Chapter 00236: in proper xianxia style while keeping the language simple and accessible
# in proper xianxia style while keeping the language simple and accessible:
Chapter 236
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 236: Trivial Matters in the Capital
Morning.
It was work hours, and Lechunfang Alley lay quiet and empty.
Gong Xue rode her bicycle straight through the side gate into the rear courtyard.
After closing the gate behind her, she turned to gaze at the spacious yard—each time she came, she felt an indescribable sense of serene, lonely beauty.
Several new potted flowers had been placed around—on the windowsills, the steps, by the doorway—all in full bloom, still untouched by autumn’s chill.
In the patches of earth reserved for planting, a pomegranate tree and a crabapple tree had been planted.
The front yard also held magnolias, lilacs, and roses—all arranged by Liang Xiaosheng, since she had no skill for such things.
Gong Xue entered the kitchen, slipped on a pair of sleeves, filled a basin with water, and briskly began cleaning.
After Chen Qi left, she had taken to visiting often, cleaning roughly once a week—though only the rear courtyard, as the entire place was far too large for her to manage alone.
Even so, each time left her back sore and legs aching.
The master bedroom, the sitting room, the two guest rooms, the study, the library… She tidied them one by one, and before she knew it, half the day had slipped away.
"Hah!"
Wiping her sweat, she gave the floor one last sprinkle of water, removed her sleeves, and lay down on the large bed in the master bedroom to rest for a while.
Then, unable to resist, she picked up a letter and began reading.
Chen Qi had gone to Hong Kong, but he wrote to her almost every week—rambling about everything, big and small.
She loved reading them, as though she were right there beside him.
"So 'The Orphan’s Lament' is finally going into production… I hope everything goes smoothly for him."
"He really is collaborating with Americans… I wonder if communication will be difficult…"
She missed Chen Qi terribly, wishing she could fly straight to Hong Kong.
But as she lay there, drowsiness crept over her.
Her eyelids grew heavy, then she suddenly shook her head and sat up.
"Ah! I nearly fell asleep—I should get going."
Pushing her bicycle, she exited through the side gate once more.
She deliberately took a detour around Shichahai.
Early autumn in the capital was the finest season—the lake shimmered under clear skies, and a few people were even swimming (no one bothered to stop them in those days).
Returning to the Beijing Film Studio, she collected a large bundle of letters as usual, first dropping them off at her apartment before heading to the guesthouse.
On the floor where the female staff resided, a little boy was playing in the hallway.
The moment he spotted her, he rushed over joyfully.
"Mama!"
"Aiyo, Dongdong!"
Gong Xue smiled, lifting him into her arms. "Have you been good? Did you study properly?"
"I did! I already know it all, but Granny keeps making me read it again—like I’m stupid or something!"
The boy was Fang Chao, who played Dongdong in "Mama, Love Me Once More." His parents were busy with work, so his grandmother had come to stay with him.
The elderly woman, plain and unassuming, emerged from the room upon hearing the voices. "Comrade Gong Xue, I just worry he hasn’t memorized it well enough. I don’t want him embarrassing himself later."
"We understand if children make mistakes while filming. Don’t push him too hard—he needs rest too."
Carrying the boy inside, Gong Xue handed him some fruit she had brought.
She picked up an apple, carefully peeled and sliced it, then fed him piece by piece—a treatment even Chen Qi had never received.
Fang Chao clearly adored this beautiful auntie, and they got along wonderfully.
Watching them, the grandmother sighed. "I never expected you to be so kind. Before we came, we were actually quite nervous."
"Oh, don’t say that. I’m just an ordinary person. And this child is so well-behaved—how could I not love him? Here, have another… No? Then later…"
Her scenes for "Taiji 2" were finished, and preparations for "Mama, Love Me Once More" were underway.
Director Wang Haowei handled most of the work, leaving Gong Xue with one task—bonding with the child.
Fang Chao was five, the perfect age for a mother-son dynamic.
Every day, Gong Xue played with him, washed his clothes, fed him meals, and told him stories.
Slowly, she began to feel something like real maternal affection.
Fang Chao, who would become one of the most famous child stars of the '80s, was naturally precocious—clever beyond his years.
He acted in many films before later shifting to behind-the-scenes work.
"You’re so patient. Sometimes I can’t even handle this boy myself. Whoever marries you will be the luckiest man alive!" the grandmother praised.
