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Xu Shengli's decision to leave his hometown of Yantai was not a blind rush to Beijing.

Because he originally came here for Director Weng.

Director Weng is a director who makes realistic TV dramas. He has some fame in the industry, but he is not a big star. However, people in the industry know that he is a solid director who does not cut corners. Every work he makes can withstand scrutiny.

When Xu Shengli was working at the aquatic product factory, Director Weng happened to be in Yantai for a field trip. He stayed at the aquatic product factory for a few days, chatting with the workers, looking around the workshop, and taking notes.

At that time, Xu Shengli did not know that the chubby middle-aged man was a director; he only thought he was some kind of research cadre sent down from above.

In his spare time, he liked to lie in his dormitory and write. He wrote a thick stack of manuscript paper, containing all sorts of things, including short stories from the factory, character dialogues he made up, and some fragments that he himself couldn't tell whether they were prose or novels.

Director Weng somehow stumbled upon what he had written, and after reading it, he casually remarked, "Xiao Xu, you're quite the writer! Interesting."

Just that one sentence gave Xu Shengli a sense of being recognized.

It was as if he had seen a lighthouse guiding him when he was lost, and Xu Shengli unconsciously regarded Director Weng as his mentor.

However, Director Weng forgot about it as soon as he finished speaking, and returned to Beijing after the field trip to continue his endless filming.

But these words took root in Xu Shengli's heart, sprouted, and grew into a tree that he couldn't push down.

I thought to myself, if a TV director says he can write, can he really keep writing?
Should I not spend my whole life working with frozen fish in a smelly seafood processing plant?

This idea was like a seed that had fallen into damp soil; no matter how hard you tried to cover it up, you couldn't stop it. In the end, Xu Shengli quit his job at the seafood factory and came to Beijing with a tattered bag on his back.

But after arriving in Beijing, Xu Shengli realized that Director Weng had long forgotten about him.

Xu Shengli inquired in several places in Beijing and finally found Director Weng's studio, only to be told by the people in the studio that Director Weng was often away on business trips and not in Beijing.

When will you be back? It's hard to say, it could be one or two months, or three or four months.

I went to the Beijing Film Studio again, but received the same response and felt ignored and humiliated.

Xu Shengli neither left nor gave up.

He stayed in Beijing, where winter turned to spring, and found a temporary job to support himself.

After being acquired in the spring, it was moved to a windowless cubicle in the basement.

Every night, I would lie in that room where the lights had to be on even during the day to write the script, with the same thought on my mind: when Director Weng came back and read what I had written, maybe it would be a success.

This "maybe" is all the fuel that kept Xu Shengli going.

When asked what he wanted to eat, Xu Shengli said anything was fine.

When others asked Xu Shengli where he was going, he said any place would do.

When asked when he planned to wait, Xu Shengli said he would wait until Director Weng returned.

This wait lasted for a full six months.

……

That afternoon, Xu Shengli was squatting on the side of the street eating a bowl of braised pork offal.

Braised offal was one of the few things he could afford and find satisfying in Beijing. Lung, tofu, and baked buns were soaked in a bowl of dark brown broth, and he would stir in chili oil and then shovel it into his mouth.

Squatting on the curb, one leg bent and the other extended, he ate with great focus, his cheeks bulging.

The pager on his belt suddenly went off. He put his chopsticks on the edge of the bowl, bent down and took the pager off his belt, then turned on the screen.

The words on the screen were small and blurry, and he squinted for several seconds before he could see them clearly: "Director Weng has returned to Beijing. We can meet at the studio tomorrow."

Xu Shengli stopped eating the braised pork and stood up to run away.

Across the street was a newsstand with a public telephone outside.

The phone rang several times before being answered. It was someone from Director Weng's studio on the other end. Xu Shengli said into the microphone, "This is Xu Shengli. Can I really see Director Weng tomorrow?"

The other party confirmed the time, saying it would be 2 PM, and the location would still be Director Weng's studio.

After hanging up the phone, Xu Shengli stood there, his chest heaving with excitement.

The old man at the newsstand next door glanced at him and asked, "What's wrong, young man?"

"It's nothing!" Then he hung up the phone and handed the small bill to the old man.

……

The next day, Xu Shengli changed into his cleanest white shirt, pulled out the manuscript he had been saving for half a year from under his pillow, put it in a brown paper bag, and took the bus to Director Weng's studio.

The studio is hidden in an old residential building near the Beijing Film Studio, and there is no sign.

He stood in front of the door, wiped the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, and knocked.

It was Director Weng who opened the door.

He's the same as he was six months ago: chubby, wearing black-rimmed glasses, his plaid shirt is faded from washing, the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he's smoking a half-smoked cigarette.

He didn't look like a director at all; he looked more like an old-fashioned appliance repairman.

