Chapter 11: Fame Should Be Seized Early
From the moment media was born, only its forms have changed; its essence has remained unaltered.
The short essay Chen Qi wrote was no different from the posts of content creators on Weibo, Xiaohongshu, Douyin, or Bilibili—all aimed at steering public sentiment, stirring emotions, and attracting traffic to achieve their own ends.
He followed the path of emotional content creators, the kind that make men silent and women weep.
In his essay, he criticized the Plastic Factory No. 2. By modern standards, the factory should respond with public relations efforts, damage control, perhaps even turn the negative into positive, and maybe profit from live-stream sales.
But things were different now.
People lacked the mindset, and the environment simply didn’t allow it.
“I must have been cursed for eight generations to have these workers!” The factory leader of Plastic Factory No. 2 held a newspaper, puffing on his cigarette like Old Wu next door, full of grievance.
His grievance was justified. According to procedure, the so-called “holding a meeting to study the matter” was no problem. In these times, the working class was respected above all! Punishing workers for minor issues—would anyone agree? This wasn’t something he could decide on his own.
It had to be studied.
Yet before any conclusion was reached, the other side broke all conventions and delivered a knockout blow.
“Once it hits the newspaper, it becomes famous. Once famous, the higher-ups will pay attention… This is bad. Not only those few guys but even I won’t come out of this unscathed!”
“What should we do now?”
“What else can we do?”
The factory leader fumed, “Our leadership team will immediately review the situation, hold meetings, conduct serious self-criticism, and submit a written report. The authorities will definitely send someone to investigate. And those few guys—suspend them from work, put them on standby for punishment!”
After saying this, he paused, then suddenly picked up his coat and said, “I’ll go personally to the Dashilan Street Office to have a proper talk!”
...
At Qianmen, on the east side of the Arrow Tower.
Around noon, twelve tea vendors were on shift resting. Why twelve? Because a few of them were skipping work as usual.
After several days of practice, they quickly gained experience—like pouring tea first, then covering it with a glass plate to keep it warm and prevent dust. Sales were increasing daily; yesterday they sold three thousand bowls.
“Oh, I’m exhausted!” Huang Zhanying imitated the few who opened their buns and stuffed them with pickles, making a “giant pickle burger,” and said, “It feels like more and more people are coming—we’re even busier than before.”
“Yes, lunchtime came in the blink of an eye... Hey, where did Chen Qi go?”
“He said he had a stomachache and was resting at home.”
“Why does he always have a stomachache?”
“Lazy, probably!”
Huang Zhanying took a sip of water. “Yesterday a reporter came to interview him and said the article would be published today. We were so busy we didn’t even have time to read it. After work, I have to buy a copy.”
“Me too. We took a group photo yesterday—I want to show my mom so she won’t keep saying I’m useless.”
“No one knows what he wrote, all secretive…”
“Ah! Don’t push!”
A sharp scream interrupted them. Huang Zhanying stood up quickly, thinking someone was causing trouble again, but when she looked over, a crowd had gathered in front of the tea stall—young men and women, not here to drink tea, their faces full of curiosity and anticipation.
...
“Is this the place?”
“Yes, the only tea stall at Qianmen!”
“Ah, so this is where Comrade Chen Qi works? Our cooperative makes mattress pads. We thought our work was hard, but you guys have it even worse—exposed to wind and sun with no shelter at all.”
“...”
Huang Zhanying was puzzled and shouted, “What are you doing? If you’re not here for tea, don’t push forward!”
But her shout only caused more commotion.
“Is Comrade Chen Qi here?”
“We want to see him!”
“I saw the newspaper and came all the way from Haidian!”
“He... he’s sick and on leave today!”
“Ah? What’s wrong? Is it serious? How did he suddenly fall ill? Where does he live? Can we visit?”
“Yes, I have so much to say!”
“It’s not serious. His parents are taking care of him. It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to visit. I’ll pass along your regards... Thanks for coming all this way. Here, have some tea!”
