. Qi Gong heard the nature of our magazine, he was quite intrigued. He wrote three drafts before he was satisfied. From now on, we have to mail him a copy of every issue for him to look over."
Qi Gong was of Manchu descent, a calligrapher, painter, and cultural relics connoisseur.
Tracing his lineage upward, his ancestor was the Yongzheng Emperor's fifth son, the Qianlong Emperor's brother—Prince He of the First Rank, Hongzhou, the notoriously eccentric prince who loved staging mock funerals for himself!
Liang Xiaosheng's transfer paperwork was already in progress. Having dropped all his responsibilities at the Literary Department, he threw his full energy into the magazine. Chen Qi had mailed over twenty books by overseas authors from Hong Kong, along with short story collections, instantly bolstering their pool of manuscripts.
The inaugural issue was tentatively set to include: a serialized full-length novel, *Five Phoenixes Facing the Sun Saber*; a novella adaptation of *Tai Chi*; two foreign short stories; two pieces of folk lore; a story by Zheng Yuanjie...
Everything else was easy enough to arrange, but the serialized novel had to be written from scratch, word by word with a fountain pen.
That sort of thing couldn't be rushed.
The front courtyard consisted of three main rooms and two wing rooms. One had been designated as Old Liang's living quarters and another as a reception room. It was far more spacious than the tongzilou, and Jiao Dan had been bustling about lately, getting it decorated quite nicely.
With both his career and his love life thriving, Old Liang felt as though he had reached the peak of his life.
He stroked the red cloth, overwhelmed with emotion for a moment, before suddenly clapping his hands. "Right! Go find that wooden sign of mine."
"This one?"
"That's it!"
Jiao Dan brought over a rectangular wooden sign inscribed with characters Old Liang had carved himself. Excitedly grabbing a hammer and nails, he marched out to the main gate and nailed the wooden sign to the wall.
"We might not be able to hang the official plaque yet, but our unit is taking shape, and we need a name for the outside world. Otherwise people will think we're running some sort of covert operation!"
"Take a look. How's it look?"
Jiao Dan looked it over and curled her lip. "Mm, looks like a ragtag outfit!"
"What do you mean *looks like*? It *is* a ragtag outfit! Every skyscraper starts from the ground up!"
Liang Xiaosheng headed back into the courtyard, thoroughly satisfied.
As dusk fell, quitting time arrived in the blink of an eye. The workers living in Lechunfang trickled back home, only to discover yet another change at the mysterious Compound No. 6: a wooden sign nailed beside the main entrance.
"Oho, what's this?"
"*Strange Tales of the World*! Can't you read?"
"I can read! If you're so smart, explain it to me. What's it supposed to mean?"
"'World' means the whole world, the globe—got that? 'Strange Tales' refers to bizarre stories and uncanny happenings—all sorts of weird things science can't explain!"
"Aiyo, it's just four characters. Doesn't even say what kind of organization it is!"
"Could it be an agency dispatched by the United Nations?"
"Nonsense! If the UN sent someone to Lechunfang, they'd at least be on Jingshan Back Street!"
"Then is Sihanouk back seeking refuge again?"
"Heh-heh, you've all got it wrong!"
An old woman spoke up with triumphant glee. "I told you so! I told you so! It's definitely the Confidentiality Bureau researching qigong! Tomorrow they'll beam a signal to the moon, and the day after that aliens will show up! Boy oh boy—surpassing Britain and catching up to America, striking at Soviet revisionism, building socialism across the entire universe!"
Chapter 233