Phase Two

To be the boss, one first had to learn how to pick up the tab. Zhang Jinling, Gong Xue, and Cai Ming paid out of their own pockets—they had the means—while the books Jiang Shan, Ge You, and Liang Xiaosheng picked out were all covered by Chen Qi. He was freeloading at Beijing Film Studio, eating their food, drinking their tea, earning their money, and poaching their talent on top of it all. Though he was a nobody right now, he was quietly, steadily cultivating a crew of his own. Take Ge You and Liang Xiaosheng: if he just said the word, both would moonlight with him without a second thought. In the evening, the group returned to Beijing Film Studio, and the trio slipped back into Room 302. Chen Qi dumped out bundles of books and untied the strings. With nowhere to put them, he had no choice but to stack them on the desk, sighing in frustration. "Bought too many. Stashing this many books in a guesthouse is such a hassle. If only I had a place of my own." "Which of us has a place of our own? I'm still living with my parents, Old Liang is in an eight-square-meter dorm room—you've got the best setup of all of us," Ge You said. "Never mind a house—I'm thirty and don't even have a wife!" Liang Xiaosheng shook his head. Talking about wives perked Ge You right up. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he said, "To be honest with you guys, today was my first time going shopping with female comrades, and it felt really different." "Different how? Let's hear it," Chen Qi said with a grin. "Take Big Sister Jinling first. I didn't know her well before, but today I realized she's quite wonderful—open and generous, though her face is a bit on the broad side, she gives off a motherly warmth." "Little Sister Jiang Shan is smart and adorable. If she pursues a career in the arts, she'll make a fine actress serving the people." "As for Cai Ming, her head works in mysterious ways. Half the time I can't tell what she's thinking, but she's a good person." "And Comrade Gong Xue..." At the mention of Gong Xue, Ge You's eyes lit up with longing. "I haven't had much contact with her, but she's like a pure, luminous moon hanging high in the sky, shining down upon mere mortals like us." Liang Xiaosheng chuckled. Men all had an eye for beauty, after all. "Xiao Chen, you spend a lot of time around her. What do you think of her?" "She's great—a gentle older sister." "Oh, 'gentle older sister'..." Ge You squinted, looking up at a forty-five-degree angle, that yearning expression back on his face, as though those three words stirred a man's heart more than any "drop-dead gorgeous" or "pure and refined." Neither of them connected Gong Xue with Chen Qi romantically; they were several years apart, after all. After chatting a while longer, the two took their leave. Chen Qi fiddled with the books again. Wherever he set them, they seemed to take up space. No matter how nice the guesthouse was, it wasn't a private home. His thousand yuan wasn't a small sum, but it couldn't buy anything substantial either, let alone a house. Commercial housing in Beijing was still far off on the horizon; that wouldn't arrive until Fangzhuang and the Asian Games Village were developed. Right now, the only thing of the sort was an Overseas Chinese apartment complex built in the 1960s on the West Third Ring Road, ranging from 120 to 160 square meters at just over a hundred yuan per square meter. Either an overseas Chinese bought it directly in US dollars, or they wired US dollars home so their domestic relatives could buy it—either way, US dollars were required. The complex existed solely to absorb foreign currency. "When I get some free time, I'd better hunt for antiques and poach business from Ma Weidu, the Female Elder, and Li Chunping." Chen Qi suddenly chuckled. In this era, plenty of people made fortunes dealing in antiques, but since that didn't sound respectable, they fabricated one inspirational bootstrap story after another—nauseating to the extreme. Night fell. He switched on the lamp, sitting at the desk to sort through his thoughts. If the goal of phase one was writing a script and freeloading at the guesthouse, that had long been achieved. It was time to enter phase two. In this era, there wasn't much he could do. His current ventures were writing a script, writing a novel, and at most Huang Zhanying's crummy tea stall. Domestic cinema wouldn't become marketized until the nineties—far