Chapter 288: Wei and Li Are Heading in Opposite Directions

Dai Tielang is fifty-one this year, born in Singapore, and moved to Magu with his family only at age ten.

His main role at Meiyingchang was animation design; he served as animation designer for "Little Tadpoles Look for Mom," "The Shepherd's Flute," and "After School."

Aside from directing a short film early on, his true directorial career at Meiyingchang began two years ago with "The Hen Moves House," followed last year by "My Friend Little Dolphin," neither of which brought him great fame.

His newly completed work, "The Nine-Colored Deer," has not yet been broadcast; only after its airing will his abilities be fully recognized.

From the themes of these three works, it's clear he loves small animals and enjoys novel things—he's still buying remote-control toy cars at his age, taking them apart and reassembling them, like an old child.

So after considering all the directors in the studio, Te Wei chose him.

Upon entering the manager's office, Te Wei didn't get straight to the point but asked Dai Tielang: "Little Dai, do you have a cat at home?"

"No, but we have a dog. Traditional courtyard cats are harder to domesticate than dogs, and our place is too small for them to roam, but the cats downstairs are quite friendly with me."

Talking about cats and dogs, Dai Tielang went on at length—any old man who loves play and retains childlike wonder won't be bad with small animals.

Hearing this, Te Wei relaxed and asked: "Do you know 'The Black Cat Police Chief'?"

"That black cat police chief with eyes like copper bells, shining with lightning-sharp wit," Dai Tielang sat up straight, alert, facing Te Wei.

"Where did you even get those words?" Te Wei laughed.

"Not mine—last month's 'Children's Literature' had One-Ear write a song praising the police chief to undermine his will through flattery."

It turned out Dai Tielang was also a fan of Wei's writings, reading every issue, and spoke knowledgeably about the Black Cat Police Chief: "In my view, One-Ear's tactic is brilliant. With reform and opening-up, officials' power keeps growing—we need to guard against this in real life too. But I have to admit, the song One-Ear composed is actually quite good."

Since there was no musical score, Dai Tielang could only recite it; Te Wei burst out laughing: "Since you love 'The Black Cat Police Chief' so much, this project is yours."

"Wait, are we really making 'The Black Cat Police Chief'?"

"And it's a TV animation series—you proposed it before," Te Wei said seriously.

Having lived overseas and still maintaining some international connections, Dai Tielang's perspective was highly international; he believed Meiyingchang needed to produce serialized animations like Disney in America or Osamu Tezuka in Japan, or else foreign animations would dominate China's TV animation market.

Unfortunately, television's influence was still limited back then, and Dai Tielang was junior and unheard-of—the studio never approved his proposal.

After recent meetings and consultations with higher authorities, studio leadership finally decided to produce serialized animations to enrich TV content.

But the manpower and funding allocated to this project were meager—less investment per minute than other short films—so few veteran directors were willing to take it on.

Te Wei didn't hide anything—he explained frankly to Dai Tielang: "It's our first time doing something like this; we're feeling our way across the river. You'll have to assemble your team from those currently idle."

"How long per episode, and how many episodes total?" Dai Tielang asked two key questions.

Te Wei: "Each episode no longer than twenty minutes. Start with two episodes. If the response is good, we'll continue."

Dai Tielang estimated that the illustrations from 'Children's Literature' could be slightly modified and used directly, and he personally knew one of the character designers, Liu Rulong.

"Give me a year—I'll lead the team to finish both episodes within that time."

"Fine, one year it is!" Te Wei added, "Also, Wei's in Magu—if you'd like to meet him, I can arrange it."

"Oh really? I've always wanted to meet him—we've missed each other several times," Dai Tielang smiled.

He was also deeply interested in the latest technology, often paying out of pocket for foreign science magazines; he was fascinated by the highly sci-fi elements Wei created in his novels.

Last night, Wei Ming had taken Zhu Lin home after finishing their intimate encounter, but early this morning she came to him on her own.

"We're not filming today—I'm so bored."

"Then let's go out and have some fun—I'll show you around Magu."

