Chapter 350

When Wei Ming and Gong Ying finished watching the film, the theater was a sea of tears.

Seeing everyone sobbing so hard, Gong Ying, watching it for the second time, felt too embarrassed to cry herself; she wiped her tears and pulled Wei Ming to leave, only to find his eyes also red, with traces of tears on his face.

This was Wei Ming's first time seeing the finished film; though he had written the script himself, its emotional power far exceeded his expectations, feeling even more heart-wrenching than the version he had seen in his past life.

Besides sharing a similar structural framework, the two versions differed in countless details and dialogue; Wei Ming's version suited the emotional constitution of mainland audiences better and was more worth reflecting upon, unlikely to feel outdated even decades later.

Moreover, the several insert songs were devastating, amplifying the already sorrowful atmosphere—this emotional impact was simply unmatched.

With such a plot and such music, using them on 1980s mainland audiences was like firing an anti-aircraft gun at mosquitoes—it was almost cruel, and they'd likely take days to recover.

Still, Wei Ming felt that if he had directed this film himself, he could have made it even better, even more moving; though he had never truly been a director in his past life, he had spent over twenty years in the film industry, living on sets year-round, and his vision was far more advanced.

He wasn't boasting—he couldn't compete with geniuses like Xie Jin—but most directors of this era might truly be inferior to him.

As the two stepped out first from the screening hall, a male audience member in the last row suddenly glanced at Gong Ying and shouted: "Héhuā?!"

This single, middle-aged bachelor had come to see the film solely because of Gong Ying—he was a fan of her looks, so he recognized her just from her eyes.

But after watching the film, all he could remember was the character name "Héhuā"; he even wanted to call her "Mother."

At his shout, Wei Ming pulled Gong Ying away faster, and the other audience members realized what had happened.

"What's going on?"

"Why are you yelling?"

"I just saw Héhuā!" the young man cried excitedly; the other viewers immediately ran out, but all they saw was the tailpipe smoke of a motorcycle.

Wei Ming smiled: "See? From now on, you'll have to be careful going out—you'll be stuck if people recognize you."

"It can't be that bad—Zhang Yu and Liu Xiaoqing go out shopping all the time."

"You'll be even more famous than them, because your character is so heartbreakingly lovable—every viewer in the country will fall for you."

Gong Ying was delighted by Wei Ming's words; as an actress, wasn't that exactly what she wanted—to be recognized by the audience? All the suffering she endured during filming was worth it.

Besides falling off the bridge herself, to portray the final scene of the mad mother, she, already very thin, lost nearly ten more pounds; for a while, she weighed only eighty-some jin, and her period stopped entirely.

She didn't dare let Wei Ming see her like that; she only came to Beijing after gaining some weight back in Shanghai.

Gong Ying touched Wei Ming's still-damp face: "Didn't expect your own story could make you cry?"

"What can I do? You and Xizi acted so well—I think if the Golden Rooster judges aren't biased against children, next year they should nominate Xizi for Best Actor."

"." Gong Ying sighed; still, Xizi truly acted brilliantly—their chemistry was perfect, and she wanted to play his mother again.

Of course, she still hoped to hear him call her "sister-in-law."

Gong Ying asked again: "So where are we going next?"

Wei Ming walked along the street: "Come on, let's check out the Xinhua Bookstore."

"Buying books?"

Wei Ming: "Today is the day the standalone edition of 'The Right Path of Humanity Is Vast Change' is published."

After months of revisions and typesetting, this novel—which had brought the highest circulation in the history of 'Shouhuo'—was finally released to its long-awaited readers on National Day.

"Huh?" Gong Ying blinked. "Why didn't you tell me this was such an important day?"

Wei Ming: "Compared to your movie premiere, it's trivial. Besides, I've published books before—I just wanted to see how it's selling."

Gong Ying laughed: "The bookstore's threshold will be worn out from all the people crowding in."

She believed in the novel's appeal and asked: "How many copies were printed in the first run?"

"One point six million."

Of these, 1. million were paperback editions, each a single large volume; another 100, 00 were hardcover sets, each split into three smaller volumes, just like the serialized version, with hard cardboard covers.

At the time, frugality was prized and waste condemned; Wei Ming hadn't even expected a hardcover edition, and the publisher had only given him five sets—far too few to give away.

"That's an enormous first print run!"

Wei Ming nodded; for a contemporary writer, it was indeed very high. Though 'Ferocious Animals' had sold over two million copies, that was after multiple reprints.

Originally, they'd planned for one million copies, but Wei Ming had caused such a stir—his "Wei Ming clones," overseas songs, and raising 150 million in Hong Kong—his popularity was surging, and with a preface written by the late Mao Dun himself, the publisher felt 1. million copies would sell easily.

For these 1. million sets, Wei Ming received nearly thirty thousand yuan in royalties; for an ordinary writer, that income would be enough to retire comfortably; with today's high bank interest rates, the interest on thirty thousand yuan already exceeded most people's salaries.

