Chapter 392: How to Edit?

The two Editors-in-Chief flipped through the pages incessantly, from beginning to end, and then from end to beginning.

Looking at the original score, looking at the photos, looking at the research literature, looking at the draft illustrations... flipping back and forth, eyes never leaving the pages.

Slowly, the expressions on both their faces grew increasingly strange: of the twenty-four dance posture illustrations, which one was not graceful and charming, which one was not exquisite and alluring?

Which one was not meticulously researched, grounded in reason and evidence?

Never mind Li Jingting; even if Yan Zhidong came, it would be impossible to translate to this degree.

As for that kid, it was even more impossible.

The problem is, the facts are laid out right before their eyes?

It wasn't that the two hadn't thought about it: had someone translated the score in advance, and Lin Sicheng just took it and copied it again? But when they saw the final table of score-symbol comparisons, they completely abandoned that notion.

Nearly half of the symbols, they hadn't even seen before?

And they were very certain that Li Jingting had absolutely never seen them either.

Therefore, this score was indeed translated by this kid, and besides him, no one else could translate it to this level.

Suddenly, Lan Ling and Xiao Yinan looked at each other, their eyes filled with suspicion, astonishment, and disbelief.

But whether they believed it or not had become secondary; the point was the value of this manuscript and its subsequent influence.

Relatively speaking, their theoretical depth and research capabilities were indeed inferior to those of Yan Zhidong and Li Jingting. But if one compared imagination, creativity, control over the theater and actors, and the perception of stage and artistic effects, the former could not catch up even with a whip.

Therefore, their intuitive feeling was deeper: these twenty-four dance posture illustrations did not need any adaptation at all; they could be moved directly onto the stage.

Added to the Tang Dynasty Yan Yue Da Qu, the influence of the "Six Yao Score," which had been lost for a thousand years—as long as the musical accompaniment wasn't complete garbage, winning a high-level award would be easy.

If they put in a little effort, translated a few more, made the duration a bit longer, made the accompaniment a bit better, and made the spectacle a bit grander, striving for a National Level award wouldn't be that difficult.

Thinking of this, the two Editors-in-Chief finally understood what Lin Sicheng wanted to do. This was clearly baiting them: did they want it, were they tempted? To say they weren't tempted would be a lie: the Central Song and Dance Troupe was the number one performing group in the country—was that just something blown out of hot air?

When all is said and done, you have to let your work speak for itself.

So, is a National Level award enough?

If that's not enough, what about the influence of an eternal masterpiece, a work of the ages that will go down in history?

Subconsciously, Lan Ling recalled the phone call she had received from Zhang, the Dean of the Cultural Relics Research Institute, a week ago:

"Old Lan, don't blame me for reminding you: this kid is extremely bizarre. By my estimation, nine times out of ten he's going there to wreck your shop, and he might even use your song and dance troupe as a backdrop..."

"What, you don't believe me? The faces of the Cultural Relics Research Institute and Lao Ma have almost been rubbed into the dirt by him, and even now they are still acting as his backdrop, working for him for free. The Forbidden City is next... Of course, there are definitely benefits, and they certainly won't be few..."

At the time, Lan Ling felt that Dean Zhang's words were contradictory: if someone has already run to your door to wreck your shop, would you still willingly act as their backdrop and work for them for free?

Now, she finally understood: a complete layman running to the Central Song and Dance Troupe to choreograph—does that count as wrecking the shop?

Using your venue, using your actors, using your stage, and even relying on your influence to apply, promote, evaluate, and win awards... he didn't miss a single thing he could utilize; does that count as using the song and dance troupe as a backdrop?

But this backdrop, Lan Ling was willing to be; she wished she could let Lin Sicheng come a few more times.

Because at this level, whether they won an award or not became secondary; it was about the influence the entire "Six Yao" score would have on the historical, literary, and cultural circles once it was translated and that final table of score-symbol comparisons was made public.

Was this score translated at the song and dance troupe, was the troupe's actors used to make the storyboards, and did the troupe send people to assist?

And one hundred percent, Lin Sicheng wanted the song and dance troupe to take credit, otherwise he wouldn't have been so straightforward and handed over the manuscript directly.

Thinking of this, Editor-in-Chief Lan made the final decision: "Notify the Personnel Department to make Jing Zeyang a permanent staff member!"

Cheng Nianjia and Liu Hao were stunned: "Ah?"

Having caused such a huge disaster with such a terrible impact, in the old lady's eyes, seeing a pile of dog shit might have been more pleasing than Jing Zeyang, otherwise she wouldn't have put him through such a wringer before.

They had also thought that the significance of this manuscript was extraordinary and that Jing Zeyang might be able to escape disaster because of it. But they hadn't expected the Editor-in-Chief's attitude to change so quickly, and to go all the way in one step?

"Give a peach, receive a plum! The other party has shown such great sincerity, we cannot go back on our word!"

