Chapter 46: Serialization Completed, Impact Spreads

Wei Ming scratched his head: “I’m still young, and I’m from out of town—I’ll focus on building my career first.”

In this era, finding a partner barely meant holding hands—it meant little; making money was far more interesting.

Mu Rong was about to speak again when Biaozi excitedly said: “Sister-in-law, if you know anyone suitable, introduce me!”

Everyone burst into laughter; Mei Wenhua instinctively teased him: “Aren’t you already sweet on a girl from your sports school? Why are you asking Sister-in-law to introduce someone?”

Wei Ming: “Oh? There’s something like that?”

Qiao Feng said: “You spilled the truth once when you got drunk those few days after you left.”

Zhao Debiao sighed: “She’s my classmate from sports school. She said someone who hasn’t even won a national championship has no right to pursue her.”

“So she won a national championship?” Wei Ming asked.

“She should win this year—she’s that strong.” Even the usually optimistic Biaozi felt inferior when talking about this female classmate.

To cheer Biaozi up, Wei Ming said: “You’re still young. Look at Wenhua—he’s nineteen and still single too.”

Mei Wenhua: “Hey hey hey, after you left, Qingqing specifically came to apologize to me and even took me out to dinner—I think we’ve got a shot.”

Biaozi felt even worse.

Wei Ming quickly added: “Liu Zhenyun’s over twenty and still a bachelor too.”

Liu Zhenyun calmly put down his chopsticks with a smile: “First, I’m only twenty-one. Second, yesterday I took my fellow townsman, Mei Zi, my junior, for a stroll around the Old Summer Palace—I think she’s interested in me.”

Biaozi felt everyone was conspiring to leave him no hope; the food on the table suddenly tasted bland.

After the meal ended, Zhao Debiao returned to his dorm and paced back and forth, finally pulling out paper and pen.

Wei Ming: “What are you doing?”

Biaozi: “I’m writing a confession letter!”

But after writing “Yanzi:”, he didn’t know what to write next, so he asked his brother Ming for advice.

Wei Ming: “Just write: ‘I can’t live without you, Yanzi!’”

Biaozi: “Won’t that seem too soft?”

“If you want to be manly, then write a challenge letter instead.”

“Huh? A challenge letter?”

Wei Ming: “Yeah. From what you’ve said, your classmate’s pretty proud—if you beat her, wouldn’t that make her look at you differently?”

Biaozi’s eyes lit up: “That actually makes sense!”

So he tore up the confession letter and wrote a challenge letter instead—short and simple: “Huang Jiaoyan, dare you fight me? —Zhao Debiao!”

“Wait, what’s your classmate’s name?”

“Jiaoyan—I usually call her Yanzi~”

Early the next morning, Wei Ming rode Mei Wenhua’s new Feige bicycle to Zhuxin Zhuang Film Academy, while Zhao Debiao prepared to head to Shichahai Sports School to deliver his challenge letter to Yanzi.

Meanwhile, the final installment of “The Ducks Know the Spring River’s Warmth” had been published in the Wen Hui Bao, concluding the serialization.

Sales of Can Gui Yang Rong Wine hadn’t yet fluctuated, but the print runs of these three issues of the Wen Hui Bao had risen steadily, and the newspaper had received widespread public feedback on the novel.

Even without invoking the banner of reform literature, this novel remained a captivating story that had gripped readers from the first issue, making them rejoice with the characters and worry with them, unable to stop following the protagonist’s fate.

A military unit in Baoding.

Nineteen-year-old Wang Zhongjun had already served three years as a soldier; originally a scout, he was later reassigned as a cartographer due to his artistic background.

He was diligent in his studies and read large quantities of newspapers on current affairs every day.

But today, upon entering the reading room, he first picked up the Wen Hui Bao and immediately flipped to page four to find the final installment of “The Ducks Know the Spring River’s Warmth.”

The previous installment described how Director Wang had exhausted himself filming a one-and-a-half-minute TV commercial, but got stuck at the broadcast stage.

This installment continued: because there was no precedent, the TV station refused to air it—until a progressive director, under pressure, managed to get it broadcast, a detail never mentioned in the film “The Ducks Know.”

The author then detailed the reactions of TV viewers, particularly those in Shanghai, seeing a commercial on television for the first time.

