Chapter 00046: Martial Arts
# Martial Arts
Chapter 46
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 46: Martial Arts
Chen Qi rubbed his nose, wanting to laugh but holding back, as it would be impolite.
"Big brother, you're really serious about this, huh? I was just pretending, but you’re really getting into it."
"Excuse my reaction," He Chengwei said after a while, wiping his eyes and sighing.
"The second half was even more thrilling. I thought it would be all martial arts, but I didn’t expect the romance to be so touching. Especially the ending—it was perfect. If they had ended up together, it would’ve been nice, but sometimes life doesn’t go as planned. That kind of bittersweet beauty is what makes it unforgettable."
Chen Qi mentally slapped a label on him: literary enthusiast.
Only someone like that would talk like this.
"Nowadays, people are all about serious literature. Almost no one writes popular fiction anymore, and even fewer do it well. It’s rare for someone like you to write a piece of popular fiction. Our magazine is very grateful and hopes you’ll continue to contribute."
"You’re too kind. I’d love to keep submitting, but I’m not sure about the boundaries. Do you accept stories with a bit of feudal superstition?"
"Like what?"
"Like Shen Wansan and the Treasure Basin."
Chen Qi gave a full summary of the story he hadn’t finished telling earlier that day.
"The Treasure Basin? That’s not just feudal superstition—it’s promoting the corrupt bourgeois idea of getting something for nothing. I suggest you tone it down a bit," He Chengwei said, clearly startled.
"What about horror and thriller stories?"
"Do they involve ghosts or spirits?"
"No, it’s all people pretending to be ghosts or the delusions of mentally ill patients."
Chen Qi was very familiar with this genre, having invested in a few domestic horror films.
They were all filled with women with big, wavy hair who kept taking their clothes off.
Who watched domestic horror films for the scares? It was all about the suggestive content.
But He Chengwei didn’t seem to understand.
"Can you give me an example?"
Chen Qi casually told a story, leaving He Chengwei stunned and even a bit chilled.
He shook his head like a rattle drum.
"Tone it down, tone it down! Even though we’re doing popular literature, we can’t just ignore all boundaries."
"Then your scope is too narrow. There aren’t many types of stories you can accept."
"Just write something like The Cotton Robe. More martial arts content, and even if there are issues, they can be glossed over. As for other genres, let’s hope for faster ideological liberation!"
He Chengwei and Chen Qi hit it off and talked late into the night.
He was surprised to find that Chen Qi was more skilled than any "story king" he had ever met.
The guy from Chongming Island who could tell a dozen stories in one breath was already considered a genius, but Chen Qi, though he didn’t tell as many, had a far deeper understanding of story types, pacing, and an inexhaustible reservoir of ideas.
It was like Shen Wansan’s Treasure Basin—endless and limitless.
Even the snippets Chen Qi casually mentioned were enough to spark the imagination.
They were clearly the makings of a great story.
Before coming, the editor-in-chief had instructed He Chengwei to "spare no expense to attract talent."
Feeling that the time was right, He Chengwei said, "We’re willing to offer you seven yuan per thousand words. As a screenwriter, you must be familiar with industry standards."
"I’m just a newcomer, so I’m truly grateful for your recognition!"
Chen Qi was well-known at the Beijing Film Studio but had no reputation at Story Magazine, so he naturally felt thankful.
He was also secretly pleased—this was his ticket to a steady income!
The Cotton Robe required about 4,000 words a day.
At 50,000 words, it would take him over ten days to finish, earning him 350 yuan.
At this rate, ten stories would only net him 3,500 yuan, which didn’t seem like great value, but it was easy and enjoyable for him.
He planned to adapt movie plots into stories, tweaking them slightly before submitting them.
It didn’t take much brainpower—just some typing.
If they wanted martial arts, he’d write martial arts.
It just so happened that he was quite interested in that genre.
…………
He Chengwei left the next day.
Story Magazine was a bimonthly publication, with the next issue set for September.
Chen Qi’s submission couldn’t have been more timely.
In 1981, Southern Wind magazine serialized Liang Yusheng’s The White-Haired Demoness, marking the first time a Hong Kong and Taiwanese martial arts novel was officially published in mainland China.
That same year, Martial Arts magazine briefly serialized Jin Yong’s The Legend of the Condor Heroes, but it was quickly halted.
Throughout the 1980s, Jin Yong’s novels were considered pirated literature, with no official publisher daring to touch them.
It wasn’t until the early 1990s, after Jin Yong stepped down as the head of Ming Pao, that he authorized the三联书店 (Sanlian Bookstore) to publish a complete set of his works.
So why was Liang Yusheng allowed? Because Liang was a leftist who had always maintained good relations with the mainland.
Liang Yusheng and Jin Yong had both worked at Hong Kong’s Ta Kung Pao, even sharing a desk.
Now, the first martial arts novel to be officially published after the reform and opening-up was about to change hands!
Romance on Lushan Mountain had been filming for a month, and in the blink of an eye, it was early September.
In the early hours of the morning, the printing factory was brightly lit, with freshly printed copies of Story Magazine bundled up and loaded onto trucks, destined for newsstands and post offices across Shanghai, Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Anhui.
At Shanghai Railway Station, preparations for National Day were already underway.
This year marked the 30th anniversary of the founding of the People’s Republic, and such milestones were always treated with great importance.
Red flags were raised, and portraits of the current leaders hung solemnly on the walls, as they always had.
But if you looked closely at the people coming and going, you’d notice subtle changes in their clothing, the literary magazines they carried, and the occasional bold joke—all signs of a society caught between restraint and the burgeoning release of pent-up desires.
"Do you have Flower City?"
"Out of stock!"
"How about Harvest?"
"All sold out!"
"Then what do you have?"
Liu Wanbao, dressed in a gray short-sleeved shirt and carrying a leather bag, looked every bit the business traveler.
Speaking in a Sichuan accent, he asked the vendor.
"We have Story Magazine!"
"Never heard of it. How much is it?"
"Twenty-four cents!"
Liu Wanbao hesitated, looking at the unassuming little magazine.
But then he thought, why not? It would help pass the time on the 40-hour train ride back to the southwest.
He bought a copy and found a seat in the waiting area.
Flipping through the table of contents, his eyes landed on the bold title: The Cotton Robe!
"What’s this?" he muttered, crossing his legs and starting to read.
Within seconds, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Damn, this is some good martial arts writing!"
His eyes lit up.
A while later, he uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and continued reading with both hands gripping the magazine.
In this version of The Cotton Robe, Chen Qi had added more martial arts scenes to make the text more engaging.
He described each move in detail, giving them flashy names like "Arhat Fist," "Shattering Kick," "Thirty-Six Grappling Techniques," and "Deadly Overlord Spear."
To him, these names were cliché, but to readers, they were a gateway to a new world, and they devoured every word.
Liu Wanbao sat motionless, completely absorbed.
Certain passages even made him go back and reread.
For example, when Ding Mo first met Lin Ying, and Lin Ying secretly fell for him: "What a handsome young man, and so skilled too! He seems honest and reliable. If we could fall in love and roam the martial world together, wouldn’t that be wonderful? Oh, how shameless of me to think such thoughts!"
For the time, such a female character was as scandalous as Pan Jinlian, enough to make both men and women blush.
After what felt like an eternity, Liu Wanbao suddenly slapped his thigh and cursed, "Damn it! You’re leaving me hanging here? Did he fall off the cliff or not? I won’t be able to sleep tonight!"
Furious, he stood up abruptly, as if ready to unleash a torrent of curses, but then he suddenly slapped his forehead.
"Oh no!"
"My train!!!"
(End of Chapter)