1978: Female educated youth, don’t want an illiterate husband

The clamor surrounding the Hundred Flowers Awards at the Yanying Film Studio was like the early spring breeze outside the studio, sometimes strong, sometimes weak, but it could never dispel the fervor that permeated the air.

Cheng Xuemin, however, intended to distance himself from the center of this vortex.

He knew that location shooting for "Shaolin Temple" was imminent, as the snow and ice on Mount Song and Mount Shaoshi were melting, and the crew had to head south as soon as possible.

But before leaving Beijing, there are two important matters that must be taken care of.

The first thing is the opening of the lecture series.

Teacher Ding Ling called personally, her tone filled with undeniable anticipation: "Xuemin, our first class of the Literature Lecture Institute has officially started!"

You can't just hold this nominal associate professorship forever, can you?
This semester, you'll have to be there for the creative practice class, giving these future great writers a lesson and talking about your Cheng-style literature!

Wang Meng took the phone from the side, laughing heartily: "Yes, Xuemin, everyone's been waiting for you! You're such a great Buddha, we can't always be the monks from small temples having to invite you, can we?"

Cheng Xuemin put down the phone and rubbed his temples.

The Literature Training Institute is an advanced literary training program jointly organized by the Writers Association and the People's Publishing House, aiming to cultivate young writers.

The first class, which just started, brought together literary talents from all over the country.

He was given a title last year because of his novels "The Herdsman", "The Appointment of Director Qiao", "Wreath at the Foot of the Mountain", and a series of other novels.

It's really hard to believe that he hasn't made any public appearances lately.

He dug out his dusty teaching materials and prepared a lecture on narrative rhythm and character arcs overnight.

I also brought along several newly published internal reference film analysis materials, stamped with the blue seal of "Yanjing Film Studio Archives," so I was well-prepared with valuable information.

On a chilly spring morning, Cheng Xuemin drove his car into a secluded red-brick building deep within the Writers' Association and Federation of Literary and Art Circles, following the address.

The classrooms of the literary institute were located here. Pushing open the mottled wooden door, a smell mixed with old books, ink and warmth wafted out.

Ding Ling and Wang Meng were already waiting at the door. When they saw him come in, they both showed genuine smiles.

"Oh my! Our pioneer in foreign exchange earnings has finally decided to come!" Ding Ling stepped forward, grasped Cheng Xuemin's hand, and shook it vigorously.

"Professor Ding Ling, Professor Wang, please don't be so modest," Cheng Xuemin said with a smile, waving his hand. "I'm only half-baked, so I'm fine with exchanging ideas with you students, but I wouldn't dare to call myself a professor."

After exchanging pleasantries, the three entered the classroom.

The previously noisy classroom instantly fell silent, and more than twenty pairs of young, sharp eyes, filled with curiosity and scrutiny, all focused on Cheng Xuemin.

Cheng Xuemin glanced at the audience and couldn't help but feel amused.

Quite a few familiar faces!
Sitting in the front row, with dark skin and eyes that exude the honesty and stubbornness of the Jiaodong region, isn't that Mo Yan, who later shook the literary world with "Red Sorghum"?
The woman next to him, quiet and reserved, wearing black-rimmed glasses, but with eyes that revealed a sensitivity and insight, was probably Tie Yi, who delicately depicted the world of women in works such as "Oh, Xiangxue".

The woman in the back row, with a slightly balding head and ruddy complexion, was chatting and laughing quietly with the person next to her, with a somewhat cynical expression. She was most likely Chi Li, who focused on the lives of ordinary citizens through novels such as "Troublesome Life".

And Chen Zhongshi, with his calm demeanor and profound gaze, who later established his literary status with "White Deer Plain," was also present.

In addition, there were names like Liu Heng and Han Shaogong, who would later become influential figures in the literary world, not to mention Lu Yao and Jia Aoping, who were already familiar with Cheng Xuemin.

At this moment, they were all young authors sitting in the audience, their eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of defiance.

Cheng Xuemin sighed inwardly, "This first session of the Literature Institute is indeed full of hidden talents!"
He walked up to the podium, placed his lecture notes and materials on the lectern covered with a green velvet cloth, and without immediately beginning his lecture, smiled and said:
"Professor Ding Ling asked me to share my creative experience with everyone. To be honest, I'm a little apprehensive."