too distant. Film was a tremendously powerful tool, but people nowadays didn't know how to use it, or didn't dare to. The Congress of Literary and Art Workers was a great opportunity; he might have a chance to meet comrades from Hong Kong. As for novels, his goal was to launch a popular fiction magazine. Next year would be 1980. Over the following decade, domestic ideological currents would ricochet wildly between two extremes, and people would indulge freely in both bewilderment and desire. It was bound to be a bizarre, kaleidoscopic era. He would be more than happy to jump in and stir things up. *** "Good!" "Cut! That's a wrap!" Inside Soundstage No. 3 at Beijing Film Studio, where a set for a luxury suite had been built, Gong Xue finished several scenes depicting daily life. Director Wang Haowei waved her hand grandly and shouted, "Tomorrow we're off to the big conference! Seventeen days off! We only have a few scenes left, and we'll definitely finish in December. "Everyone has worked hard lately, so enjoy the break. But while our bodies are resting, let's keep our minds sharp. I hope when we get back, you'll dive right back into work with one hundred percent enthusiasm!" Applause broke out in unison. Production on *Romance on Mount Lu* paused for now. On October 30, the Congress of Literary and Art Workers opened. Following that, various associations—Artists, Writers, Theatrical, Musicians, Film, Quyi, Dancers, and so on—would convene their own representative congresses, with the closing ceremony on the sixteenth. Throughout the period were interspersed all kinds of activities, banquets, and so forth. From the entire film crew, only Wang Haowei, Tang Guoqiang, and Zhang Jinling were qualified to attend. Looking across Beijing Film Studio as a whole, however, there were many: from Studio Director Wang Yang down to top directors, leading actors, chief cinematographers, and production designers, going as a delegation—the core backbone of domestic cinema. Chen Qi was on set today, walking out with the flow of the crowd. Just outside the soundstage, a studio worker jogged over. "Xiao Chen, looks like you've got mail!" "Oh, thank you!" He walked over to the entrance. At the gatehouse, sure enough, "Chen Qi has a parcel" was written on the small blackboard. "Uncle!" "Yeah. What's stuffed so full in there?" "Letters from readers, probably. Thanks a lot!" The gatehouse guard already knew he was the young fellow who had given him half a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes, and was utterly amazed. These days, everyone thought they were an unappreciated genius, but hardly anyone actually made a name for themselves. Chen Qi carried the parcel back to his room and tore it open. First was a stack of reader letters, followed by a sample copy of the November issue of *Story Session*, and finally an urgent letter from He Chengwei demanding updates. The gist of it was: *The second half of* The Cotton Kasaya *is about to run. Readers are eagerly waiting on tiptoes, and our confidence is soaring. We're sending you an advance sample copy for your perusal.* *By the way, have you started writing the new piece? Hurry up and write! Get cracking! Don't tell me you haven't written a single word yet? Don't push me to my limit, or I'll come to Beijing to duel you in person and hang myself on your front door...* "Hah, at least he didn't mail me razor blades!" Chen Qi curled his lip. What was the rush? When the time was right, the update would come naturally. Carrying both parts of *The Cotton Kasaya*, he thudded down the stairs and ran over to the Literary Department in the main building. "Director Jiang!" "Xiao Chen, I was just looking for you. How much did Shanshan spend on books the other day?" "You're insulting me, Director! You've helped me so much—what's a few books?" "Business is business!" "No, no, just take it as a gift for the kid! A gift for the kid!" After exchanging social pleasantries, Chen Qi handed over the two copies of *Story Session* and said, "While I was at Mount Lu, I wrote a story in my spare time. Got lucky and had it published. Please take a look." "Oh? You young people are something else—bursting with creative energy!" Jiang Huaiyan complimented him, but upon glancing at *Story Session*, he frowned. "This... this kind of magazine..." "It's a martial arts story. The other journals wouldn't take it." "Alright then. Let me have a look."