"Won't it interfere with your creative work?" Zhu Lin asked in that teasing, coquettish tone—she must've learned it from someone.

"Not at all. Let's go."

After stepping outside, Zhu Lin suggested: "I heard a new movie's out—let's go watch it this morning."

"Sure," Wei Ming had also been looking for someone to watch a movie with.

But inside the cinema, Zhu Lin pointed to the poster for "Midnight": "Let's watch this—by Mr. Mao Dun."

Uh…

Fine. Wei Ming pretended nothing was amiss, bought tickets, and went in. Even on a weekday morning, the theater was packed—over fifty percent occupancy.

The film focused mainly on two middle-aged men; Gong Ying had a minor role as a female worker.

"Oh, isn't that Gong Ying? She's in this movie too?" Zhu Lin whispered close to Wei Ming's ear.

"Yeah, didn't hear about it," Wei Ming's heartbeat quickened slightly.

Zhu Lin smiled lightly and continued watching the film.

She watched intently; Wei Ming watched critically. The director, Sang Hu, held a status at Meiyingchang equivalent to the "Four Masters" at Beiyingchang.

In terms of entertainment value, Sang Hu's "Midnight" narrowly outperformed Shui Hua's "A Tragedy of Love," but it was still constrained by its era and didn't quite suit Wei Ming's taste.

Yet when the film ended and they stepped out of the theater, Wei Ming and Zhu Lin overheard many male audience members marveling at Gong Ying's beauty—they clearly came just for her.

It seemed Sister Xue now had a loyal fanbase of admirers.

Zhu Lin complained: "Meiyingchang treats Gong Ying so well—giving her so many roles. Magu audiences love her more too. Why would she want to go to Beiyingchang? Can Beiyingchang offer this kind of support?"

The real issue? They'd invaded his territory—they were already at the city gates!

Wei Ming hailed a rickshaw and smiled: "I don't think it's a big deal. Meiyingchang will still offer her suitable roles. I met Director Xie Jin just two days ago—he still wants her for his new film 'Qiu Jin.'"

"Oh!" Zhu Lin couldn't help feeling envious—Meiyingchang spoiled her too much.

Besides, she didn't seem right for the role of Qiu Jin either.

Actually, Zhu Lin's height and spirited demeanor made her more suitable for "Qiu Jin," but since this film was destined to fail, Wei Ming didn't recommend her—he had his own plans for her career, which would accelerate after "Happy Family."

Next, the tricycle took them to the Bund, where Wei Ming gave her a brief tour, then they had lunch at the Peace Hotel.

Though not cost-effective, Zhu Lin had never eaten there, so there was no need to overthink it.

In the afternoon, they strolled through Jingyuan; when they still had some energy left, they headed home and spent their last bit of strength on activities that brought joy.

"Your yoga poses aren't standard—you'll need to practice more."

Zhu Lin blushed, speechless—no one practiced yoga naked.

And besides, are you really trying to practice yoga?

Wei Ming realized his boldness was growing—he'd even taken Zhu Lin upstairs today, though they stayed in the room previously occupied by Xiao Hong.

Today, Zhu Lin fully and thoroughly accompanied Wei Ming; tomorrow they'd begin filming.

The next day, Wei Ming also sped up and completed a fifty-thousand-word manuscript, delivering it to the "Shouhuo" editorial office.

Upon entering, he heard editors congratulating him on winning the First National Outstanding Novella Award.

With the April issue of "People's Literature" now published, the news had spread nationwide; Wei Ming's win was no surprise—he'd been the most prolific and prominent novella writer of 1979 and 1980.

The only uncertainty was which work won and whether it was first or second prize.

Moreover, this issue of "People's Literature" published Wei Ming's tribute to Mao Dun and revealed that the master had written a preface for his novel.

This was the most enviable part—the discussion it sparked within literary circles surpassed even that of the novel "The Righteous Path Is the Vast River."

This was the final article written by China's foremost literary figure before his death, composed while gravely ill.

On a shallow level, it signaled the elder's intention to nurture a new generation; on a deeper level, did Mao Dun mean: this young man will be the next literary giant?

