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

The old factory director, watching from the side, couldn't help but cough, reminding Liang Xiaosheng to be mindful of his image.

Liang Xiaosheng then realized that he was still in the factory director's office, and that the old factory director was still there.

He stopped abruptly, somewhat embarrassed, but his excitement and eagerness remained undiminished. He simply stared at Cheng Xuemin, waiting for him to deliver another stroke of inspiration.

Cheng Xuemin smiled but did not immediately answer Liang Xiaosheng's barrage of questions.

What he just said is merely a common framework used in some later ensemble martial arts or treasure-hunting adventure works.

But for Liang Xiaosheng of this era, and for creators who have not yet been thoroughly exposed to formulas, this is undoubtedly a rich mine full of novelty and potential for exploration.

That's enough; the rest should be left for the creators to fill in and develop.

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime!
Instead of simply teaching someone how to fish, it's better to inspire their desire to fish and their ability to create new fishing nets!
"Old Liang!" Cheng Xuemin put down his cup, looked at the impatient Liang Xiaosheng, and said slowly, "I've given you the framework and pointed out the direction."

"You'll need to come up with and flesh out the remaining characters, plots, and details yourself."

“You can set it in any historical context, the Ming Dynasty, the Song Dynasty, or even a fictional dynasty.”

"Those extraordinary people can be wandering knight-errants, craftsmen hidden in the city, or freaks with unique skills who are not accepted by the world."

"The mission could be to save the country, to seek revenge, or to uncover an ancient secret."

"The ending could be a successful retirement, a heroic sacrifice, or even... leaving an open and intriguing conclusion."

He paused, his tone now tinged with encouragement and expectation: "I believe that with your writing skills and understanding of martial arts, you will definitely be able to write this story well, with originality and depth."

"This is not just a story about stealing treasure; it can also be a story about humanity, trust, sacrifice, and faith."

"The core of martial arts is not necessarily fists and swords; it can also be wisdom and loyalty, and the brilliance of humanity that shines in desperate situations!"

As Liang Xiaosheng listened, the light in his eyes grew brighter and brighter. His initial ecstasy slowly settled into a burning, focused intensity, brimming with creative impulse.

He stopped pressing for details and instead narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers gesturing unconsciously in the air.

He was muttering to himself, as if he had already begun to construct that bizarre and fantastical world in his mind, sketching out those extraordinary people with unique skills...

"It's not just about stealing treasure!" Seeing that he was deep in thought, Cheng Xuemin added fuel to the fire. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear, striking Liang Xiaosheng's rapidly working mind.

"You need to think about why these are the people. They may each have a shameful past, unspeakable grievances, or reasons for being ostracized by the mainstream underworld."

"Was the force that brought them together coercion, enticement, or a promise they couldn't refuse, or...?"

A shared goal, transcending personal grudges?

"They are not a monolithic group. There is suspicion, scheming, ideological conflict, and possibly even... an inside traitor."

"On the perilous road to their goal, they not only face external traps, deadly mechanisms, and powerful guards, but also internal crises of trust and tests of humanity."

When interests clash with morality, and personal convictions conflict with team goals, what will they choose?

Cheng Xuemin's voice seemed to possess a certain allure, slowly unfolding a grander and more profound picture before Liang Xiaosheng.

"The treasure, or the secret, may just be a trigger."

"The real story is how this group of marginalized people, driven together by fate or some other force, find what they truly want to protect in the process, achieve their own redemption, or... head towards their own destiny."

It can be lively, bizarre, or... tragic, profound.

Liang Xiaosheng was completely stunned!

He maintained that slightly forward-leaning posture, his hands loosely clasped, his eyes fixed on Cheng Xuemin, his breathing becoming shallow, as if afraid of missing a single word.

Cheng Xuemin's words were like a key, instantly unlocking countless tightly closed doors in his mind.

The routines, repetitions, and creative blockages that had previously plagued him seemed to have been blown away by a gust of wind, replaced by a surging creative impulse that almost overwhelmed him.

"I...I think I understand now..."

Liang Xiaosheng muttered to himself, his gaze somewhat unfocused, but his eyes were not on Cheng Xuemin's face. Instead, they pierced through him and were directed at some ethereal world constructed from countless sparks of inspiration.

"It's not simply about gathering, overcoming obstacles, and obtaining treasure... it's about people, about the human heart, about testing humanity in dire straits, about finding possibility in the impossible..."

Yes, yes! That's it! The intrigues of the imperial court, the helplessness of the martial world, the struggles of ordinary people, the sweeping influence of the times… Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!

He slapped his forehead hard, making a sharp crack, and sprang up as if electrified, pacing rapidly a couple of steps in the cramped office space.

