Chapter 261: The Four Great Dan of Literary Journals

Zhu Lin's film debut did not perform well.

What's terrifying isn't being criticized, but being utterly ignored.

Gong Ying's first film, "Jihong," at least garnered considerable critical commentary on her performance, but no one cared about Zhu Lin's acting in "The Traitor."

Even this film attracted little attention; Zhu Lin later went back to that cinema, and the movie was pulled after only five days, reportedly because the print was sent to Shijiazhuang.

This means they've already abandoned the Yanjing market.

During this period, Zhu Lin was especially depressed, but it coincided perfectly with the emotional state of the female protagonist in "Shangshi," and director Shui Hua once again praised her performance.

The director's approval, family encouragement, and Wei Ming's letter—with praise from his future mother-in-law—helped Zhu Lin quickly emerge from the shadow of her debut.

She believed "Shangshi" would truly allow audiences to understand her.

Even more surprising was the original screenplay Wei Ming was writing; he'd specifically written her a letter from Suqian—what did that mean?

Could it be, could it be that he wanted her to play the female lead in his new screenplay?

Zhu Lin's heart pounded; you little rascal, you've got some conscience after all.

So, in the quiet of night, Zhu Lin wrote to Wei Ming about her emotional journey during this time, not mentioning the new screenplay—she was waiting for Xiao Wei to surprise her.

After its release in major western cities and Yanjing and Mo Du, Xiying Factory's "The Traitor" could be declared a failure.

How much of a failure? Despite its cast—Zhu Lin, Ma Jingwu, and Golden Rooster Award winner Naren Hua—especially with Zhu Lin being such a major draw—its Douban rating had too few reviewers to even generate a score, far below those of contemporary classic films.

But Xiying Factory was already used to it; after all, neither their directorial quality nor their acting roster could match Beiying or Shangying.

First was Teng Wenji's "Awakening," starring the big star Chen Chong, possibly her final film before leaving abroad—something Xiying Factory had managed to snatch up.

Another was "The Xi'an Incident," directed by Cheng Yin, one of Beiying Factory's Four Masters; this was a major production officially endorsed by higher authorities, and Xiying Factory secured the lead role only due to its geographical advantage.

Just now, the adaptation of Wei Ming's novel "Niu and Niu Er" had officially wrapped; after confirming no reshoots were needed, director Wu Tianming returned triumphantly.

Originally, this film had been far less of a priority for Xiying Factory than "The Xi'an Incident" and "Awakening," but after factory leaders viewed some clips of "Niu and Niu Er," they all praised it enthusiastically and marveled at Wu Tianming's tremendous progress.

How did this kid make the cows seem so human? Absolutely miraculous!

Moreover, the milk cow's performance paired perfectly with Li Baotian's wild acting—and who the hell is Li Baotian? Why had no one ever heard of him before?

Several retiring factory leaders even discussed giving Wu Tianming the title of deputy factory head, to eventually succeed him.

After all, Xiying Factory lacked talent; Wu Tianming had both directorial skill and management ability, and to retain talent, they had to make real sacrifices.

The factory director asked him what he planned to shoot next, promising full support; Wu Tianming then pulled out a copy of "Gushihui."

Gong Ying took time off to return home and told her father about renovating the old Western-style house—privately, with no one else knowing.

Her father was now in semi-retirement and had plenty of free time.

Gong Yuandong was initially puzzled: buying an old Western-style house and renovating it extensively—what kind of friends had his daughter met since entering the entertainment industry? Were these legitimate friends?

The father had some concerns.

To ease his worries, Gong Ying said the client would pay him a fee, making it sound very formal; upon hearing this, Gong Yuandong had no objections—he could even earn some extra pocket money.

Moreover, besides designing costumes, he genuinely enjoyed drawing architecture; this job hit his exact interest point.

Two days later, Gong Ying received a call from the Writers' Association guesthouse and immediately went there to find Wei Ming.

Wei Ming said the screenplay was finished.

Gong Ying didn't rush to read the screenplay; instead, she told Wei Ming something: "Ageng knows about the house."

"Oh? How did she find out?"