It was deeply intriguing.

Wei Ming didn't want his peers to overthink or spawn rumors, so he wrote the article himself—stating facts plainly to prevent others from embellishing.

Wei Ming politely declined the editors' congratulations, then went to Editor Li to discuss revisions.

That part was settled; then Li Xiaolin mentioned the preface.

"Father thought the article was excellent and wants to hold it until the full version of 'The Righteous Path Is the Vast River' is published."

"Fine, I follow Ba Lao's judgment—I have no objections," Wei Ming had already read it; he wasn't in a hurry. Others in the literary circle were eager to read it, but it wouldn't be released until late this year.

Finally, Editor Li passed on a message from Te Wei at Meiyingchang.

"He wants you to come to Meiyingchang for a meeting."

Wei Ming guessed it was about "The Black Cat Police Chief"—originally not slated for production this year, but they planned to make it next year anyway; moving it up by a year shouldn't face much resistance.

That afternoon, Wei Ming visited Meiyingchang and met Director Dai Tielang.

They hit it off immediately, sharing the same vision for the adaptation.

In fact, Wei Ming's version of "The Black Cat Police Chief" drew more from the animated adaptation than the novel, especially the format of one episode per small scientific fact—a structure Dai Tielang himself had developed.

He loved new things and cutting-edge technology, adding many advanced technologies to the animated version himself.

This director and chief screenwriter made a tremendous contribution to "The Black Cat Police Chief."

So when Director Te Wei, out of habit, asked Wei Ming to write the script, Wei Ming handed the scriptwriting task over to Director Dai Tielang—he trusted Dai's work wouldn't be worse than his own.

More importantly, he no longer needed the money—two episodes' script would earn at most a thousand yuan; let the financially strained Director Dai earn it.

But Wei Ming insisted on final approval rights—if any setting or plot conflicted with his novel's future developments, he would demand changes.

After reaching agreement, Dai Tielang could begin adapting the script—a straightforward task; he started directly with the first and second stories from the novel.

Meanwhile, Wei Ming returned home and continued revising and writing his novel.

Two days had passed—Zhu Lin was probably busy filming and hadn't come to see him.

So on the third day, Wei Ming went to Beiyingchang himself to visit the set.

"Old Mao, I came to visit you—how are you getting along?" Wei Ming's arrival surprised Zhu Shimao, who felt both honored and anxious—he didn't know whether Wei Ming was cold or warm toward him, and this inconsistency made him feel like he was catching a cold.

After greeting Zhu Shimao, Wei Ming waved to Zhu Lin.

That wave told Zhu Lin: today's innocence was lost.

Later, as filming continued, Wei Ming went to find Director Xie, who then delivered some news.

"You know the Golden Rooster Awards?"

Of course—the chicken that often gives out double eggs.

Xie Jin: "It's a new award established this year. The Hundred Flowers is the public's choice; the Golden Rooster is the experts' choice. This year it'll be held together with the Hundred Flowers next month in Hangzhou. The 'Herding Horses' crew received several major nominations, including yours as screenwriter—if you're free, please join us in heading south to Hangzhou."

"Did the lead actors get nominated too?" he asked.

Xie Jin nodded.

Wei Ming smiled and agreed: "I love Hangzhou—'Above is heaven, below are Suzhou and Hangzhou.' Hangzhou's cuisine is unmatched—the West Lake vinegar fish is delicious."

Xie Jin shook his head, looking at him with the expression of an elder saying, "Young man, you're still too young."

After taking Zhu Lin away from Meiyingchang, Wei Ming took her for a stroll along Nanjing Road, spent some foreign exchange coupons at the Friendship Store in the Magic Capital, and finally returned home to enjoy himself.

Wei Ming didn't have many days left in the Magic Capital, so he made the most of every moment; Zhu Lin always tried her best to satisfy him, but young men were simply too young—they never ran out of energy.

Sometimes Zhu Lin even wondered what would happen if Gong Ying were here… Oh, what nonsense was she thinking? She suddenly blushed, scolding herself inwardly for having corrupt thoughts—serious corruption.

