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

The excitement surrounding Cannes didn't wane over the next two days despite the festival's closing.

On the contrary, the film reached a new climax due to the Palme d'Or win of "Redemption" and the continued fermentation of the $400 million bet!
However, in stark contrast to the uproar and media frenzy around the world, there was an almost eerie, deliberately maintained calm in China!

Yanjing, in the lake!

The conference room that was once buzzing with excitement over the news of the $400 million victory is now closed, with the curtains drawn tight and only a few desk lamps casting a dim, yellowish glow.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of smoke, and there was also the sluggish feeling that comes with intense mental exertion!

Liao Gong sat in the main seat, with a thick stack of telegrams and briefings spread out in front of him. They came from all over the world and from different channels, but the core content was highly consistent!
Focus on Cannes, focus on "Redemption", focus on Cheng Xuemin!
His face was expressionless, but his fingers occasionally tapped lightly on the table, and his sharp eyes swept over each line of text!

Director Wang, Director Zhang, Old Wu, and others were also there, their eyes bloodshot, but their spirits were unusually high.

The ashtrays in front of them were already overflowing with cigarette butts, and they kept refilling their cups of strong tea!
"Lord Liao!" Director Wang stubbed out his cigarette, his voice hoarse from staying up all night, but filled with barely suppressed excitement. "Based on all the intelligence we've received and the information we've gathered from the public, the aftershocks of the earthquake Comrade Xuemin caused in Cannes are spreading globally, and they're getting worse!"

"The headlines of mainstream media in Europe and America can maintain their popularity for at least three days. Discussions in professional film critic circles have become deeply involved, and the curiosity of ordinary people has been completely ignited."

"It can be said that bullets are flying to every corner at a speed that we expected or even exceeded!"

Director Zhang chimed in, pointing to a photocopy of an English newspaper on the table: "The key is the public opinion, which is extremely favorable to us!"

"This New York Times commentary, titled 'Eastern Wisdom and Resilience: From the Palme d'Or to $400 Million,' while still containing ideological biases, has an overall tone of amazement and re-examination!"

"There is also this editorial in the French newspaper Le Monde, which directly elevates this event to a new dimension of dialogue between Eastern and Western cultures, arguing that the victory of Redemption marks the rise of a new, non-Western narrative force."

"This intangible gain of soft power is, in some ways, more valuable than the four hundred million US dollars!"

Old Wu excitedly added, "Not only that!"

"Many East Asian Studies and Film Departments at universities in Europe and America have already proposed listing 'Redemption' as a key text for in-depth study!"

"Many cultural salons and cinema chains are urgently coordinating to bring the film to theaters as soon as possible!"

"That kid Xuemin has truly propelled our culture and our films to the very center of the world stage!"

Liao Gong listened quietly, his face remaining largely expressionless, only nodding slightly.

After the others finished speaking, he slowly opened his mouth, his voice not loud, but carrying immense weight: "The more commotion outside, the better! But the fence around the house must be tightened!"

His gaze swept over everyone present, his tone resolute:
"I reiterate the discipline: before Comrade Cheng Xuemin returns safely to Yanjing, and before the four hundred million US dollars and technology contract are finally, thoroughly, and securely handed over and into our pockets!"

All information regarding the Cannes award and the bet victory is strictly controlled and kept within the scope of those present and relevant top-secret levels!

"Under no circumstances is a single word allowed to be leaked to the outside world, especially to the news media!"

"Domestic propaganda machinery must not be touched! Newspapers, radio, television, everything as usual, as if nothing happened!"

Director Wang's expression hardened, and he immediately nodded: "Understood! A gag order has been repeatedly issued, and all those who know the truth have signed a confidentiality agreement!"

"The publicity department has also given instructions that any unofficial news about Cannes, the Palme d'Or, or Cheng Xuemin must be suppressed, and no reporting or discussion is allowed!"

"Hmm!" Liao Gong responded, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "Where is Comrade Xuemin now?"

"According to the plan, he should take a short rest in the south of France before flying directly to Hong Kong. Comrade Li is in constant contact and is safe!" Director Zhang replied.

"The reception and security arrangements in Hong Kong must be absolutely foolproof!" Liao Gong looked at the comrade in charge of the matter. "The handover at the end of the month is the final step, and also the part most prone to problems!"

