Chapter 391

When spending New Year's Eve with Xiao Hong, the festive atmosphere in Beijing was actually quite mild—ordinary people still placed greater value on the Lunar New Year.

Starting that day, many households across the country hung up the 1982 calendar from Beijing Film Studio's Four Golden Flowers, and many hung only Gong Ying, dressed in elegant attire from Dongfang Xintiandi, stylish and dignified, clearly more pleasing to the eye.

Zhu Lin had not yet officially joined the People's Art Theatre, so no unit was arranging these things for her; even in her own home and the old Western-style house where she hung them, it was only Gong Ying—she could only gaze at the images and think of the person.

Then she received a letter from Xiao Xue: good news, she'd be returning to Shanghai before the New Year.

The second day of 1982 was the Laba Festival; in the Overseas Chinese Apartment, Wei Ming and Xiao Hong learned from their mother how to pickle Laba garlic, the TV on, Xiao Hong sighed: "I heard 'Huo Yuanjia' is going to air—why hasn't it started yet?"

After having watched a few episodes of the Hong Kong TV series, she found domestic dramas lacking in appeal.

"It's probably scheduled for after Spring Festival—many families buy TVs right before the New Year," Wei Ming said as the TV began broadcasting "Animal World." "Hey, this isn't bad either—quite educational."

The first episode was set in Africa; Wei Ming's only prior visit to Africa had been Egypt, and he truly wanted to see the African continent firsthand, safely, to experience its unique customs and landscapes.

Fortunately, this episode didn't include any clichéd commentary like "spring has arrived," so the siblings finished it smoothly; afterward, Wei Ming wrote for a while in his study, then realized he was running low on Xuan paper, so the next afternoon after work, he went to Rongbaozhai.

He hadn't shopped there in a long time, and with ample foreign exchange on hand, he figured it was a good chance to see if any paintings caught his eye.

As he rode his motorcycle, he spotted Li Hanxiang strolling down the street.

"What are you up to, Director Li?"

"Little Wei, just browsing—looking at Ming and Qing dynasty furniture."

Wei Ming knew he was there to collect antiques—this guy was a passionate collector who'd spent all his director fees on such things; two years ago, he'd nearly missed heart surgery due to lack of funds.

Old Li's excuse: "Although the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace have both agreed to let the crew film on location, some scenes still need studio sets, and we need period-appropriate furniture."

That was true—the Forbidden City allowed Li Hanxiang to shoot on location, but certain areas remained off-limits, like the Hall of Supreme Harmony and other palaces housing priceless artifacts.

The Forbidden City's permissions for Li Hanxiang were still more restricted than those granted to Bertolucci for "The Last Emperor"—out of sight, out of mind; this Hong Kong director still wasn't distant enough.

Before Spring Festival, Old Li would stay in Beijing, hunting for furniture while filming and collecting simultaneously, and negotiating filming details with Beijing Film Studio.

Wei Ming asked him how he planned to film the crucial scene of burning the Old Summer Palace.

Li Hanxiang: "I've discussed it with Beijing Film Studio's set designers. If I use a miniature model, they estimated 200, 00 to 300, 00 RMB."

Wei Ming sighed: "That's not cheap. After all, a typical mainland film costs about that much—'Xi Yingmen,' for example, was made for 300, 00 RMB."

Li Hanxiang thought that price acceptable—the miniature model would include all major features of the Old Summer Palace, demanding exceptional craftsmanship.

Li Hanxiang said: "Then I asked how much it would cost to build a full-scale set—just the main scenes, nothing excessive. They estimated 600, 00 RMB."

Wei Ming: "So you chose to build the real set—and burn it down after use."

Li Hanxiang looked at Wei Ming: "Aren't you surprised? When Beijing Film Studio heard I wanted 600, 00 RMB to build a real set—and then burn it—they were terrified."

Wei Ming laughed: "I'm just happy—thank you, Director Li, for contributing to the mainland's economy."

"As long as you support me, that's all I need. I know it'll be breathtaking," Li Hanxiang said with deep longing, then asked what Wei Ming was doing there.

"Buying some things at Rongbaozhai."

Li Hanxiang had just come from there, so the two parted ways.

At Rongbaozhai, Wei Ming immediately saw a foreigner examining "Along the River During the Qingming Festival"; he hurried over to join the crowd.

"This is a treasure—don't sell him a million dollars for it," Wei Ming joked with the manager.

Manager Yu: "Mr. Wei, you're joking—it's not the original. If it were the real thing, we couldn't sell it even for ten million."

In the end, the foreign visitor actually bought it—Rongbaozhai took 200 U. . dollars.

What did that mean? The authentic works by contemporary masters Wei Ming had bought here rarely exceeded 200 U. . dollars—only a few masterpieces did; most decent pieces cost just dozens of dollars.

But then again, it was "Along the River During the Qingming Festival."

"Along the River During the Qingming Festival" truly holds extraordinary significance in Chinese painting history—let alone Zhang Zeduan's original Song dynasty version, even Qiu Ying's copy is a national treasure, enshrined at the Liaoning Museum; in the future, an undetermined Qiu Ying copy could sell for 700 million to 800 million RMB.

A Qing dynasty copy of Qiu Ying's copy of "Along the River During the Qingming Festival" could still fetch around 100 million RMB—the mere words "Along the River During the Qingming Festival" were worth that much.