When Wei Ming wrote this section, he primarily interviewed staff from guesthouses and added his own artistic embellishments; Wang Zhongjun’s first thought after reading it was: So Chinese audiences are this easily fooled!

Some viewers actually believed the state was urging them to buy the medicinal wine.

Wei Ming then depicted the scene of the wine selling out: impoverished commoners swept every store and pharmacy clean of the product, allowing the factory to overcome its crisis.

Wang Zhongjun stroked his chin thoughtfully—this advertising thing really was powerful.

At this point, the novel’s narrative intent regarding reform and opening-up had become unmistakable.

“The ducks know the spring river’s warmth”—what is reform and opening-up? It means being brave enough to be the first duck to enter the water. Wang Zhongjun was deeply inspired by this line; the following line, “The brave enjoy the world first,” struck him directly.

He wanted to share the newspaper with those around him, but seeing their blank, dazed expressions, he put it away, silently memorizing the phrase, hoping one day he could become that brave person.

Anshan, Liaoning.

Fourteen-year-old Chen Xiaoxu had just joined the city drama troupe as an announcer.

Some said she resembled the male lead, Chen Peisi, from this year’s film “Look at This Family”—coincidentally, her father’s name was also Chen Qiang.

Chen Xiaoxu saw her colleague Bi Yanjun reading a newspaper; she crept up quietly and covered his eyes from behind.

“Guess who I am?”

“Stop messing around, Xiaoxu—I’m engrossed.”

Though they were ten years apart in age, their glances at each other carried sparks.

“What are you reading?” Chen Xiaoxu sat beside him, looking sweet and obedient.

!

“A novel—serialized. This is the final installment.”

“What’s it about?”

“About making commercials.”

“Commercials?” She was puzzled. “What’s so interesting about that?”

“Haha, just read it and you’ll see.” Bi Yanjun helped her find the previous two installments.

This was the first time this girl from a small northeastern town had encountered the concept of advertising—and the first time she learned how it worked.

Wei Ming explained it thoroughly: from concept to filming to broadcasting, he introduced advertising in simple, accessible terms.

His exposition demystified advertising’s essence, helping audiences see through its illusions.

But it also sparked widespread interest in the advertising industry—in terms of industry development, this novel’s impact was even more significant than the Can Gui Yang Rong TV commercial itself.

…

Zhuxin Zhuang is in Changping, north of Haidian; Wei Ming thought it wasn’t far, but after cycling for an hour, he still hadn’t arrived—luckily, his body was in good shape.

Another half-hour passed before he finally saw the sign of the Film Academy.

Seeing two girls ahead, Wei Ming followed them, pretending to be with them; the gatekeeper never suspected he was an outsider and let him in without asking.

After walking a while, the two girls finally realized: Who is this guy pushing the bike?

Only then did Wei Ming recognize them: one was Liu Jia, the “original version” of Li Huanying; the other was the little girl Fang Shu—they both seemed to be from the 1978 acting class.

“Hello, could you tell me where the Animation class in the Fine Arts Department usually holds classes?”

Last year, Beijing Film Academy had reopened admissions with only four departments: Directing, Acting, Cinematography, and Fine Arts. Fine Arts was the least prestigious, and the Animation class was the least visible within it—they didn’t even know such a class existed.

Liu Jia said: “The Fine Arts Department holds classes in that building. We don’t know about the Animation class.”

“Thanks.”

After he left, the two girls whispered: Who was that guy?

Fang Shu said: “Definitely from another school.”

“Which school, then?”

Wei Ming’s age, looks, and demeanor led them to instinctively assume he was a college student.

Fang Shu thought: “Probably from the Central Academy of Drama.”

“Does the Central Academy have students this good-looking? I heard they only admit weird-looking, distinctive types,” Liu Jia teased her rival school.

Fang Shu giggled: “Not all of them are weird—there’s this guy named Chen Daoming who’s really outstanding.”

Liu Jia: “Oh? Could he be Chen Daoming?”

Wei Ming: Nonsense—I’m not Chen Daoming!

Bearing the suspicion of being Chen Daoming, Wei Ming entered the teaching building.

Not only the Fine Arts Department, but also the Cinematography Department held classes here.

So as soon as Wei Ming walked in, he saw a group of cinematography students, cameras hanging around their necks, heading out to shoot portrait assignments.

Then they all stared at Wei Ming—wow, these features, this contour—perfect subject material!

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(End of Chapter)