1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 517 Desolate
Feng Xiaogang was also very happy.

A company that solves people's problems and takes the blame for them; a group of glib, witty, and humorous young people; vivid and realistic scenes that feel real and tangible.
Jiang Xian's characters Yang Zhong, Yu Guan, and Ma Qing are all people who are neither here nor there.

These people are all smiles and boredom, making you feel both distrustful and relaxed, both helpless and happy.

On the surface, he seems reckless and unruly, but in reality, he doesn't do anything truly bad.

They may seem to live carefree lives, but they have actually created a reality with solid reasoning.

Therefore, Feng Xiaogang quickly got absorbed into the novel.

At the same time, he was reading "The Playboy" while pondering.

Can people outside of Beijing understand Jiang Xian's novel?

The reason is simple: this story, "The Playboy," is written in too much of a "Beijing flavor."

In Feng Xiaogang's view, Jiang Xian seems to have a kind of indifference that comes from having seen the rise and fall of the world, a kind of arrogance that looks down on everything, a kind of humor that mocks the world, and a kind of shamelessness that says, "Anyone who takes this seriously is a fool."

In short, as Feng Xiaogang read this novel, he increasingly felt that Jiang Xian was not the kind of decent person he had imagined.

This person is "dead and broken".

This novel reveals that every character, regardless of their role, is satirizing contemporary society and people.

Don't you want to live life seriously?
I'm just messing with you, you bastard.

Don't you think you're awesome?

We're just messing with you.

Are you trying to persuade me to live life seriously?

I guarantee I'll drag you down with me and you won't be able to extricate yourself.

In short, it reads as if Jiang Xian is saying:
This world is just a joke of mine. I'm just joking, and you can only watch.

"Brilliant."

Besides "awesome," Feng Xiaogang couldn't think of any other words to use to praise Jiang Xian. If he used more literary terms like "brilliantly talented," "highly learned," or "learned," Feng Xiaogang felt he would get a few sarcastic remarks from Yang Zhong.

However, most of the time, Feng Xiaogang still considers himself a pure reader and doesn't assign himself any reading tasks.

Besides the plot where Yang Chong acts as someone else's love interest, Feng Xiaogang also particularly likes a scene from a crosstalk performance:

"Who's in charge?"

Yu Guan didn't even lift his eyelids, weakly raising his chin: "You manage everything, but you don't care about anything. Who are you here to solve problems for? Or are you the one who needs to suffer?"

"My name is Leng Qing—you haven't heard of me?"

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry."

“That’s what I do!” Leng Qing pinched his thumb and forefinger together.

"Are you here to count money?" Yu Guan asked tentatively.

"My master in crosstalk is Guo Qiru."

"Never heard of that. Tell me, what do you need? You can't expect us to go and pay respects to your master on your behalf, can you?"

"No, no, actually I've already taken care of him. Here's the thing, I wrote a crosstalk piece, a very brilliant and substantial one."

It explores the paradox of the loneliness of the universe and the essence of human laughter, employing postmodern deconstructionist techniques and combining them with the traditional crosstalk framework of "straight man and teaser" to conduct profound philosophical reflections.
Without exaggeration, this is an "alternative" style in crosstalk creation, a new genre of crosstalk, which I call "mental crosstalk." Anyone who sees it will be utterly astonished, their jaw dropping—and I'm not exaggerating at all.

"From what you've said, your crosstalk is probably unprecedented and will likely never be seen again."

"That's not enough. Just being shocked isn't enough. This comedy routine needs to be..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word.

"Be understood!"

"To be precise, I just hope the audience can laugh. But I think there is no hope. Look, I am a self-aware person. Maybe you don't understand crosstalk. The audience doesn't regard crosstalk as a high art. Compared to 'crosstalk philosophy,' they just like to listen to some vulgar things."

"We're afraid we can't help with that. I think everyone's interests and sexual orientation are the same, and it's hard to correct them."

"I'm sorry, I didn't ask you to change others. I don't care about other people's tastes. Everyone has their own life to live. I only hope that in my lifetime, my work can receive some kind of recognition."

"Do you also need to be awarded an award?" Yu Guan asked tentatively.

"no no."

Leng Qing was a little nervous. "Actually, I am a very indifferent person to fame and fortune. I don't care about winning or losing awards. I just want you to organize a performance for me."

"Setting up a stage at the entrance of an alley is considered a performance?"

“That’s too frivolous. Only a grand occasion is worthy of my crosstalk performance. The scale must be large enough, the audience must be packed, and there must be no seats left—I have plenty of money.”

"How about we invite some other crosstalk performers?"

"Others? But this is my performance."

"Even the most beautiful flower needs green leaves to support it. How long can you perform a crosstalk routine by yourself? Find a few people to join in the fun, and you can be the headliner. Only then can your crosstalk routine be truly highlighted by comparison."

"That's good, you're very professional."

