Chapter 67: No Current Plans for Collaboration

As the clarion call of reform and opening up sounded across the land, the city of Shanghai began to undergo subtle transformations.

The humble street-side book stalls of yesteryear reappeared.

At a street corner, several rows of upright wooden frames displayed around a hundred lianhuanhua, the traditional Chinese serialized comic books.

Along both sides of the street, numerous students and unemployed youths sat about. Beside the display stood a wooden board with chalk-written characters:

[One cent per book to read on-site, strictly no borrowing to take away.]

Some of these students reading the small picture books were perched on stone steps, while others sat directly on the ground. Yet, a large crowd had gathered around a few colorful books, completely engrossed.

"Slow down, I haven't finished reading this page yet."

"Can you read any faster?"

A student, likely kept behind after class for cleaning duty, hurried over to the book stall only to find that the copy of *Fung Yun* was already missing from the rack.

Wang Haoran made a bitter face. "Why didn't you buy a few more copies? With just these few, it's nowhere near enough for us to read."

The old vendor grunted. "Each of these cost me eighty cents... You kids will have to read them eighty times just for me to break even. You get to have your fun, but I'm taking a huge loss."

"If you really want to read something, pick out something else. We just got a new shipment today of *Little Soldier Zhang Ga*, it's also a very good story."

"I'm tired of those, I don't want to read them anymore."

The old vendor furrowed his brows. He had noticed something recently: ever since these children started reading the comic book *Fung Yun*, their tastes had grown terribly picky, and they no longer cared much for the traditional lianhuanhua.

He couldn't figure out whether this development was a blessing or a curse.

Yet, truth be told, over the past few years, there had hardly been any impressive lianhuanhua works produced; the themes were entirely repetitive, and the older generation of comic artists had stopped drawing altogether. Nowadays, there were countless hastily churned-out books—old wine in new bottles—where the same identical story was simply repackaged with a different cover.

"Sigh."

The old vendor looked at the young people, three or four clustered together just to catch a glimpse of that single comic book. Suddenly, he seemed to feel the approach of an era superseding the old: "There are no books left. Go read along with them."

Wang Haoran frowned as he looked at the group, momentarily tempted to walk over and join them.

Those students immediately began to jeer and mock him. "Wang Haoran, didn't you say you know the author, Zheng Fei? If you do, why are you still coming here to read? Why don't you just go straight to him and get the books?"

Wang Haoran clenched his teeth. He hadn't been lying, after all; he had merely mentioned at school that he knew Zheng Fei.

Those people kept clamoring for him to take them to meet Teacher Zheng, but how could Wang Haoran ever dare to do such a thing?

Nowadays, the residents of Tanziwan practically worshipped Zheng Fei, calling him the pride of Tanziwan.

If his father ever found out that he went and bothered Teacher Zheng, his father would break his legs. Because of this, he had ended up being ostracized by this bunch of kids.

"If you won't let me read, I won't. I'll go find Teacher Zheng and look at the original manuscripts instead."

"Such a hard mouth, what a little liar."

Wang Haoran really wasn't lying to them. There was that one time his father brought him to visit Teacher Zheng...
He had seen plenty of original manuscripts right inside that room, and he shared a good relationship with Zheng Shuyao. Their academic pursuits were aligned, and they occasionally walked to school together.

With his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, Wang Haoran angrily stormed away from the book stall, muttering under his breath, "I wasn't lying at all."

Just as he vented his frustration by kicking a small pebble across the road, someone behind him called out his name. He turned around to see Zheng Shuyao, who was a full head taller than him.

She smiled and said, "Heading home so late? Come on, let's walk back together."

Wang Haoran looked up at her, suddenly feeling as though she had grown taller still—she seemed even more imposing than her older sister.

His father had even told him to spend more time with Zheng Shuyao, but walking side by side with her always filled Wang Haoran with an immense sense of pressure.

......

......

Early June in Shanghai.

Temperatures had already climbed past twenty degrees Celsius. Everyone had long since put away their padded winter coats, and the streets were once again a sea of matching black and white.

White shirts paired with black trousers; occasionally, someone dressed in bright, colorful attire would appear on the street, but in this day and age, wearing anything too flamboyant required a tremendous amount of courage.

Just like every other day, Zheng Fei rode his bicycle to the publishing house. The four-or-five-kilometer ride left him already somewhat perspiring.

What on earth was he going to do when July rolled around? Zheng Fei suddenly found himself yearning to escape to Chongming Island to beat the summer heat.

The moment he parked his bicycle in the stairwell, Uncle Ma, the man in charge of the reception desk, called out:

"Teacher Zheng, you're here! You have a visitor looking for you today."

"Who might that be?"

Zheng Fei was a little curious, as he honestly didn't think he knew very many people.

"Someone from the film studio. I'm not entirely sure of the specifics; Editor-in-Chief Mo is currently hosting him. He said that if you arrived, you should go straight to his office."

