1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 159 Could this be written by one person?

Just after May Day, the royalties for "Letter from an Unknown Woman" were paid out.

More than 320 words, or yuan, was not much for Jiang Xian, but he could not suppress his excitement when he thought that this short story masterpiece he had spent so much effort on could be published and seen by more readers.

At the same time, the publication of his collection of works at "Beijing Literature and Art" can finally be put on schedule.

The movie-watching craze sparked by "Border Town" is still continuing in cinemas across the country.

Provincial film companies at China Film Group are all placing additional orders for copies, with the total number reaching nearly 150.

What does 150 copies mean?
The film market at that time implemented a planned economy-style unified purchase and sales.

When the film studio makes a movie, it is first sold to China Film Group at a price of 70 yuan per film. China Film Group purchases and underwrites the sales. Provincial film companies watch the films and order copies, paying China Film Group 1.05 yuan for each copy.

Let's do a simple calculation. If the copy order reaches 70 copies, then China Film's profit will remain flat. If it is less than 70, it will be a loss, and if it is more than 70, it will be a profit.

Don’t think it’s easy to sell 70 copies. “That Mountain, That Man, That Dog”, starring Liu Ye, only sold 1 copy that year.

A hit like "Lush Mountain Love", which grossed over 400 million yuan, sold nearly copies after its release.

Art films are different from entertainment films. The fact that "Border Town" sold 150 copies in just one month is already a very encouraging achievement.

The Old Capital Cinema.

The flickering light on the screen illuminated the faces of Jiang Xian and Zhu Lin.

"Watching it in the cinema is not the same feeling as when I watched it in the film studio!" Zhu Lin sighed softly.

Jiang Xian squeezed her hand and said, "Perform 'Traffic' well, and the whole cinema will be filled with your shots."

“Now I am very satisfied.”

"Are you wearing makeup?" Jiang Xian glanced at her profile in the soft light of the movie.

"No ah."

"Why is your mouth so red? Did you put on lipstick?"

"No." Zhu Lin pursed her lips to show him.

"Can't see clearly."

Zhu Lin smiled, took his hand, and quickly wiped it on her lips, "Is there?"

Hiss.

Jiang Xian checked the blood.

“Not really.”

After the movie was over, the two of them were still reluctant to leave and left the cinema side by side for a long time.

"How's the progress of your novel?" Zhu Lin asked him in a tender voice.

"It's almost finished." Jiang Xian frowned when talking about the novel.

The content was so damn dark, it made him sound like a shaman. The students thought he couldn't hand in his homework and was under too much pressure, so they tried to comfort him.

Damn, I really don’t know what kind of state the original author of this novel was in when he created it.

The two of them strolled to Jingshan East Hutong. Today Jiang Xian invited some friends from Beijing Film Studio to come and warm up the house, including Wang Haowei, Jiang Huaiyan, Shi Wenxin, Ge You, Chen Peisi, and Zhu Shimao.
He dealt with people from both generations, and wanted to invite Ling Zifeng over. However, Ling Zifeng was filming in another place and couldn't come, so he asked someone to bring a gift.

A Chinese painting he painted himself, depicting pine trees and the moon, four feet long, mounted on a scroll, with a line of small characters written on the left side of the painting, presented to Mr. Jiang Xian.

"Director Ling's paintings have a story to tell. He was originally an art student."

"Director Ling's brother-in-law is a great painter, Mr. Li Kuchan. He must have been influenced by him."

Jiang Xian really didn’t know this.

He only knew that Ling Zifeng's younger brother's grandson was called Ling Xiaosu.

Some people may not know Ling Xiaosu, but you must have heard his famous saying:

'You are so sexy~'

Jiang Xian immediately hung up the painting and led a large group of people for a walk around his yard.

"Screenwriter Jiang, your yard is almost as big as our Beijing Film Studio's yard."

"Eh? Where are the others?"

I don't know when, Jiang Xian had already pulled Zhu Lin into the room on the west side of the main house.

"Is it connected to the west wing?" Zhu Lin blinked and looked around.

"Open the door, and make the west wing into a study." Jiang Xian held her hand, lifted the mosquito net, and pulled her towards the big bed, "Feel the bed in this room."

"Ah~" Zhu Lin's eyes were full of resentment. She lifted a small piece of mosquito net and glared at him with frowns, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't.

"So many people today~"

"You don't come here usually." Jiang Xian gently held her in his arms, but before they could be intimate for long, they heard someone coming into the main room.

Zhu Lin hurriedly patted his arm, broke free from his arms, and quickly walked out of the west room.

When she ran into Rao Yuemei and Jiang Guoqing, Yingying stopped, her face flushed, and greeted them in a tender voice, "Uncle, Auntie."

Jiang Guoqing and Rao Yuemei were both stunned, and after a delay of three seconds, they replied, "Hey, here I come."

Jiang Xian was at a loss whether to laugh or cry behind him.

If you don’t want to bump into people, go to the west room.

5 month 10 day.

The day's course is over.

As usual, Wang Anyi went to the small information room of the Institute of Literature to see if there were any new good books.

The library manager was called Xiao Jing. Wang Anyi greeted her and said, "Teacher Xiao Jing, are there any new good books?"

Xiao Jing glanced at her and asked, "Have you read this month's issue of Beijing Literature and Art?"

"Which issue?"

Wang Anyi has been paying close attention to "Beijing Literature and Art" recently, and her works were invited by Wang Meng to be published in "Beijing Literature and Art".

This is the first time she has published a work in such a high-end magazine!

In excitement, I read all 1-4 issues of "Beijing Literature and Art" this year.

"Issue 5, you probably haven't seen it, it just arrived today."

Xiao Jing handed her a May issue of Beijing Literature and Art with a blue cover, "Take a look, Teacher Jiang Xian has published his work."

".who?"

This really surprised Wang Anyi. Those students whose manuscripts had passed the review were all excited to share with their classmates which journal their manuscripts would be published in.

But I have never heard of any of Jiang Xian’s works being approved?
He quickly picked up the May issue and took a quick look. Without even opening the table of contents, Jiang Xian's name was written on the cover, as if it were the headline article.

Hiss.

Wang Anyi was shocked.

Is this the strong self-confidence of Comrade Jiang Xian?

Reviewing manuscripts has become a daily routine, as common as eating and drinking, and there is no need to tell outsiders about it.

Now when I think back to how excited they were when they reviewed a manuscript, I suddenly feel it was so childish.

She went to the cafeteria, found a seat, and quietly read "Letter from a Stranger Woman".

The child from Jiang Zilong's family came to the institute to play, and the students showed him a color TV and amused him at the same time.

"Do you have any at home?"

"Have."

"what colour?"

"Black and white."

The little boy spoke fluent Tianjin dialect, and "se" should be pronounced as "se" with the third tone.

"An Yi, what are you looking at?" Tie Ning asked behind Wang Anyi.

Wang Anyi raised her head in a daze, her eyes felt dazed, still immersed in the love story that spanned 18 years.

"It's so well written." She said in a daze.

She was really a little hit. She was proud of her article "Rain, Rustling" for a long time.

But there is no harm without comparison.

They both wrote love stories, but how come her love story seemed like an elementary school student playing house compared to Jiang Xian's?

at the same time.

There was also a May issue of "Beijing Literature and Art" on Wang Meng's desk.

He frowned and put a manuscript as thick as a piece of cake back on the table, placing it to the right of the May issue.

I took out the first page of the manuscript again. The first line had the title of the novel, just one word:

"rice"

Wang Meng looked to the left, then to the right, and took a deep puff of her cigarette with mixed feelings.

"How could this be written by one person?"

(End of this chapter)