"This requires a committee meeting for study!"
Inside the deputy director's office, Sun Wenjin spoke bluntly to Zhu Dexiong.
Zhu Dexiong rolled his eyes in secret. Everyone in the studio knew what kind of man Sun was—saying he treated a stray feather like an imperial warrant was putting it mildly. "Old Sun, you have to at least give me a reason, don't you?"
"He's far too young! Since when does someone that young get appointed as a creative planner?"
"It's only a temporary transfer. He's not officially joining our payroll!"
"A temporary transfer won't do either. If your department won't take responsibility for production quality, I have to guard the gate. We can't just let people walk in whenever someone feels like bringing them in."
"Then go talk to the director yourself!"
Zhu Dexiong couldn't be bothered to argue with him. Sun Wenjin wasn't intimidated in the least; he stood up immediately and knocked on the door to Wang Yang's office.
"Old Wang, even if you cherish talent, you still have to respect objective laws. Creative planners are always experienced veteran comrades. How can we have someone so young?
"Last year, you spent eighty thousand yuan to secure Liu Xiaoqing. Fine, Liu Xiaoqing has made a name for herself, but you can't claim every single person you take a liking to will become a great talent, can you? If that were true, wouldn't geniuses be running around everywhere?"
Wang Yang felt a headache coming on just looking at him. "I know you have the studio's best interests at heart, but this young man is genuinely capable. It's only a temporary transfer. All you need to do is sign off."
"If anything goes wrong, you bear the responsibility. I reserve my objections!"
Sun Wenjin dropped that parting shot, spun on his heel, and slipped away.
It wasn't that the man was truly evil. Sitting in his position—overseeing personnel, administration, and discipline—he had to make his presence felt, or people would take him even less seriously.
Besides, he was a conservative by nature, and he and Wang Yang had never seen eye to eye to begin with.
***
The winter wind blew bitter and piercing.
Having entered the third nine-day period after the winter solstice, it was the coldest stretch of the year.
On the eve of the Spring Festival, government bodies and state-owned enterprises grew absurdly busy: workers were preparing for the holiday, accounting was closing out the fiscal year, labor unions were readying welfare goods to distribute, and leadership had to attend a relentless parade of tea parties and New Year greeting receptions.
Wang Yang had been so busy lately that his feet barely touched the ground.
On this particular morning, he hurried over to the Ministry of Culture in Dongcheng District to attend a nationwide film industry New Year tea reception.
At present, various provinces were pushing to set up their own studios; later on, over thirty production studios sprang up, causing an extreme waste of resources before the trend was halted. Right now, there were roughly a dozen major studios nationwide qualified to produce feature films:
Beijing, Changchun, Shanghai, August First, Pearl River, Xi'an, Emei, Xiaoxiang, Tianshan, Inner Mongolia, Youth, Guangxi, Children's, and so forth.
The first four were the undisputed Big Four.
Emei would only hit its stride after Han Sanping took office, and Xi'an would have to wait for the Fifth Generation directors to emerge. At the moment, both were mere kid brothers.
"Old Director!"
"Old Director!"
Though Wang Yang was warm to his studio colleagues and protective of the younger generation, out in the wider industry he was a heavyweight of venerable prestige—a man guaranteed a seat even inside Zhongnanhai.
Over a dozen studio heads greeted him warmly, their attitudes filled with respect. Only Xu Sangchu of Shanghai Film Studio said with a chuckle, "Old Wang, long time no see. How's your health holding up?"
"Splendid. Certainly better than yours!"
"Then why do you have so much more white hair? We're the same age. Take a look at me."
Xu Sangchu smoothed his hair. Wang Yang snorted, too lazy to indulge him. He had never liked the man, feeling Xu was steeped in bourgeois notions and overly fond of suits and ties.
Yet Xu's capability was undeniable. Under his stewardship, Shanghai Film Studio had produced a string of classics: *Hibiscus Town*, *Midnight*, *The True Story of Ah Q*, *The Herdsman*, *My Memories of Old Beijing*, and more.
Even *Romance on Mount Lu* had originally been produced by Shanghai Film Studio in historical fact.
Everyone sat in the conference room, tea and dried fruits spread across the tables, chatting and laughing in an easygoing atmosphere. But with the arrival of a certain person, the air instantly grew subtle. Every studio director fixed the newcomer with a thoroughly sour stare.
The man was Ding Daming, a leader from China Film, and the most widely detested figure in the room.