"The Japanese won't give up, and other forces might be envious. Comrade Cheng Xuemin's personal safety, as well as the absolute security of our funds and technology, are of paramount importance! If anything goes wrong, I will hold you responsible!"

"Yes! Mission accomplished! The relevant plans have been detailed down to every step, and all personnel are in place and ready to be deployed 24 hours a day!" The comrade who was called up stood up straight, his voice booming.

"Alright!" Liao Gong waved for him to sit down, then turned his gaze back to the deep night outside the window and said slowly, "Let the bullets fly outside! In our house, it should be as quiet as a deep pool!"

"Beneath this pool, there may be turbulent undercurrents, but the surface must not be disturbed even slightly. We'll discuss everything once Comrade Xuemin returns safely with the fruits of victory!"

……

While the top brass in Yanjing was operating at high speed and in secrecy for this silent victory, ordinary people far from the center of power continued their lives slowly along the existing track!
In the courtyard of Cheng Xuemin's family in Yanjing.

The twilight light shone through the window frames, casting dappled shadows on the old brick floor.

Grandma sat on a small bamboo chair under the eaves, holding a small piece of clothing in her hand. It was a bib she had sewn for her great-grandson, Little Squirrel. The stitches were fine and each stitch was filled with love.

However, her eyes kept involuntarily glancing towards the courtyard gate, and she seemed somewhat distracted while doing her needlework.

The sound of pots and pans clattering came from the kitchen; it was my older sister, Cheng Wenxiu, preparing dinner.

She moved swiftly, but her ears were also perked up, listening to the sounds outside!
The courtyard gate creaked open, and Mrs. Feng returned from get off work, pushing her bicycle.

Her face looked tired, but her eyes were still bright!

"Auntie, you're back!" Cheng Wenxiu wiped her hands on her apron and poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Yes!" Mrs. Feng responded, pushing the bicycle into the yard and parking it in a corner.
The old woman immediately put down her needlework, stood up, and hurried to Feng's mother's side. She lowered her voice, her tone filled with anticipation and barely concealed worry, and asked:
"Xueqing, any news today? Any telegrams from Xuemin and Jiayou? When...when will they be back? They've been gone for so long..."

Feng's mother paused in her handwashing at the tap, water droplets dripping down her somewhat rough fingers.

She straightened up, slowly wiping her hands with a towel, a relieved yet slightly helpless smile on her face: "Mom, not yet!"

"Didn't I just tell you yesterday? Xuemin and the others went to France for a film festival. They might have some things to take care of afterwards, so it's hard to hear from them so soon." "International telegrams are expensive. They must be sure they're safe before they call home to let us know they're safe!"

Grandma gave an "oh," her expectant light dimmed, she sighed, sat back down on the bamboo chair, picked up her needle and thread, but didn't move for a long time.

She murmured, "France... such a faraway place... I don't know anyone there, I hope nothing bad happens... I don't know if Jiayou's body can handle it..."

Cheng Wenxiu also came over to help Feng's mother with her things, and whispered, "Grandma, Aunt! Don't worry too much. With Xuemin by her side and Jiayou being so clever, everything will be fine. It's just that there were many things going on over there, which delayed things!"

"I know, I know..." Mrs. Feng replied, but her heart felt empty.
The daughter, son-in-law, and son even wanted to go overseas to a capitalist country, where they heard things were very chaotic.

Although Xuemin is capable and the higher-ups value him, as a mother, she is always worried.

Especially in the last few days, for some reason, my heart keeps pounding, as if something terrible is about to happen!
She then thought of her husband, Mr. Feng, who was engaged in construction work in a remote village in Guangdong Province.

That area is close to Hong Kong, and the construction of the special economic zone has just begun. There are countless things to do there, so they must be extremely busy.

This family, from all over the country, is really...

"Auntie, let's eat first! I steamed some egg custard for the little squirrel; it won't taste good if it gets cold," Cheng Wenxiu said.

"Alright, let's eat!" Mother Feng pulled herself out of her thoughts and forced herself not to think about it anymore.

Xuemin said that they should rest assured and wait at home, and that he would definitely bring his family and children back safely with good news.

……

However, what Feng's mother and her family didn't know was that their beloved relative was currently enjoying a short and pleasant vacation in the far south of France, and was about to stir up a storm that would affect the global film market.