Huang Zhanying’s eyes flickered. She waved her hand; her friends cooperated smoothly, clicking as they poured the tea.
“There’s a Chinese saying: ‘Since you’ve come all this way...’ — Einstein.”
Since they had come, of course they had to drink the tea. Afterwards, they felt bad if they didn’t pay, so Huang Zhanying pretended to be reluctant but accepted the money. She had expected just a small group, but more and more people kept arriving.
All were looking for Chen Qi.
Some even brought letters to be delivered by Huang Zhanying, who felt like a celebrity manager handling a bunch of obsessed fans.
“Two bowls, please!”
“Me too!”
“Your work isn’t easy either. Our cooperative is over in Dongcheng. We’re all comrades in the revolution, supporting each other!”
“Please line up, no pushing!”
It was supposed to be lunch break, but they were overwhelmed. Everyone was busy, yet secretly eager: after work, they must buy a copy of the newspaper!
...
“Wow!”
“Another sack full!”
At the Zhongqing Daily editorial office, near the end of the workday, the editor once again dropped a sack of letters on the floor, incredulous. “Young people these days are too enthusiastic. The article just came out today, and hundreds have already come by to send letters, all discussing that piece!”
“Are these for us or the author?”
“Both!”
“Let Lao Sheng take a look!”
Soon, Sheng Yongzhi arrived. He flipped through and randomly picked a letter, reading aloud:
“Dear comrades at the newspaper:
I was deeply moved after reading your published article, ‘The Path of Life—How Should One Walk It?’ and felt compelled to share my thoughts. Please forgive my boldness.
The author mentions the need to build one’s spiritual home, which is reasonable, but I must respectfully disagree.
I believe limiting ideals to inner self-enrichment is too narrow. We are all young, in the prime of life, and should aim to realize our own value, thereby creating value for society as a whole, for our motherland...”
“That’s good. The youth all have ideas.”
Sheng Yongzhi nodded. “Since this topic is so popular, we should select some letters with differing viewpoints to publish in each issue, allowing everyone to express themselves and foster discussion.”
“Agreed, that’s what our editorial department thinks too!”
“This kind of atmosphere hasn’t been seen for years!”
“As the saying goes: New era, new spirit!”
For a moment, everyone was jubilant. As intellectuals, they felt deeply about the recent past—many had opinions but lacked a voice.
Sheng Yongzhi returned with a stack of letters and instructed, “Xiao Yu, keep an eye on that tea stall. Leaders may come for inspections, so remind me then.”
“Got it!”
“Also follow up on the author. See if there are any more newsworthy developments.”
“Sure!”
Yu Jiajia agreed gladly.
...
“My son!”
“I just found out how much you’ve suffered!”
On this side, after work, Yu Xiuli embraced her eldest son, weeping openly. Chen Jianjun stood beside them, both comforted and burdened.
Chen Qi rolled his eyes. He realized his mother had a flair for drama, while his father was reserved. He had written an article and cried a little at home—that was fine. Why did she have to come outside to cry too?
Wasn’t it just to show off to the neighbors?
It worked well. No one cooked that day. Around their house, a crowded semicircle formed, and he felt like a monkey on display.
“Xiuli, this is a great thing—stop crying!”
“Yes, your boy even got published in the paper. Much better than mine. Mine almost got arrested yesterday for touching a girl’s hand!”
“Hey, Xiao Chen, did you get any payment for the article?”
“How did the reporter interview you?”
“Hey, do you think the leaders will come to inspect?”
“I told you, your writing was good even as a kid. Going to the countryside held you back.”
“...”
Listening to the neighbors’ chattering, Chen Qi felt calm as still water—indifferent like a passenger on a tram, blind like a husband napping in the living room, deaf like a coworker in the tea room, carefree like a parent tutoring a teacher’s child at home...
If it were any other young person, they might have been elated.
But he knew clearly: he did not yet have the social status for this. He had only written a letter. The fame was superficial—but it was a good start. One must seize fame early!