Leng Qing smiled broadly, "But you have to let the audience save their energy for the end. I admit, I really enjoy being the grand finale, but if the audience has already lost their energy for laughing by the time I appear, then all my money will be wasted."

"Don't worry, I guarantee that every single audience member who comes to see the show will laugh from beginning to end! Laugh until their stomachs hurt! Laugh until they're slapping their thighs! Laugh until they're out of breath! In short..."

Yu Guan made a summarizing gesture, saying, "If the audience doesn't laugh, you can slap me. If they still don't laugh after you slap them, you can keep slapping me."

"That's good, that's much more suitable. You can make a budget, and I'll pay you back soon."

"Next time you come to pay, could you please sign your name for us? Please understand, I've never had the chance to meet a crosstalk performer face-to-face before, and to be honest, I'm actually a little excited."

"Of course, I mean right now." Leng Qing said humbly.

"No no no."

Yu Guan shook his head vigorously, "It's working hours now, we have regulations."

"Is there a rule that customers can't sign for you?"

"No, it means that service staff should not have overly intimate interactions with guests while on duty."

"Impressive, the system is very strict."

Leng Qing gave a thumbs up, but then added with some worry, "By the way, although I have money, I don't want to go bankrupt because of this."

"You mean to change to a smaller venue?"

"No need for that, just don't invite Jiang Kun."

Feng Xiaogang was thoroughly amused by what he saw.

People have been complaining for a long time that Jiang Kun has the highest appearance fee among crosstalk performers.

In the days before prices skyrocketed, Jiang Kun could earn several thousand yuan for a single performance.

Unexpectedly, Jiang Xian wrote this joke directly into his novel.

Of course, there's also this scene where the crosstalk performer is deserted:
The sky was bright, there was no wind, and a torrential downpour was falling silently on the street. The tree canopies were trimmed like the simplest children's drawings, standing straight and motionless in the rain.

Ma Qing, his bottom slightly off his seat, rode a flatbed cart covered with a plastic sheet, looking like a drowned rat as he peered out at the theater with its majestic colonnades through the rain.

Yu Guan and Yang Chong, both with their hair slicked back and wearing trousers, stood solemnly in front of the theater's glass doors, which were adorned with heavy bronze ornaments, to greet the guests who were climbing the wide granite steps. They nodded politely, like chickens pounding rice.

Ma Qing pushed the flatbed cart down the steps and stepped off. Yu Guan immediately shouted from above, "Pull it to the backstage entrance! Pull it to the backstage entrance! Master, did you hear me?"

Ma Qing looked pitifully at Yu Guan, but Yu Guan ignored him. He had no choice but to swallow his anger and push the flatbed cart around to the backstage door, holding onto the handle with one hand and pulling the seat with the other.

Leng Qing, dressed in a gleaming suit, stood beside Yu Guan with his chest puffed out and belly protruding, watching pairs of pale-faced, disheveled men and women in suits slowly making their way up the wet steps. He asked Yu Guan with a puzzled look:
"How come all these people look so important—I'm really amazed, everyone's nape is snow-white. Do they know how to listen to crosstalk?" "Of course, how could they understand your crosstalk without a certain status?"

"Where did you collect these people from?"

"Not collected."

Yu Guan smiled and said, "I sent out some notices, and they came because of your reputation. They are all intellectuals who love crosstalk."

"Then tell me, if they knew that this unassuming person standing at the door was Leng Qing himself, wouldn't they be surprised?"

"Yes, definitely. I guarantee they'll surround you like they used to surround foreigners a few years ago."

Comrade,

A tall young man with a female companion asked Yu Guan, "Is there really a dance after the performance?"

"Yes, yes," Yu Guan quickly turned around and whispered, "It's printed on the invitation."

“But we often fall for it. They lure us here with the promise of a dance, and we spend half a day watching the show with those fools, only to find that there’s nothing left when the show ends and they kick us out.”

"Don't worry this time, not only will there be, but they'll all be 'disco's'."

"Not lying?"

"I swear."

"Is it true that there are free drinks at the dance?" the young man's petite female companion asked.

"bring."

"It's worth the ten yuan." The couple turned around, handed over their tickets, and went inside.

Yu Guan turned around and glanced at Leng Qing: "There's nothing we can do. Wherever there are people, there are left, center, and right."

Leng Qing didn't mind at all, saying, "It's okay to have a few ordinary people around."

Yang Chong ran over: "Boss, that's about enough, we should go in now."

"Has anyone arrived? Which comedian is here?" Leng Qing asked nervously.

“Nobody came,” Yang Chong told him.

Yu Guan slapped his thigh and said, "Not a single crosstalk performer came. They really don't give us any face."

"Should we wait a little longer?" Leng Qing asked.

“We can’t wait any longer. We don’t tolerate this kind of behavior. We can still perform without them. Damn it—” Yu Guanchong waved his hand at the people standing backstage, “Go up and perform a crosstalk routine. Say whatever you want. Nobody knows you anyway.”

A particularly hilarious crosstalk performance began.