The old lady sighed, "But a dog can't change its habit of eating shit, don't let Jing Zeyang stay in the troupe... like this, arrange him in the office, don't give him an administrative position yet, just put him on a technical track for now..."

The two were stunned for a long while before they reacted: "But Lin Sicheng said he plans to let the actors practice the choreography first to see the effect. So he won't translate the score for now; starting tomorrow, he plans to compose the music..."

"Let him compose!" Editor-in-Chief Lan was exceptionally decisive, "Whatever he wants to arrange, let him arrange!"

Seeing Liu Hao's reluctant, pained, and regretful expression, the old lady smiled: "Even if he stops right here, this manuscript alone is worth ten Jing Zeyangs, what else are you dissatisfied with?"

Liu Hao was satisfied, of course, but who wouldn't want to be even more satisfied?

"Editor-in-Chief, that score, Little Lin has only translated at most one-seventh or one-eighth of it..."

"I know, but if you want the horse to run, you have to give the horse grass; how can there be a logic of only taking and never giving, always wanting to take advantage of others?"

The old lady thought again, "Like this, Old Xiao, you go and contact that kid tomorrow: whatever he needs, just let him ask, and we guarantee full support. Including funding, technology, manpower, and even promotion, application, and approval..."

"Also let him rest assured: we will not interfere with any of the creative processes, whether it's translating, choreographing, practicing, or performing... however he says to do it, we will cooperate."

"Alright, Editor-in-Chief!" Xiao Yinan nodded, "And then?"

"No then!" Lan Ling smiled, "Don't worry, it won't be for nothing."

It definitely won't be for nothing: just this manuscript before them, just these twenty-four dance posture illustrations—once finished, it will be a work of extremely high quality. It's no exaggeration to say: it's worth eight Jing Zeyangs, and then some.

Moreover, the old Dean Zhang had specifically reminded her: Old Lan, don't be afraid of taking a loss; the more losses you take, the more benefits you'll get.

The old lady was already starting to look forward to it...

The cold stars had not yet faded, and frost already covered the windows.

As the sky was just beginning to brighten, with a "creak," the Mercedes-Benz stopped at the entrance of the building.

Seeing the car stop, Jing Zeyang hurried out to meet them; just as he stepped out of the sensor door, he paused for a moment.

With a few "clangs," several people got out one after another: Fang Jin was carrying a zither case, Li Zhen was carrying a leather bag, and Xiao Yuzhu was carrying a computer bag.

Only Lin Sicheng had his hands empty.

Seeing Jing Zeyang, Lin Sicheng smiled: "Brother Jing, let me introduce you: this is Li Zhen, this is Xiao Yuzhu; they are both my classmates and also my colleagues..."

Colleagues... they should be employees, right?

The day before yesterday, he had heard Fang Jin muttering: saying he was having a bit of a hard time on his own, and asking if he should call over Junior Sister Li or Little Xiao.

Thinking about it, these must be the two people in front of him...

With these thoughts turning in his mind, he greeted them, and Jing Zeyang took the lead to push open the door.

He let Lin Sicheng in, then glanced behind him: "Cousin Lin, is arranging music quite difficult?"

Seeing Lin Sicheng suddenly bring so many people, he felt it wouldn't be easy.

But if Lin Sicheng were to tell the truth: just like yesterday's dance notation, it was all copying anyway, nothing difficult about it.

But you can't just copy directly; even to avoid criticism, you have to do the preparatory work thoroughly.

Compared to that, the documentary research work for translating the musical scores was exceptionally tedious, and Fang Jin definitely couldn't handle it alone, so he had called Li Zhen and Xiao Yuzhu over yesterday morning.

If that still wasn't enough, Jing Zeyang could also fill in for a while. If nothing else, he could at least type, enter URLs, and look up information, right?

Giving an ambiguous reply, the group entered the building.

It was just seven-thirty, not yet time for work, but there were quite a few people in the building.

Jing Zeyang would encounter a colleague or two from time to time, but strangely, no one greeted him, as if they were avoiding a plague god.

Once they were familiar with each other, Fang Jin said with a playful expression: "Brother Jing, your popularity isn't very good, is it?"

Jing Zeyang let out a "humph": anyone targeted by Editor-in-Chief Lan like that would receive this treatment.

Fortunately, Lin Sicheng was there to save the day. If nothing went wrong, he shouldn't be getting fired for the time being, at least until his internship ended.

Of course, he shouldn't dream of a good position; Jing Zeyang guessed he would either be sent to the motor pool or the cafeteria.

While thinking to himself, the group entered the elevator and went up to the seventh floor.

The elevator doors opened, the five of them filed out, and just as they turned into the hallway, they ran into Cheng Nianjia.

She first smiled at Lin Sicheng, then looked at Jing Zeyang: "Little Jing, the old lady approved it, go to the Personnel Department to handle the paperwork!"

Jing Zeyang was suddenly stunned: "Approved what?"

