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

Zhang Jinlai didn't say much, but the two of them could see the affection he showed through his body language.

"Whatever you like! Hehe."

Xiao Zhang was overjoyed to see his hard work being valued so highly.

"If you like it, then all our effort wasn't wasted!"

Zhou Fangyuan glanced around the room and casually asked, "Isn't Teacher Wang Yue here?"

"Oh." Zhang Jinlai gently placed the wooden carving back on the soft cloth.

He handled the object with great care before answering.

"After lunch, he and Liu Yi went out, saying that they were bored staying in the house for too long and wanted to go out for a walk."

They called me too... but I didn't go.

His voice softened, and he shook his head slightly, his tone revealing little emotion, simply stating a choice.

He carried with him the inherent calmness and slight aloofness of his personality.

Zhou Fangyuan understood; he knew Zhang Jinlai's personality.

Being able to accept the gift and sincerely thank the giver, and even proactively explain where the roommate went, is already a significant improvement.

"It's good to go out for some fresh air," Zhou Fangyuan said, going along with the suggestion.

"But right now you really need to focus on figuring out the character. This wood carving is yours to keep."

This is meant to bolster our future Great Sage's presence and add a touch of divine aura.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Jinlai's genuine smile deepened.

He looked at the Monkey King on the table again, his fingers unconsciously stroking the base, and gave a soft reply.

"Yes, thank you Fang Yuan... and You Qing too."

The afternoon sun shone through the glass, enveloping the lifelike Monkey King statue and illuminating the faces of the three people conversing.

Zhang Jinlai still needed to practice hard, so the two of them didn't stay long and walked back along the corridor of the guesthouse.

The afternoon sun slanted in, casting long shadows on the old-fashioned terrazzo floor.

Turning a corner, I ran into two people from another film crew, who were smoking and chatting.

"Hey, Yuqing."

One of the older workers recognized Xiao Zhang and waved to him.

Xiao Zhang responded and walked over with a smile.

Master Wang smiled and pointed to a somewhat unfamiliar young man beside him.

"This is our newest member, Xiao Zhao. He might have to learn from you guys in the future."

After exchanging a few pleasantries, they parted ways and left.

After walking a dozen or so steps, I could vaguely hear a few words of conversation drifting over from behind.

It was the new bride's voice, lowered.

"Isn't Journey to the West something only kids watch? How many people would watch it if it were made into a TV series?"

A response followed, tinged with a hoarse, husky voice and casual banter.

"Who knows? They'll have to paint their faces all over like they're in a theatrical performance. How can they look good? All that effort is just a waste of money."

Their team was a last-minute makeshift group, made up of people from all over the place. Just imagine, hmph~ Hurry up and leave, their team members have bad tempers.”

The sound faded into the distance, eventually disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Zhou Fangyuan did not stop walking, his expression remained unchanged, as if he had not heard anything.

But Xiao Zhang beside him suddenly stopped in his tracks, his shoulders instantly tensing.

He turned around, his eyes fixed on the direction where the two men had disappeared, his chest heaving, on the verge of blurting out something or chasing after them to argue.

Zhou Fangyuan reacted quickly and grabbed his arm.

The force of his hand was not light, carrying a clear meaning of restraint, but his face remained calm. He simply turned his head to look at Xiao Zhang, his gaze calm and steady, and shook his head slightly.

"Brother Zhou, they..." Xiao Zhang gasped for breath, his voice filled with anger and resentment.

"I heard you." Zhou Fangyuan interrupted him, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear. "Let them talk."

"But……"

"Youqing." Zhou Fangyuan loosened his grip slightly, but still didn't let go.

He looked into Xiao Zhang's eyes and said, word by word.

"We walked this path ourselves, and we filmed this movie ourselves. It's too early to say anything now; time will tell."

There was not a trace of anger in his tone, nor any agitation at being offended.

There is only one kind of certainty that comes from weathering storms and understanding the road ahead.

And a high level of composure and confidence, which is to shut out the noise and focus on the road ahead, which I learned from Qian Xuesen's notes.

Looking into his calm eyes, Xiao Zhang felt as if the resentment in his chest had hit a silent but resilient wall.

