Returning to the 82 Mountain Village: An Encounter with the Journey to the West Film Crew at the Beg

Zhou Fangyuan gripped his pen tightly and took a deep breath on the brand-new page of his notebook.

With a touch of solemn awkwardness, he wrote his first fictional yet real title, as well as the name of his first character.

The road ahead is long, and at this moment, a brand new creative impulse is slowly merging with his deep affection for his hometown, becoming another unique and precious sustenance in his baggage.

The train slowly pulled into a small station, and the passengers getting on and off brought a brief moment of noise.

Zhou Fangyuan snapped out of his reverie, carefully put away his notebook, and his gaze inadvertently swept over the empty seats across from him.

With a clang, the train started moving again, and a passenger, guided by the train conductor, went to the seat opposite him.

She wore a well-tailored dark gray wool coat with a light-colored silk scarf tied around her neck.

Her jet-black hair was neatly tied up at the back of her head, revealing a smooth forehead and a very distinctive face.

With distinct eyebrows and eyes, slightly high cheekbones, and clear lip lines, she exudes a cool and focused aura even without makeup.

She carried a slightly worn leather travel bag in her hand, and after sitting down, she neatly placed the bag at her feet with a brisk movement.

She seemed to habitually glance around quickly, her gaze lingering briefly on Zhou Fangyuan's face before she nodded slightly as a greeting.

He took out a book from his bag and began to read it, appearing quiet and aloof.

Zhou Fangyuan felt that this woman had a rather special temperament, but he didn't think much of it.

His thoughts were drawn back to the budding idea for the script, and he couldn't help but open his notebook again, gazing intently at the blank pages, brainstorming ideas.

He would sometimes quickly write a few lines, and then cross them out, his brows slightly furrowed, completely immersed in his own world, his fingers unconsciously tapping a rhythm on his knees.

This oblivious focus gradually attracted the attention of the passengers opposite.

She hadn't turned the pages of the book in her hand for a long time. She lifted her gaze from the top of the page and quietly fell on Zhou Fangyuan and the notebook on his lap.

Watching him sometimes seem dazed, sometimes perplexed, his brushstrokes seemingly battling an invisible image, a hint of inquiry flickered in her eyes.

As an actress, she is no stranger to the creative process.

When Zhou Fangyuan put down her pen again, looked out the window at the rushing scenery, took a deep breath as if drawing inspiration, and then closed the book in her hands.

He spoke softly in a gentle tone:

"Excuse me, comrade, you seem quite engrossed in your writing. What are you creating?"

Hearing the sound, Zhou Fangyuan pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked up.

The woman opposite him was looking at him with a calm and direct gaze, questioning but not offensive.

He smiled somewhat embarrassedly: "It's not really creative work, just some random scribblings to record my thoughts."

"Recording thoughts?" Her gaze fell on the worn-out notebook, as if she didn't believe it was just ordinary note-taking.

"I noticed you were writing and pausing, looking very focused, as if you were conceiving a scene, or... a character?"

Her observation was very sharp, which surprised Zhou Fangyuan slightly; he hadn't expected her to be able to see through it.

"You have a good eye," he said frankly. "I did think of some people and things from my hometown, and I was a little moved, so I wanted to try to write a short segment in the form of a script."

I'm just a beginner, please excuse my amateurishness.

"Script?" The word clearly piqued her interest, and she sat up slightly. "You're the screenwriter?"

"No, no, I do some auxiliary work on set, I'm not a professional screenwriter."

Zhou Fangyuan quickly waved his hand and continued to explain, "It's just that when I went home this time, I saw and heard some things that I found particularly interesting, and I kept thinking about them, so my hands started itching."

"Where is your hometown? Is it here?" she asked, her tone now showing genuine concern.

"Yes, a small village in the mountainous area of ​​central Hunan."

"Hunan..." She nodded slightly, seemingly lost in thought, "Different places have different people."

What makes you so attached to it and want to write it down must be something very real and essential about that land.

What many scripts lack nowadays is this genuine emotion and down-to-earth feel.

She spoke calmly and deliberately, using precise words with a sense of rational analysis. Zhou Fangyuan nodded in agreement; her words resonated with him.

"You're absolutely right!" he exclaimed, somewhat excitedly. "It's that genuine feeling!"

For example, when the old village party secretary held the commune's approval document, his hands trembled slightly. It wasn't because he was nervous, but because he felt a heavy responsibility.

For example, my mother used a fragrant leaf unique to our mountains to experiment with new methods little by little. Her patience was remarkable, and the gleam in her eyes when she finally succeeded...

I find these subtle expressions and emotions more moving than any grand philosophy.

"A distinctive scented leaf?" She caught this detail and leaned forward to ask, "Is it a spice? Or a herb?"

"It's called fish-fragrant leaf. It's excellent for removing the fishy smell and adding aroma when stewing meat. I heard that it only grows in a few mountain villages and is very difficult to transplant."

Zhou Fangyuan explained, "My mother used it to try making different kinds of dried sweet potatoes."

"Fish-fragrant leaf..." she repeated softly, as if savoring the name and the local flavor behind it.

"A very special detail... The taste of food is often linked to the deepest memories and regional characteristics. You noticed this and wanted to incorporate it into your story..."

She looked at Zhou Fangyuan, paused, and then her eyes showed even more admiration.

"This shows that you have a keen eye for detail and a keen sense of perception, which is a very important aspect of creative work."

Receiving such professional affirmation warmed Zhou Fangyuan's heart, and he became even more eager to talk.

He briefly recounted the background of the village's search for a way out, the patient experiments conducted in the kitchen, and the quiet farewell in the morning mist.

As he described it, vivid images filled his mind, and his words naturally conveyed warmth.

She listened attentively without interrupting, only nodding slightly at crucial points occasionally.

As the conversation progressed smoothly, Zhou Fangyuan became increasingly curious about her identity.

"Comrade, you seem quite knowledgeable about screenwriting. You are...?"

She paused for a moment, seemingly as if habitually considering her words, before speaking frankly:

"I'm Pan Hong, and I work at Emei Film Studio. I'm currently doing publicity work." Her tone was calm and normal, as if she were talking about something very ordinary.

Pan Hong? Zhou Fangyuan was truly stunned this time.

Even though he is now just a young junior in the crew, he could never have been unaware of Pan Hong's name in his previous life.

This actress, affiliated with Emei Film Studio, gained fame for her role as Lu Wenting in the recent hit film "Ren Dao Zhong Nian".

The actress, who moved countless viewers with her extremely profound and delicate performance and won the Golden Rooster Award for Best Actress, is currently a highly regarded and respected figure in the film industry.

He never expected that he would sit next to her and talk on this hard-seat train.