Gong Xue paused briefly before smiling. "Don’t say that. You’ve sacrificed far more for him than I ever could… Dongdong, I’ll come see you at dinner, alright?"
"Okay, Mama!"
Fang Chao called her "Mama" with effortless ease—a side effect of playing sons all the time.
After spending a little longer with him, Gong Xue left the guesthouse.
She still had to write a letter to that damned man waiting for her back home.
---
Meanwhile.
Liang Xiaosheng pedaled a borrowed tricycle with effort, while Jiao Dan sat in the back, carefully cradling a plaque wrapped in red cloth—handled as though it might shatter at the slightest bump.
They, too, arrived at Lechunfang.
Liang Xiaosheng had a key to the main gate, which he jangled open.
Together, they carried the plaque inside, all the way to the main hall in the front courtyard.
Jiao Dan itched with curiosity. "Can I take a peek?"
"No, no! We wait for Xiao Chen to return—he’ll unveil it himself."
"Come on, just one look?"
"Absolutely not! If you sneak a peek, it’d be like lifting a bride’s veil before the wedding night. Don’t make this hard for me!"
Old Liang was firm on matters of principle.
Jiao Dan didn’t press further, only asking, "How did you even get Mr. Qi Gong to write the name? He agreed just like that?"
"Xiao Chen arranged it through the Ministry of Culture. I’d never have the connections. When Mr. Qi heard about our magazine’s purpose, he was intrigued. He drafted it three times before he was satisfied. From now on, we’ll have to send him every issue."
Qi Gong—a Manchu calligrapher, painter, and cultural relic expert.
His lineage traced back to the fifth son of the Yongzheng Emperor, brother to Qianlong: that eccentric prince who famously staged his own funeral, Prince He Hongzhou!
Liang Xiaosheng’s transfer procedures were already underway.
He had abandoned all duties at the literature department to focus entirely on the magazine.
Chen Qi had sent over twenty books by foreign authors from Hong Kong, along with short story collections, instantly expanding their pool of manuscripts.
The inaugural issue would include: a serialized novel ("Five Phoenixes Facing the Sun Saber"), an adaptation of "Taiji" as a novella, two foreign short stories, two folk legends, and a tale by Zheng Yuanjie…
Everything else was manageable, but the serialized novel had to be freshly written—pen to paper, word by word.
That couldn’t be rushed.
Of the three main rooms and two side rooms in the front courtyard, one served as Old Liang’s quarters, another as a sitting area—far more spacious than his old apartment.
Jiao Dan had been busy decorating, making the place presentable.
With both career and love flourishing, Old Liang felt he had reached the pinnacle of life.
He stroked the red cloth, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion—then abruptly clapped his hands. "Ah! Fetch that wooden sign I made!"
"This one?"
"Yes!"
Jiao Dan handed him a long wooden plaque carved with Old Liang’s own calligraphy.
Beaming, Liang grabbed a hammer and nails, marched to the front gate, and affixed the plaque to the wall.
"Even if we can’t hang the proper plaque yet, we’re still an official workplace now. We need a name out front, or people might think we’re running some secret operation!"
"Well? How does it look?"
Jiao Dan glanced at it and smirked. "Hmph. Looks like a ragtag operation."
"Not just looks like—it is a ragtag operation! But even the tallest towers start from the ground up!"
Perfectly satisfied, Old Liang strode back inside.
As evening fell and work hours ended, the residents of Lechunfang Alley trickled home.
They noticed something new about the mysterious No. 6 compound—a wooden plaque now hung by the gate.
"Oi, what’s this?"
"'World Fantastical Tales'—can’t you read?"
"I can read! But what’s it mean, eh? Explain it to me!"
"'World' means the whole globe, got it? 'Fantastical Tales'—strange stories, weird happenings, things science can’t explain!"
"Hah! Just four words, no clue what kind of place this is!"
"Maybe a UN outpost?"
"Nonsense! If the UN came to Lechunfang, they’d set up near Jingshan Back Street!"
"Then maybe Prince Sihanouk’s hiding here again?"
"Heh, you’re all wrong!"
An old woman grinned triumphantly. "I knew it! I told you! It’s gotta be a classified bureau studying qigong! Tomorrow they’ll beam signals to the moon, and the day after, aliens will land! Just you wait—we’ll surpass Britain and America, crush Soviet revisionism, and spread socialism across the whole universe!"
(End of Chapter)