The main characters, including Ding Xiaolu, Lin Bei, and Yang Zhong, along with some dubious characters, reluctantly made their appearance.

The last person who hesitated to go on stage was practically pushed out by Ma Qing.

Ma Qing rushed up and started talking about what he had just heard that morning about Hu Jian:

"Just imagine, a restaurant for 10,000 people, how magnificent! How exciting! It's about to stand tall on the land of China! Don't always say that the moon is rounder in foreign countries, we also have some world records."

I'm going all in. I quit my job. I'll do anything to make this happen. Isn't that what we're after? No expense is too much! The Great Wall was a huge drain on resources, and look at it now! We're counting on it to make a name for ourselves. Let's do something epic!

"Is it possible to attract so many foreigners?" Lin Bei asked.

"Yes, sensuality! What do you think foreigners do all day long? Aren't they just waiting to come to China and feast to their hearts' content?"

"Tell me a story."

"It's not a story, it's reality."

Ma Qing tried hard to recall, "Citibank had already agreed to the loan, with an interest rate of six percent, and only required the Bank of China to provide a guarantee."

"impossible."

Yang Chong, who had been inadvertently pushed onto the stage by Yu Guan, picked up the conversation. "Do you think this is like lending money to a monkey to beat up America? I've never heard of commercial loans being this low. Who knows who's trying to fool whom?"

Besides, a restaurant for ten thousand people? Good heavens! Even if it's only two meals a day, with one round of meals per day, that's still over seven million foreign devils a year. How many Eight-Nation Alliance armies would that require?

"You may not be aware of the current state of the world. The proletariat is growing, and the number of bourgeois is also increasing dramatically. You don't need to worry about customers; I just hope you can help me get the Bank of China guarantee."

"It can't be done. The Bank of China never guarantees such shady projects."

"I seem to remember you mentioning that your nanny used to work for some vice president of the Bank of China?"

“That’s right,” Yang Zhong said. “If you want to abduct their child, I can talk to her about it.”

"If it can't be done, it can't be done."

Ma Qing looked at Yang Zhong and said, "Don't make things too difficult for me. If you can't handle it, I'll find someone else."

"It's not that I'm unwilling to help, it's that I have no other choice."

"It's alright, I've been through this many times. Human ability is limited. To be honest, I approached this with the determination that I might not succeed. If I succeed, it will be a pleasant surprise; if I fail, I've already expected it. I will always be full of confidence."

“That’s how you have to do things now,” Yang Chong said with a smile to Lin Bei, who was as flirtatious as a butterfly.

Leng Qing patted Yu Guan on the shoulder from behind and asked, "Is what they're saying a crosstalk performance?"

"do not know."

Yu Guan rubbed his lips. "But I think this has potential."

Feng Xiaogang was overjoyed at this point, but the climax of the story was just around the corner.

Because it was a quiet performance.

Once he went up, his expression was so serious that it seemed like he was giving an academic report. He started talking about "deconstruction," "ontology," "the rupture of the chain of signifiers," and "postmodern anxiety," interspersed with some awkwardly embedded, extremely old-fashioned jokes that had been eliminated from the world of crosstalk eight hundred years ago.

For example, after a lengthy discussion of "the metaphysical dilemma of laughter," he suddenly says, "So, you'd say this comedian is like your pressure cooker, wouldn't you say?"

The entire room was so quiet you could hear someone swallowing.

Jiang Xian's metaphor was even more brilliant: "like being enveloped in the atmosphere of a memorial service."

The "3T" members had no choice but to scatter in the audience, trying their best to laugh dryly, exaggerating and slapping their thighs. Their voices sounded particularly jarring in the empty warehouse.

Yang Chong laughed so hard his face cramped up. He nudged Yu Guan next to him and whispered, "I feel like a fucking idiot."

Yu Guan mechanically chuckled as he forced out the words through clenched teeth:

"Hang in there! Take the blame for others! This is the kind of 'take the blame' that comes with awkward silences!"

Ma Qing laughed until tears streamed down his face, tears that were clearly forced out. He groaned in a low voice, "My cheeks are going to cramp up! Teacher Leng, this isn't crosstalk, it's torture!"

The performance ended in an eerie atmosphere of "success".

Leng Qing, covered in sweat, bowed and stepped off the stage, his face flushed with a tired yet satisfied glow, as if he had just won a great victory.

"Success! Manager Yu! Listen to that laughter! How enthusiastic! How long it lasts! My art has finally been understood!"

Yu Guan, Yang Zhong, and Ma Qing were exhausted, their cheeks aching from forcing their smiles.

“Yes, Teacher Leng, congratulations, your crosstalk performance—” Yu Guan said, giving Yang Chong a heavy pat on the back.

Yang Chong exclaimed, "Yes, that's right! I've been saying this since the beginning, your crosstalk, your crosstalk—"

“It has extremely high refrigeration value!” Ma Qing said quickly.

(End of this chapter)