Chapter 426: The Ninth District: English Version Released with Shockwaves

Returning to the production workshop where “Black Cat Detective” was made, there were fewer people than usual; after the factory’s decision was announced, some senior staff members, feeling there was no future, joined other production teams.

But Dai Tielang remained optimistic: though a few had left, this was already a mature team, and he still believed he could finish all of “Black Cat Detective” before year’s end, giving young viewers a full binge.

“The only thing that troubles me is that the first ten episodes’ scripts were already written; ending at episode ten feels abrupt, like a story cut off mid-sentence,” Director Dai said.

Wei Ming glanced at the script: by episode ten, One-Ear was still on the run, while rookie cop Rabbit Judy and the slick fox Nick had just debuted but hadn’t yet made a strong impression.

Seven episodes had already been completed; scripts for episodes 8, 9, and 10 were all well-written, and Director Dai felt pained at the thought of cutting any one of them.

So Wei Ming said: “I’ll talk to Factory Director Te Wei—see if we can add one or two more episodes, at least catch One-Ear, so the ending feels complete.”

Dai Tielang chuckled: “How about this—film until One-Ear escapes prison? Your script about his escape is quite interesting; it really establishes One-Ear as a character. Kids have probably never seen such a clever villain.”

Wei Ming didn’t know what to say—Director Dai, you’re too ruthless. If you end it with One-Ear’s escape, young viewers will demand to see Black Cat Detective recapture him, only for the series to abruptly stop—aren’t you afraid of getting fan backlash?

Wei Ming replied: “I’ll ask the factory director for two more episodes. What you shoot is up to you.”

Director Dai Tielang nodded happily, feeling more motivated, and he trusted that Wei Ming, the big writer who brought foreign exchange to the factory, had more clout than he did.

In truth, Director Dai was only in his early fifties, at the peak of his animation directing career, but Meiyin Factory had too many directors; dozens of veteran directors in their fifties and sixties were waiting for their turn, and he had waited years before finally getting “Black Cat Detective,” the work that made him famous.

After this film, the factory likely wouldn’t assign him any major projects—it was time to give other comrades more responsibility.

This was undoubtedly a regrettable waste of talent.

That evening, Wei Ming met Factory Director Te Wei; the collaboration on “Transformers” could continue, and Te Wei and Director Wang Bairong had specially taken Wei Ming out to dinner to thank him for his role.

Wei Ming and Te Wei had actually met in Xi’an—he was also a Golden Rooster judge—but they’d had little time to speak.

This time, just the two of them, Wei Ming asked why the Golden Rooster Awards didn’t have any animation categories.

“If you can’t gather enough feature films, create a short film award—like the Oscars,” Wei Ming suggested. Due to production volume, the Oscars no longer had Best Animated Feature, but they did have Best Animated Short.

Te Wei felt he’d found a kindred spirit: “Exactly—I’ve proposed this before, but it hasn’t passed. They say I’m the only animation expert on the Golden Rooster jury, and if we create an animation award, it’ll become my personal fiefdom.”

After saying this, Wei Ming and Factory Director Te Wei shared a drink, then looked ahead to the bright future of “Transformers” and “The Legend of the Heavenly Book.”

As the atmosphere grew warm, Wei Ming was about to raise the issue of “Black Cat Detective,” but Te Wei spoke first about “The Magic Gourds.”

“The experiment with ‘Black Cat Detective’ was a great success—it’s resonated deeply with children nationwide, and CCTV and major TV stations are all requesting to buy this kind of animated TV series. So we immediately thought of your ‘The Magic Gourds.’”

“The Magic Gourds” had already been completed, its length perfect—about ten episodes would tell the story clearly without dragging on. Te Wei was very interested; several veteran directors at the factory had already volunteered to lead this animation.

Wei Ming had no objections: with television sets becoming widespread, TV’s influence would far surpass books. “Black Cat Detective” was now the undisputed number one children’s fairy tale in China, thanks entirely to its animation.

Later, Zheng Yuanjie’s “Shuke and Beita” could rival his most beloved “Pipilu and Luxixi” precisely because Meiyin Factory produced the animated TV series of “Shuke and Beita.”

But since Factory Director Te Wei had brought it up, Wei Ming seized the chance: “You won’t stop filming halfway and just leave it hanging, will you?”

Te Wei looked embarrassed; Wang Bairong stepped in: “No, no—‘Black Cat Detective’ was a special case.”

Wei Ming: “It was indeed special. But since readers enjoy it, I’ll keep writing. There are so many fascinating little stories in nature worth explaining—how could I ever run out? Still, you animators have more factors to consider.”

Te Wei nodded: “Good that you understand.”

Wei Ming added: “But I read Director Dai’s script for episode ten—it ends in such an awkward place. Factory Director, how about letting him shoot two more episodes to give Black Cat Detective a temporary ending? That way, children across the country will feel satisfied. What do you think?”