Ding Daming had long grown used to it. Smiling cheerfully, he didn't care in the slightest, intentionally sitting down right beside Wang Yang and Xu Sangchu. The two old men each shot him a glare.
At this time, the film industry fell under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Culture, having not yet been transferred to the broadcasting administration, so the leadership present today hailed from the ministry.
Being a tea reception rather than a formal conference, the ministry official was very relaxed. He smiled and said, "I still remember last year's tea party, when all you distinguished comrades gathered to talk of heaven and earth and envision the future. In the blink of an eye, a whole year has passed.
"I'll keep it brief. Everyone completed their assignments last year, and the quality of your works was plain for all to see. This year, your ranks are even stronger. I've reviewed the projects you submitted, and each is brimming with ambition.
"Old Wang, your studio intends to adapt *Teahouse* and *Rickshaw Boy*. Excellent selections. Mr. Lao She was rehabilitated the year before last, and we should indeed adapt more of his works."
At those words, Xu Sangchu was the first to speak up: "You're adapting Lao She?"
"What? Unhappy about it?" Wang Yang retorted.
"What a coincidence! We're adapting Lu Xun—*The True Story of Ah Q*!"
"Wonderful! We'll see how we measure up against each other when the time comes."
"No need to wait that long. We have a film coming out this year called *Evening Rain*. I can send you a ticket and treat you to a screening. What does your studio have this year? You wouldn't be thinking of pitting that *Romance on Mount Lu* against me, would you?"
Beijing Film Studio and Shanghai Film Studio were fierce rivals, constantly monitoring each other's moves.
Wang Yang wasn't surprised that Xu Sangchu knew about *Romance on Mount Lu*, just as he was well aware of *Evening Rain*—it was indeed a remarkably bold production. Refusing to yield an inch verbally, he traded banter with his rival. While the two veterans sparred, lively chatter erupted on all sides, covering every topic under the sun.
Suddenly, one studio director rapped the table and asked, "I've heard some comrades propose establishing a professional, authoritative film award. Is there any truth to that?"
"They've already briefed me, and I fully support it. A prestigious award like that is precisely what the country currently lacks. As for the specifics, we'll let the Film Association hold a meeting to study it. Let's not delve into that today," the Ministry of Culture official said with a smile.
"I have a matter as well!"
Wang Yang knocked on the table too and said, "Everyone probably knows what I'm about to say, but I must say it anyway: I have always advocated for the integration of production and distribution. You must grant us production studios distribution rights!"
"Since when is anything a 'must'?"
Sure enough, China Film's Ding Daming was the first to cut in. "Distribution is our responsibility. Old Director, you should just focus on artistic production!"
"Even those handling production have to feed their bellies! If not distribution, then raise your procurement prices!"
"Procurement prices are set by the state. Do you think they can just be raised the moment you ask?"
"Just because they're set by the state doesn't mean they can never change! Everyone here knows what the problem is. If this drags on any longer, how are we supposed to make films at all?"
Wang Yang slammed the table. Ding Daming refused to back down, matching him blow for blow. The room was instantly choked with the sharp tang of gunpowder. Everyone else was thoroughly accustomed to it; nearly every meeting ended up playing out this exact scene.
In truth, the other studio heads wanted the same thing, but with a heavyweight like Wang Yang leading the charge, they were content to shrink back and offer moral support from the rear.
The ministry official felt helpless. The issue was of monumental significance, far beyond his authority to decide alone. He could only step in to smooth things over: "All right, all right. What's the point of quarreling during the New Year festivities? We can discuss this matter further!"
*Hmph!*
Wang Yang snorted and fell silent.
The atmosphere gradually returned to normal. After chatting for a while longer, the meeting adjourned. The directors intended to stay in Beijing for a few days to unwind and take part in organized activities before heading home.
As people drifted out in small groups, Wang Yang suddenly called out, "Old Xu!"
"Hmm?"
Xu Sangchu turned around.
Wang Yang walked up close and lowered his voice: "We might not see eye to eye, but this time we need to join forces. After the Spring Festival, I intend to submit a petition directly to the central leadership. Where do you stand?"
"..."
Xu Sangchu looked at him, then said, "As long as you dare to submit it, I will definitely be the first to follow your lead!"
"Good! Looks like you've got some backbone after all!"
Wang Yang chuckled heartily and strode off to contact the other studio heads.
This initiative could only be spearheaded by Beijing Film Studio—because they stood right at the political heart of the nation!
Chapter 75