At the end of April, Wei Ming finished writing "Jurassic Park" and mailed it to Old Man Wan of Sichuan's "Science Fiction World," and also completed the final revision of the last chapter of "The Right Path of Humanity," passing editor Li Xiaolin's review.

He had already said goodbye to Sister Lin in their adult way yesterday; today, Wei Ming cheerfully slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed straight for the airport. With money to spare, flying was naturally more comfortable.

He flew because it was comfortable—and he could afford it.

Some people flew for safety: after all, a girl with such a stunning appearance and figure traveling alone on an overnight train berth for a full day and night carried too much risk.

Losing your belongings was minor; losing your chastity was irreversible.

Li Zhi, who was twenty by lunar age—over a month younger than Wei Ming—chose to fly purely for safety reasons.

Not long ago, her father finally convinced her stepmother to agree to let her move to Hong Kong to live with them; otherwise, finding a job in the Magic Capital, teeming with hundreds of thousands of unemployed, would have been impossible.

So she used the money her father gave her, had her grandmother use connections to buy a plane ticket to Guangzhou, and stepped into Hongqiao Airport's waiting hall for the first time.

Although everyone on the flight were successful people or foreign friends, and many stared at her, Li Zhi felt no inferiority—she even straightened her back, for she had reason to be proud.

Some foolish women at school thought having large breasts was shameful, but Li Zhi knew men loved them—it was clearly an advantage, so she'd never hunch or hide it.

Especially now that the weather was warming up—perfect timing to show off her advantage.

Even as Wei Ming was engrossed in this month's new issue of "Story Weekly," reading its fascinating spy stories set in the Magic Capital, his eyes kept drifting toward one direction.

He first noticed the chest, then the face.

This girl looked familiar—had he seen her somewhere before?

He saw Li Zhi; Li Zhi saw him. Among countless stares directed at her, he was the most handsome.

She instantly remembered—the man who had come with Gong Ying to buy a house at the Bai family's place!

Amid the longing glances of many men hoping she'd sit beside them, Li Zhi decisively sat down next to Wei Ming.

She initiated conversation: "Do you remember me?"

Wei Ming shook his head.

Li Zhi: "Once, I was visiting a classmate's home, and you suddenly showed up with a lady, wanting to buy their house."

"Oh, now I recall." No wonder the chest looked so familiar.

"I'm Li Zhi," the girl extended her hand, then asked, "Did you end up buying the house?"

Wei Ming didn't answer the latter question—his mind kept echoing her first words: "I'm Li Zhi."

That's right! That explained it!

He'd felt she looked familiar the first time he met her; now he was certain—wasn't she Ah Jie's second wife?

He'd seen her movies; her current style was a bit dated, but her foundation was excellent—tall, large, fair-skinned, with a face of above-average beauty. No wonder she won Miss Asia, no wonder she made Ah Jie go gray before his time.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Li Zhi snapped him out of his reverie.

Wei Ming: "I was thinking your name is perfect—'Li Zhi' means naturally beautiful."

Flattered, Li Zhi laughed: "Not 'beautiful' as in beauty, it's 'wisdom'—zhì."

"So you're both beautiful and smart," Wei Ming instinctively flattered her, making Li Zhi overjoyed—her cheeks flushed red.

Li Zhi didn't ask about the house again, but instead asked: "Are you going to Guangzhou too?"

"No, I'm going to Yanjing—my home is in Yanjing. Looks like we're not on the same flight."

Li Zhi immediately thought: Red family second or third generation?

Wei Ming then asked: "You're from the Magic Capital, right? Why are you going to Guangzhou?"

"Not exactly to Guangzhou—I'm going to Hong Kong. My father's in Hong Kong." Her words carried a touch of self-promotion; Hong Kong was the envy of the mainland, a paradise, and soon she'd be a Hong Konger herself.

Wei Ming had a rough idea of Li Zhi's life story: first she went to Hong Kong to work, then returned to the mainland to study hard and went abroad for further education.