Xu Shengli, barely suppressing his surprise, looked at Director Weng in front of him and said, "Director Weng, you're finally back."

Director Weng squinted at him for a second, "Oh, Xiao Xu from Yantai, come in."

He pointed to the sofa piled with things and said, "Sit down, let me see what's there."

Xu Shengli handed over the manuscript.

Director Weng put on his reading glasses and turned the pages one by one.

The room was very quiet.

The second hand of the quartz clock on the wall ticked away.

Xu Shengli stared at Director Weng's movements as he turned the pages, his heart skipping a beat with each page he turned.

Director Weng's face was expressionless, occasionally frowning, occasionally tapping a page twice, and occasionally humming "hmm".

When I turned to a dialogue, I actually pushed my reading glasses up a bit and then turned back to read two more pages.

I finally finished watching it.

Director Weng closed the manuscript. "Xiao Xu, your writing is fluent and the characters are neat. But to call this a script, it's far from being one."

"..." Xu Shengli's heart sank.

Director Weng raised his hand to stop him from speaking, “I’m not saying your writing is bad. There are a few interesting parts, like the scene where the master and apprentice argue in the workshop. The dialogue is lively, and the master’s scolding of his apprentice is just right. But the overall structure is too loose. You’ve laid out half the script, but where’s the climax? The characters’ motivations aren’t solid enough either. You can’t just rely on a few brilliant lines to carry a play; you need a framework. This level is only good for submitting to a magazine for a short piece; it’s far from being a proper drama.”

Xu Shengli nodded, pursing his lips; he knew Director Weng was right.

He had a vague feeling about those problems, but he didn't know how to fix them.

Director Weng lit a cigarette, his tone becoming more casual: "But don't be discouraged. I can tell you really like this stuff. Your problem right now is a lack of experience, not a lack of talent. Your dialogue is quite lively, but you don't know how a film crew operates, or how many processes a script goes through from paper to screen. If you don't understand these things, you'll only ever be able to write short, insignificant pieces."

Xu Shengli's voice was hoarse: "Director Weng, what do you mean..."

"My new movie is about to start filming, and the crew needs a general helper. Calling it an intern sounds nice, but it's really just about going wherever there's a shortage of people. You can do everything from production assistant and props assistant to costume designer. The pay isn't high, and the work is varied, but you'll get to see the whole thing from start to finish and how a movie is made. If you're willing, this position is reserved for you. If not, then never mind."

Xu Shengli was stunned for two seconds.

He went through the past six months in his mind: the musty smell of the basement, the low stool next to the braised pork stall, and the tiny print on the pager that almost made him smash his bowl.

I've been waiting for this opportunity for half a year.

Xu Shengli quickly stood up and bowed ninety degrees: "Director Weng, I'm willing. Thank you."

Director Weng was a little embarrassed by the bow and waved his hand, saying, "Alright, alright, go back and wait for our notification. We'll have someone contact you when filming starts."

……

Xu Shengli came out of Director Weng's studio, walked through the corridor filled with broken bicycles, and walked to the passageway between the old residential buildings.

He suddenly grinned, letting out all the anxiety and self-doubt that had been weighing on his chest for the past six months.

I've finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel.

Xu Shengli, feeling that his luck had turned around, wanted to tell Zhuang Zhuang the first person he wanted to tell.

Because he had always had feelings for Zhuangzhuang, but he had never made it public.

When winter turns to spring, he is most willing to be with Zhuangzhuang.

When Zhuangzhuang stepped out to confront Feng Tieyou, he was the first to reach for the mop.

Now that he had good news, Xu Shengli wanted Zhuangzhuang to know first. So, Xu Shengli found a public phone, put in a coin, and dialed Zhuangzhuang's dormitory number.

The phone rang a few times, and Zhuangzhuang answered, "Hello?"

Xu Shengli, barely containing his excitement, spoke into the microphone, "Zhuangzhuang, I did it! I can get into the film crew! Director Weng wants me to be an intern in his new movie. It's just doing odd jobs, but I can get on set! I can see how they film!"

After listening to the phone call, Zhuangzhuang laughed heartily, "Xu Shengli, you've finally made it! Even doing odd jobs is still joining the crew. You've taken this first step, and things will be much easier from here on out."

Xu Shengli said, "I'm treating everyone to dinner tonight to celebrate. I'll invite Cao Ye, Guo Zongbao, Xiao Dongbei, and Shen Ranran to Liangliang's restaurant. I've already planned it all out."

Zhuangzhuang said, "Okay, I'll be there on time."

Xu Shengli hung up the phone and then called the other people one by one.

Cao Ye, Guo Zongbao, Xiao Dongbei, and Shen Ranran all said they would arrive on time.

That evening, several people gathered at Tao Liangliang's restaurant.

This restaurant is located in a hutong (alleyway). It has a small storefront with an old sign hanging above the entrance. The words "Lao Tao's Home-Style Dishes" have turned yellowish from the cooking fumes.

