World of Wonders 1

"Tai Chi has taken the silver screen by storm and set off a nationwide frenzy of moviegoing. Today we bring you an exclusive reveal and a look behind the scenes, with Li Lianjie and Gong Xue telling it from the heart..." Feng Xiaogang held the newspaper and read it with great care. In his bones he pursued art, and he disliked all the fighting and killing. Shooting a commercial film had been quite accidental, but he felt that the devotion to family and country in Tai Chi, and the dialogue too, were quite good, and had raised the quality of the work. The article really did introduce a few things no other outlet had reported, along with two photos he had never seen. But— "There was one last, greatest difficulty in shooting this film, one that nearly ended Li Lianjie's martial arts career. What exactly happened? And how did the crew resolve it..." The piece stopped dead there. What followed was simply gone, and instead it began introducing a magazine called World of Wonders. "All things under heaven—ancient and modern, Chinese and foreign, strange news and curious tales, wuxia and science fiction—all in World of Wonders! Officially released today. Available at major bookstores across North China, or by mail subscription. Subscription address..." "..." Feng Xiaogang knitted his brows. With the understanding of someone of his own time, he simply could not make out what this tasted like. It was, in fact, the trick of marketing accounts in a later age. Each time they introduced a magazine's columns, then broke off at the crucial point to lure readers into buying. Never mind that line about ending a martial arts career. It was all a formula. That was not what had happened at all. "Gangzi, time to eat!" "Coming!" His mother was calling. Feng Xiaogang got up to eat. There was nothing good; potatoes and cabbage were the standard fare. He hurriedly shoveled down a bowl of rice and said, "Ma, I'm going to browse the bookstore!" With that he went out, left the factory compound, and came to a Xinhua Bookstore nearby. There were quite a few people inside. He looked about and asked, "Hello, comrade. Do you have World of Wonders?" The clerk turned and called, "Xiao Wang, is there any World of Wonders left?" "Only the last few copies!" Feng Xiaogang had meant to have a look first. Hearing this, he said at once, "Hey, hey—that comrade, please hold one for me!" He ran farther in and took a magazine from another clerk's hands. It was a thirty-twomo, small but very thick, and the cover was Tai Chi. A glance at the price: two mao five. In that short while, someone else was already calling, "Excuse me, do you have World of Wonders?" "Any World of Wonders?" "Gone, gone! Sold out!" At those words Feng Xiaogang raised an eyebrow and suddenly felt a subtle superiority. Superiority did not have to come from anything grand. A small matter could produce it: if you were both taking a dump, and you had paper while the one next to you did not, you would feel superior... He tucked the magazine away, came out, and went home. Between going and coming, the better part of half a day had passed. He sat beside the stove as before and began to read. He had no interest in Five Phoenixes Facing the Sun Saber. He read the Tai Chi section carefully, was only so-so on the Western fiction, but liked Zheng Yuanjie's stories very much. On the whole it was still quite absorbing... At the end, he found there was also a questionnaire. "Fill it out, cut out the questionnaire, and mail it back to the editorial department to enter the lucky draw!" "First prize, one winner: a fine gift, plus one year of the magazine free!" "Second prize, five winners: a fine gift, plus half a year of the magazine free!" "Third prize, ten winners: half a year of the magazine free!" "Participation prize, one hundred winners: a complimentary copy of the next issue!" Interesting! Who in these times had ever seen a marketing method like this? It was the typical capitalist style of reaping without sowing. Anyone whose backing was not solid enough could easily be hauled in. The eighties were ideologically muddled, swinging left and right, and this year there happened to be the Wenzhou Eight Kings affair... The itch came over Feng Xiaogang. He carefully filled out the questionnaire, cut it out, and checked the return address. It was over by Shichahai. "I could make a trip of it, and save the cost of a stamp!" He was rather tempted. A look at the time said he could still get back, so he set off at once, got on the family's battered bicycle, and rode straight for Lechunfang. ...... The daily flow of customers at Xinhua Bookstore was fairly steady. Even people who loved browsing bookstores would not come every day. Set on the shelf, World of Wonders would originally have needed time to build up. But Chen Qi had also placed an advertisement in the newspaper, shortening that process as far as it could be shortened. The most direct place China Youth Daily reached was naturally Beijing. The first to see the advertisement were also the people of Beijing. Those with no interest let it pass; those who were interested came in droves. The name Tai Chi rang loud, the wuxia craze was on the rise, and the craze was right at its peak. Beijing had a population of over nine million. Even one in a thousand was more than ten thousand people. "Don't push, don't push! Everybody, don't crowd. Good heavens—are you buying books or snatching hairtail!" "You want World of Wonders too?" "What! You want it too?" "Xiao Zhao, is there any left in the storeroom?" "Gone, gone. Not even the last copy!" "What are the order clerks doing? Only a hundred copies. Order more!" "Hurry and contact their publishing house... Not a publishing house? I don't care who they are. Contact them, now. Increase the order, increase the order!" Scenes of this sort were playing out in the Xinhua Bookstores of every district in Beijing. This was the era when magazines sold best. People had been pent up too long. Even an old almanac they would cradle and read as if it were a treasure, to say nothing of real popular literature! And most of those who bought the magazine also saw the questionnaire and the prize draw. One after another, much like Feng Xiaogang, they found it a great novelty and itched to act. Those quick to act really did come charging straight over. ... Shichahai in winter was bleak and desolate. The lake had frozen over, a natural skating rink. Feng Xiaogang had been here before, but today his mind was not on it. He went straight to Lechunfang. "Number 6. This is the place, isn't it?" "Why so many people!" When he reached the gate of No. 6 Courtyard, he had a start. The crowd spilled out from the imposing entrance and stretched a way outside. They had actually formed a line, mostly young male comrades. "Not even resting at home for New Year—lining up here. Full stomachs and nothing to do!" He spat in silent scorn and took his place at the tail of the line. Ahead of him was a man in his twenties, who looked him over and said with a smile, "Comrade, here for the draw?" "Ah?" "Don't be shy. Isn't everyone here for the gifts? This magazine's got something to it—a prize draw, and they give out gifts. How did they ever think of that!" "Heh." Feng Xiaogang secretly rolled his eyes. The man gave off a mangliu air from head to toe. One look said he had no proper job. Feng himself was in the cultural work troupe. They were not of the same class. Seeing how cold he was, the man ahead snorted as well and turned back around, his approach having fallen flat. They had stood a while when a clamor suddenly rose inside, then fell quiet in an instant, like a basin of water poured over a flame. Splash—and it was out. Feng Xiaogang grew even more curious. He rose on his toes to look in, and could see nothing at all. ...... Chen Qi stood in Liang Xiaosheng's office, looking out through the big glass window with keen interest. Over there, they were quarreling. It was only the first day, and more people had come than expected, with obvious differences of species. Some comrades obediently handed in their questionnaires, left contact addresses, and chatted a little with the editors. All of that was perfectly normal. Others—who knew what they were thinking—had a beauty all their own: illiterate, plus contrarian, plus a faked-accident shakedown artist. "Didn't you say there was a draw? Why won't you let us draw?" "You have to give the questionnaires to us, and we draw the lucky readers from them. You don't draw them yourselves!" "That won't do. How do you guarantee your draw is fair and just? What if there's something fishy? We readers have to draw it ourselves!" The one shouting was a man just past twenty, not tall, with a very thick neck, his skin flushed red from yelling. "I don't care. You said there was a draw, so today you have to let me draw! Otherwise I'm not leaving. I'll report you for deceiving readers. I—I..." His voice cut off dead. Because Ji Chunhua had come over...