Unbeknownst to them, a small, bewildering ripple, triggered by an information gap, had already begun to spread in the remote village in Guangdong where her husband's father worked!
Deep in the village, separated from Hong Kong by only a river!
This place was originally a remote border town in Bao'an County, with a fishing village atmosphere and a backward economy.

But since it was designated as a special economic zone, everything here has been accelerated.

The roar of bulldozers never ceased day and night, and makeshift sheds sprang up like mushrooms after rain on the dusty construction site.

Builders from all over the country worked tirelessly, sweating profusely, with an almost fanatical enthusiasm, to create a blueprint for modernization on this barren land.

As the person in charge of this land, Mr. Feng was certainly responsible for the planning and infrastructure of this industrial zone.

The office was a temporary prefabricated building, hot in summer and cold in winter, but it was full of planning drawings, and the telephone lines were strung like spider webs. People came and went, and the place was noisy and full of Mandarin and Cantonese in various accents.

That afternoon, Mr. Feng had just finished a meeting with the heads of several construction teams and finalized the allocation plan for cement and steel bars for the next stage. His voice was hoarse from talking.

He picked up the enamel mug with the words "Advanced Producer" printed on it, gulped down a few mouthfuls of cold tea, and rubbed his throbbing temples.

The construction of the special economic zone is truly a complex and multifaceted undertaking. From land acquisition and demolition to infrastructure development, from project introduction to worker management, every single aspect presents new challenges, and we have to proceed cautiously as we go!

It was tiring, but my heart was burning with passion. Watching the mudflats change every day gave me a sense of satisfaction from participating in the creation of history, a feeling I could never have experienced while sitting in an office in a government agency!
He was just thinking of going to the construction site again that evening to check on the progress of the drainage pipe laying when there was a knock on his office door.

"District Chief Feng, are you there?" It was the voice of Xiao Chen, a clerk, with a mix of hesitation and excitement.

"Come in!" Mr. Feng put down his teacup.

The door was pushed open, and Xiao Chen poked half his body in, holding a folded newspaper in his hand. His expression was somewhat strange, as if he was holding back some big news, but also a little unsure.

Behind him followed several village representatives, all dressed in work clothes and tanned dark, who were cadres from nearby villages. They had similar expressions on their faces, a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and disbelief.

"District Chief Feng, am I disturbing you?" Xiao Chen walked in, and several village representatives followed in one after another, looking somewhat reserved, but their eyes were all bright as they looked at Feng's father.

"It's nothing, we just finished a meeting. What's wrong? Is it about the land compensation? Do the villagers still have any concerns?" Mr. Feng thought it was a work-related matter and gestured for them to sit down and talk.

The conditions inside the prefab house were very basic, with only a few long benches!

"No, no, everything about the compensation is clear. Everyone has no objections and supports the construction of the special economic zone!" An older village representative quickly waved his hand, rubbed his hands together, looked at the newspaper in Xiao Chen's hand, and hesitated to speak.

Xiao Chen stepped forward, carefully unfolded the newspaper in his hand, and placed it on Mr. Feng's old desk piled high with documents.

It was a copy of the Hong Kong Daily, dated yesterday.

The newspaper's front page headline, in huge, bold, dark traditional Chinese characters with ink that seemed barely dry, read:

"An Oriental Miracle! Chinese director Cheng Xuemin wins the Palme d'Or at Cannes! A $400 million off-field gamble leaves a Japanese company thwarted!"

Below the title is a black and white photo that takes up almost half the page.

In the photo, a young Chinese man in a well-tailored suit stands under bright lights, holding a uniquely shaped trophy aloft, with a calm smile on his face.

Although the resolution is low and the printing is somewhat blurry, the eyebrows, the contours, and the expression are still vivid!
Mr. Feng's pupils suddenly contracted!
He seemed to have been burned by something, and suddenly stood up, bracing himself on the edge of the table with both hands, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the photo, then suddenly scanning the explosive headline.

The Palme d'Or? Four hundred million US dollars? A Japanese company's failure? Cheng Xuemin?
He recognized each word individually, but when put together, they sounded like thunderclaps exploding in his ears, making him dizzy and his heart clench and pound wildly!
He grabbed the newspaper, his fingers trembling slightly from the force, almost tearing the rough newsprint.

Mr. Feng leaned closer and read the photo word by word, looking at it repeatedly.

……

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