Chapter 00057: The Second Phase
# The Second Phase
Chapter 57
Novel: 1979 Golden Age
Chapter 57: The Second Phase
To be the boss, you first need to learn how to foot the bill.
Zhang Jinling, Gong Xue, and Cai Ming paid for their own books—they had the means to do so.
As for Jiang Shan, Ge You, and Liang Xiaosheng, their books were all paid for by Chen Qi.
Chen Qi was essentially freeloading off the Beijing Film Studio, eating their food, drinking their drinks, and earning their money, all while secretly building his own little circle of influence.
Though he was a nobody at the moment, he was quietly cultivating his own team.
Take Ge You and Liang Xiaosheng, for example.
If Chen Qi so much as hinted at it, these two would jump at the chance to help him with his side projects.
By evening, the group had returned to the Beijing Film Studio, and the trio once again holed up in Room 302.
Chen Qi dumped a pile of books onto the table, untied the bundles, and sighed, "I bought too many. It's such a hassle to keep all these books in the guesthouse. If only I had my own place."
"Who among us has a place? I'm still living with my parents, and Old Liang has a tiny eight-square-meter dorm. You're actually the best off among us," Ge You remarked.
"Don't even talk about a place. I'm 30 and still don't have a wife!" Liang Xiaosheng shook his head.
At the mention of wives, Ge You perked up.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he said, "I won't lie to you guys. Today was the first time I went out shopping with a female comrade, and it felt... different."
"How so? Tell us more," Chen Qi chuckled.
"Well, let's start with Sister Jinling. I didn't know her well before, but today I found her to be quite impressive—cheerful, generous, and with a motherly warmth about her."
"As for little Jiang Shan, she's smart and adorable. If she decides to pursue a career in the arts, she'll definitely become a great actress serving the people."
"Cai Ming, on the other hand, seems a bit odd. I often can't tell what she's thinking, but she's a good person."
"And Comrade Gong Xue..."
At the mention of Gong Xue, Ge You's eyes lit up.
"I haven't had much interaction with her, but she's like a bright moon hanging high in the sky, illuminating us mere mortals."
Liang Xiaosheng laughed.
Men, after all, have an appreciation for beauty.
"Xiao Chen, you've interacted with her more. What do you think of her?"
"She's great, like a gentle older sister."
"Ah, a gentle older sister..."
Ge You squinted, tilting his head at a 45-degree angle, his expression filled with longing.
It seemed that those five words—"gentle older sister"—held more allure for him than any flowery descriptions like "a beauty that could make fish sink and birds fall" or "a heart as pure as orchids."
The two of them didn't connect Gong Xue and Chen Qi romantically—there was a significant age gap between them.
After chatting for a while, the two bid farewell.
Chen Qi fiddled with the books again, feeling like they were taking up too much space.
No matter how nice the guesthouse was, it wasn't his own private space.
The thousand yuan he had wasn't a small amount, but it wasn't enough to buy anything substantial, let alone a house.
The idea of owning a home in Beijing was still a distant dream.
It would be years before places like Fangzhuang and the Asian Games Village were developed.
The only option at the moment was a华侨公寓 (Overseas Chinese Apartment) built in the 1960s, located in the West Third Ring Road.
These apartments ranged from 120 to 160 square meters and cost over a hundred yuan per square meter.
Only overseas Chinese could buy them directly with U.
S. dollars, or they could send the money back for their relatives in China to purchase.
The government built these apartments to absorb foreign currency.
"Maybe I should try my luck with antiques, compete with Ma Weidu, the female elder, and Li Chunping," Chen Qi suddenly chuckled to himself.
In this era, many people made their fortunes by dealing in antiques, but it wasn't something you'd brag about.
Instead, they'd spin tales of hard work and perseverance, which Chen Qi found rather nauseating.
As night fell, he turned on the light and sat at his desk, organizing his thoughts.
If the goal of the first phase was to write a script and freeload at the guesthouse, then that had already been achieved.
It was time to move on to the second phase.
