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

At this moment, Mr. Feng gazed at Hong Kong across the river, his face filled with worry!
Secretary Xiao Zhao stood quietly a few steps behind him, holding a document in her hand, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

He could sense the heavy worry emanating from this leader, a worry even more so than the sweltering night air of the south.

“Little Zhao!” Mr. Feng suddenly spoke, his voice steady but with a barely perceptible hoarseness, “Scholar-Min… has been in Hong Kong for over seventy days, hasn’t he?”

Xiao Zhao stepped forward: "Yes, Secretary Feng, Comrade Cheng Xuemin led the team and has been gone for seventy-six days."

"Not a single word?" Mr. Feng didn't turn around, his gaze still fixed on the dazzling sea of ​​light across the opposite shore. "No telegrams have come from Yanjing either?"

Xiao Zhao's throat tightened a little, and he replied in a low voice, "No, the lines on our side... as you know, the channels leading to the other side are strictly controlled."

Making a phone call requires layers of approval, even more difficult than in Beijing; as for a telegram… it’s even more so…”

Mr. Feng gave a soft "hmm" and said nothing more.

He was well aware of the harsh conditions and poor communication here.

I thought that being close to the border would make it easier to gather information, but who knew it would turn out like this.

Although we were far away in Yanjing, we could at least occasionally get some news through special channels within the ministry.

Once you get here, you'll truly be blind.

Whether his son-in-law and his group of people were successful or not, safe or dangerous, he had no idea.

This feeling of suspense was even stronger than when I was in Yanjing.

He recalled the sharpness and determination in his son-in-law's eyes before he left, and he also remembered his old leader, Old Wu, patting his son-in-law Xuemin on the shoulder and saying, "Go ahead and do it, we'll take care of things at home."

But now, two months have passed, and there has been no news at all.

He wasn't completely unaware of the rumors circulating outside, but he forced himself not to believe them.

But in the stillness of the night, that worry would creep up on me like seaweed, getting tighter and tighter.

"I hope something has happened to this kid." Mr. Feng muttered to himself in a very low voice, as if he were talking to himself, or as if the words were being blown away by the wind.

He pulled his thin Zhongshan suit tighter around himself; even the southern night felt chilly to the bone.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps broke the silence of the corridor.

The communications officer, Xiao Wang, came running up, panting, with a thin telegram in his hand.

"Secretary Feng! Yanjing! An urgent, encrypted telegram from Yanjing!" Xiao Wang's voice was distorted from running, and his face was flushed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Mr. Feng turned around abruptly, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

Xiao Zhao immediately stepped forward to take the telegram, quickly glanced at the special markings and decoding requirements, and his expression instantly turned serious.

"It was sent directly by Elder Wu from the ministry, top secret." Xiao Zhao lowered his voice and handed the telegram to Feng's father.

Mr. Feng took the light piece of paper, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly.

He walked to the dim incandescent light at the end of the corridor and, in the faint light, quickly read the text that the translator had just transcribed.

The telegram was very short, consisting of only a few lines.

But when Mr. Feng's gaze swept over those key numbers and words, his pupils suddenly contracted.

His fingers gripped the edge of the telegram so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The muscles in his face tensed up first, then slowly relaxed, and finally, an expression of immense shock, relief, and indescribable pride spread across his weathered face.

He looked at it three times before slowly raising his head and gazing at the Hong Kong River on the opposite bank.

This time, his gaze was no longer filled with unease and worry, but became profound, as if trying to pierce through the sea of ​​lights to find the young man who was creating a miracle.

"Good...good lad!" Father Feng uttered three words from his chest, his voice not loud, but carrying immense weight.

He slammed his hand heavily on the weathered wooden railing, making it vibrate and groan. "Well done!"

Xiao Zhao and Xiao Wang looked at each other, both of them stunned by the secretary's sudden excitement.

They had never seen Secretary Feng so out of control.

"Secretary Feng...is there...is there news about Comrade Cheng Xuemin?" Xiao Zhao asked tentatively.

Instead of answering directly, Mr. Feng handed the telegram to Xiao Zhao, turned around, faced the direction of Hong Kong again, and took a deep breath of the air, which smelled of the river.

His back was ramrod straight in the dim light.

Xiao Zhao quickly glanced at the telegram, his eyes widening instantly, and he gasped in shock:
"Twenty-eight million... US dollars?! Guaranteed profit sharing?! This... this..."

He was so shocked by the number that he couldn't utter a complete sentence. When Xiao Wang came over to take a look, he was completely dumbfounded.

"Did you see it clearly?" Mr. Feng's voice came, carrying a triumphant and triumphant tone.
"They didn't disappear without a trace; they've been quietly working on something big! Twenty-eight million US dollars! And that's just a minimum guarantee! This means if the box office goes well, there'll be even more!"

