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

Zhou Fangyuan became even more determined, clutching the film crew's letter of introduction to his pocket.

Their words and actions, to some extent, represent the face of the "Journey to the West" production team.

We can't back down, we can't mess this up.

And then there's Teacher Dai... If Teacher Dai knew that he used the "structure" and "preparation" he taught to talk to a villager about farming, I wonder if he would laugh...

But this is indeed useful; the report should be structured and well-prepared, rather than dropping bombshells right from the start.

He took out his pen and paper and started writing and drawing again.

As he wrote, his mind gradually calmed down.

Those chaotic thoughts, the sights and sounds along the way, and the instructions from elders all seemed to have settled into these concrete entries under the tip of my pen.

He knew that having an outline alone was not enough; he would have to adapt to the situation. But with this guiding principle in mind, he remained calm.

After an unknown amount of time, a faint gray light gradually peeked through the darkness outside the window.

The distant mountain outlines were faintly visible, and a broadcast with static came over the loudspeaker: the train was about to arrive at Lengshuijiang Station.

A commotion began to stir in the carriage as people rubbed their sleepy eyes and packed their luggage, creating a rustling sound.

Wu Jiang also woke up, yawning groggily.

Old man Chen slowly opened his eyes and moved his somewhat stiff neck.

Zhou Fangyuan quickly put away his notebook and checked the train ticket, letter of introduction, and money in his pocket.

He stood up, pulled his canvas bag out from under the seat, and dusted it off.

"Xiao Zhou, you've arrived at Lengshui River? Have a safe trip!" Wu Jiang said goodbye to him warmly.

"Go back and work hard. Remember the contact information I gave you. Once your medicinal herbs are grown, I might be able to help you sell them!"

"Thank you, Comrade Wu! I appreciate your guidance along the way!" Zhou Fangyuan said sincerely.

He then looked at the elderly Mr. Chen and bowed deeply: "Mr. Chen, I have remembered your words and benefited greatly from them. Thank you!"

An extremely faint smile appeared on Old Man Chen's face as he waved his hand: "Go! It's all up to you, but don't force it. Take it one step at a time."

Zhou Fangyuan nodded vigorously.

The young mother had already gotten off at Loudi Station, and now her seatmate was a middle-aged man.

Zhou Fangyuan glanced at it, didn't disturb them, picked up his canvas bag, and squeezed towards the carriage door with the flow of people.

Standing on the slightly worn platform, the crisp morning air rushed in, carrying the damp chill unique to a southern winter.

Zhou Fangyuan took a deep breath, the coolness penetrating his lungs and invigorating him.

He pressed his hand against the spot on his chest where he kept his train ticket and letter of introduction; it felt hard and solid.

Looking up ahead, just outside the station exit lies my hometown.

Two nights of contemplation on the train, the bumpy ride, and the kindness and wisdom of strangers have all transformed into the composure in his eyes and the clear roadmap in his mind.

Lengshuijiang Old Station is a small station on the Hunan-Guizhou Railway. In 1982, it consisted of only a few red brick bungalows.

The platform was uneven and covered with gravel, and there wasn't even a decent shed at the exit. Cold winds carrying coal dust blew straight into the gaps between people.

Zhou Fangyuan followed the flow of people out of the narrow exit. There were a few bamboo basket stalls scattered on the open ground in front of the station, selling roasted sweet potatoes and fried rice.

Occasionally, porters carrying loads on shoulder poles or locals riding bicycles would pass by, so it wasn't too deserted.

He didn't rush to find a car; instead, he moved closer to the side and asked an old man squatting on the ground smoking a pipe:

"Uncle, could you tell me the easiest way to get to Qingshi Village?"

The old man took a puff of his cigarette and pointed to several heavy-duty bicycles parked not far away, each with a thick hemp rope tied to its handlebars.

"Ride this bike to the street corner first, it's only a few miles of flat road, just give me 35 cents!"

The road into the mountains is steep and too difficult to cycle on. Tractors belonging to agricultural teams often deliver grain to the town from the street corner; hitchhiking is the most cost-effective option.

Zhou Fangyuan thanked the old man, negotiated a price with a young man, and the young man tied his canvas bag to the back seat of the car with hemp rope. The two of them got into the car one after the other.

The wheels rolled over the gravel roads of the city, and in less than fifteen minutes we were out of the old town, heading towards the street corner along the farm road.

The roadside was lined with vegetable fields, and occasionally you could see villagers carrying buckets of manure.

Upon reaching the entrance to the village street, the young man stopped the car, and Zhou Fangyuan paid the money and took off his canvas bag.

Looking around, the street corner was deserted, with only a few old trees standing crookedly. There were hardly any tractors or even pedestrians.

He felt a little uneasy, but there was nothing he could do. He tightened the canvas bag on his shoulder and followed the dirt road into the mountains that the old man had pointed out.

The road into the mountains was more difficult than expected. The dirt road, which had just been lightly rained on, was full of potholes, mud mixed with gravel, and you could only slip half a step with every step you took.

Before long, the cloth shoes with their multi-layered soles were soaked with mud, becoming as heavy as lead, and the trouser legs were splattered with black mud.

When the wind blew, the mud immediately hardened into a crust, which felt cool and tingling on my legs, making my bones ache.

The weeds on both sides of the road grew wildly, with waist-high withered grass standing stiffly, many of the leaves with visible serrations along their edges.

They stretched out maliciously, scraping across the ankles and skin not fully covered by socks, leaving fine, burning red marks.

The distant mountains were completely swallowed up by the thick fog of late autumn, appearing as a hazy gray.

Not to mention the village, there wasn't even a decent road in sight. It seemed as if only this endless muddy embankment and he himself remained in the world.

Zhou Fangyuan walked for nearly an hour, slipping and sliding with each step. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his cotton-padded coat was covered with grass clippings and mud stains.

He stopped and leaned against an old, leafless tree by the roadside, breathing heavily.

I couldn't tell if the sweat on my forehead was cold sweat or just mist; it was icy cold.

The strap of the canvas bag on my shoulder dug deep into my cotton-padded coat, making my shoulder ache.

He looked down at himself; his shoes were muddy, his legs were muddy, and his body was covered in mud and grass clippings, making him look like he had rolled through a mud pit.

If my mother saw me like this, she would probably feel sorry for me and find me some clean clothes to change into.

Thinking of this, the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily, and a surge of fierce determination rose from within him.

He tightened the straps of his backpack, straightened his back a little, and continued to move forward, one step at a time.

He struggled for another half hour, just as he felt the soles of his cloth shoes were about to be completely stuck to the mud.

A muffled "thump-thump" sound, like a life-saving drumbeat, came from afar behind the mountain valley ahead.

Zhou Fangyuan looked up abruptly and quickly straightened up to look in the direction of the sound.

A hand-operated tractor, covered in mud, was slowly turning around the ravine ahead. Several bags of fertilizer were piled in the truck bed, and a few bamboo baskets were hanging on the side.

He quickly waved and shouted, "Driver! Wait a minute! Could you give me a ride?"

The tractor driver slammed on the brakes, leaned out, and yelled, "Where are you going?"

"Qingshi Village!" Zhou Fangyuan ran over quickly, mud flying from his shoes all the way.

The man glanced at his mud-covered body and waved his hand, "Get on! It's on the way, it'll get dark soon!"