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

The sun hung over the eaves of the gray-blue station building of Seido Station, and the smell of coal smoke mixed with the early winter wind blew against people's faces.

Zhou Fangyuan squeezed through the gate with the flow of people exiting the station, ignoring the bump on his hip from his canvas bag, and hurriedly looked around.

In 1982, Chengdu Station was still expanding with the construction of a new waiting hall, while the old ticket hall was squeezed onto the east side of the station square.

On the dusty wall, the red paint on the words "Window Division of Labor" had been blown away by the wind.

After seeing it clearly, Zhou Fangyuan rushed towards window number three, where the slogan was written.

Unconsciously, he pressed the loose change in his pocket, his fingertips clutching the letter of introduction from Director Li, calculating in his mind how to save money wherever possible.

The ticket hall was packed with people, the pungent smell of smoke mixed with the smell of sweat and cheap soap.

The queue snaked from the window to the corner of the wall, each person clutching money and a letter of introduction, muttering "catching the afternoon bus."

Zhou Fangyuan quickly joined the queue, listening intently to the sounds of people buying tickets in front of him, worried that the afternoon trains to Hunan would be sold out. He also kept an eye on the ticket prices of others, silently calculating the costs in his mind.

Someone in the queue grumbled about the slow process, only to be glared at by the person in front of them: "What's your rush? It's a manual invoice; it won't be that fast!"

Finally reaching the window, Zhou Fangyuan handed the money and letter of introduction through the small window, barely large enough to pass things through. His voice was urgent, yet also hesitant.

"Comrade, I need a through ticket to Loudi, for this afternoon, the cheapest ordinary train! A seat is best, but standing is fine too!"

The ticket seller inside the window was a middle-aged man in a blue railway uniform, the cuffs of which were already somewhat worn. He was bending down to pull out printed hardboard tickets from the "田"-shaped ticket cabinet.

He took the letter of introduction, glanced at it, picked up the fountain pen dipped in ink, and looked directly at Zhou Fangyuan:

"What a coincidence, comrade! There's one last hard seat left on the regular train, only 50 cents more expensive than a standing ticket. Want it?"

Zhou Fangyuan's eyes lit up, and he quickly replied, "Yes! I want this one!"

The man picked up the red lacquered stamp engraved with "Loudi Station" and stamped it on the ticket stub with a "smack" to cancel it.

The words "Ordinary Express" printed on the hard-copy ticket were particularly clear in the dim sunlight.

He then pulled out a pink transit visa form and handed it out, the abacus beads clicking rapidly as he read out the numbers:

"Three yuan and one jiao, here's your pass. Go to the visa window at Zhuzhou Station to get it stamped. You can't board the train without it, got it?"

Zhou Fangyuan quickly counted out three yuan and handed it in. He took the ticket and the light change, and felt the embossed lettering on the cardboard with his fingertips. He felt a weight lifted from his heart.

This hard seat is only 50 cents more expensive than a standing ticket, but you can avoid the discomfort of the journey. It's not a waste of money; in fact, it's a good deal.

He carefully folded the hard-copy ticket and the pink visa slip, stuffed them into his inner pocket close to his chest, and then meticulously tucked the change into the inner pocket of his canvas bag, not daring to be careless at all.

As soon as I squeezed into the ticket hall, a crackling sound came from the station's public address system, and a female announcer with a Sichuan accent repeatedly broadcast: "Attention passengers..."

Train No. 372, a regular express train, will board at 4:00 PM in the second waiting room...

Zhou Fangyuan glanced at the old clock on the wall of the hall; the hour hand had just passed 1:30.

With more than two hours to go, he dared not delay. Clutching the pass in his pocket, he turned and walked towards the waiting hall, quickening his pace.

Clutching the hard-seat ticket that cost 3.1 yuan in his pocket, he felt both anxious and incredibly satisfied.

It would save him money and make the long journey ahead a little more comfortable. This was the best option he could think of, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

The second waiting room was noisier than the ticket hall.

The long wooden benches were packed with people, and the aisles were also crammed with bags and packages.

Zhou Fangyuan finally found a small open space against the wall, put his canvas bag under his bottom and sat down, leaning against the damp and cold cement wall.

He took out the notebook and pen that Dai Lao had given him from his bag, and also pulled out a letter from his hometown and the "suggestion" that he had revised repeatedly.

Time was precious, so he used every available moment to carefully go over every step he should take after returning home.

Who should we look for first? Uncle Zhao is the first and most important bridge.

I need to go over the story with him privately first, and find out the attitudes of several "key figures" in the village: supporters Aunt Liu, those who might oppose, and those who are undecided... What should I say when I meet them?

Zhou Fangyuan wrote down several names in his notebook and drew arrows on them.

We can't just talk about ideals; we have to do what Director Li said and put on some "real substance."

The characteristics and approximate harvest time of the medicinal herbs mentioned in Master Wang's letter had to be explained in plain language that the villagers could understand.

"Is growing this more laborious than growing sweet potatoes?" "Will you see a return on your investment in the first year?"... He had to prepare convincing answers to these pointed questions in advance.

The toughest nut to crack is probably Deputy Director Liu of the commune. When you meet him, you should be humble, but you must have confidence in your heart.

I need to demonstrate the "planning" skills I learned on set, and convince everyone that this isn't just a spur-of-the-moment decision, but a planned and meticulously executed "pilot project"...

He was lost in thought when a piercing whistle sounded, and the ticket gates began letting people in.

The crowd surged forward like a floodgate bursting open. Zhou Fangyuan quickly gathered his belongings, clutched his ticket tightly, and squeezed his way to the platform with the flow of people.

The No. 372 express train, like a tired green dragon, lies quietly on the tracks.

The connecting area between the carriages was already packed with people, and the windows were filled with heads bobbing around.

Zhou Fangyuan checked the carriage number on his ticket, squeezed through the crowd, and finally managed to get to his seat.

A three-seater window seat was occupied by a young mother holding a child and an elderly man with gray hair wearing a Zhongshan suit.

The seat by the aisle was empty; it was clearly his.

"Comrade, please make way, this is my seat." Zhou Fangyuan showed his ticket.

The mother holding the child quickly moved over to make room for him.

Zhou Fangyuan thanked him, stuffed the canvas bag under the seat, and sat down with only the small cloth bag containing the essential items in his arms, letting out a long sigh of relief.

Although sitting in a hard seat can be tiring on your back, at least you have a legitimate "territory".

The train slowly started moving with a long whistle, and the station building of Chengdu Station gradually receded into the distance.

The carriage quieted down a bit, but it was still noisy.

The sounds of children crying, adults chatting and laughing, vendors hawking "sunflower seeds, peanuts and cigarettes," and train conductors shouting in Sichuan dialect, "Tickets are being checked, tickets are being checked, get your tickets ready."

Zhou Fangyuan sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the fields and villages rushing past outside, while his mind continued to make plans.

"Besides the village and town commune, shouldn't we also think about how to solve the problem of funding for the first batch of seeds and seedlings?"

Even if it's not much, it's still a significant amount of start-up capital.