He turned around abruptly, his eyes shining brightly: "Xuemin! I understand! I really understand! You didn't just provide a story framework, you enlightened me!"

"Martial arts fiction can be written like this! No, stories should be written like this!"

He was so excited his face turned bright red, and he gestured wildly, completely forgetting the occasion and the old factory director beside him, gesturing at the air:

"A master thief burdened with a blood feud, a master of disguise tormented by love, a Mohist outcast obsessed with mechanisms yet rejected by orthodox tradition, a blind storyteller with ventriloquism and knowledge of countless secrets..."

They were blackmailed by a mysterious person who used their most prized possessions to steal the legendary Imperial Seal that was said to be able to overthrow the dynasty!

No, no, the imperial seal is too vulgar... It could be... a painting!

A landscape painting that hides a vast treasure from a previous dynasty, or perhaps a shocking secret!
Yes! The picture is inside the imperial palace, or in the secret treasury of some feudal lord!

Liang Xiaosheng spoke faster and faster, his words like a machine gun, his thoughts crackling with ideas:
"Along the way, they each harbored their own ulterior motives, were wary of each other, yet had to work together to solve one incomprehensible trap after another, evade the pursuit and interception of the imperial court's experts, and also deal with the conspiracy behind that mysterious organization..."

In this process, some betray, some sacrifice, some let go of their obsessions, and some find a new life...

Finally, after going through all sorts of hardships to obtain the picture, they discovered…

He froze, his eyes wide, as if he were witnessing the breathtaking ending he had envisioned, his voice trembling slightly with excitement:
"But they discovered that what was hidden in that picture was not a treasure map at all, but... a secret that could ruin the power holders and throw the world into chaos!"

A secret concerning the royal bloodline, even the legitimacy of the dynasty!

"What they got was not wealth, but a hot potato, a spark that could ignite a monstrous wave!"

What should they do now? Make it public, or destroy it?

Should they hand it over to the mysterious person who is blackmailing them, or... take control of the secret themselves and exchange it for a new life?

Or perhaps they discover that the mysterious person is actually a member of the imperial court, whose purpose is to lure out the painting, or the person behind it.

My God... this conflict, this tension..." Liang Xiaosheng was completely immersed in the storm of inspiration that had just been ignited within him.

He suddenly bent down, grabbed the old canvas bag that had fallen to the ground, and without saying another word to Wang Yang and Cheng Xuemin, turned and rushed towards the office door, muttering to himself:

"I have to get back quickly! I need to write all this down! Characters... background... conflict..."

Yes, and it needs a title, a catchy one… "The Secret Records of the Extraordinary Heroes?" "The Deceptive Tactics of Mountains and Rivers?" Or perhaps "xxxxx?"

At that moment, his mind felt like a boiling boiler had been stuffed inside, the steam making his temples throb. Countless images of characters, plot fragments, and dialogue pieces were churning, colliding, and combining within it.

He has only one thought in mind right now:
He immediately returned to his office, which was filled with manuscripts and books, picked up his pen, and wrote down all that was pouring out of him!
Even a second's delay could extinguish a spark of inspiration!

Bang!
The office door rattled and made a sound as Liang Xiaosheng slammed it shut.

The old factory director and Cheng Xuemin exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of helplessness, but mostly a smile, in each other's eyes.

The old factory director even shook his head and chuckled, "That Liang Xiaosheng! Really..."

He couldn't find the right word right away!
But Liang Xiaosheng had barely rushed out for three seconds when the hurried footsteps outside the office suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

Then there was the slightly harsh squeaking sound of the shoe soles rubbing against the cement ground.

Immediately afterwards, the footsteps returned, even more hurried than before, and the door was pushed open again with a bang.

Liang Xiaosheng's face was flushed. He gripped the door frame with one hand and leaned half his body inside. Sweat glistened on his forehead in the sunlight.

He was panting heavily, his eyes first scanning the office blankly, then suddenly focusing on Cheng Xuemin, as if he had just remembered something extremely important. He slapped his forehead, his voice slightly distorted from running and excitement:
"Wait! Xuemin! Look at my brain! I was so focused on asking about the notebook!"

"How did your trip to Cannes go? I think I just heard someone downstairs shouting about an award... a gold... what's that gold thing?"

Only then did he belatedly realize that his hasty rush up here, besides urging for the manuscript and seeking inspiration, should have also been to inquire about the achievements of this East Depot director and talent scout who had just returned from the international film festival.
I was just overwhelmed by the anxiety of creative block and the sudden burst of inspiration, and I completely forgot about this matter.

Returning now, his face, besides still showing excitement, also carried a belated expression, a mixture of curiosity and a little embarrassment.