"What else could it be, your conversion report for the intern editor position?" Cheng Nianjia suddenly remembered, "Oh right, you haven't submitted the application yet, remember to fill out the supplementary materials first!"

What the hell, conversion?

The news came too suddenly; Jing Zeyang was completely bewildered.

"Does that mean I'm still an editor?"

"What else?" Cheng Nianjia looked at him strangely, "Don't tell me you wanted to be a driver, or even a cook?"

I'd have to be sick in the head to want to be a driver...

Jing Zeyang turned around abruptly, wishing he could hug Lin Sicheng and give him a kiss.

At first glance, isn't it just an editor?

But you have to understand: this is a National Level performance troupe directly under the Ministry; after muddling through for two years and transferring positions, there is a chance to enter the Ministry directly. Of course, even if he went, he would just be a small fry doing odd jobs, but whether one has the ability is one thing, and whether there is hope is another.

Otherwise, the previous Jing Zeyang wouldn't have been so miserable and conflicted...

Seeing him mumbling with his lips, motionless, Lin Sicheng smiled: "Brother Jing, this is a good thing!"

Jing Zeyang knew that, of course, but it was too sudden; he couldn't figure it out for a moment: how powerful could that manuscript of Lin Sicheng's be to make the old lady endure the disgust of swallowing a fly and immediately process his conversion?

The key was that he hadn't even figured out how to express his gratitude.

"Just a small favor..." Lin Sicheng mimicked Jing Zeyang's Beijing accent, "Go handle it quickly!"

Jing Zeyang nodded vigorously and patted his chest twice: meaning he had kept it all in his heart.

Watching Jing Zeyang head to the Personnel Office, Cheng Nianjia accompanied Lin Sicheng to the Bian Dao Shi, speaking as they walked: "The Editor-in-Chief has given the word, letting Editor-in-Chief Liu go to the Folk Music Troupe; later, she will help you invite two teachers and actors over. If you have any requirements, feel free to bring them up..."

"In addition, the old lady has entrusted Vice President Xiao to come over and take a look later, and by the way, ask you: what areas need coordination so she can plan and arrange them in advance."

Lin Sicheng nodded: "Not going to discuss it or offer some pointers?"

"No discussion, no pointers, and certainly no interference!" Cheng Nianjia smiled, "The Editor-in-Chief said: let you have free rein, we just need to cooperate well!" Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment: the old lady's level of trust was quite high, wasn't it?

He said half-jokingly: "Group Leader Cheng, what if I take the draft and run away after I finish arranging it?"

"Even if you ran, it wouldn't be a loss!" Cheng Nianjia looked completely unafraid, "The Editor-in-Chief said that just those twenty-four paintings alone would be more than enough to trade for ten conversion reports for Jing Zeyang..."

This was a bit of an exaggeration; after all, it was an organization directly under the Ministry, and the staff quota wasn't that worthless.

Of course, the significance and value were high enough; once performed, it would at least cause a sensation in half of the arts circle.

He nodded: "Group Leader Cheng, please thank Editor-in-Chief Lan for me!"

Cheng Nianjia nodded with a smile, and the group entered the Bian Dao Shi.

Just as she pushed the door open, she paused again: by the wall, two people were head-to-head, looking at a document.

It seemed to be that manuscript of Lin Sicheng's.

The key was, the people looking at the manuscript: one was Li Jingting, and the other was a professor from the Music Department of the Beijing Dance Academy.

This person was no nobody; the Beijing Dance Academy Music Department had three teaching and research offices: Classical Dance Accompaniment, Ballet Accompaniment, and Piano Teaching, and this person was in charge of Classical Dance.

The Classical Dance Department of the Beijing Dance Academy topped the rankings year after year, and this person was responsible for at least thirty percent of that credit.

He wouldn't come here for no reason; could he just be bored with nothing to do?

Hearing the movement, the two raised their heads. Seeing Lin Sicheng, Li Jingting's face was full of smiles:

"Little Lin, come, come, let me introduce you... this is the head of our school's Music Department Classical Dance Accompaniment teaching and research office, Professor Wan..." Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment: Professor Wan Fengyun?

The bone flute prelude to the "Guangling San" was translated and restored by him, and he had used the tuning system of the Zenghouyi Chime Bells to calibrate the pitch, determining the "slow shang mode" unison tuning method for "Guangling San".

This was the final missing piece of the "Guangling San" restoration project, known as one of the three major milestones, and because of this, Professor Wan became the winner of that year's "Wenhua Music Creation Award".

Was it 2015, or 2016?

Thinking to himself, he walked up to meet them, and the four hands shook together.

It was no exaggeration: Wan Fengyun stared intently at Lin Sicheng, his eyes shining, his curiosity seemingly overflowing.

At the same time, thoughts kept turning in his mind: not to mention how young this kid was, those twenty-four dance posture paintings were simply incredible. He just wanted to know: how would this kid arrange it, and what kind of accompaniment would he produce that could be worthy of an eternal masterpiece like "Liu Yao"?