"It was my father—he's always coming and going at odd hours, acting suspiciously, so Mom sent Ageng to follow him. She discovered the old Western-style house, and Dad told her what I'd said, but she guessed it was your house."

Wei Ming asked: "And what did she tell your mom?"

Gong Ying: "Dad gave Ageng a third of the labor fee; she reported to Mom that he was going fishing, but he never caught anything—and Ageng can also help with some interior design."

Wei Ming burst out laughing: What a filial father and daughter.

Gong Ying pouted: "Ageng is blackmailing me."

"I'll deal with A Long when I get back! How is she blackmailing you?"

Gong Ying: "She says once the house is renovated, I have to give her a room."

Wei Ming smiled: "I thought it was something serious—I was planning to offer her a room anyway. That house is so big; it's unsafe for you to live alone. If you move in, you'd better bring Ageng along."

"Won't that be inconvenient?" Gong Ying bit her lip, feeling guilty.

Wei Ming hugged the slender Xuejie: "No problem—let her stay downstairs, we'll live upstairs."

Xuejie finally smiled, and then Wei Ming brought out the screenplay for "Mom, Love Me Once More."

"Now the screenplay is done, Sister can read it. I'll make a copy to submit to 'Huacheng' for publication, and also see which film factory is interested."

Although Wei Ming hadn't had any screenplay officially released yet, his reputation was undeniable; anyone willing to write screenplays was practically descending from heaven, and everyone was scrambling to get him—Gong Ying even knew Hong Kong's top directors had approached him for screenplays.

Gong Ying sat on Wei Ming's bed reading the screenplay, while Wei Ming began revising "The Righteous Path Is Vast and Deep"; he'd been in Mo Du for half a month, and December was coming soon—it was time to get serious.

But someone always distracted him; soon enough, someone shouted from downstairs.

"Teacher Wei, someone's here to see you."

Wei Ming told Xuejie to keep reading and went downstairs.

It turned out to be Su Chen, editor-in-chief of "Huacheng," whom he'd met once at the National Book Fair.

It was there that Wei Ming had promised to submit "Mom, Love Me Once More" to "Huacheng" for publication.

"Editor-in-Chief Su, are you in Mo Du on official business?" Wei Ming shook his hand; there were seats downstairs, and he had no intention of inviting him upstairs.

Su Chen: "I'm not in Mo Du on official business—I went to Zhenjiang."

"Zhenjiang?" Zhenjiang vinegar is excellent.

"Not just me—Ba Lao, Meng Weizai from 'Dangdai,' and others—we held a national conference of major literary journal editors at Jinshan Temple in Zhenjiang. Twenty-seven journals total. After it ended, since I was passing through Mo Du anyway, and Ba Lao said you were revising here, I came to check on you."

Wei Ming asked: "You came at a good time—I just returned from Subei."

"To Subei?"

"For the screenplay—I went to gather inspiration."

Su Chen perked up; he hadn't come specifically to chase the manuscript, just to check in: "How's the progress?"

Wei Ming: "Since returning, I've been working overtime, forgetting meals and sleep—I've just finished."

"Already done?" The editor-in-chief was surprised; he'd assumed Wei Ming's trip to Subei was for preparation, not wrapping up.

He couldn't wait: "Can I see it now? If there aren't major issues, we might still make the December issue."

Although the December issue's manuscript collection was already complete, adding Wei Ming's new work wouldn't be a big deal.

This year, aside from his early story "The Shepherd Class," Wei Ming hadn't published any new fiction; though this is a screenplay, not as widely accessible as a novel, it would certainly ease readers' hunger.

Once Wei Ming's long-form piece in "Shouhuo" comes out, they'll be overshadowed.

Xuejie was reading it right now, so Wei Ming couldn't let him see it; instead, he asked: "What did you discuss at the meeting, Editor-in-Chief?"

"Not much—mainly exchanging feelings and sharing meaningful experiences from our journals. Oh, there's something related to you: next year, the Writers' Association will launch its first National Outstanding Mid-Length Fiction Award; works published from 1977 to 1980 are eligible. You'll probably make the judges' lives very difficult." Su Chen smiled.