Many of you here today, I have read the names and works of many of you, and you write better than I do, and your thoughts are more profound.

He wasn't being modest; when faced with these future literary giants, he knew that his advantage of being prescient was nothing compared to true talent.

Moreover, many of those present had already been plagiarized and paid homage to by Cheng Xuemin!
So giving lectures to these real experts is somewhat like a fake imposter teaching the real deal how to rebel.

However, at this moment, a burst of good-natured, slightly agitated laughter erupted from these young, future great writers.

Mo Yan scratched his head, Tie Ning adjusted her glasses, and Chi Li's lips curled up slightly, as if she thought this once-famous peer was indeed quite interesting.

Cheng Xuemin changed the subject, picked up an internal document: "So, today I won't talk about any profound theories, but will just share some of my recent experiences working at the film studio to discuss the issue of storytelling speed."

Or, to put it another way, how to make readers and viewers engaged, absorbed, and unable to put the book down.

He abandoned the rote recitation approach and started by comparing the film script and the original novel of "Tai Chi," analyzing how to control narrative tension by adjusting scene transitions, dialogue rhythm, and action descriptions.

When he got excited, he even drew a storyboard on the blackboard with chalk, analyzing the gains and losses of converting a certain fight scene from text to images.

“For example, when describing someone throwing a punch,” Cheng Xuemin gestured, “you write ‘He threw a punch suddenly,’ which is a kind of rhythm.”

But if you write, 'His shoulder blades first sank, his waist and hips twisted, the power rose from the soles of his feet, traveled down his spine to his fist, and then—bang!', that's a different rhythm altogether.

The latter is slower and more detailed, but doesn't it convey a stronger sense of power? Isn't the image clearer?

The audience was completely silent. Even the most lively Chi Li suppressed her smile and listened intently.

For the first time, these future novelists experienced so directly the connection between narrative rhythm and visual rhythm.

The interactive sessions were even more exciting and engaging.

Chen Zhongshi asked how to avoid triviality in rural themes, and Cheng Xuemin, using "Garland Under the Mountain" as an example, talked about how to select typical details to carry a grand theme;

When Tie Ning asked about the appropriate degree of depiction of female psychology, Cheng Xuemin used Gong Xue's performance in "Romance on Lushan Mountain" as an example to illustrate the subtle difference between "expression" and "performance".

Mo Yan showed great interest in the term "magical realism" mentioned by Cheng Xuemin, repeatedly asking how to combine folk tales with contemporary narratives...

The class, which was originally planned to last two hours, dragged on until the lunch bell rang, and everyone was still reluctant to leave.

Ding Ling and Wang Meng exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with relief and surprise.

After bidding farewell to the teachers and students of the Cultural Institute, Cheng Xuemin did not take a break and went straight to his second stop in the afternoon: the General Political Department's Cultural Troupe.

Commander Wang was already waiting in his office. Upon seeing Cheng Xuemin, he warmly greeted him and shook hands.

"Comrade Xuemin! I've been waiting for you! I heard you were going south to film a movie, and I've been thinking about that song ever since!"

When Gong Xue was seconded to Chaozhou, Commander Wang did mention that he hoped Cheng Xuemin could compose a choral song to commemorate the martyrs who sacrificed their lives in the fight against the rice epidemic and aid to Chaozhou.

Cheng Xuemin readily agreed.

He knew in his heart that apart from the majestic and widely circulated "The Song of the Chinese People's Volunteers" and the deeply moving "Ode to Heroes" from "Heroes and Daughters," there were indeed few choral works that could rival it.

After much thought, he decided to pay tribute to another song that had left a deep impression on him before his time travel, a song that became even more magnificent and emotional after being sung by the Moranbong Band: "The Sun and the Moon Shine Together".

"Commander Wang, I dare not forget the task you assigned me."

Cheng Xuemin took out a neatly copied sheet music from his bag and handed it over, saying, "This is a choral piece I've been working on. Please take a look and see if it's suitable."

Commander Wang eagerly took the sheet music, his face full of expectant smiles.

However, when he saw the first line of the first verse, his smile froze instantly, his brows furrowed, and his fingers gripped the edge of the paper until they turned white.

