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

Ignoring the raging flood behind him, Cheng Xuemin had Ji Chunhua drive back to Yanying Film Studio!

They brought along Liu Xiaoli, who was completely bewildered!

But as soon as he left the China Film Corporation building, he was caught up and told to go to Old Wu's office in the ministry, where he would be waiting for him!

Upon hearing this, Cheng Xuemin dared not delay and quickly asked Ji Chunhua to drive over!
He was also pondering this in his mind, clearly indicating that Old Wu already knew everything about the screening event!

quickly!

Cheng Xuemin and his group have arrived!

Mr. Wu's office is on the second floor, at the end of the corridor. It is well-lit, with the windows open, and the summer breeze blows in, carrying the faint fragrance of several pots of jasmine on the windowsill.

The furnishings are simple and tidy: a large desk, several filing cabinets, a sofa and coffee table for guests, bookshelves filled with documents and books, and a few small ceramic handicrafts.

Old Wu was wearing reading glasses and looking at a document, with a steaming cup of tea beside him.

Hearing the knock, he looked up, took off his glasses, smiled, and pointed to the chair opposite him: "Xuemin's here, have a seat. Help yourself to some tea!"

His tone was relaxed, and his expression was natural, as if it were just a routine work meeting, rather than after hearing about a decision that could cause a huge uproar.

Cheng Xuemin sat down in the chair with his back straight and his hands on his knees, a respectful posture befitting an elder or superior, but not one of restraint.

He took the teacup himself and poured a cup of tea from the teapot beside Old Wu. The light green tea soup was poured into the white porcelain cup, and a delicate fragrance wafted up.

Old Wu didn't immediately ask about the screening. Instead, he picked up his cup, blew on the floating leaf, took a sip, and then slowly spoke, as if chatting casually: "Is the meeting over?"

"It's all done!" Cheng Xuemin replied, taking a sip of tea.

The tea is good; it has a slightly astringent taste upon first sip, but the sweet aftertaste comes quickly.

"I heard things aren't going so well?" Old Wu looked up at him, his gaze calm, yet seemingly able to see through the rising steam of the tea to the depths of people's hearts!
Cheng Xuemin put down his teacup and gave a concise and objective account of the screening, including the key points of the experts' speeches, his final decision, and his departure.

There was no exaggeration or embellishment of the other party's aggressiveness, nor were there any emotional complaints.

It was just a straightforward account, with little variation in tone, like reporting on an ordinary task!

Old Wu listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the smooth, warm surface of the purple clay teapot, his expression unchanged.

After Cheng Xuemin finished speaking, he was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled, shook his head, and said, "These old guys are still the same as ever!"

There was no evaluation of whether Cheng Xuemin's decision was right or wrong, nor were any details inquired about!

It was just a casual remark, carrying a hint of understanding, a hint of helplessness, and even a faint, almost imperceptible sarcasm.

It was as if he already knew everything that might happen in that screening room, and was fully aware of the behavior and thoughts of certain people.

Cheng Xuemin's anxiety eased a little!
Mr. Wu's attitude at least shows that he understands his situation and does not think that his actions are reckless or lawless.

This is a form of inclusion based on trust and understanding!
"You must be under a lot of pressure?" Old Wu looked at Cheng Xuemin, his eyes showing genuine concern—the kind of care an elder would show to a respected junior. "The Palme d'Or, fifty million US dollars, front-page headlines..."

"Good heavens, these things combined would make even an old man like me dizzy for days, let alone a young person like you!"

"With such a sudden rise in your stature, there are naturally many people who want to bring you down, or who want to find some flaws in you to assert their own presence."

"A tree that stands out in the forest will be felled by the wind. A mound that rises above the bank will be eroded by the current. An old saying!"

"I understand!" Cheng Xuemin nodded, Wu Lao's words resonated with him. "So I think that taking a step back for now might not be a bad thing!"

"Let the film, and myself, lay low for a while. Some debates are pointless and will never be resolved. Letting things cool down and letting time tell the truth is best!"

"Five years is not a short time!" Old Wu put down his teacup, leaned forward slightly, tapped his fingers lightly on the table, and said in a meaningful tone, "Have you thought this through? You may have to endure a lot of criticism in these five years!"

“Many people will say that you have run out of ideas, that you are scared, that you use international awards to intimidate people, and even… that you are irresponsible to the domestic audience and that you are ungrateful for the organization’s support.”