Wei Ming understood his meaning: over the past year, his main output had been mid-length fiction, each a classic—especially "The Herdsman" and "The Shepherd Class," both with high artistic merit and strong award contenders.

But following the Writers' Association's usual practice, each author could win at most one award; with so many authors and works, they couldn't let one person dominate.

Wei Ming offered a few humble remarks and asked Su Chen about literary gossip from the meeting.

Su Chen: "Actually, there is one: I forget which magazine's editor proposed the idea of the 'Four Great Dan of Literary Journals.'"

"Oh? Which four?"

Su Chen: "'Shouhuo' is steady and mature—the 'Old Dan.' 'Dangdai' is bold and assertive—the 'Zheng Dan.' 'Shiyue' is fresh and elegant—the 'Qingyi.' And our 'Huacheng,' with its graceful, colorful, flourishing spirit—the 'Hua Dan.'"

So this was when the "Four Great Dan of Literary Journals" was coined—Ba Lao must've been muttering to himself: we've always measured ourselves against "Renmin Literature," how did we end up grouped with these newbies?

Aside from "Shouhuo," the other three were all founded in 1978–79; neither their heritage nor circulation could match "Shouhuo"—this label was forced.

But marketing tactics like "Four Great Kings," "Four Talents," or "Four Little Flowers" were undeniably effective.

Originally, Nanjing's "Zhongshan" and Yanjing's "Yanjing Literature" were on a similar level, but once the "Four Great Dan" gained widespread reader recognition, "Zhongshan" and "Yanjing Literature" fell behind.

Wei Ming smiled: "I've published articles in all four—I feel honored."

"Those little essays don't count," Su Chen shook his head. "'Shiyue' heard your next work will appear in 'Huacheng'—they're already determined to secure your next one."

Wei Ming chuckled: "I don't have any ideas yet—'Shiyue' might have to wait a long time."

But in 1981, besides "The Righteous Path Is Vast and Deep," he really should write something; as a writer, he wanted to complete the achievement of the Four Great Dan—having a representative work in each journal.

After chatting a while and delaying time, Wei Ming guessed Xuejie had finished reading, and Editor-in-Chief Su was yawning from drowsiness; he asked: "Editor-in-Chief, you're staying here too—what's your room number? I'll go up and bring you the manuscript."

Su Chen: "220."

Wow—this was Chen Dajie's old room, right below him.

Wei Ming rushed upstairs; at the door, he heard faint sobs coming from inside.

Since it was the third floor and quiet, he quickly opened the door and saw Xuejie lying on the bed, quietly crying; Wei Ming looked closer—her pillowcase was soaked through; he guessed she'd shed at least a kilogram of tears.

"Sister~" Wei Ming gently embraced Gong Ying.

Her crying was within his expectation; his screenplay emphasized visual imagery—reading the text evoked vivid scenes, and thinking of those heart-wrenching separations, mothers and children yearning for each other—who could hold back tears?

If you don't cry, do you even have a heart?

Xuejie had ruined Wei Ming's pillowcase and now she was ruining his shirt.

Wei Ming quickly lightened the mood with a joke: "My shirt's expensive—now it's covered in snot."

Gong Ying immediately pulled away; seeing his mischievous grin, she punched him playfully.

"You jerk, how could you write something so moving?!"

"It's just that reality is too painful—I merely refined it slightly," Wei Ming refused to take credit, then added seriously: "Sister, you're a professional actress—if you can't hold back tears when you shouldn't cry during filming, it won't work. For example, when the female lead cruelly sends her son away to live with his father and stepmother in the big city, you can't cry in front of the child."

Thinking of Wei Ming's psychological and detailed descriptions in that scene, Gong Ying wiped her tears: "I won't—I was just imagining myself as a regular reader; the emotions were too overwhelming, impossible to stop."

She even imagined if she bore a child for Xiao Wei, but he abandoned her—how terrifying that would be.

Wei Ming thought: This is nothing yet. When the film is made, plus my music, oh boy—that'll be a real tear-gas nuclear weapon.