Before Cheng Xuemin could answer, the old factory director, who had been sitting and watching the show, finally couldn't hold back any longer. He put down his teacup, leaned back, pointed at Liang Xiaosheng with his finger, and said with a mocking laugh:
"You, Liang Xiaosheng! You actually know how to care about Xuemin's trip to Cannes, France? Huh?"

"I thought all you cared about were your notebooks and your inspirations!"

He rushed in, rattled off a whole bunch of things, then dusted himself off and left. Now he suddenly remembers to ask questions?

The old factory director's voice was loud and clear, carrying the teasing tone of an elder reprimanding a younger generation, but his face showed little anger, more of a wry smile.

"The Palme d'Or! The highest honor in the international film industry! This is the first time Chinese filmmakers have won it! It was brought back by Xue Min, by our film 'Redemption'!"

"You little rascal, have you gone mad from working in isolation? This great news has spread throughout the factory, but you're completely oblivious to everything else, focusing solely on writing martial arts novels!"

"Golden... Golden Palm?!" Liang Xiaosheng's expression froze instantly, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes behind his glasses widened as if he had heard some unbelievable fantasy.

He first glanced at the old factory director, whose face seemed to say, "You only just remembered to ask this now?" Then he suddenly turned to Cheng Xuemin, his eyes filled with shock, a desire for confirmation, and a hint of belated elation.

"Xuemin! Director Cheng! Really?! He really won the Palme d'Or? The Cannes Film Festival... the highest award?"

Liang Xiaosheng's voice suddenly rose, and he even cracked a little from being too excited.

His fingers gripped the door frame so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he leaned forward slightly, as if trying to see a definite answer on Cheng Xuemin's face.

Looking at Liang Xiaosheng's appearance, Cheng Xuemin found it somewhat amusing.

This fellow is quite a character!
Upon entering, all he sees is his martial arts script and his lack of inspiration; even the most exciting news can drift past his ears, but he can automatically filter it out.

It wasn't until my creative crisis was temporarily resolved that I suddenly remembered this.

He nodded, his tone calm but with an undeniable certainty: "Yes, it's true. The Palme d'Or, Best Film!"

"My God..." Liang Xiaosheng gasped, as if frozen in place, standing motionless at the door, maintaining that comical posture of gripping the door frame and leaning forward for a full three or four seconds.

Immediately, a huge emotion, a mixture of shock, ecstasy, and pride, erupted on his face like a volcano.

That expression was ten times more interesting than when he heard the new martial arts idea.

"The Palme d'Or! It really is the Palme d'Or! My God! Xuemin! Director Cheng! You're amazing! Absolutely incredible!"

Liang Xiaosheng abruptly released his grip on the door frame and stepped into the office. Because of the sudden movement, he almost tripped over the threshold.

But he didn't care at all, waving his arms, his facial muscles contorted with excitement, his voice so loud it could almost lift the roof off:
"This is Cannes! The world's top film festival! The Palme d'Or! Our Chinese films, no, our Asian films, won it, right?"

My God! This...this is like...launching a satellite! No, it's like launching an atomic bomb!

Xuemin, this time you've truly dropped a bombshell on our country and on us filmmakers, a bomb that has shocked the world!

He was so excited he was incoherent, and started pacing around the office again, this time not to come up with a plot, but simply because he was too excited to contain himself:

"I knew it! I knew you weren't an ordinary person! But I never expected you to go so far as to cause such a huge uproar!"

"The Palme d'Or! Haha! The Palme d'Or! Let's see who dares to say that Chinese films are unsophisticated and country bumpkins now!"
We have the Palme d'Or! Xuemin, you brought the Palme d'Or back!

"Congratulations! Xuemin! No, Director Cheng! I... I represent... I represent myself, and all the creative comrades in our factory, congratulations!"
You've really given us all a lot of face! No, you've brought us back a mountain of gold!

As he spoke, he suddenly remembered something, turned around abruptly, and repeatedly cupped his hands in greeting to the old factory director, Wang Yang, his face beaming with a wide smile.

"Congratulations to the former factory director! Congratulations to our Yanying Factory! We've really made a name for ourselves this time!"

"No, I have to go back right away. I have to write this in my creative diary! No, I have to write a whole article about it! The Palme d'Or! This is a momentous event that will be recorded in the history of Chinese cinema!"

Liang Xiaosheng's emotions at this moment were like a balloon filled with air, which was suddenly inflated to its maximum size by the words "Palm of France" and was still expanding.

His face was glowing red, and his eyes were frighteningly bright!
The excitement from the inspiration I had just felt was mixed with the ecstasy I felt upon hearing the earth-shattering news.

This put him in a state of extreme excitement, and he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet.

"Oh, right! Where's the trophy? The Palme d'Or trophy! I need to see it! I need to see it with my own eyes! I need to touch it!"

……

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