“This… Comrade Xuemin…” Commander Wang raised his head, his tone filled with disbelief and a hint of hesitation, and said, “Aren’t your lyrics… a bit too specific? Is this… even acceptable?”

The lyrics begin: "On the banks of the Xiang River, the Ying trees stand tall and green! Though my body is in a foreign land, my soul returns to my homeland..."

Such bluntness completely baffled this experienced cultural and artistic cadre!

Isn't this too risky?

And isn't it too sensitive for the General Political Department's Art Troupe to sing this song at this time?
Cheng Xuemin remained calm; he had long anticipated this question.

Before he traveled through time, this song, "The Sun and the Moon Shine Together," possessed unique artistic power and appeal precisely because it passionately praised a specific figure.

It was originally the ending theme song of a TV series featuring a specific character. He just thought it sounded good, so he paid tribute to it in advance.

As for whether it's sensitive or not, that's their own business!

Immediately, Cheng Xuemin explained, "Commander Wang, countless martyrs sacrificed their lives in the fight against the rice and aid to Chaozhou. Every one of them deserves to be remembered forever."

This song aims to reflect the great spirit of all the Chinese People's Volunteer Army soldiers through the story of a representative martyr who sacrificed his life for the national interest.

Music itself is full of reverence and remembrance; you'll know once you hum a tune." Commander Wang was skeptical, but he did as he was told and began to hum the melody softly.

The piece was solemn and dignified, yet deeply moving. It possessed both the powerful structure of a march and the touching sentiment of a lyrical piece, demonstrating an exceptionally high level of artistry.

As he hummed along, his eyes welled up with tears, clearly moved by the music itself.

"The sheet music... it is indeed a good sheet music! Very moving!" Commander Wang put down the sheet music, rubbing his hands, looking very troubled. "But the lyrics... Comrade Xuemin, it's not that I'm timid, but I really can't make this decision."

"I'll keep the sheet music for now and submit it to the higher-ups for review immediately. What do you think?"

“No problem, Commander Wang.” Cheng Xuemin nodded readily and said, “I’ve handed over the lyrics and song to you. You can review and revise them as you see fit. My mission is complete.”

He knew in his heart that whether or not the song would be released, and how it would be released, was no longer within his control.

He did his best and has a clear conscience.

and!

Cheng Xuemin even thought that perhaps at this point in time, the higher-ups might still need such a song.

After all, Cheng Xuemin knew!
Even though it's already early 1980, things have basically settled down.

However, in certain specific situations, specific factors are still needed to mitigate the situation.

perhaps!

Cheng Xuemin's "offering" of an inconspicuous song served this purpose of mitigation.

Whether it succeeds or not doesn't really matter; at worst, it will be rejected and they won't be allowed to sing.

But what if you win the gamble again...

As Cheng Xuemin left the performing arts troupe, he breathed a long sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

With the trivial matters in Yanjing settled, the journey ahead leads to Mount Song in the Central Plains.

Back at Yanying Film Studio, preparations for heading south had entered their final stage.

Equipment was loaded onto trucks, personnel assembled, and the entire factory area was filled with a sense of tension and excitement before battle.

Cheng Xuemin convened a final coordination meeting with the main cast and crew to confirm the itinerary, accommodations, and filming schedule.

Dawn the next day.

A convoy consisting of several Jiefang brand trucks and a Beijing Jeep drove out of the Yanying Factory gate.

They marched through the still-sleeping streets of the capital, facing the rising sun, and set off in a grand procession towards the vast Central Plains and that ancient temple.

Yes!

This time, Cheng Xuemin borrowed several trucks and planned to drive directly south to Henan.

The wheels rolled on, carrying Cheng Xuemin and the "Shaolin Temple" crew southward, gradually leaving the hustle and bustle of Yanjing behind.

However, the poem he left behind, "The Sun and the Moon Shine Together," was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples in the water far beyond his imagination.

The afternoon after Cheng Xuemin left Yanjing, in an office of the State Council, Feng's father was engrossed in drafting a report on spring plowing.

The secretary tiptoed in, placed a document from the General Political Department's Cultural Department on the upper right corner of his desk, and whispered a reminder:

"Director Feng, the General Political Department has submitted a request for approval of a song, involving a newly composed choral piece. The situation is... a bit special. The leadership wants you to take a look."

