Chapter 00263: World Wonders (1)
# World Wonders (1)
Chapter 263
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 263: World Wonders (1)
"The blockbuster *Tai Chi* has taken the silver screen by storm, sweeping the nation with a cinematic frenzy. Today, we bring you an exclusive behind-the-scenes look, with heartfelt accounts from Jet Li and Gong Xue..."
Feng Xiaogang held the newspaper, reading intently.
Deep down, he was an artist at heart, never one for mindless violence.
His foray into commercial filmmaking had been accidental, but he found *Tai Chi*’s themes of patriotism and its dialogue quite compelling, elevating the film’s quality.
This article did reveal some tidbits not covered by other outlets, along with a couple of unseen photos.
But then—
"During filming, the crew faced a major crisis that nearly ended Jet Li’s martial arts career. What exactly happened? And how did the production team resolve it...?"
Just as it got to the juicy part, the article abruptly cut off, shifting instead to promote a magazine called *World Wonders*.
"Encompassing all things strange and wondrous, spanning ancient and modern, East and West—martial arts, science fiction, and bizarre tales—all in *World Wonders*! Officially launching today, available at major bookstores across northern China. Also accepting mail subscriptions. Subscription address..."
"..."
Feng Xiaogang frowned, utterly baffled by this sudden turn.
This, of course, was a classic marketing tactic—teasing readers with a cliffhanger to lure them into buying.
The so-called "career-ending crisis" was pure hype, nothing more than a sales gimmick.
"Xiaogang, dinner’s ready!"
"Coming!"
His mother’s call pulled him away.
Dinner was nothing fancy—just the usual potatoes and cabbage.
He wolfed down a bowl of rice before announcing, "Ma, I’m heading to the bookstore!"
With that, he dashed out, leaving the factory compound for a nearby Xinhua Bookstore.
The place was packed.
He scanned the shelves before asking, "Excuse me, comrade, do you have *World Wonders*?"
The clerk turned and shouted, "Xiao Wang, any copies of *World Wonders* left?"
"Only a few left!"
Feng Xiaogang had planned to browse first, but hearing that, he quickly blurted, "Hey, hey! Comrade, save one for me!"
He hurried inside, snagging a copy from another clerk.
The magazine was small—32mo—but thick, with *Tai Chi* featured on the cover.
The price? Twenty-five cents.
In the brief moment it took him to grab it, more voices chimed in:
"Do you have *World Wonders*?"
"Any copies of *World Wonders*?"
"Gone! Sold out!"
Hearing this, Feng Xiaogang’s eyebrows shot up, a faint sense of superiority washing over him.
Superiority didn’t need much—sometimes, just having toilet paper when the guy next to you didn’t was enough.
Tucking the magazine under his arm, he returned home.
The whole trip had eaten up half his day.
Back by the stove, he flipped through the pages.
He skipped past *Five Phoenixes Facing the Sun Blade*, focusing instead on the *Tai Chi* feature.
Western fiction didn’t interest him much, but he quite enjoyed Zheng Yuanjie’s stories.
All in all, it was a decent read.
Then, he spotted a survey at the end.
"Complete this questionnaire, cut it out, and mail it back to our editorial office for a chance to win prizes!"
"First Prize (1 winner): Exquisite gift + one year of free magazines!"
"Second Prize (5 winners): Exquisite gift + six months of free magazines!"
"Third Prize (10 winners): Six months of free magazines!"
"Participation Prize (100 winners): Free next issue!"
Now *this* was interesting!
Such marketing tactics were unheard of at the time—smacking of capitalist opportunism.
In the ideologically turbulent '80s, with the "Wenzhou Eight Kings" incident fresh in memory, this kind of thing could easily land you in hot soup if you didn’t have solid backing.
Intrigued, Feng Xiaogang filled out the survey carefully, snipped it out, and checked the return address—Shichahai.
"I could just drop it off myself and save on postage!"
Tempted, he checked the time.
Plenty left to make the trip.
Without hesitation, he hopped on his rickety bicycle and pedaled toward Lechun Lane.
…………
Xinhua Bookstore’s daily foot traffic was usually steady.
Even the most avid bookworms didn’t visit daily, so *World Wonders* would’ve naturally taken time to gain traction.
But Chen Qi’s newspaper ads had drastically sped up the process.
The *China Youth Daily*’s primary readership was in Beijing, so locals were the first to see the ads.
Those uninterested moved on, but the curious flocked to bookstores.
Riding the wave of *Tai Chi*’s popularity and the martial arts craze, even a fraction of Beijing’s nine million residents meant thousands of potential buyers.
"Stop shoving! What’s the rush—buying books or snatching fish?"
"You here for *World Wonders* too?"
"What? You too?"
"Xiao Zhao, any left in stock?"
"Gone! Last copy’s gone!"
"What’s wrong with procurement? Only ordered a hundred copies? Should’ve stocked more!"
"Contact the publisher—wait, not a publisher? Doesn’t matter, just get more copies, now!"
Similar scenes played out across Beijing’s Xinhua Bookstores.
This was the golden age for magazines.
After years of cultural drought, even old almanacs were treasured, let alone proper pulp fiction!
And those who bought the magazine mostly noticed the survey and prizes, reacting much like Feng Xiaogang—intrigued and itching to act.
The more impulsive ones headed straight for the source.
…………
Winter had left Shichahai desolate, its frozen lake doubling as a makeshift skating rink.
Feng Xiaogang had been here before, but today, his mind was elsewhere as he made his way to Lechun Lane.
"Number 6, right?"
"Why so many people?!"
Arriving at the courtyard’s entrance, he was stunned.
A line spilled out from the imposing gate, stretching down the street—mostly young men.
"Shouldn’t you all be home relaxing for New Year’s? Standing in line here—got nothing better to do?"
Muttering under his breath, he joined the queue.
The guy ahead, in his twenties, glanced back and grinned.
"Here for the prize draw, comrade?"
"Huh?"
"Don’t play dumb. We’re all here for the freebies. This magazine’s got some nerve—giving out prizes? Who comes up with this stuff?"
"Heh."
Feng Xiaogang rolled his eyes internally.
The guy reeked of deadbeat energy—clearly jobless, unlike himself, a proper cultural troupe member.
Worlds apart.
Noticing his cold shoulder, the man snorted and turned away.
After a while, a commotion erupted inside before abruptly dying down—like water dousing flames. *Splash*, out.
Curiosity piqued, Feng Xiaogang stood on tiptoe, straining to see.
…………
From Liang Xiaosheng’s office, Chen Qi watched the scene outside the large window with amusement.
The ruckus continued.
It was only the first day, yet the turnout exceeded expectations—and the crowd was... diverse.
Some politely handed in their surveys, exchanged pleasantries with the editors—perfectly normal.
Others, however, seemed to operate on a unique blend of illiteracy, contrarianism, and opportunism:
"You said there’s a prize draw! Why won’t you let us draw?"
"You submit the survey, and *we* pick the winners. Not you drawing yourselves."
"No way! How do we know you won’t rig it? We readers should draw ourselves!"
The loudest protester was a stocky young man, his neck thick, face flushed from yelling: "I don’t care! You promised a draw, so let me draw today! Or I’m not leaving! I’ll report you for scamming readers! I—I—"
His voice cut off abruptly.
Because Ji Chunhua had just walked in...
(That’s a wrap!
Sharing my reading list—I’m in a book drought!)
(End of chapter.)