[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-484":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},2261192,4412,"Chapter 484: Grabbing Film and Games, Both Hands Strong!","rising-in-1979-chapter-484",484,"\u003Cp>Wei Hong didn’t fully understand the foreign old man’s status, but when Wei Ming explained he was “the Cao Yu of American theater,” she got it—he was a big shot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After completing the Chinese adaptation direction for Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller had to return to New York; this flight was Beijing → Shanghai → San Francisco → New York.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Miller hadn’t produced a major work in many years, his few plays from his golden era were enough to sustain him for life; now a New York film company wanted to remake Death of a Salesman, with Dustin Hoffman locked in as lead, so he had to go back to revise the script.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So we’re on the same flight!” Arthur Miller waved his boarding pass. “Perfect—this journey won’t be boring.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps because Wei Ming had brought honor to the country, he’d been upgraded to first class—equivalent to business class; it wasn’t as luxurious as future standards, but the seats were wider, armrests adjustable, and flight attendants more attentive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a pleasure-seeker like Wei Ming, first class on a ten-hour flight was the ultimate reward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>First class was like a soft sleeper on a train—you couldn’t buy it with money alone; you needed either high rank or foreign guest status.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Onboard, Wei Ming, Wei Hong, and Arthur Miller weren’t seated together, but the seat beside them was taken by an American backpacker who knew Miller’s name—so Miller traded him a signed copy of Death of a Salesman for the seat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now the three were closer, but before Wei Ming could say much to Miller, Wei Hong started practicing her English on the old man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Arthur, please sit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wei Hong asked what Miller’s works were about; naturally, Miller cited his proudest creation: Death of a Salesman, written during the Great Depression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming listened carefully, absorbing the original author’s own interpretation of his work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming thought Chinese people of this era might struggle to understand why a salesman would choose death; forty years later, middle-aged men burdened by mortgages and families during an economic downturn might relate more easily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a small scale, the play tells the tragedy of an ordinary man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After thirty years of relentless toil, as he aged and his sales plummeted, his earning power collapsed, and with two useless sons and a mortgage to pay, the protagonist Willy ultimately decided to fake his own death to collect life insurance and squeeze out his last shred of value.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a grand scale, it reveals the spiritual crisis of an era through the final twenty-four hours of an ordinary salesman’s life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Willy’s tragedy lies in believing his early success was largely due to historical fortune, in his desperate need to succeed, in failing himself and pouring all hope onto his two sons, and in his failure to reconcile with himself—without that, constant inner conflict inevitably leads to destruction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Written over thirty years ago, even in the 21st century this play still finds echoes in reality—that’s the power of a classic text; Wei Ming believed that even fifty or sixty years from now, men like Willy would still exist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before meal service, Miller described the ending.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At Willy’s funeral, only family and two neighbors attended—the scene was bleak. His son Biff finally decided to leave the city and return to farming, while his wife Linda wept at his grave, saying they’d finally paid off the house mortgage… but now no one needed to live in it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong already felt the crushing sorrow: “I know Americans have a habit of buying on credit—many carry loans. Arthur, do you have a mortgage too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Miller laughed: “I run my own company; running one inevitably means dealing with banks. But owing money to banks is an art of dealing with them—if you go to study in America without a brother’s support, you’ll need bank loans too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong: “I don’t need any. I wrote a book that sold over a million copies, then invested in the stock market—I now have hundreds of thousands of dollars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Miller: “...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This is what they mean by “other people’s children”?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After lunch, everyone took a short break; seeing Wei Hong’s eagerness to learn, Miller began telling her about his other masterpiece, The Crucible (The Puritan’s Hell), which had been staged two years ago in Shanghai by Huang Zuolin, Huang Shuqin’s father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the story was an allegory criticizing McCarthy-era political persecution and repression, Wei Ming still needed to remind Xiao Hong later: when studying in America, respect classmates’ religious beliefs—but never touch them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Americans have plenty of religious fanatics—even Hollywood stars aren’t immune.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After more than ten hours of flight across the Pacific, they landed in Los Angeles as the sun just rose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming and Wei Hong bid farewell to Miller; the old man invited them to visit Broadway in New York when they had time, and expressed hope for future collaboration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During his time at the People’s Art Theatre, Miller had read Wei Ming’s Donkey’s Water and felt Wei Ming had real talent for writing plays.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they stepped out of San Francisco Airport, Gong Biyang—who had interacted with Wei Ming before and now had business ties with him—came personally to pick them up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Biyang said: “The old lady’s waiting at home—shall we head there first?