He turned around, a barely suppressed smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with excitement:

"Immediately issue a notice: convene a meeting of all cadres first thing tomorrow morning! We need to speed things up! The other side is making a big splash; we can't keep up with their small-scale efforts here!"

"Yes, Secretary Feng!" Xiao Zhao and Xiao Wang responded in unison, their voices filled with excitement.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Yanjing, the office of Wang Yang, the director of Yanying Film Studio, presented a completely different scene.

The office was packed with people, filled with smoke, and the air was so polluted it could be set on fire.

The heads of various departments, the factory's veteran directors and screenwriters, and a few people from other units who seemed concerned but were actually just trying to find out information all chattered away, creating a noisy atmosphere.

"Old factory director, it's been over two months! We haven't heard a single word from Cheng Xuemin. Is this normal?"

"Exactly! They made all sorts of promises when they left, like making foreign exchange and earning US dollars, but now, we don't even know if they're alive or dead!"

"Old Wang, I'm not trying to be mean, but the rumors going around are really awful! They're saying all sorts of things! They're saying their whole regiment was detained, that Cheng Xuemin led some kind of... escape!"

"How much resources did the factory invest in this Eastern Depot? Now look what's happened, not only have they lost everything, but they're also being made the scapegoat!"

The old factory director, Wang Yang, sat behind his large desk, his gray hair somewhat disheveled, and his forehead covered in a layer of oily sweat.

The ashtray in front of him was piled high with cigarette butts, and he had a half-smoked Daqianmen cigarette between his fingers. His face was ashen.

"Enough!" Wang Yang slammed his hand on the table, making the teacups rattle. "What's all this noise about! Be quiet!"

The office fell silent instantly, and everyone looked at him.

"Comrade Cheng Xuemin is the head of the Eastern Depot appointed by the organization! He is leading the team out to carry out an important mission!"

"No news means they're focused on their work! All this talk of escape or detention is utter nonsense! Anyone spreading such rumors again, the security department must investigate immediately! Find one, punish them! No leniency whatsoever!"

Wang Yang's voice was hoarse with excitement, his chest heaving. He glanced around, his gaze sharp: "I know what some of you are thinking! You think I, Old Wang, am biased, and that the Eastern Depot is a bottomless pit!"

Let me tell you, the difficulties Comrade Cheng Xuemin faces in Hong Kong are far greater than you can imagine while sitting in your office!

That's the glitz and glamour of capitalism, a den of wolves! He's earning foreign exchange for the country, he's fighting for the honor of Chinese cinema!

Just then, the red internal telephone on the desk suddenly rang sharply.

The piercing ringtone, like a knife, shattered the tense atmosphere in the office.

Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on the phone. At this moment, a direct call to the factory manager's office via that red phone was no small matter.

Wang Yang took a deep breath, tried to calm himself down, and reached for the receiver.

"Hello, this is Wang Yang."

A calm yet slightly hurried voice came from the other end of the phone; it was the director of the department's general office.

"Old Wang, Old Wu wants to speak with you. Get ready to take notes."

Wang Yang's heart sank suddenly. He subconsciously straightened his back and quickly grabbed his pen and notebook with his other hand.

The office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone sensed that something big was about to happen.

"Is this Comrade Wang Yang?" Wu Lao's familiar and authoritative voice came through the receiver, but today, there seemed to be something unusual in that voice...
“Old Wu! It’s me!” Wang Yang quickly replied.

"Yes. Two things." Old Wu's voice was not loud, and his pace was slow, but every word carried great weight. "First, the Ministry has taken note of the various irresponsible speculations and discussions about Comrade Cheng Xuemin and his working group that have been circulating in society and within some organizations recently."

This unhealthy trend must be resolutely stopped! Your factory's Party Committee must take immediate action to thoroughly investigate the source of the rumors, severely punish those responsible, and stabilize the morale of the workforce! This is a political task!

"Yes, Elder Wu! We will carry it out immediately! Deploy it right away!" Wang Yang's heart was in his throat. Sure enough, it was about this matter! It seems the pressure has already reached the ministry.

"Second!" Old Wu paused, then his voice suddenly rose slightly, as if containing an irrepressible excitement. "I have good news for you, and for all the comrades who are concerned about this matter!"

Wang Yang gripped his pen tightly, pricked up his ears, and everyone in the office craned their necks.

"We've just received confirmation from the front lines! Comrade Xuemin has lived up to expectations, leading his work team through arduous efforts to successfully reach agreements with several film companies in Europe, America, and Japan! The guaranteed revenue sharing amount for his new film, *Shaolin Temple*, overseas rights is..."

Old Wu paused deliberately, as if to allow the power of this number to be fully released.

"...Twenty-eight million! US dollars!"

"Buzz!"

