Chapter 00038: I Only Like Serving the People
# I Only Like Serving the People
Chapter 38
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 38: I Only Like Serving the People
"Rumble, rumble!"
"Rumble, rumble!"
Under the scorching sun, a green train sped across the vast wilderness at a hundred kilometers per hour.
Well, "sped" might be a bit of an exaggeration, but Chen Qi was quite satisfied.
Although green trains were already quite common, steam locomotives hadn’t completely disappeared yet.
If you were unlucky, you might end up on one of those, crawling along at a snail’s pace of fifty kilometers per hour.
It was the second day of his journey.
Chen Qi stood at the junction between two carriages, swaying with the clattering sounds of the train, breathing in the relatively fresh air.
In his past life, he had taken green trains countless times during his school days, so he was quite used to it.
But life was unpredictable, and some things were just beyond imagination—like a child suddenly having an accident…
Summer heat, green trains, body odor, foot odor, shouting, and excrement—what a delightful combination!
The entire crew of "Romance on Lushan Mountain," about a hundred people, had split up.
The photography and art teams, carrying expensive equipment, had flown ahead.
The rest had no choice but to take the train.
A plane ticket cost over sixty yuan—who could afford that?
"Xiao Chen? Hiding here, huh?"
Tang Guoqiang approached, probably also unable to stand the smell.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and skillfully offered one to Chen Qi.
"No, no, I don’t smoke!"
"You’re this old and still don’t smoke? Come on, have one!"
"Really, no. It’s bad for your health and addictive."
"Addictive? I’ve been smoking for over ten years and I’m not addicted…"
Tang Guoqiang was a seasoned smoker.
He lit one up and began puffing away.
"First time experiencing life on a film set, huh? It’s always like this. You’ll get used to it. Meetings are much better. Like the last time I went to Shanghai for a meeting—I flew there."
"You’ve been on a plane?"
"Of course! On the plane, they gave me five packs of Zhonghua cigarettes and even served Maotai!"
"A whole bottle?"
"Yep, a whole bottle. I finished it at the hotel. You’re still young, you’ll have plenty of chances to fly."
"Yeah, I’m still young."
Chen Qi smiled.
It was early August now.
He had arrived at the end of March, and without realizing it, four months had passed.
In that time, he had written a script, earned 800 yuan, and set up a tea stall.
That was pretty much all he had accomplished.
His initial goal had simply been to make life a little better.
Flying on planes, smoking Zhonghua cigarettes, drinking Maotai, surrounded by beautiful women… If you boiled life down to its most basic desires, that was pretty much it.
Of course, having traveled through time, he naturally had some other aspirations as well.
Tang Guoqiang smoked three cigarettes in quick succession before carefully tucking the pack away.
The two of them navigated past the knees, shoes, and heads sticking out into the aisle and returned to their seats.
Wang Haowei, Gong Xue, and Zhang Jinling were all there, half-asleep.
They wouldn’t arrive at Lushan until evening, and Chen Qi couldn’t stay awake either.
He leaned back against the seat and dozed off.
After a while, he opened his eyes and found Gong Xue across from him just waking up.
Their eyes met, and there was a moment of awkwardness before she looked away.
Everyone else was still dozing, leaving just the two of them awake.
They weren’t very familiar with each other—should they talk or not?
Gong Xue was an introvert, but Chen Qi was an extrovert.
A person might fall into the sea, but words couldn’t just drop to the ground.
"Did you ever go to Lushan when you were sent to the countryside in Jiangxi?" he asked.
"No, I was in Yangqiao Commune in Fenyi County, far from Lushan."
"I was a bit luckier. I was sent to the outskirts of Beijing. Back then, the policy was like that—those sent later stayed near Beijing, while those sent earlier went to the northeast or Inner Mongolia. That was real hardship. Do you know Liang Xiaosheng from the literature department? He was sent to the Heilongjiang Production and Construction Corps, carrying logs. With his small frame, carrying logs—ouch…"
"Don’t say that. He must have suffered a lot."