The urge to argue and fight gradually subsided, replaced by a sense of resentment.

He gave a heavy "humph," turned around, and continued walking forward with Zhou Fangyuan, but his steps were noticeably heavier.

Back in their little hut, Xiao Zhang plopped down on the edge of his bed, head down, and remained silent for a long time.

The fresh scent of wood and paint from the wood carving hadn't yet dissipated in the room, but now it seemed to freeze.

Zhou Fangyuan poured him a glass of water and handed it to him, intending to offer a few words of comfort.

Xiao Zhang looked up first, took the water but didn't drink it, just held it in his hand, his eyes were a little unfocused and his voice was muffled.

"Brother Zhou, actually... I've heard this kind of talk quite a lot in the guesthouse compound."

Some people from other groups, and even some in our own crew, who were unsure of themselves, were also whispering among themselves.

Every time I hear it, it feels like a heavy stone is lodged in my heart, making me feel uneasy.

As he spoke, he bent down and pulled a small wooden box out from under the bed.

He unlocked the door, carefully took out a letter with slightly worn edges, and handed it to Zhou Fangyuan.

"It was sent from home a few days ago."

Zhou Fangyuan took the letter and unfolded it.

The handwriting wasn't particularly beautiful, but each stroke was written neatly and carefully; it was written by Xiao Zhang's father.

The letter didn't mention whether "Journey to the West" would be successful; it was filled with simple concerns: asking if he could get used to the food, if the work was tiring, and if he got along well with his masters.

He repeatedly told him, "Don't make yourself suffer when you're out in the world." Between the lines, there was a father's most instinctive worry for his son venturing out on his own.

I'm afraid he'll suffer, afraid he'll be wronged, afraid he'll have a hard time.

After reading it, Zhou Fangyuan silently folded the letter and handed it back.

Xiao Zhang gripped the letter tightly, his voice lowered, but with a hint of candor: "Brother Zhou, I won't lie to you."

I initially joined the film crew because I was genuinely interested in acting and found it novel.

Secondly, I admire the spirit of our production team. Everyone comes together for a shared dream, working hard and putting in the effort... I feel there's something to strive for."

He looked up, his eyes filled with confusion and eagerness, which ultimately coalesced into a straightforward question, which he posed to Zhou Fangyuan:

"But Brother Zhou, tell me... if we take this so seriously, put in so much effort, will the people really like watching the 'Journey to the West' we produce? Will it be as good as we think?"

Zhou Fangyuan did not answer immediately; he walked to the window.

It's almost October, and the old locust tree has started to shed its leaves, which are now bathed in golden sunlight.

After a moment of silence, he turned around, his back to the light, making his face somewhat obscured, but his eyes were exceptionally firm and bright.

It's as if it can pierce through the doubts of this moment and reach straight into the future.

He looked at Xiao Zhang, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable force that resonated in the quiet room:

"able."

In short, decisive.

Then, he walked back, placed his hands on Xiao Zhang's shoulders, looked him in the eye, and continued:

"Youqing, trust me. Every drop of sweat we shed, every chisel we make, every glance we give will not be in vain."

This show isn't just for kids; adults will enjoy it too. It's not just for people today; people in the future will watch it as well.

It will reside in many people's hearts, and stay there for a long time.

His eyes were calm, without the slightest flicker, only unwavering conviction.

"As for those words..."

Zhou Fangyuan released his grip, a faint, almost arrogant smile curving his lips.

"Once the show is filmed and broadcast, it will naturally disappear. Right now, let's just focus on doing our best with what we have at hand."

The room fell silent.

The faint sounds of the city drifted in from afar outside the window, accompanied by the soft rustling of the wind through the bare branches.

Looking at Zhou Fangyuan, Xiao Zhang felt a heavy weight in his chest, as if the other's unwavering gaze was reflecting his own.

It was gradually melted by the heat, and in its place came a renewed surge of warmth, carrying trust and expectation.

He nodded heavily and gripped the cup in his hand tightly.

"Okay! Brother Zhou, I'll listen to you!"

Two days later, the alleyways, small mountain villages, and even all over the country began to get busy.