Mr. Feng hummed in response, but did not look up immediately.

After finishing the urgent documents at hand, he picked up the file without thinking.

My eyes scanned the title:

The "Request for Approval of the Choral Repertoire for the Song 'The Sun and the Moon Shine Together'" was signed by the General Political Department Art Troupe.

He was initially puzzled. It was common for arts groups to submit new works for review, but it didn't seem to be his area of ​​responsibility.

Why did the boss order it to be delivered here?
Mr. Feng was puzzled. When he opened the inner pages and saw the first section of the lyrics and sheet music, his hand holding the document trembled violently, and the edges of the paper were instantly crumpled.

"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!" Mr. Feng said in a low voice, almost gritting his teeth as he uttered these words.

When I saw the author's signature at the bottom, my eyes popped out instantly.

His own son-in-law, Cheng Xuemin?
Mr. Feng was so terrified that he almost died on his own. He thought to himself, "No wonder the higher-ups sent him here for a checkup!"

This kid... this kid, before going to Songshan to film Shaolin Temple, actually caused them such a huge mess!

What could Mr. Feng possibly say?
He had absolutely no idea!
He forced himself to calm down, sat back in his chair, and carefully read the instructions provided by the performing arts troupe.

The text mentions the son-in-law's original intention in creating the piece, which was to reflect the spirit of volunteerism through representative martyrs, and also affirms the artistic value of the melody.

But Mr. Feng knew that, at a higher level, artistic value often had to give way to environmental considerations.

He dared not delay and immediately picked up the phone to connect to the office of the superior in charge of arts and propaganda.

He reported the matter in the calmest possible but serious tone.

After hanging up the phone, Mr. Feng felt that the back of his shirt was soaked with cold sweat.

He had no interest in looking at any other documents. He grabbed his briefcase and coat, hurriedly told his secretary, "I have an urgent matter to attend to at home," and then left the office in a hurry.

"Old Feng, what's wrong? What happened at work?" Feng's mother happened to be on leave today, accompanying her eldest daughter-in-law, Ke Yumei, to the hospital for a prenatal checkup.

The doctor who did my prenatal checkup said my due date is probably just a few days away!

Instead of answering directly, Mr. Feng glanced at Feng Jiayou, who also looked puzzled, and said in a deep voice, "Let's go inside and talk."

The group entered the main room, and Mr. Feng closed the door behind him before slamming the document heavily onto the octagonal table.

His voice, filled with barely suppressed anger and lingering fear, said, "Look at what Xuemin did before he left!"

Teacher Gu and Feng Jiayou went over, and when they saw the lyrics, their faces turned as pale as Feng's father's.

"This...this lyrics...How dare Xuemin write this?" Feng's mother's voice trembled as she pointed at the lyrics, her eyes instantly reddening. She continued, her voice trembling:

"This child...is this child obsessed with writing?"

The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became, and finally, tears streamed down her face as she wiped them away with the corner of her apron.

Feng Jiayou was struck dumb, standing there frozen, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

She only knew that her husband had been busy with a new script lately, occasionally humming strange tunes, but she never expected that he would write such a deadly thing without saying a word!
"Dad, Mom, I don't know!" Feng Jiayou's voice trembled with tears as she looked helplessly at her parents and said, "I... I didn't know he wrote this! He never mentioned it to me!"

"What do we do now?" Mrs. Feng asked, wiping away her tears, completely at a loss. "The document has already been submitted? Is there... is there any way to stop it?"

“Stop? How can we stop them?” Mr. Feng slumped down, rubbing his throbbing temples. “The General Political Department’s Cultural Troupe has gone through several intermediaries in the approval process.”

Perhaps... perhaps it's already on some leaders' desks.

Even Feng's father himself felt these words were weak and ineffective. Faced with immense environmental sensitivity, artistic value often proves utterly inadequate.

As Feng Jiayou listened to her parents' conversation, her heart sank deeper and deeper.

"I...I'll go call him!" Feng Jiayou suddenly stood up, her voice trembling with tears, "I'll tell him to figure something out quickly!"

"Make a phone call?" Mr. Feng smiled bitterly. "They're probably already at the foot of Mount Song. Communication is difficult there. Where are you going to find them?"

Besides, what's the point of making a phone call now? It will only panic him and disrupt filming!

……

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