Chapter 00013: Finally, Staying at the Guesthouse
# Finally, Staying at the Guesthouse
Chapter 13
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 13: Finally, Staying at the Guesthouse
After a lot of commotion, the neighbors finally dispersed.
Yu Xiuli didn’t cook today.
For the first time, she suggested eating out, and Chen Jianjun agreed.
So the three of them hurriedly rode their bikes out.
Why the rush?
Because the state-run restaurant’s chef clocked out at 7:30 sharp, no exceptions! Not even foreign guests could change that.
Foreigners would just be locked out.
The three arrived at a restaurant, luckily, it wasn’t too crowded.
They handed over their meal tickets and money, ordering a plate of stir-fried pork slices, three taels of meat for 42 cents; a plate of spicy pepper fried tofu for 40 cents, since tofu was considered precious; and a bowl of spinach and egg soup for 20 cents.
They also ordered four taels of dumplings.
Back then, four taels didn’t mean the same as it does now—it referred to four taels of dry flour.
Chen Jianjun even wanted a bottle of Maotai, but the waiter told him to scram…
Poor Chen Qi, who had been here for over ten days, finally had a decent meal.
As he wolfed it down, he muttered, “I wrote a lousy letter and got to eat out. When I really make it big, you’ll have to rent out the Beijing Hotel for me!”
“If that day ever comes, I’ll definitely rent it out for you, even if it kills me!”
Yu Xiuli thought today was her son’s peak and didn’t hesitate to make a bold claim.
“I read your article. It’s not bad!” Chen Jianjun praised with some restraint. “I also support your ideas. No matter what you do, don’t neglect your spiritual world. If you love literature, keep writing. That’s how you improve yourself.”
“Mhm, mhm, mhm!”
Chen Qi敷衍地应着，忙着往嘴里扒拉饺子和肉，最后说道：“妈，再来一盘肉吧，不够吃啊！”
“Comrade, another plate of stir-fried pork!” Yu Xiuli called out.
“We’re out!”
“The chef’s clocking out!”
“Do you even know what time it is?”
The waiter shot back with a triple retort.
Yu Xiuli awkwardly withdrew her hand, Chen Jianjun opened his mouth but stopped, stopped again, and kept stopping.
Chen Qi didn’t dare say a word either.
Better not provoke them!
“No无故打骂顾客 allowed!”
…………
When they got home, Aunt Wang was pacing at the entrance of the courtyard.
“Oh, the three of you went out to eat? That’s great, you should celebrate… I need to have a word with young Chen.”
The effect was noticeable.
Before, she called him “kid,” now it’s “young Chen,” and soon it’ll be “Teacher Chen.”
Chen Qi stayed behind.
Aunt Wang, seeing no one around, said, “I’ll cut to the chase. The leaders from the plastic factory came to the neighborhood specifically to resolve this matter. They said they’ll definitely punish those people, and whatever the outcome, they’ll accept it. They’ve admitted their mistake, so could you let it go and end it here? What do you think?”
“You’re being too serious, I almost feel bad.”
It wasn’t that Chen Qi was heartless.
Getting dissed on the first day of business, if he didn’t make an example out of someone, it would never end.
The other side had admitted their mistake, and he didn’t want to drag it out.
But then he paused and asked, “Aunt Wang, do you know what products their factory makes?”
“Just plastic stuff, like sandals.”
“Sandals? Plastic sandals?”
“Yeah, everyone loves wearing them in the summer. They’re cool and you can even wade in water with them. If I weren’t so old, I’d buy a pair myself.”
Good stuff!
Chen Qi’s eyes lit up. “I have an idea. What if their factory provides us with some sandals? Not too many, just enough to keep us stocked for the summer. When the leaders come to inspect, we’ll put in a good word for them. What do you think?”
Everyone was certain the leaders would inspect because this was a model case.
Aunt Wang frowned. “But we sell tea. Sandals don’t really fit.”
“Let me remind you, it’s already April. It’s getting hotter, and once summer hits, our tea business will plummet. What will you do then?”
Tsk!
Aunt Wang’s face twisted in frustration.
She knew he was right. “But what exactly is our cooperative? It feels all over the place.”
“Don’t worry about what it is. Let’s just try it out. The important thing is to improve everyone’s lives. If the plastic factory can’t do it directly, they can write it off as损耗. They must have a损耗 rate every month, right? They can sell it to us at a low price. It’s not against the rules.”
“Should I talk to them about it?”
“Please do!”
Aunt Wang left.
Chen Qi went inside.
His parents were still excited and chatted for a long time.
Finally, the night grew quiet.
He lay on the wooden bed outside.
Selling big bowls of tea was decent, but the profits were low, accumulation was slow, and it was seasonal.
They had to diversify their products.
Once summer came, they’d start with sandals, then maybe add ice pops, raincoats, and so on.
That would help them establish a foothold.
The department stores had a lot of overstocked items they could negotiate for.
But he didn’t plan to handle that himself.
He felt he’d already done more than enough.
…………
The topic of “The Meaning of Life” quickly sparked widespread discussion.
Letters poured into the China Youth Daily from all over the country, each with different perspectives.
Some were quite profound, and the newspaper was busy publishing these letters every day.
Sales were looking good.
Over the next two days, Yu Jiajia came by twice.
Each time, she brought him letters—sacks and sacks of them—and also handed him 14 yuan in稿费.
During the人道洪流 period, there was no稿费.
Authors who submitted their work would receive a card in return, which they could use to get a copy of the领袖著作 at Xinhua Bookstore.
Writers like Chen Zhongshi and Jia Pingwa submitted their work back then but never saw a single cent.
In 1977, writers felt they deserved稿费 and started making noise.
The government then set a standard: 2-7 yuan per thousand characters for original works, 1-5 yuan for translations.
In 1980, it was raised to 3-10 yuan for original works and 1-7 yuan for translations.
They also reinstated印数稿酬, calculated per 10,000 copies printed.
For every 10,000 copies, the author would get a certain percentage.
By 1984, it was raised again: 6-20 yuan for original works, 4-14 yuan for translations.
In short,稿费 was never high unless you wrote a million-word epic.
The first commercialized writer was Wang Shuo, who openly demanded royalties.
But this standard applied to newspapers, magazines, and publishers.
Movie scripts weren’t included, so we’ll skip that for now.
Chen Qi’s article was two thousand characters, so he got 14 yuan in稿费.
At first, he felt虚荣 and proud, reading the letters like he was批阅奏折, but he quickly lost interest.
Honestly, the letters weren’t that great.
The young women were enthusiastic but保守.
Not a single one included a photo.
How was he supposed to get excited? He was the type who’d ask to “see legs” after 30 minutes of online chatting and “see more” after a day…
Anyway, the discussion continued.
But the热度 of the instigator, Chen Qi, was clearly fading, like a网红 who’s famous for 15 minutes.
Chen Qi didn’t care.
He was just puzzled.
He’d submitted the script days ago, so why hadn’t they invited him to stay at the guesthouse yet? He was worried something had gone wrong, but thankfully, his plan was still on track.
“Excuse me, is Comrade Chen Qi home?”
That evening, a thin man with thick eyebrows, who looked a bit like Tu Honggang, knocked on the Chen family’s door and introduced himself:
“I’m an editor from the literary department of Beijing Film Studio. My name is Liang Xiaosheng…”
(That’s it!
No more存稿.
I write fresh every day and try to update between 5-8 PM.)
(End of chapter.)