"These voices won't disappear just because you save the movie; on the contrary, they might become louder and more unpleasant because of your silence and avoidance!"

"Can you handle it?"

Cheng Xuemin met Wu Lao's gaze, a sharp look that seemed to see into his very soul.

He didn't flinch, his voice steady and clear: "I've made up my mind. There will always be criticism, no matter what I do."

"But at least the film itself is clean, and it hasn't been caught up in pointless, potentially distorted, or even art-related debates."

As for Jiang Lang running out of talent...

He paused, his gaze drifting to the towering water tower in the factory area outside the window, emitting wisps of white smoke, and the azure sky in the distance, before saying, "Time will tell!"

"In five years, I can do many other things. I need to deepen international cooperation, focus on technological upgrades and talent development in the factory, and start working on new scripts. The film is not just a 'Redemption' movie."

Old Wu stared at him for several seconds, as if confirming the determination, confidence, and composure beyond his years in his words.

Then, he nodded slowly and heavily, a look of approval on his face!

"He has both courage and composure!"

"Unlike some young people, who get carried away with their achievements and can't stand any dissenting opinions, or who stubbornly resist and end up getting hurt."
Or you'll just give up and be led by the nose. It's not easy for you to think this far and make this decision.

Old Wu spoke with emotion, saying, "Your move, though seemingly a retreat, is actually a strategic retreat that allows you to seize the initiative. Good, very good!"

He leaned back in his chair, picked up the teapot, refilled Cheng Xuemin's cup, and filled his own as well. His tone became solemn and steady: "Xuemin, the ministry supports your decision!"

"You were in charge of making the film, so you have the right to be responsible for it. I trust your judgment."

"However, this is no small matter, and there may be some... reactions afterward. From higher-ups, from colleagues, from public opinion—you should be prepared!"

"But it's alright, as long as you stand upright, act steadily, do your job well, advance the negotiations with the Japanese in Hong Kong, and safeguard and develop the factory! As for the ministry, I'll take care of it."

Old Wu pointed to himself, then gestured upwards, saying, "We'll be on your side; the sky won't fall!"

"Thank you, Mr. Wu!" Cheng Xuemin said sincerely, feeling a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

With Mr. Wu's words and the ministry's explicit support, his confidence and sense of security increased significantly.

This is not merely an endorsement from superiors, but also a demonstration of understanding and trust!

The General Political Department's Cultural Troupe, rehearsal hall!
The smell of sweat mixed with the scents of dust, rosin, and talcum powder filled the air.

The barre used for leg stretching was polished to a shine by countless hands and arms, reflecting blurry human figures.

On the smooth maple floor, footsteps moved nimbly, making rhythmic clattering sounds, occasionally interspersed with the crisp cracking of the teacher lightly tapping the joints with a rattan cane when a movement was not executed correctly.

The shouts, the sounds of instruments being tuned, the instructors' short and forceful commands, and the girls' gasps as they stretched their legs all intertwined to create the unique, vibrant, disciplined, and slightly arduous atmosphere of the performing arts troupe.

Gong Xue was wearing an old, faded military uniform, the soft fabric clinging to her body and outlining her long, supple figure honed through years of dance training.

Her hair was tied into a neat ponytail at the back of her head, revealing her smooth forehead and graceful neck.

She was leaning against the barre, breathing slightly heavily, gently moving her slightly sore ankles.

It's like suddenly returning here from the glitz and glamour of Cannes, a world filled with unfamiliar languages, perfumes, and spotlights.

The familiar sound of the jinghu (a two-stringed bowed instrument) being tested filled my ears, along with the laughter of my comrades in their various regional accents and the familiar reprimands of my teacher. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and dust.

She felt as if she had stepped back from the clouds onto solid ground—a sense of groundedness and familiarity, yet also a faint, indescribable sense of disorientation.

The golden palm leaf trophy at Cannes, its cool, heavy touch; the almost dazzling glitter on the red carpet; the subtle sound of champagne bubbles rising at the after-party.

And then there's Cheng Xuemin standing on the podium, facing the global media, his calm gaze seemingly capable of encompassing the entire galaxy...

Those images and feelings, as if viewed through frosted glass, are still vivid, yet carry a sense of unreality.

It was completely out of place in the rehearsal hall before them, which was filled with sweat and the atmosphere of a bustling activity.

"Gong Xue! You're back? Did you have fun in France?" A clear, bell-like voice interrupted her thoughts.

She was Han Qiaoyue, a dancer who shared a dormitory with her and was also her class monitor.

