[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-429":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2261137,4412,"Chapter 429","rising-in-1979-chapter-429",429,"\u003Cp>Today, Wei Ming was staying at the Huaqiao Apartment, and Xiao Hong was there too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She was in a bad mood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother, do you still think I’m a child prodigy?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming sat upright in front of his computer, writing a new English novel; after finishing the conclusion of *District Nine*, Melinda would strike out on her own, and he needed to write her an English novel that would sell well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Hong handed him a copy of *China Youth Daily* and asked him to read an article in it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The article introduced Qin Zhibin, a fifteen-year-old Chinese-American child who had been admitted to the graduate program in physics at Cambridge University; the large characters “child prodigy” on the headline pierced Xiao Hong’s heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m sixteen this year, and I’m only in my second year of college; even if I get into Stanford’s graduate program next year, I’ll still be seventeen—two years older than him!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming laughed heartily. “That’s all?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled Xiao Hong to sit across from him: “Your intelligence is unquestionable—you’re top-tier even among the elite at Qingbei. You won’t enter graduate school until you’re seventeen not because you’re less capable than him, but because you didn’t have access to good educational resources as a child. Early brilliance doesn’t guarantee later success, but it’s not too late to catch up now. Work hard and aim to finish your Ph.D. by twenty, then become a university professor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A university professor at twenty? The thought thrilled Xiao Hong, and she immediately found her goal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes! Brother, I’m going to America next year—come with me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course I will. How could I ever let you go abroad alone?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After sending Xiao Hong off, Wei Ming carefully read the newspaper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fact that *China Youth Daily* was so prominently reporting on this overseas Chinese child prodigy was clearly a signal—soon, gifted-child classes would bloom across the country.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Right now, only USTC had such a program, established in 1978 on Li Zhengdao’s recommendation to cultivate high-end scientific talent for the motherland; some of these talents later became American assets, others returned home as professors or entrepreneurs, and a few even became monks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Qin Zhibin’s story went viral in China, a nationwide craze for child prodigies erupted; prestigious universities like Tsinghua and Peking rushed to launch gifted-child classes, and parents became obsessed with “manufacturing” prodigies, leading to many absurd and laughable stories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming continued writing his novel. Early the next morning, he received a call from Liang Xiaosheng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Teacher Wei, Director Yu has returned. She’d like you to come over and chat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Got it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sun was bright today; Wei Ming rode his motorcycle—its seat still warm—to the Children’s Film Studio compound within the Beijing Film Studio.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he entered Director Yu Lan’s office, he found Director Wang Yang there too, along with Shi Fangyu, the deputy director of Shanghai Film Studio whom he’d met a few times before—what was a Shanghai Film Studio man doing here?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But with all three directors facing Wei Ming together, this was clearly a tribunal. Wei Ming knew that regardless of the outcome, today they would give him a clear answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Director Wang Yang spoke first: “Yesterday, the Ministry of Culture held a meeting. Comrade Shi Fangyu is now the Director of the Film Bureau under the Ministry of Culture, officially taking office on July 1st. So when Director Yu mentioned your case, I invited Director Shi to join us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just days ago, Deputy Director Shi had been discussing *Under the Bridge* with Gong Ying—now he was Film Bureau Director. Wei Ming had assumed he’d succeed Xu Sangchu at Shanghai Film Studio, but instead he’d taken over the Film Bureau.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shi Fangyu smiled: “We’re all familiar with Teacher Wei, so let’s cut to the chase. I heard from Sister Yu that you want to direct *The Chorus* yourself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shi Fangyu glanced at the two directors beside him: “No wonder you refused to hand it over to Director Xie Jin—it’s because of this. Xie Jin lost fairly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yu Lan chuckled: “So there’s a backstory here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang added: “So you’ve always planned to direct it yourself from the start.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded. Indeed—he wouldn’t become a full-time director, but if he were to dabble, this novel he’d written was perfect: simple, pure, and aligned with the values he cherished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shi Fangyu continued: “But how do you prove you can make this film well? Film production requires heavy investment, and every studio’s production quota is precious. How can we trust an outsider to handle this project? If word gets out, other directors might object.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming replied: “I can’t guarantee I’ll make a great film—my standard for a good film is very high. In my view, of the hundred or so films produced nationwide each year, fewer than one in ten meet that standard; most are just filler.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wow—this statement made the three directors exchange glances. No wonder they called him Teacher Wei—he was sharp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But they didn’t think it exaggerated. Wei Ming frequently visited Hong Kong and had traveled abroad—he was a man of broad horizons and rich inner life. His high standards weren’t surprising.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, to say it outright was impressive. They’d have to write this into their memoirs later.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Whether a film turns out well depends on the collaboration of the director, actors, cinematographer, art director, and every crew member. I can’t guarantee perfection, but I can guarantee I’ll finish it. The script includes my storyboards—that’s my basic cinematic competence.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yu Lan pulled out the storyboard sketches and showed them to Director Wang and Director Shi; their eyes immediately lit up with admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang asked directly: “When did you learn this? Who taught you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just like writing novels—I taught myself,” Wei Ming said. “Of course, Directors Xie Jin and Wang Haowei contributed greatly—I studied their work while watching *The Herdsman* and *Mother, Again I Love You*. I also enjoy using cameras, so I understand basic composition and optical principles. I borrowed many directing and cinematography textbooks from the Film Academy, but static photographs no longer satisfied me—that’s why I want to make films.