Wang Yang felt as if a hornet's nest had exploded in his head, leaving him completely blank.

Twenty-eight million? US dollars?

Did he hear wrongly?
He subconsciously repeated, his voice dry and hoarse: "How...how much? Mr. Wu...how much did you say?"

"Twenty-eight million! US dollars! Did you hear me clearly?" Old Wu's voice was firm and decisive, with an undeniable force. "This is just the minimum guarantee!"

"After the film's release, there will be a considerable share of the profits based on its box office performance! The first payment has already been processed through the Hong Kong branch of the Bank of China!"

The confirmed numbers exploded in Wang Yang's ears like a thunderclap.

His mouth was agape, and his hand holding the receiver trembled violently uncontrollably, causing his pen to fall onto the table with a clatter.

He seemed to be frozen in place, his face turning from pale to red, then from red to white, and beads of sweat instantly appeared on his forehead.

"Comrade Wang Yang? Wang Yang? Are you listening?" Old Wu raised his voice on the other end of the phone.

"Yes! I'm listening! Old Wu!" Wang Yang snapped back to reality, almost shouting, his voice hoarse and trembling with emotion.

"Twenty-eight million... US dollars! Guaranteed profit sharing! I... I heard you clearly! I heard you clearly!"

His outburst was like a bomb that exploded in the quiet office!
Everyone crammed into the office was stunned!

Everyone stared wide-eyed, mouths agape, their faces filled with disbelief and utter shock!
Twenty-eight million US dollars?
What is this concept?
After so many years of operation, the combined profits of all the films produced by Yanying Film Studio probably don't even amount to a fraction of this!
"My God..."

"How much? Twenty-eight million? In US dollars?"

"Am I dreaming?"

"Cheng Xuemin...how...how did he do that?!"

Exclamations, gasps, and mutterings filled the office instantly.

All the previous doubts, complaints, and ridicule have vanished without a trace, replaced by immense shock and bewilderment.

Wang Yang abruptly stood up, disregarding all decorum. He gripped the phone receiver tightly with both hands, as if holding a priceless treasure, and spoke excitedly and incoherently into the microphone:

"Old Wu! Thank you to the organization! Thank you to the ministry for your trust! Comrade Cheng Xuemin... he did not disappoint us! He did! He is outstanding! He is the pride of our Yan Film Studio! He is the pride of Chinese cinema!"

"Alright, alright!" Old Wu seemed to chuckle on the other end of the phone, his tone much calmer. "Calm down, Lao Wang. Before the official announcement, be mindful of confidentiality."

"But we must seize this opportunity to firmly curb that unhealthy trend! We must let everyone know that the comrades sent out by the organization are serving the country, not just sightseeing!"

"Yes! Yes! Elder Wu! I understand! I will convene a Party Committee meeting immediately! No! I will convene a meeting of all cadres in the factory! I want everyone to hear this amazing news!" Wang Yang was so excited that his face turned red.

After hanging up the phone, Wang Yang was still immersed in the huge shock and excitement. He put down the receiver, braced his hands on the table, and breathed heavily.

He glanced around the office at the faces of those still reeling from the shock, then slammed his hand on the table, his voice booming with a triumphant satisfaction:
"Did you all hear that?! Huh?! Did you all hear that clearly?! Twenty-eight million! US dollars! Guaranteed profit sharing! This is the report card that Comrade Cheng Xuemin has handed over to the country! This is the achievement of the Eastern Depot in just six months!"

He pointed at the group of people who had been jumping the loudest and saying the most offensive things, his voice firm and resonant:
"Who just said they lost everything? Who said they disappeared without a trace? Who said they ran away and stayed abroad? And now?! Don't you feel ashamed?! Huh?!"

Those people were blushing and wished they could disappear into the ground.

"I'm telling you!" Wang Yang straightened his back, his voice carrying throughout the office and even reaching outside the door, shouting:

"Comrade Cheng Xuemin and his comrades in Hong Kong are not enjoying themselves! They are fighting! They are earning US dollars, foreign exchange, and honor for Chinese cinema in a den of wolves and tigers!"

"What are you all doing? Sitting in the office with the fan on, drinking tea, gossiping, and pulling each other down! Aren't you ashamed?!"

"From now on, I don't want to hear any more strange talk about Comrade Cheng Xuemin and the Eastern Depot! Anyone who dares to spout nonsense again, don't blame me, Wang Yang, for being ruthless! Meeting adjourned!"

Amidst a buzz of discussion and complex gazes, the crowd slowly dispersed.

The old factory director, Wang Yang, stayed alone in his office. He walked to the window, opened it, and let the evening breeze in. He breathed a long sigh of relief, a smile of relief spreading across his face, though his eyes were a little moist.

"Good lad...you really make our Yan Ying Factory Director proud..."

……

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