"Alright, sister, wait a moment—the editor of 'Huacheng' just arrived; we talked for a while, and I need to show him this manuscript."

"Oh, then go ahead—I'm leaving too."

"No, don't go—I…" Wei Ming hugged his beloved sister, his hands gliding like a coiling dragon.

Gong Ying pouted: "My mind is full of Crazy Mom and Little Gourd."

Wei Ming knew she had no mood left; he could only sigh: "Then wait downstairs for me—I'll give him the script and bring it back to you."

Early the next morning, Wei Ming was woken by a knock at the door.

When he opened it, it was Su Chen from 'Huacheng,' who told Wei Ming: "I'm returning to Guangzhou."

Wei Ming asked: "Can the script be published next month? If not, I'll need to make copies to see if any film studios are interested."

Su Chen smiled: "I guarantee, once this script comes out, every film studio in the country will fight over it."

Last night, Su Chen had stayed up all night reading the script; he was surprised—Wei Ming had written a straightforward story about mother-son affection.

The story's backdrop involved educated youth being sent to the countryside and returning to the city, which could easily have become a sent-down-youth film—but Wei Ming didn't dig deep into those themes; his focus was entirely on Crazy Mom and Little Gourd.

From a literary standpoint, this emphasis made the script seem lacking in weight and depth.

But Su Chen, a veteran of decades in literature, had seen everything—he had wept repeatedly while reading 'Mom, Love Me Once More,' crying like an idiot; such works weren't rare—they were nonexistent.

Just for this reason, the script would be incredibly compelling as a film: mother-son affection is humanity's most primal emotion, likely touching ordinary people more than trendy themes like sent-down youth, trauma, or reflection.

Su Chen said the script would appear in 'Huacheng' by December, so Wei Ming wouldn't need to make copies—he could simply walk into a film studio holding the 'Huacheng' magazine to negotiate.

He also confirmed with Wei Ming a rate of ten yuan per thousand characters: 35, 00 words meant 350 yuan in payment.

After seeing Su Chen off, reports about the 'Four Great Beauties' of literary magazines began appearing frequently in the press—the hype was underway.

At this time, 'Shouhuo' dropped another bombshell: in its newly released November issue, the second part of Ye Xin's sent-down-youth novel 'Cuo Tuo Sui Yue' was serialized.

Considering the nationwide attention the first part had sparked, this issue of 'Shouhuo' launched with an initial print run of 800, 00 copies, breaking its own previous sales record; at 'Shouhuo's' single-unit price, this circulation's value surpassed that of 'Renmin Wenxue's' million-plus copies.

Meanwhile, Wei Ming had finished revising the first several ten thousand characters of 'Ren Jian Zheng Dao Shi Cang Sang' and went to the 'Shouhuo' editorial office to exchange for the next portion.

Then Li Xiaolin told Wei Ming that, from all channels, this issue of 'Shouhuo' was selling extraordinarily well—many places had already sold out.

"We're planning to print another 300, 00 copies!"

That meant 1. million copies total—a pure literary magazine, priced at one yuan per copy—putting all these factors together, it was terrifying.

That's 1. million yuan in gross revenue; each 'Shouhuo' contained only 400, 00 to 500, 00 characters. At the highest rate of ten yuan per thousand characters, the royalty cost was just four or five thousand yuan—this was pure profit!

Wei Ming was calculating his profits, while Editor Li teased him: "Your pressure's going to rise now."

"Huh?" Wei Ming blinked. "What does this have to do with me?"

Editor Li smiled: "'Cuo Tuo Sui Yue' raised sales to over a million—now your long novel follows next issue. If your sales fall short of this one, people will start questioning your title as a literary genius."

Wei Ming understood her meaning: last year he had gone too hard—he'd overshadowed Ye Xin and others completely; now this was his first long novel after a year's gap, and everyone naturally had sky-high expectations.

But Wei Ming's mind was clear: "I'm not writing a trendy topic. I don't compete on sales—I compete on who still has readers twenty or thirty years from now."

And on this point, Wei Ming was utterly confident!

(End of Chapter)