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

As evening approached, the sky darkened, and the wind carried the unique coolness of the mountains.

Director Yang gathered everyone who wasn't on set in a side room and, without beating around the bush, got straight to the most pressing issue.

"I'm afraid we're out of luck when it comes to extras."

Her voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear her clearly.

"I thought that even if the Taoist priests in the temple were just a distant background figure, walking along the mountain path, the atmosphere would be completely different."

However, when Cheng Ru went to inquire, the results were far from ideal.

After she finished speaking, she glanced at Li Chengru.

The latter understood and lowered his voice to continue.

"I've asked several people, and they were all very polite, but they also made it clear that they have a lot of homework and really... can't help with this."

The air fell silent for a moment, which meant that many of the scenes that were expected to be lively were about to end.

Now, they can only rely on a limited number of actors in the crew to change clothes and makeup to keep the show going.

Imagine the faces that keep appearing on screen; everyone knows that the sense of realism will be greatly diminished.

Wang Chongqiu, who hadn't said much until now, touched his camera and spoke up.

His tone carried a hint of helplessness and confusion:

"I want to walk around this afternoon and get a feel for the camera."

The young Taoist priests I encountered were also quite polite, but as soon as I moved to the back of the main hall or a side courtyard, they would suddenly appear out of nowhere and stop me.

He imitated the Taoist priests' bowing gesture, but there was no smile on his face.

"Then I'll shoot some establishing shots, like eaves, ancient trees, and stuff like that."

But as soon as I set up the machine, a Taoist priest looked at me with strange eyes.

Finally, I swallowed my pride and managed to take a few pictures, but the results were truly disappointing.

The news dampened everyone's enthusiasm.

From the initial novelty upon entering the temple to being prepared to endure hardship.

That initial enthusiasm was gradually overshadowed by a lingering sense of unfamiliarity.

It was as if an invisible wall firmly separated them, these "outsiders".

Before the work had even officially started, we encountered this kind of insurmountable obstacle.

A silence filled the large side room.

Just as the silence was making it hard to breathe, the side door creaked open.

A young Taoist priest in a blue robe leaned in, his clear voice breaking the silence.

"Dear lay Buddhists, the vegetarian meal is ready. Please follow me."

The group snapped out of their daze and followed him through several courtyards that were gradually darkening.

At this time, oil lamps had been lit in the dining hall.

When the crew members were taken to the dining hall, several Taoist priests were already sitting inside, quietly having their meal.

Upon seeing them enter, the Taoist priests merely glanced up before continuing to eat, with no one rising to greet them.

Several long wooden tables were set up in the dining hall. Director Yang led everyone to sit down at an empty table near the door.

The young Taoist priest who had guided us during the day brought over several bowls of simple vegetarian dishes and rice.

As he put it down, he said in a low voice, "Please enjoy," and then quickly left, seemingly unwilling to stay any longer.

The atmosphere at the dinner table was somewhat awkward.

To lighten the mood, Ma Dehua told a funny story about the mice she had seen during the day.

The noise was a bit louder, and the Taoist priests at the next table all looked over, their eyes showing displeasure.

Ma Dehua immediately fell silent and buried her head in her rice.

Zhou Fangyuan silently observed all of this.

From the subtle changes in the old Taoist priest's expression when he looked at the letter of introduction in the afternoon, to the obvious indifference of the Taoists now.

This cannot be explained simply by the fact that "people who live in the mountains are introverted."

After dinner, Zhou Fangyuan waited outside the dining hall.

Sure enough, a short while later, the young Taoist priest who had led the way during the day came out carrying empty bowls and chopsticks.

"Young Taoist priest, please wait a moment."

Zhou Fangyuan stepped forward and performed a somewhat unorthodox kowtow.

The young Taoist priest stopped in his tracks. He remembered the visitor who had helped him out of trouble earlier that day, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes:

"Is something the matter, comrade?"

Zhou Fangyuan carefully considered his words.

"Young Taoist priest, I would like to ask you a question."

We are not very familiar with the rules of the temple, so if we have unintentionally offended anyone, please enlighten us.

The young Taoist priest glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said softly, "You have not offended me."

"Then why...?"

Zhou Fangyuan didn't finish speaking, but his meaning was clear.

The young Taoist pursed his lips, his gaze drifting towards the distant main hall, before finally shaking his head.

"The masters have their reasons. It's getting late, comrades, you should get some rest."

After saying that, he quickly left.

Zhou Fangyuan hesitated, but did not rush back into the house.

He still remembered Qian Zhongshu's words: "When you get there, take in the sights and learn as much as you can."

He observed the daily lives of the Taoist priests.

How they bowed, how they walked, and even how they gently placed their bowls and chopsticks before eating.

Back in that dilapidated side room that evening, he used the dim light to jot down the details he had seen in his notebook.

Many large rats were secretly watching him.

A light rain began to fall late at night, and the floor of another side room became extremely damp. Several women's beds were soaked, making it almost impossible for them to sleep.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.

The creaking noises last night, coupled with the leaking roof, made the other people who came from the capital uneasy.

Now that things have finally calmed down, they are burying their heads in the hay.

Zhou Fangyuan was used to this kind of life and didn't think much of it, so he got up early.

The mountain air was crisp and clear, and he planned to take a walk around the temple before the film crew's preparations began.

Sure enough, the Taoist priests he encountered along the way were all very polite to him, but after the politeness was over, it was replaced by indifference.

Turning a corner, he saw a middle-aged Taoist priest struggling to carry a bag of rice into the kitchen.

The rice bag was slightly damaged, and rice grains were quietly leaking out.

"Master, let me help you."

Zhou Fangyuan quickly stepped forward and held the other end of the rice bag.

The middle-aged Taoist priest glanced at him, nodded, and the two of them worked together to carry the rice bag into the kitchen.

After putting it down, Zhou Fangyuan noticed the rice grains scattered on the ground, so he squatted down and carefully gathered them together with his hands.

The middle-aged Taoist priest's eyes flickered slightly as he watched his actions.

After Zhou Fangyuan stood up, he solemnly performed a Taoist kowtow, this time much more formal than before, a result of his observations last night.

"Greetings, Master Dao. You've worked hard."

The middle-aged Taoist priest was slightly taken aback, then returned the greeting: "Wuliang Temple, thank you for your help, comrade."

But he maintained a distance in his tone, and after finishing speaking, he turned around and started tidying up the kitchen clutter, clearly not intending to continue the conversation.

Zhou Fangyuan did not leave, but instead noticed a slight change in the Taoist priest's expression and asked softly:

"Master, as I walk around the temple, I am deeply impressed by the long history and extraordinary atmosphere of this place."

May I ask when this ancient Changdao Temple was first built? Is there any special story behind it?

The middle-aged Taoist priest paused in his movements, turned around, and carefully examined Zhou Fangyuan.

Seeing that his expression was sincere and not feigned, he slowly began to speak:

"This temple was first built during the Daye era of the Sui Dynasty, more than 1,300 years ago."

Legend has it that a wise man once saw a purple aura rising from the east here, knowing it was the place of his spiritual destiny. He then built a hermitage here to cultivate the Tao. It was expanded during the Tang Dynasty, becoming the scale it is today.

His tone was calmer, but still distant.

Zhou Fangyuan listened attentively and then asked a few more questions about the temple's architecture and Taoist practices.

The middle-aged Taoist priest answered each question concisely, yet without any perfunctory responses.