There were five or six tables inside, each covered with a red checkered plastic tablecloth.

The kitchen is inside, separated from the dining area by a half-length curtain. From behind the curtain, the clanging of spatulas against iron woks can be heard from time to time, and the aroma of stir-fried dishes wafts continuously from the kitchen.

Tao Liangliang's father, Lao Tao, is in charge of cooking in the back kitchen, while his mother greets customers outside. It's a typical husband-and-wife shop. When they get busy, the two of them are always on the go. Lao Tao is sweating profusely as he flips the wok in front of the stove, while Tao's mother is busy serving dishes, collecting money, and wiping tables.

Tao Liangliang had informed his parents in advance and reserved a large round table at the back of the table. Several plates of cold dishes were already laid out on the table: smashed cucumbers mixed with minced garlic and vinegar, fried peanuts that were shiny with oil, and braised beef that was sliced ​​thinly and evenly and laid out translucently on a plate.

Several cases of beer stood nearby, and hot tea was poured into enamel cups.

Zhuangzhuang arrived the earliest; she came straight from work, still wearing the same plain-colored coat she wore to work.

Then came Cao Ye and Guo Zongbao. Cao Ye said as soon as he entered that he could smell stir-fried meat.

Guo Zongbao followed Cao Ye and went to find the sink as soon as they entered.

Next was Xiao Dongbei. After entering, he greeted everyone and quietly found a seat.

Shen Ranran arrived last. She came right after finishing her scene and called out as she entered, "I'm not late, am I?"

Tao Liangliang said, "Even if you're late, I'll still cook you a special dish."

Shen Ranran said with a smile, "Then I'll have to order the most expensive one."

Xu Shengli was the host and sat in the main seat, with Zhuang Zhuang sitting next to him.

He's not usually a talkative person, but today he couldn't suppress the smile on his face.

He sat there, watching people arrive one by one, and felt especially happy.

Cao Ye picked up his chopsticks, took a peanut, and popped it into his mouth. After chewing it a couple of times, he said, "Old Xu, you'd better confess. What exactly did Director Weng say to you? Did he praise your writing and let you join the crew, or did he see you looking pitiful squatting outside the Beijing Film Studio?"

Everyone burst into laughter.

Tao Liangliang had just brought out a plate of shredded pork with garlic sauce from the kitchen and placed it on the table when he picked up the conversation and said, "Based on my understanding of Lao Xu, it's probably the latter."

Xu Shengli didn't pretend and recounted everything that happened at Director Weng's studio that afternoon.

"Hahaha..." Everyone laughed after hearing that.

Zhuangzhuang covered her mouth with a laugh, looking at Xu Shengli with a puzzled expression, and said, "You, you're so happy when someone insults you?"

Xu Shengli, however, dismissed it, saying, "So what if he scolds me? Scolding me means he read it carefully. A director who has been making films for so many years can read through my pile of rubbish manuscripts from beginning to end, word by word, and point out the problems line by line. That's already a great respect. Last time I showed a manuscript to the Beijing Film Studio's scriptwriting department, they said it was pretty good, but they didn't even flip through more than a few pages. Director Weng scolding me shows that he takes me seriously."

Xiao Dongbei hadn't touched his chopsticks much, just silently drinking his tea. Suddenly, he spoke up: "Old Xu, to be honest, I'm a little envious of you. Even though you're just a handyman now, at least you're on the path you want to be. I used to have some presence when I was in charge at Winter to Spring, but now that the hotel is gone, I don't know where to go all day."

Xiao Dongbei wasn't complaining or lamenting; he was simply stating a fact in a calm manner, but everyone at the table fell silent for a moment.

Xu Shengli looked at him, his feelings were very complicated.

He knew about Xiao Dongbei's situation. After being acquired by Mingju Real Estate in the spring, Xiao Dongbei had nowhere to stay and didn't know what to do all day.

Xu Shengli patted Xiao Dongbei on the shoulder reassuringly, "Take your time, there's no rush. Look at all of us, we've all been persevering."

"That's right! Let's have a drink." Xiao Dongbei chuckled, raised his glass, and clinked it against his.

Cao Ye swallowed a piece of Kung Pao Chicken and suddenly said, "Hey, have you heard? Mingju Real Estate has renovated Dongquchunlai and is preparing to build it into a high-end courtyard-style hotel."

The atmosphere at the table visibly paused when this news came out.

Guo Zongbao put down his chopsticks, frowned, and said, "High-end hotel? How much would it cost to stay in a place like that for one night?"

Cao Ye said, "Do you even need to ask? It's definitely not a price we can afford. With our clothes on, the receptionist might not even let us in."

Tao Liangliang leaned back in his chair, sighed, and said, "Back when it cost six yuan a night, we thought it was too expensive. Now that it's been renovated, our target customers are no longer us."