Gong Xue smiled faintly.
"Of course he suffered. The northeast is nothing but endless wilderness and primeval forests. Who knows what’s hiding in there—leopards, tigers, and even pi!"
"What’s a pi?"
"A pi is a man-bear. It’s bigger than a regular bear, with muscles all over, and it walks on two legs like a human. You think wild boars are tough? They’re nothing compared to a pi. A pi can grab a wild boar and tear it in half with one swipe!"
"Really? That’s incredible!"
"Of course! The pi is the king of the northeast forests. Wherever it appears, there’s usually some rare treasure or a big zongzi."
"Big zongzi?"
"That’s a zombie!"
"Zombie??"
"Monsters!"
"Monsters???"
Gong Xue’s eyes widened, her worldview seemingly shaken more in this one minute than in her entire twenty-plus years of life.
"Do monsters really exist in this world?"
"I can’t say for sure. If I say too much, I might get reported for spreading feudal superstitions and get shot."
Chen Qi said.
"Hey, don’t leave us hanging! Be a decent person!" Tang Guoqiang suddenly chimed in.
"The train ride is so boring. Why don’t you tell us some stories?" Zhang Jinling said.
"Xiao Chen, is there any evidence for what you’re saying?" Wang Haowei asked.
"Wait, when did you all wake up?"
Chen Qi looked around like he’d seen a ghost, shaking his head like a rattle.
"I trust you all, but walls have ears. Let’s talk about this privately some other time. And I’ve already said too much. The secrets of heaven are not to be revealed. No more, no more!"
He spoke so mysteriously that no one pressed him further.
Wang Haowei, however, seemed quite interested.
"Xiao Chen, I’ve noticed that your knowledge is quite eclectic. You seem to know a lot about strange and unusual things, but you’re not very interested in the current ideological trends, like Liu Xinwu’s The Class Teacher or Lu Xinhua’s The Scar. Many people are writing similar stories these days."
"Oh, I’m not really into that kind of literature."
"Why not?"
"If I start talking about it, I won’t be able to stop. Let’s just say I prefer the lowbrow—no, I mean, I like popular literature."
"Don’t you think popular literature is shallow?"
"What’s shallow? What’s profound? Who decides what’s shallow or profound? I only remember one thing: literary creation should serve the people!"
Chen Qi suddenly became serious.
"If I must create, I’d rather write things that the masses enjoy, things that serve the people."
"Things that the masses enjoy…"
Wang Haowei nodded.
"That’s not wrong. If you have inspiration, go ahead and write. But I should warn you, most literary journals nowadays are looking for serious literature—works with ideological and literary depth. If you write popular stuff, you might not even get published."
"I’m just writing for fun. You’re overthinking it."
The conversation made the journey pass a bit faster.
By evening, a train attendant pushed a cart squeaking down the aisle, stacked high with aluminum lunch boxes.
Inside was a simple meal of one meat and one vegetable dish, priced at thirty-five cents—no coupons needed.
Yes, in this era, you could get a boxed meal on the train for less than forty cents without needing coupons.
Those with a bit more money could go to the dining car, where the food was freshly prepared by a chef.
It was said that once, a chef who had worked at Cuihualou in Beijing got inspired and whipped up a few Western dishes on the train—Russian and French soups, fried cream rolls—leaving everyone stunned.
Chen Qi got a boxed meal and ate with the others.
After eating, they endured another three hours until it was completely dark.
Finally, the attendant announced, "Shahejie Station is here!"
Shahejie Station would later become Lushan Station.
The crew members stumbled off the train in disarray.
The mountain breeze was both stuffy and cool.
Chen Qi squinted into the dim light, but the night was too dark to see anything.
A vehicle was waiting to pick them up, and they piled in, looking more like refugees than a film crew.
Finally, at around 10 p.m., they arrived at Lushan.
(End of chapter.)