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Sure.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at the unfamiliar city, Wei Hong tightened her bag; when they left the country, Old Wei had just returned and made them bring a hundred-year-old wild ginseng—right inside the bag.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The car drove straight to Tiburon Shijiazhuang Estate; on the way, Gong Biyang couldn’t help bringing up Wei Ming’s Cannes Golden Palm win.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When I saw the news, I was stunned—how can someone like you exist? Every novel you write sells over a million copies, and you just randomly make a movie and win Europe’s top prize!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I was surprised too—I guess I was lucky.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Luck is part of talent too. Will this movie be released in America? American filmmakers who attended Cannes said it was amazing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming thought: Is Amblin already promoting it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. Spielberg’s Amblin Entertainment bought the North and South American rights.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Amblin Entertainment,” Gong Biyang recalled, “a while back, the old lady tried to make an offer for them—but they refused outright.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course they refused—Amblin was Spielberg’s very incarnation; they produced E.T., the highest-grossing film in history, and were developing Back to the Future and The Goonies—all surefire hits. Why sell? Even if he ever sold DreamWorks, he’d never sell Amblin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And without Spielberg, Amblin wouldn’t mean much at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming was more curious: “Is Grandma planning to enter the film industry? Trying to buy a studio?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes—apparently inspired by you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded. That direction wasn’t bad; Reagan had taken office, the American economy was improving rapidly, and the film industry—once stagnant—was entering a boom phase, growing in influence. Definitely worth entering.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Plus, film and TV involve ideology. The Jewish and Chinese populations in America were roughly equal, but their influence was worlds apart. Beyond different starting points, Jews controlled Hollywood and held the global media megaphone—that was another key reason.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Arthur Miller, whom you met on the plane—he was a famous left-wing intellectual, sympathetic to the Communists, friendly toward China, hailed as the conscience of American society—but because he was Jewish, he’d written a play praising Israel: The Price.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So did she end up buying a film company?” Wei Ming asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Haha, this is quite interesting—you can ask her yourself when you meet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they arrived at Tiburon Shijiazhuang Estate, Wei Ming was surprised to find his aunt there too, accompanied by Li Zhi.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Auntie, I’ve come to see you—this is my sister, Xiao Hong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong scanned the luxurious estate; when she saw Aunt Wei Lindi, she thought only this old lady’s aura could match such a mansion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder she’d given away that old Western-style house in Shanghai—this estate could easily buy several of those.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Auntie, this wild ginseng was dug up by my father himself on Mount Zhangbai for you—it’s over a hundred years old. He nearly got eaten by a bear trying to get it.” Wei Hong quickly presented the gift after meeting her aunt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Lindi blinked: “Oh? You ran into a bear? Why didn’t you bring me a pair of bear paws?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong froze—then Wei Ming and Wei Lingling burst out laughing; they laughed, and Xiao Hong laughed too—turns out the old lady had a sense of humor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the joke, she truly opened the wooden box and stared at the massive, whiskered ginseng root.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young people didn’t understand such things, but Wei Lindi had once been a member of a wealthy family and had managed the Shi household for decades—her eye was sharp.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Definitely a hundred-year ginseng. Your father thought of me. Why didn’t he come with you this time?” The aunt told the housekeeper to store the ginseng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming replied: “He was still on Mount Zhangbai when we bought the tickets—he’ll come next time. Definitely next time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Really? He went all the way to Mount Zhangbai to dig it up?” Wei Lingling was astonished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Would I lie to Auntie? My dad went to Mount Zhangbai with Xi Zi to film Journey to the West,” Wei Ming explained to his aunt. “Xi Zi is my Ping’an uncle’s son—a child star, known as the mainland’s male version of Shirley Temple—he played Red Boy in CCTV’s Journey to the West.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know, I know. Heard he won Best Actor—it’s inherited from his grandmother. Maybe he can come to Hollywood someday—you write him a script.” The aunt laughed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She mentioned Hollywood; Wei Ming asked directly: “I heard you’re planning to enter the film industry and buy a studio?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Lingling: “We were just talking about it—I only got here last night.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Did you buy it? How much did it cost?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Too fast for that—but we reached an agreement. They quoted thirty million.” Wei Lingling said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thirty million dollars? Which company?” Wei Ming asked. That amount wasn’t for a giant studio, but definitely not a tiny one—it’d have some name recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Lingling: “AMC. Have you heard of it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “That’s not a film company—that’s a theater chain.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1705,"2026-06-19T16:30:59.356Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","42d0d676fa76a68a20b433d3b073ba4dec8cf1e967e31923616d4ded444ac634","rising-in-1979-chapter-485","rising-in-1979-chapter-483",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]