Shen Ranran picked up a peanut with her chopsticks and said slowly, "That's how business works. A courtyard house within the Second Ring Road, the location is what it is. With the reconstruction costs and the positioning, it's impossible to turn it into a budget hotel. Mingju Real Estate is a commercial company, not a charity."

Xiao Dongbei was silent for a while, then suddenly said, "Is it going to be built into a high-end hotel for us Beijing drifters to stay in?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire dining table fell silent.

No one spoke.

That silence wasn't awkward; rather, it was because everyone felt a pang of sympathy from those words.

Zhuangzhuang looked at the glass of beer in front of her that she hadn't drunk yet, "The name 'Winter Goes, Spring Comes' may no longer exist."

Tao Liangliang quickly raised his glass, looked at everyone, and said loudly, "Come on, come on, no more talk, it's all in the wine. Let's celebrate Lao Xu, who is finally no longer unemployed."

Xu Shengli raised his glass and clinked it against his.

Cao Ye, standing across from him, gestured with his chopsticks and said, "I'll raise a glass. Lao Xu, once you're in the crew, do your best. After your script is filmed, I'll design the posters for you. It'll be free, but don't complain about how they turn out."

Xu Shengli said, "Of course I have to complain. When you draw those abstract things, the nose and the two eyes are not on the same level. My script is realistic, so it doesn't match up."

Cao Ye slammed his hand on the table, his words sharp and cutting: "What's wrong with realism? Posters have to be abstract to be impactful, what do you know? Look at the posters for those big foreign movies, which one of them is just a simple headshot?"

Zhuangzhuang watched them bickering from the side and kept laughing. "I think this is better. Cao Ye, you draw an abstract one for him first. If he doesn't like it, I'll pay for the redraw."

Tao Liangliang immediately chimed in, pointing at Zhuangzhuang and saying, "Look at you, the top salesperson speaks differently. You just say you'll pay for the repainting. For us saxophone players under the overpass, it would take us two months to save up for the repainting."

Zhuangzhuang glared at him and retorted with a smile, "Stop complaining about being poor. You earn less money playing the saxophone than anyone else? Last time I passed by the overpass, I even saw someone throw ten yuan into your box."

Tao Liangliang spread his hands, his expression bitter and resentful: "I spend more than I earn. The lady who threw me ten yuan came back the next day and took five yuan, saying she didn't have enough change to buy groceries."

Everyone at the table burst into laughter.

Shen Ranran laughed so hard she leaned on Zhuangzhuang's shoulder and couldn't straighten up. Cao Ye almost spat out his wine. Guo Zongbao laughed and slammed his fist on the table, making the plates rattle.

Looking at the people on the table, Xu Shengli felt a sense of peace that he couldn't quite describe.

These people had all endured the transition from winter to spring together, and they stood on the same side when Feng Tieyou blocked the entrance.

Now winter has passed and spring has come, and everyone has scattered to different places, living in different houses and leading their own lives.

But sitting at the same table today, it still tastes the same as it did back then, unchanged.

Xu Shengli suddenly put down his chopsticks. “I called everyone together for dinner today not to show off my intern status. I just feel that we’ve all bumped into each other in Beijing, and it’s incredibly lucky that we’ve met here. Winter has passed and spring is over, but our friendship and camaraderie remain. From now on, whoever has good news, don’t keep it to yourself, bring it back and we can all have a meal together.”

Xiao Dongbei was the first to raise his glass, "Well said. From now on, whenever someone has something good to share, we'll bring them back for a drink. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone raised their glasses.

Tao Liangliang finished his drink and put down the cup. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he turned to Shen Ranran and asked, "Ranran, what scene are you filming on set today? Why do you look like a country girl with that makeup on?"

Shen Ranran touched her face and said irritably, "We were filming a scene of fleeing famine. I ran through the mud eight times, but the director said I wasn't disheveled enough, so he had the crew pour a bucket of water on me before we were satisfied."

Zhuangzhuang looked at Shen Ranran with concern and said, "What if you catch a cold from splashing water on such a cold day?"

Shen Ranran waved her hand, "So what if I have a cold? I can't ruin the role I finally got just because I'm afraid of catching a cold. Lao Xu, you agree, right? Didn't you get scolded from head to toe by Director Weng today? We're in the same boat today."

Xu Shengli raised his glass and clinked it against Shen Ranran's. "You're the second female lead, and I'm just a general intern. We're several levels apart, so don't try to get close to me."

Shen Ranran smiled and said, "Don't worry, you'll be able to write it sooner or later. When you do, you write the script and I'll act in it. I guarantee it will be more respectable than this famine escape play we did today."

Cao Ye chimed in from the side, "Then I'll continue to be in charge of the posters. The abstract kind."

Everyone burst into laughter again.

...(End of this chapter)