Two episodes? Te Wei weighed the cost and manpower required—still acceptable. Besides, he’d just negotiated a collaboration with Wei Ming on “The Magic Gourds”; it wasn’t wise to refuse him now. So he nodded.

“Fine, give him two more episodes—wrap it up properly.”

Hearing the factory director’s decision, Wei Ming immediately raised his glass in a toast.

Tomorrow, Wei Ming would return to Meiyin Factory to formally discuss “The Magic Gourds” with Factory Director Te Wei, and also address the issue of “Black Cat Detective” rights.

Rights weren’t well-regulated then, but the “Black Cat Detective” story was written by Wei Ming, and the main characters’ designs were drawn by him. Now that Meiyin Factory didn’t plan to continue, Wei Ming needed to confirm he retained the right to produce sequels.

Once this series halted at Meiyin Factory, it would be nearly impossible to restart—at least not for twenty years. It was a tremendous loss for what could have been a major IP.

After dinner, Wei Ming returned home to find Gong Ying watching TV—the Shandong TV series “Water Margin,” now airing on Shanghai TV. In the 1980s, many remembered this version vividly, especially the “Wu Song” episode.

It was mainland China’s first systematic adaptation of the Four Great Classical Novels. Though limited by era and budget, it looked less polished than the CCTV version, but the Shandong people captured the authentic flavor of “Water Margin.”

Wei Ming hugged his girlfriend and asked: “Was today smooth?”

“Very smooth,” Gong Ying said. “Factory Director Shi and Director Bai Chen both know Zhou Lijing and have high hopes for him. But why did you recommend him so strongly? Are you close to him?”

Wei Ming: “Not at all. But he has a deeply loved girlfriend, and I trust his character.”

Gong Ying lightly punched the little man: “So you don’t trust me?”

Wei Ming kissed her lips: “I don’t trust other single, handsome men. Our relationship can’t be public—better to avoid anyone bothering you.”

The explanation passed. Gong Ying told him: “I’m not leaving today.”

Wei Ming held her tighter: “You’re not leaving today!”

Then Gong Ying was lifted up and carried straight upstairs.

The next day, Gong Ying would visit her older sister. Wei Ming gave her more foreign exchange coupons—she could buy things for her sister’s family or give the money directly.

He first went to the Post and Telecommunications Building to send a telegram to Wei Lingling in Hong Kong, informing her that the first three episodes of “Transformers” had passed approval, and asking about the toy’s market launch plans.

Knowing how profitable this toy line had been in his past life, Wei Ming genuinely looked forward to seeing whether his aunt, through this Hong Kong toy company, could achieve even a fraction of Hasbro’s success.

Then Wei Ming went to Meiyin Factory to discuss “The Magic Gourds” with Factory Director Te Wei. By his side was a new face—a middle-aged man introduced as Director Zhou Keqin.

Wei Ming immediately understood: this must be the director Meiyin Factory had chosen for “The Magic Gourds.” He was also the future factory director who would succeed Te Wei, a rising star of Meiyin Factory, only forty this year, who had independently directed the shadow puppet animation “The Monkey Who Tried to Catch the Moon” last year.

Of course, he wasn’t the only director—many veteran directors wanted to join, so above Zhou Keqin were two other senior directors in their fifties.

But Zhou Keqin was the only one present to receive Wei Ming because Te Wei had specific ideas about the filming method for “The Magic Gourds.”

“Little Wei, we plan to use paper-cut animation for ‘The Magic Gourds,’ and Director Zhou is the expert in this technique.”

“Paper-cut animation? Like ‘Pigsy Eats Watermelon’?” At the mention of paper-cut animation, Wei Ming immediately thought of this pioneering work, then “The Fish Child” and “The Golden Conch.”

“The Magic Gourds” would become the pinnacle of paper-cut animation—no animation since has surpassed it.

Te Wei laughed: “Those techniques are over twenty years old—you can spot the paper-cutting at a glance. Now it’s different. Xiao Zhou, explain it to him.”

Then Director Zhou Keqin told Wei Ming about Meiyin Factory’s newly developed “fuzzy edge” paper-cut technique.

“To make character edges less harsh than ordinary paper-cutting, we soak the paper, then tear the outlines. After processing, the edges develop natural, soft fibers, creating a more delicate texture and greater visual depth.”

To gain the approval of the original author, Director Zhou Keqin had prepared thoroughly—and clearly had prepared long in advance.

He had made a paper-cut “Magic Gourd” weeks ahead of time, with movable joints on every limb.

He’d also made a background of the grandfather’s home, sandwiched between two sheets of glass—indeed, it looked nothing like traditional paper-cut animation; it even had the texture of hand-drawn animation, yet cost less than hand-drawn animation.