At this stage, there wasn't much he could do.
His main tasks were writing scripts and novels, with the occasional involvement in Huang Zhanying's rundown tea stall.
The domestic film industry wouldn't truly marketize until the 1990s, which was still a long way off.
Film was a powerful tool, but people either didn't know how to use it or were too afraid to.
The upcoming Cultural Congress was a good opportunity, and he might even get to meet some comrades from Hong Kong.
As for novels, his goal was to create a popular magazine.
Next year would be 1980, and the following decade would see the country's ideologies swinging between two extremes.
People would be caught between confusion and desire, making it a bizarre and fascinating era.
Chen Qi was more than happy to dive into the chaos and stir things up.
...
"Cut!"
"That's a wrap!"
Inside Studio 3 of the Beijing Film Studio, a luxurious suite had been set up for filming.
Gong Xue had just finished shooting a few scenes of daily life.
Director Wang Haowei waved his hand and announced, "Tomorrow, we'll be attending the Cultural Congress. We'll have a 17-day break, and the remaining scenes will definitely be completed by December."
"Everyone has worked hard, so take this time to relax. But don't let your minds wander too far. I expect you all to come back with full enthusiasm and dive right back into work!"
The room erupted in applause as the production of Romance on Lushan Mountain was temporarily put on hold.
On October 30th, the Cultural Congress officially opened, followed by the respective congresses of the Artists' Association, Writers' Association, Dramatists' Association, Musicians' Association, Film Association, Quyi (Folk Arts) Association, and Dancers' Association.
The event would conclude on the 16th.
Throughout the congress, there would be various activities and banquets.
From the entire crew, only Wang Haowei, Tang Guoqiang, and Zhang Jinling were qualified to attend.
But within the Beijing Film Studio, many more would be going—from the studio head, Wang Yang, to the big-name directors, actors, cinematographers, and art directors.
This group represented the core of China's film industry.
Chen Qi was also on-site today, following the crowd as they left the studio.
Just as he stepped out, a studio worker ran up to him and said, "Xiao Chen, I think there's some mail for you!"
"Ah, thank you!"
He headed to the reception area and, sure enough, saw his name written on the blackboard: "Chen Qi has a package."
"Uncle!"
"Hmm, what's this bulky thing?"
"Probably fan mail. Thanks!"
The receptionist, who already knew Chen Qi as the guy who gave him half a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes, was quite surprised.
In these times, everyone felt like they were underappreciated, and very few actually made it big.
Chen Qi carried the package back to his room and opened it.
Inside, he found a stack of fan letters, a sample copy of the November issue of Story Magazine, and a letter from He Chengwei urging him to write more.
The gist of the letter was:
"The second half of The Wooden Robe is about to be published. Readers are eagerly waiting, and we're confident it'll be a hit. We've sent you an advance copy for your feedback."
"By the way, have you started on your new work? Hurry up and write! Don't tell me you haven't written a single word yet? Don't push me too far, or I'll come to Beijing and challenge you to a duel, hanging myself at your doorstep..."
"Ah, at least they didn't send me a knife," Chen Qi muttered to himself.
He wasn't too worried about the pressure to write.
When the time was right, the inspiration would come.
Holding both volumes of The Wooden Robe, he hurried downstairs to the literature department in the main building.
"Director Jiang!"
"Xiao Chen, I was just about to look for you. How much did Shan spend on those books the other day?"
"Director, you're embarrassing me. You've helped me so much. A few books are nothing."
"Let's keep things clear!"
"No, no, consider it a gift for the child!"
After some polite back-and-forth, Chen Qi handed over the two copies of Story Magazine and said, "While I was in Lushan, I wrote a story in my spare time. Luckily, it got published. Please take a look."
"Oh? You're quite the young talent, full of creative energy!"
Jiang Huaiyan praised him, but when he saw Story Magazine, he frowned.
"This... this kind of magazine..."
"I wrote a martial arts story, and no one else would take it."
"Alright, I'll take a look."
(End of Chapter)