Chapter 16: The Beginning of Freeloading

“I have never been to Mount Lu, but I have always longed to visit.”
“Whether it was Li Bai’s poems or the instructor’s ‘Climbing Mount Lu,’ I could recite them backwards from a young age. My parents worked at the Xinhua Bookstore, so I had access to many books. Once, I came across an atlas that introduced many of our country’s famous mountains and rivers, including the beautiful scenery of Mount Lu.
I was mesmerized, and I began to imagine that such a beautiful place must be the setting for wonderful stories—perhaps a young couple meeting by chance on Mount Lu and falling in love at first sight…
Following that inspiration, I continued to develop the idea and gradually wrote this script.”
When Chen Qi finished, everyone chuckled lightly.
“Young people always yearn for love!”
“Our thoughts are indeed different; there’s a strong romanticism here.”
“But it does represent a certain trait of contemporary youth…”
Jiang Huaiyan nodded, smiling. “Chen, I read the letter you wrote to the China Youth Daily. You are a thoughtful young man, and we are pleased to see fresh talent emerging in the film industry. When you said you wanted to try your hand at writing, we were surprised. After seeing the newspaper, we immediately received your submission.”
“Yes, it startled us all, and then reading the script startled us again—you actually wrote a love story.”
Shi Wenxin added, “You must understand what openly depicting love in film means, especially now. That was our concern, and after much discussion, we decided to invite you here. Since we speak of a new era, there must be a new spirit; since the country doesn’t yet have it, let it begin with the Beijing Film Studio!”
Among the many film studios in the country, Changchun, Beijing, Shanghai, and Bayi are considered the ‘big four.’
Bayi Studio is military-run, so we won’t discuss it here. The other three are all powerful, well-connected, and bold. During the early days of reform and opening, when the industry was uncertain, they produced a number of ‘radical’ films.
For example, Beijing Film Studio released “Look at This Family” this year—a comedy, of all things, in 1979!
There’s also “The Mysterious Great Buddha,” starring Liu Xiaoqing, the first commercial action film, set for release next year. And “The Second Handshake,” also releasing next year, adapted from a banned book.
As for “Love on Mount Lu”…
In Jiangxi, a writer named Bi Bicheng submitted a script to Shanghai Film Studio this July. While revising it, he used his spare time to write “Love on Mount Lu.”
The story is simple: the daughter of a Kuomintang officer returns from America to the mainland and falls in love at first sight with the male lead on Mount Lu. But due to the special era, they are forced apart.
Five years later, with reform and opening underway, the heroine returns to Mount Lu. Their passion reignites fiercely. However, the male lead’s father is an officer in our party’s army; the two sides once clashed on the battlefield. The heroine fears their love is doomed, but the male lead’s father approaches her, saying:
“You are a child who loves the motherland. Though your father is overseas, he never forgets the motherland... For the motherland to achieve the Four Modernizations, national unity and ethnic solidarity are essential. We welcome his return!”
It was very much a product of its time.

Though it may seem awkward now, it was groundbreaking then.
Upon release, it sparked a nationwide sensation and became a milestone film. One could say that if writing the history of Chinese cinema after reform and opening, the first chapter would undoubtedly be “Love on Mount Lu.”
Chen Qi’s version deliberately omitted some content.
Jiang Huaiyan said, “We carefully reviewed the script. Its strengths are smooth prose, clear structure, and some beautifully written parts, especially the vivid descriptions of Mount Lu’s scenery.
But that is also its weakness—you focused too much on the scenery, resulting in a lack of dramatic conflict and a realistic social backdrop. It feels like scenery for the sake of scenery.”
“Our suggestion is to add some conflict to create ups and downs in the plot, enrich the protagonists’ backgrounds, and, more importantly, although you want to depict love, the story’s ultimate focus must rest on a higher level.”
“A higher level? Loving the motherland?”
“Yes, something like that.”
Jiang Huaiyan’s tone carried more appreciation now; the young man had great insight.
Then other editors shared their thoughts, likely thinking he was inexperienced and young, so they offered hands-on guidance. Chen Qi knew they meant well and was very humble.
After two hours of discussion, the meeting adjourned.
Liang Xiaosheng accompanied him out and said, “There are many people here; take your time to get to know them. If you have any issues, feel free to come to me. You don’t have to rewrite the entire script—just paste the new content in with glue, then copy the final draft later.
We all revise that way; in the end, the script is as thick as a brick.
Imagine placing such a thick script before the leaders and saying, ‘Look how many times I’ve revised it’—that’ll definitely impress them first!”
“Ha! Thanks for the advice!”
Chen Qi laughed, then asked, “What’s the fastest record for revisions here?”
“Twenty days! That writer had family matters and had to leave, but finished revising overnight… We all knew the truth—the guesthouse conditions were good, so they came to freeload meals and lodging.
It’s fine; we respect the writers and are happy to offer them this treatment.”
As they spoke, they returned to the guesthouse.
Chen Qi entered, closed the door, and formally began his freeloading life.
Since the fastest revision record was twenty days, he figured he could manage that. Then he’d publish in “Film Creation” first to avoid clashing with the original author.

Once the draft was finalized and production organized, he could continue freeloading. Finish “Love on Mount Lu,” then write another one, then another—endless freeloading…
To be honest, although “Love on Mount Lu” was a classic, he couldn’t stand watching it.
Some classics are made by their era.
Others are timeless classics.
For example, watching “The Bund,” the 1983 version of “The Legend of the Condor Heroes,” or “Fearless,” he’d find them awkward. But watching the CCTV adaptations of the Four Great Classical Novels, he could enjoy them thoroughly—they remain perennial favorites.
Master Liu may not be the best character, but the Monkey King never gets old;
The Silver Horned King is adorably goofy;
Daiyu and Baochai’s first intimate encounter;
General Lü Bu just received a batch of Western armor, Pan Jinlian’s legs are fair and long, and the Yang Simin version is even better…
So why did Chen Qi still want to work on “Love on Mount Lu”?
Frankly, it was also an era factor. He dared not try untested films to test the waters in 1979. His ideas were numerous, but many clashed with the current environment, even considered monstrous.
If the environment were more open, he could soar directly…
“Though I’m freeloading, I should at least put on a show!”
Chen Qi opened the window; outside, willows swayed gently. Sitting at the desk, he flipped through the script, filled with revision notes.
Following Liang Xiaosheng’s advice, he gathered glue and manuscript paper, wrote new content, and pasted it onto the script. After attaching a few hundred words, he snapped it shut.
“OK! Today’s work is done!”

(End.)