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

The next day, before the morning mist had even dissipated, the film crew was already busy in the courtyard.

Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves of the ancient cedar, casting shadows on the ground.

Master Wang held a bamboo broom and slowly swept the fallen leaves in front of the courtyard gate, his movements calm and rhythmic.

Zhou Fangyuan carefully counted the props from the side.

Footsteps echoed from the other end of the mountain path, unhurried yet steady and powerful.

The two looked up at the same time and saw a figure walking down the stone steps.

The man was lean and wiry, with tanned skin and a bulging cloth bag slung over his shoulder. He walked with a powerful stride.

Upon recognizing the visitor, Master Wang put down his broom, a gentle smile appearing on his face, and cupped his hands in greeting:

"Brother Liu, what brings you up the mountain today?"

Liu Qiang strode over and grinned.

He carefully placed the cloth bag from his shoulder onto the bluestone slab at his feet, deftly untied the knot, and said:

"Look, Master! The sweet potatoes in the field are growing exceptionally well this year, each one with thin skin and tender flesh. I specially picked the biggest and roundest ones to bring you some to try!"

When the bag was opened, round jicama was revealed, still covered in fresh soil and exuding the fresh scent of the mountains and fields.

Master Wang picked one up and weighed it in his hand: "Good quality, looks sweet. I'm sorry to have troubled you to make this trip again."

"This is nothing, it's nothing!" Liu Qiang waved his hands repeatedly, his face full of undisguised gratitude.

"If it weren't for those packets of medicinal herb seeds you gave me last year, allowing me to clear the land, we wouldn't have this beautiful scene today!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, and his voice rose a few decibels.

"You don't know, we used to rely on those few acres of paddy fields, and after paying the grain tax, there wasn't much left."

Last year I planted Scutellaria baicalensis as you suggested, and this year's harvest is excellent! A few days ago, the herb dealers came to buy it, and they offered much higher prices than for grain; I got several stacks of bills in return!

Standing to the side, Zhou Fangyuan heard "medicinal herb seeds" and "reclaimed land" and couldn't help but raise his eyes, his gaze falling on Liu Qiang's dark and joyful face.

Master Wang stroked his beard and nodded: "Medicinal herbs prefer shade, and the soil and water at the foot of Qingcheng Mountain are just right."

"It's because you put in the effort to tend to it that you had such a good harvest."

"It's all thanks to your excellent guidance!"

Liu Qiang smiled憨厚ly, "Oh, by the way, my wife asked me to pass on a message that she'll send you two pieces of cured meat after she's cured them."

"I appreciate your kind intentions, but there's no need for the cured meat," Master Wang said with a smile, declining the offer.

"The Taoist temple is simple and quiet; these jicama are enough for us. Come in quickly, I'll make you a cup of freshly picked mountain tea."

"No, no!" Liu Qiang quickly waved his hand.

"We still need to dry the grains later! I just came to deliver some sweet potatoes and to share some good news with you."

"Then I'll head down the mountain now. Please take good care of yourself, Master!"

"Walk slowly, the mountain road is slippery, watch your step."

Master Wang watched his light and agile figure disappear into the shadows of the trees along the mountain path, while Zhou Fangyuan remained gazing in that direction, somewhat lost in thought.

The plump jicama exuded the fresh scent of earth, which suddenly reminded him of his hometown in Lengshuijiang.

I think of those hillsides that have been barren and sparsely populated for years.

"The Taoist priest just said that medicinal herbs prefer shade, and isn't that the case with the mountain behind our village?"

If we could utilize the barren mountains to grow medicinal herbs, wouldn't the villagers have more hope for the future?

The biggest fear after growing medicinal herbs is finding no buyers, but there's a medicinal herb distribution center in town... maybe it's worth a try.

Master Wang turned around and, seeing Zhou Fangyuan's focused expression, asked gently, "Young friend Zhou, what are you thinking about?"

Zhou Fangyuan snapped out of his daze and smiled sheepishly.

"Master Wang, I was just touched by what that fellow villager said about the good harvest of medicinal herbs... I also have a lot of barren land in my hometown, I wonder if I could give it a try."

Master Wang nodded, his eyes filled with approval.

"As long as you have the will, that's good. Every land in the world has its own endowments, but as long as you understand its nature, you can produce something."