Of course, this also had to do with the limited reproduction technology of the time—this replica was a woodblock waterprint painstakingly developed by Rongbaozhai over several years, crafted by the company's top technicians, using 2, 50 carved woodblocks, with meticulous attention to every stage: tracing, carving, printing, mounting—and produced in limited quantities, exquisitely detailed, worth every penny.

Wei Ming knew he'd never own the real "Along the River During the Qingming Festival," so he simply bought a replica—even though its appreciation potential was lower than that of authentic paintings.

Because this replica was merely a reproducible craft item; Manager Yu didn't ask for foreign exchange—400 RMB was enough.

"Alright, I'll pay for everything together later," Wei Ming said, looking around. "This donkey's great—I've always had a connection with donkeys. This is… Huang Zhou's work."

Manager Yu: "Mr. Huang's donkeys are legendary—he's from Baoding, after all."

Huang Zhou was precisely from Li County, Baoding.

"No wonder it feels so authentic—full of life."

Huang Zhou's painting style featured bold lines and vivid forms; at the time, his prices were modest, far below those of predecessors like Wu Zuoren.

Wei Ming saw Huang Zhou's horses too, so he bought one painting of "Taming Horses" and one set of four-panel "Group of Donkeys," spending just over a hundred RMB total.

But he hadn't come here to spend such small sums—his domestic account still held over a million RMB, tens of thousands of U. . dollars, and millions of yen—when would he ever finish spending it?

Manager Yu sensed Wei Ming's urge to spend, so he led him upstairs to the VIP lounge.

Rongbaozhai had many fine pieces, but they never displayed them all at once—only occasionally decided to sell one.

"This piece you'll surely love—I've kept it aside for you specifically."

"Oh?"

Manager Yu opened a wooden box and took out a beautifully bound album, about 30 by 40 centimeters, inscribed "Poems of Chairman Mao," by Fu Baoshi.

"There are eight pieces: 'Poetic Vision of Shaoshan,' 'All the Land Glows with Morning Light,' 'Tiger Crouching, Dragon Coiled—Today Better Than Ever,' 'Autumn Winds Still Blow, But the World Has Changed,' 'Vast River and Sky, Frost for Ten Thousand Li,' 'Poetic Vision of Mount Lu,' 'The Goddess Is Still Well, Astonishing the World,' 'Red Flags Fluttering Like a Painting.'"

Wei Ming examined them—being a fan of the Chairman's poetry, he knew the corresponding verses well: "'Seven-character regulated verse: Arriving at Shaoshan,' 'Seven-character regulated verse: Reply to a Friend'..."

When he turned to the painting representing "Seven-character regulated verse: The People's Liberation Army Occupies Nanjing"—"Tiger Crouching, Dragon Coiled—Today Better Than Ever"—Wei Ming and Manager Yu exchanged a knowing smile.

Manager Yu said: "If this one were titled 'The Right Path of Humanity Is Full of Change,' it would be even more perfect."

After viewing them all, Wei Ming was satisfied; the final price was 1, 00 foreign exchange coupons—200 per piece.

Wei Ming smiled: "This is more expensive than Qi Baishi's flower-and-insect album."

That set had cost 1, 00 foreign exchange coupons—but it had eighteen pieces; it had only been a year and a half.

Manager Yu chuckled: "This set is slightly larger in size, and the collecting market has been heating up lately."

Wei Ming didn't care—he'd felt real pain when buying Qi Baishi's set, having scraped together the money for months; but now, a year and a half later, 1, 00 foreign exchange coupons meant nothing to him—he'd once dined in Hong Kong on a meal costing 1, 00 Hong Kong dollars.

He then bought more paper and ink supplies as usual; he'd prepared the cash beforehand, so no trip to the bank was needed—he paid and took delivery on the spot.

After returning home, Wei Ming spent several days writing and admiring his new treasures—magnifying glass in hand, studying the tiny figures in "Along the River During the Qingming Festival" was a pleasure, revealing details of Song dynasty urban life, invaluable for studying Northern Song history.

Too bad Xiao Xue wasn't beside him—he could have held her while admiring the paintings.

During this time, he received a letter from Xiao Xue, learning her address in Suzhou; he wrote her a letter describing his good mood, and sent photos of these paintings and his new home on Nánluógǔxiàng.

During this period, Wei Ming also received an invitation from the Hong Kong Office to attend the "Fourth Top Ten Chinese Golden Melodies" awards.

Wei Ming declined—he had to attend his 1977 graduation reunion, the dates conflicted; if he attended the Top Ten Chinese Golden Melodies, would he also attend the Top Ten Golden Melodies? If he attended both, Xiao Hong would likely spend New Year's alone in Beijing.

Also, if he went to Hong Kong, he'd get distracted by beauty and fall behind on his writing—writing English novels was mentally exhausting.

For these reasons, he declined—but arranged for someone to collect his award: if Zhou Hui was attending, she'd collect it for him; if not, Tan Yonglin would.

After replying to the Hong Kong Office, Wei Ming resumed moving and buying furniture—mostly assisted by Biaozi, who also met with Xiao Mei at Wei Ming's new home.

Mei Wenhua sighed: "Lock two doors, and this becomes your own independent kingdom!"

Having grown up in a courtyard shared by many families, Biaozi had always looked down on Beijing's Sihe Academy living standards—but now, seeing Wei Ming's two-courtyard Sihe Academy's comfort, he too began to dream of buying such a grand residence.