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Wei Ming expressed his determination and strong desire, the three elders fell silent. Making this decision required great courage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a major studio like Shanghai or Beijing Film Studio, this would be impossible—directors fiercely compete for shooting opportunities; they’d never let a writer direct by whim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Children’s Film Studio was newly founded, with simpler personnel—it might be easier. But they’d still face scrutiny from all over the country. If Wei Ming failed, he could simply walk away and go back to writing novels for foreign currency, with no loss. But the leaders who approved this would bear the consequences.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing their hesitation, Wei Ming continued: “Actually, writers becoming directors isn’t new. French master Jean-Luc Godard didn’t study directing—he started as a film critic. And renowned female writer Marguerite Duras has been writing and directing her own films for over a decade.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Yang laughed: “You even know Godard? You’ve seen French New Wave films?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were films even film academy students rarely encountered—never officially imported into China.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming said: “In Hong Kong and the U.S., I’ve watched dozens of video tapes—Hollywood blockbusters, French New Wave, Kurosawa’s Japanese films, Hong Kong kung fu movies—I’ve seen at least dozens, if not a hundred. And I’ve spent plenty of time observing on sets.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Director Yu Lan said: “You mentioned Godard and Duras—they mostly made writer’s films. One hallmark is lack of planning: they shoot wherever inspiration takes them. But you’ve never even made a short film—what if you start filming and can’t finish?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was a real possibility. Director Shi and Director Wang both nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming said: “If that happens, it’s simple—you can replace me with any director, and I’ll cover all the studio’s costs.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yu Lan waved her hand: “No need. We’d never make you pay personally.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though they knew Wei Ming probably wasn’t short on money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shi Fangyu said: “Little Wei, we understand your intentions. Let us three discuss it further. We’ll give you an answer by the end of this week.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded: “Fine. If you need me to shoot a short film to prove myself, I’m willing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming left and wandered among the actors, chatting briefly with Sister Xue and Old Master Chen Qiang before departing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sister Xue followed shortly after, and soon the two met at home on Nanshuogu Lane.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What were you doing at the studio?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming told her about *The Chorus* and his plan to direct it himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d never mentioned this before; Gong Ying was stunned. After confirming it was true, she immediately called Zhu Lin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That evening, Zhu Lin arrived and asked curiously: “You want to be a director—aren’t you just trying to film us two?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Do you think I’m that petty? Can’t I want to express my ideas through images?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to make *The Chorus* a benchmark for educational films—it was meaningful for children.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some teachers in the 80s and 90s weren’t professional at all—they lacked compassion. Especially in rural areas, teaching quality varied wildly; there was discipline, not education. He wasn’t some Yin-Yang Qi cultivator pretending to be a teacher.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying worried for her little man: “I wonder if they’ll agree to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin: “They can’t refuse—I really want to see what your film looks like!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying felt the same—she had no idea what surprises this little man would bring next.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Shi Fangyu and the others were discussing the matter. They’d said they’d decide by the end of the week, but Shi Fangyu was leaving for Shanghai tomorrow to handle his transfer—he’d been a powerful deputy director at Shanghai Film Studio, and there was much to wrap up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So tonight, they had to settle on a plan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Wei Ming received a call from the Children’s Film Studio while at Peking University, asking him to come over—he knew the decision had come.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, only Yu Lan and Wang Yang were present; Director Shi had returned to Shanghai.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Director Yu said: “Little Wei, you’ve given us a real challenge. After discussion, we mostly agree to let you direct this film—but you must first shoot a short film to prove your coordination skills to us and other filmmakers. Choose the subject and length yourself, request any crew you need, but keep the budget under ten thousand yuan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming said: “How about this—I’ll cover the short film’s cost myself, but the finished film will be mine. I plan to submit it to international festivals.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It would serve as a preview for *The Chorus*, helping me build a reputation in the film industry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ll pay yourself?” The two directors exchanged glances. “Can you even buy film stock yourself?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming said: “Oh, the studio needs to issue me a letter of certification. I want to shoot the short in Hong Kong—there, I can use film stock freely.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shooting in China imposed too many restrictions. When Zhu Lin filmed *The Courtyard*, she had to rehearse actors dozens of times to save film. He didn’t have that kind of time—Hong Kong was better. Money could solve most problems.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And to enter international festivals, he needed bold, avant-garde material—China’s environment wouldn’t allow it. Hong Kong was ideal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Besides filming, I miss my parents—I might as well visit them too.” Of course, he could also see Little Amin—her recent letters nearly begged: “Come see me soon.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1922,"2026-06-19T16:30:59.356Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","50b5ca80d48b96ab2de29e5b9d797fd3687a9f57e37ccf2e58cb12e31bb0e7fb","rising-in-1979-chapter-430","rising-in-1979-chapter-428",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]