She hopped over like a light swallow, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, and asked quickly:

"Tell me quickly, are all those foreigners exceptionally tall and fair-skinned? And do they all have such prominent noses?"

"Isn't the beach in Cannes incredibly beautiful? Like in the magazines?"

"Did you win an award? What kind of award? Is the trophy heavy? Bring it back so we can see it!"

A barrage of questions came crashing down on me like a volley of beans.

Several actors who were resting, wiping their sweat, and drinking water nearby also gathered around upon hearing the noise, their eyes sparkling with the same curiosity and envy.

Going abroad, especially to the Cannes Film Festival in France, was an unimaginable dream for most of them, who had never left the country and whose furthest trips were probably only to other provinces for performances. It was shrouded in mystery.

Gong Xue raised his eyes and looked at Han Qiaoyue's cheeks, which were slightly flushed with excitement, and the expectant eyes of his comrades around him. The dazed feeling faded a little.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips as she said, "That's fine!"

"The beach is quite beautiful, the sand is very fine. The foreigners... some are tall, and some are not."

She said casually, avoiding specific details about the award, "I... won one!"

She deliberately obscured the specific, prestigious name of the Palme d'Or, only referring to it as a general award!
It wasn't a deliberate attempt to hide it, but rather a feeling that those accolades and clamor belonged to Cannes, to "Redemption," to Cheng Xuemin, and perhaps even to the person who was briefly immersed in them!

But back here, I took off the formal attire prepared for the film festival and put on a faded old military uniform!

She is Gong Xue, a dancer and singer from the General Political Department's Art Troupe!
Those distant accolades, praises, and the attention that might follow seemed somewhat out of place in this sweat-drenched rehearsal hall that emphasized teamwork and discipline. She instinctively chose to keep a low profile!
"Really? You won an award? What award? Is it Best Actress? Or Best Costume Design?"

"What kind of trophy is it? Is it gold or silver? Let me see it!"

Han Qiaoyue became even more excited and reached out to grab Gong Xue's arm, but Gong Xue gently turned her body to avoid it!

"It's just... a film festival award. The trophy isn't big; it's kept at the factory!" Gong Xue replied vaguely, his tone calm and unreadable.

She picked up a slightly stiff white towel draped over the barre and wiped away non-existent sweat from her forehead and neck.

He naturally changed the subject, asking, "How's things going in the group lately? Any new missions? I see everyone's been practicing really hard!"

“Yes! Of course!” A round-faced actress chimed in, her attention temporarily diverted. “August 1st is coming soon, and the mission for the performance tour has been assigned. I heard it’s going to the south this time, to several military regions!”

"The journey is long, and there are many performances. Director Wang is currently working with the team leaders to finalize the program and personnel. It should be announced in the next day or two. You're a mainstay, so you're definitely on the list!"

"The south? It gets so hot in the summer, and there are so many mosquitoes!"

Another slightly older actor chimed in, his tone carrying a hint of complaint from someone who'd been there before, but his eyes also held a sense of anticipation.

Visiting troops to offer condolences is hard work, but it's also an opportunity to earn merit and broaden one's horizons.

Gong Xue listened quietly, and understood what was going on!

The August 1st performance to comfort the troops is a highlight of the troupe's annual activities, something she had anticipated.

I just didn't expect to be going to the south this year, and it sounds like it's going to be quite a large-scale trip!
Just then, the door to the rehearsal hall was pushed open, and Director Wang of the cultural troupe walked in.

Commander Wang was a middle-aged woman in her forties. Her short hair, which reached her ears, was neatly tucked behind her ears. She maintained an excellent figure, with a straight back and a brisk walk that was characteristic of soldiers.

The skin on my face looks a bit rough from years of outdoor rehearsals and leading the team in the wind and sun!
But his eyes are bright and sharp, and he looks at people with great intensity, as if he can see right into your heart.

"What are you all talking about? Don't you need to practice anymore? Han Qiaoyue, did you meet the standard for your big jump? And you, Liu Juan, that spin you mentioned this morning, your center of gravity was off again!"

Commander Wang's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a natural authority and penetrating power, like an invisible conductor's baton, instantly silencing the noise in the rehearsal hall.

The actors surrounding Gong Xue stuck out their tongues, quickly dispersed, and returned to the barre or the center of the field to continue practicing.

Commander Wang's gaze swept over the crowd with lightning speed, finally landing on Gong Xue, and he walked over with steady steps.

...(End of this chapter)