If you really want to know, I can find some brochures on medicinal herb cultivation for you to look at another day.

Although the soil and water are different, the principles are always the same.

A gentle mountain breeze blew by, carrying the faint, refreshing scent of jicama.

The vague thought in Zhou Fangyuan's mind seemed to have quietly taken root with this gust of wind.

"Comrade Zhou, Teacher Wang wants you to get your makeup done," a young stagehand reminded him.

Master Wang smiled and waved his hand, "Go quickly."

Zhou Fangyuan responded and walked towards the dressing area.

Wang Xichong was applying makeup to a young Taoist priest outside when he saw Zhou Fangyuan arrive. He asked gently:

"Xiao Zhou, can you do your own makeup? We're a bit short-handed today."

Zhou Fangyuan nodded: "Okay, Teacher Wang."

After listening, Old Wang gestured with his eyes to a side room next door.

"Okay, then go inside and draw by yourself. Dehua and the others are there too."

Because it was an ensemble piece, there weren't enough makeup artists, so Ma Dehua, Yan Huaili, and others were applying makeup to themselves using small round mirrors.

Zhou Fangyuan found an empty seat and began to draw carefully.

Ma Dehua had already put on her "Taoist priest" makeup and came over to look at Zhou Fangyuan, beaming with joy.

"Fang Yuan was already quite good-looking, but now he looks even more energetic after this painting!"

Yan Huaili, who was standing nearby, heard this and started laughing too.

Zhou Fangyuan pursed his lips and didn't reply, continuing to focus on his hands.

Although he felt a little embarrassed, he remained composed on the surface.

Ma Dehua watched for a short while, then turned back to touch up her makeup.

But not long after, he caught a glimpse of something amiss with Yan Huaili out of the corner of his eye.

Old Yan was rubbing his face vigorously.

Ma Dehua put down the paintbrush, leaned closer to take a closer look, and suddenly exclaimed:

"Hey Lao Yan, there's no Bao Gong performance today! What are you doing?"

Yan Huaili, without stopping his work, looked up in puzzlement: "What are you talking about, a play about Bao Gong?"

When he looked up, his entire face was exposed to the light.

Good heavens, there are large patches of dark color on both cheeks, and because they were rubbed, the edges have blurred.

His entire face was dark, making him look like the Kitchen God who had just crawled out of the stove.

As the two exchanged their questions, everyone else in the room turned to look.

Immediately afterwards, someone let out a "pfft," and the entire room erupted in laughter.

"Teacher Yan, the color of your blush is wrong!" A young actor laughed and slapped his thigh.

"Is this something you smeared with soot from the bottom of a pot?" another joked.

Yan Huaili was a little bewildered by everyone's laughter. He picked up the small round mirror on the table and looked at himself carefully, muttering to himself:

"Isn't this great? The color is a bit dark, but it might look perfect on camera..."

Zhou Fangyuan quickly got up and went over, taking Yan Huaili's arm.

"Teacher Yan, this color is really wrong, we need to wash it off and redo it right away."

"Look, this black powder is for contouring, and this is for blush."

As he spoke, he pointed out the correct color from the makeup box.

"What? I used it wrong?"

Yan Huaili then realized what was happening and smiled sheepishly.

"Oh dear, my eyesight is getting worse and worse; I can't even distinguish colors anymore."

"It's alright, it's alright, just wash it and re-process it." Ma Dehua also came over to help.

"Come on, let me tell you, use the ones in this grid to match the ones in this grid..."

The room suddenly became lively.

Some people went to fetch water, others handed over towels, and they all worked together to help Yan Huaili wash off the black makeup from her face.

Zhou Fangyuan adjusted the blush color to a suitable level and carefully helped Yan Huaili redo her makeup.

Ma Dehua pointed out from the side, "Yes, be gentle, spread it slowly... Ah, that's good now!"

When Yan Huaili finished her new makeup, the face in the mirror was rosy and full of energy, completely different from the "black-faced Bao Gong" she had just seen.

Everyone looked at each other and couldn't help but laugh, but this time it was light and cheerful laughter.

After this minor incident, the atmosphere in the dressing room became even more harmonious.

As everyone continued their work, they chatted and laughed. The sunlight outside the window grew brighter and brighter, streaming into the room and illuminating every earnest and expectant face.