But thirty thousand yuan held little appeal for Wei Ming—not only did his account at Dongfang Xintiandi bring in tens of thousands monthly, his monthly foreign exchange earnings already exceeded that.

Still, in this era, having money didn't mean you could spend it freely, so whenever possible, he still wanted to travel.

At the nearest Xinhua Bookstore, the two found the store quiet and empty, with no lines of eager readers.

When they asked, the clerk snapped impatiently: "It's been advertised for months—why didn't you come earlier? We sold out within ten minutes of opening this morning."

"What about the warehouse stock?"

"We restocked three times—all sold out by noon. Next restock will require waiting in line."

Gong Ying glanced at Wei Ming: See? Everyone's rushing to get it.

Wei Ming asked again: "I heard there's a hardcover edition—did that sell out too?"

The hardcover edition cost twice as much as the paperback; in this era, its value-for-money was poor, and it was rarely the reader's first choice.

"Sigh," the clerk sighed, "There were so few—we didn't even get any here. You might find some at the Wangfujing branch."

As he spoke, the clerk stared at Wei Ming's mirrored sunglasses, then tilted his head, studying him closely.

Wei Ming quickly pulled Gong Ying away; lately, he'd been exposed too much—people were starting to remember what a writer looked like. That wasn't a good sign.

If everyone knew his face, how could he ever take different girls out shopping again?

"Sister Xue, I have a hardcover set—I'll give you one."

"I was going to ask you anyway," Gong Ying said, hugging his waist. "And I want your signature."

Wei Ming: "No problem—but you'll have to come with me to the Overseas Chinese Apartments."

"Will we run into Xiao Hong again?"

"She's at school. Don't worry."

Chengdu.

The afternoon screening of 'Mother, Please Love Me Again' was still ongoing; Lao Wei and Xu Shufen had just watched Héhuā go mad. They'd read the original novel and were mentally prepared, but hadn't expected the emotional punch to be this strong.

Watching it, Xu Shufen missed Wei Ming; though she knew her son was fine, she still wanted to hold him.

At the same time, the child Hu Delu, watching the film, was already in tears; he thought his mother must have lost her mind from day after day of longing for him.

Seeing Héhuā hug a large gourd and call it her son, he didn't know whether this was Wei Teacher's artistic technique or reality.

A mentally unstable woman in the countryside would endure countless hardships.

Tears blurred his vision—he could barely see the screen—but he kept watching.

The film neared its end: the little gourd, forcibly taken away by his father's group, stopped running. He calmly accepted their plan—to go to school, to study abroad—as if he had fully surrendered, becoming the obedient, filial grandson they wanted.

Years later, when the grown-up little gourd returned home after completing his studies, his biological father, stepmother, and increasingly aged grandparents met him at the airport.

Even the stepmother now acknowledged this adopted son: "He studied law abroad—he'll be a great lawyer one day."

The grandfather said: "Why be a lawyer? If you're going to be one, be a judge."

The grandmother: "Exactly! Being a judge is so prestigious!"

But all the passengers from the flight had disembarked, and the little gourd still hadn't appeared. The four, once joyful, grew anxious—until an airport staff member approached.

"Hello, are you family of Hu Chenguang?" (Wei Ming had used a pseudonym—thoughtfully.)

"Yes."

The staff member said: "Oh, he arrived yesterday. He left a letter for you."

"Arrived yesterday?"

"But we were told today."

"We didn't misremember the date."

Hu Wanqian took the letter, puzzled, and all four heads leaned in to read: "Father: When you read this letter, I should already be with Mother. I'm sorry—I feel as a son, I have a duty to care for her. As for your upbringing and care, I will repay you another way.

Also, during my years abroad, I didn't study law—I studied psychiatry."

The grandfather, confused and angry: "Psychiatry? What obscure field is that?"

The grandmother was equally disappointed: "Exactly! Even if you study medicine, pick cardiology or neurology—we won't need psychiatry!"

At that moment, Hu Wanqian frowned: "I received a letter from Song, the elementary school teacher in our village—he said after we left, Héhuā lost her mind. She, she went mad."

The scene shifted: near the big tree where Héhuā had once watched her son depart, a handsome young man arrived, guided by the elementary school teacher who had appeared earlier.

It was this teacher, Song Lian, who had taught him the song 'Only Mother Is Best' after learning the little gourd had only a mother; to tighten the story and sharpen the theme, Wei Ming gave Song Lian little screen time.

But earlier scenes had hinted she was the one caring for Héhuā, and that the money and photos the little gourd sent to his mother were all delivered by her.

On the tree, Héhuā sat barefoot on a branch, hugging the gourd; apart from her madness, lack of decorum, and age, her state now resembled the young, lively mother at the film's beginning.

After gazing into the distance, Héhuā pulled out a stack of photos—pictures of her son, from little gourd to big gourd; every so often, a letter with a photo arrived, and though her son was far away, he hoped his pictures would awaken his mother.