Later, she came back to Hong Kong with a fresh spirit, entered the entertainment industry through the Miss Asia pageant, and caught the eye of Macau's tycoons.

Her dream of marrying into wealth fell through, but Ah Jie, after years of fawning, ended up winning her heart.

Wei Ming smiled: "Funny—I'm going to Hong Kong in June too."

"Ah!" Li Zhi covered her mouth. This guy had serious connections—he could go to Hong Kong.

"What are you going to Hong Kong for?" she asked.

"I was invited."

"Invited to do what?" she even slipped in some newly learned Cantonese.

Wei Ming smiled: "I haven't introduced myself yet—I'm Wei Ming, a novelist. Have you heard of me?"

How could she not have heard? The guy who made her grandmother spend over ten yuan on medicinal wine!

Wei Ming: "I wrote a screenplay that's being released in Hong Kong, so I was invited to visit."

So he was just a writer. Li Zhi felt a bit disappointed—she'd heard the legendary writer's story: his family was rural, nothing to do with any red family. She'd gotten her hopes up for nothing.

Others might have warmed up upon hearing Wei Ming was a famous writer, but Li Zhi, now knowing his status, grew colder—after all, how much could a writer earn? Even a renowned mainland writer couldn't compare to an ordinary Hong Kong worker.

Writers were always associated with "poverty," and Li Zhi had no desire to live in poverty.

She even suspected the house in Bai Mingzhu's family might have been bought by Gong Ying—perhaps Gong Ying's family had overseas connections.

Wei Ming could clearly feel Li Zhi's enthusiasm fading; he didn't care—he already had two beautiful girlfriends, and even combined, they didn't match Li Zhi's size, but he wasn't tempted by her anyway.

After Li Zhi fell silent, Wei Ming picked up the magazine again and kept reading.

Wei Ming's flight was called first; he stood up, grabbed his luggage, and bid Li Zhi farewell.

Seeing Wei Ming rise—tall, long-legged, radiating charm—Li Zhi felt regret. Though this writer had no power or influence, he was good-looking and famous. She'd been too pragmatic just now.

So she smiled and asked: "Comrade Wei Ming, what's the title of your screenplay? I'll buy a ticket to support it in Hong Kong."

Wei Ming told her: "'Heroes Rise in Youth.'"

"Got it. Goodbye."

An hour after Wei Ming left, Li Zhi's flight was called—she'd arrived too early, worried about being late.

When Li Zhi arrived in Guangzhou, her father was already waiting at the airport; they immediately set off for Hong Kong.

On the way, her father told her he worked at a theater with limited pay, lived in cramped quarters, and she'd have to sleep in the living room for now—and she'd need to find a job to support herself.

They'd only seen each other as children; after growing up, their meetings became rare. Li Zhi wasn't surprised by her father's coldness—she'd already prepared herself mentally to stand on her own in Hong Kong.

Maybe her income would easily surpass that of the mainland's most famous young writer.

Meanwhile, at Hong Kong's Bluebird Film Company, Xu Anhua met Ms. Xia Meng.

Xia Meng had been waiting for Xu Anhua for a long time—since last year.

She had a screenplay called "Fleeing to the Storm," and had long wanted the most famous female director of Hong Kong's New Wave, Xu Anhua, to direct it.

But Xu Anhua had been busy filming Chow Yun-fat and Chung Suet-hong's "Hu Yue's Story"; now that film had been released, Xu Anhua finally had time.

After reading the script, she said she loved the story—but had one problem: "This script requires filming in Vietnam, but isn't there still war there?"

"Yes, so we need a location with a climate similar to Vietnam. Do you dare go to Hainan—the mainland's Hainan?"

Short-haired Xu Anhua grinned: "I don't mind. It's up to the actors—when can we start?"

Xia Meng smiled: "We're a small company—we have to wait until our previous film releases and we get our share. It'll be out in June. Before then, Director Xu can begin preliminary preparations."

After seeing Xu Anhua off, Xia Meng stared at the newly printed poster for "Heroes Rise in Youth," wondering: Could this film really make money?

…

(Today's minimum)

(End of chapter)