"Alright, understood."

Arriving at the art studio, Zheng Fei placed his artwork on the desk. To accommodate him as the publishing house's sole contributing author, Editor-in-Chief Mo had specially arranged a private art studio for his exclusive use. As for Xu Sansui and the others, they shared a separate studio.

By now, Xu Sansui had truly been trained up. Given a storyboard draft, she was fully capable of leading the entire team to complete the production of the comic books.

Presently, they were working on the third volume of *Fung Yun*, while Zheng Fei intended to independently finish the artwork for *Country Teacher* during this period.

After all, that particular artistic style was rather personal; even if others wanted to help, they simply wouldn't know where to begin.

Seeing that Teacher Zheng had arrived, a group of people gathered around him to consult on various artistic techniques.

After a few months of grinding and adjustment, the rate of rejected drafts had dropped significantly, unlike the beginning when everything had to be redrawn every other day.

After answering their questions, Zheng Fei walked over to Editor-in-Chief Mo's office and found him brewing tea for a young man.

This young man was dressed in a relatively fashionable style: a white shirt paired with Western-style trousers held up by a leather belt, and a pair of leather shoes on his feet.

An outfit like that easily cost upwards of a hundred yuan, yet in this era, the more fashionable one dressed, the more it proved one didn't hold a high official rank.

After all, the number one figures of the present day, and even the senior leaders, still favored Zhongshan suits, to the extent that everyone within the upper echelons of power dressed more or less the same.

Upon seeing Zheng Fei, Mo Changshan hastily stood up to make the introduction:

"Teacher Zheng, you're here. Let me introduce you—this is Section Chief Fang Zailiang from the Shanghai Animation Film Studio. He is specifically in charge of fine arts film planning and previously studied abroad in Japan. You two should have plenty of common topics to discuss."

Zheng Fei extended his hand.

"Section Chief Fang, a pleasure."

Upon seeing Zheng Fei, Fang Zailiang was slightly surprised, as he was far younger than he had imagined.

"Genius truly emerges from youth. I didn't expect Teacher Zheng to be so young."

"You flatter me."

Zheng Fei exchanged polite pleasantries with him.

He was far too familiar with the Shanghai Animation Film Studio; almost all the domestic animated films he had watched in his childhood came from this very studio.

From the pioneering work of the Wan brothers in *Uproar in Heaven*, to pulling the dragon tendons in *Nezha Conquers the Dragon King*, he remembered them all with crystal clarity.

Not to mention later masterpieces like *The Three Monks*, *Calabash Brothers*, *Black Cat Detective*, and *King of Masks*.

It could be said that during a certain period, the artistic achievements of this animation studio were exceptionally high, surpassing even those of Japan.

Yet, for reasons unknown, somewhere along the way things went slightly awry, leaving many people in later generations with very mixed feelings about the studio.

While ordinary people only knew of a few household names among their fine arts films, the studio had actually produced over five hundred animated works since its establishment.

Looking at it from another angle, if they hadn't been holding an iron rice bowl with full state funding, they could easily have gone bankrupt a dozen times over.

Only a massive institution with the boundless financial resources of the state could withstand the kind of lavish spending practiced by the animation film studio.

Unlike modern animation production companies, which—without any subsidies—might disband on the spot after producing just two unprofitable animated shorts.

Fang Zailiang smiled and said, "Teacher Zheng, I've read all of your *Fung Yun*. It is genuinely brilliantly drawn. When I was studying abroad in Japan, I read manga by Teacher Ryoichi Ikegami, and I feel there are certain similarities between your styles."

Zheng Fei was slightly taken aback. He truly hadn't expected this Section Chief Fang to be acquainted with that legendary master.

Ryoichi Ikegami belonged to the realistic school of manga artists, and Hong Kong's Tony Wong and other creators had indeed been heavily influenced by his artistic style.

"If there are any shortcomings, I hope Section Chief Fang will offer his guidance." When facing strangers, Zheng Fei remained quite modest.

"You're too polite. I only know a little bit of the surface; I wouldn't dare offer guidance."

"The truth is, a few days ago, I recommended your comic *Fung Yun* to the leaders of our film studio. I originally hoped to adapt your comic into an animated film."

At this point, Fang Zailiang let out a sigh. "Unfortunately, the leaders felt it wasn't quite suitable and politely declined for the time being."

Editor-in-Chief Mo chimed in, "It really is a great pity. Teacher Zheng, just as Section Chief Fang and I were talking earlier, I mentioned to him that you also have a script called *Country Teacher*. After hearing the general plot, Section Chief Fang was extremely satisfied."

"Teacher Zheng, may I take a look at the manuscript?"

Zheng Fei frowned slightly, but still smiled as he replied, "No problem at all. Let's go to my studio to take a look."

Once the three of them arrived at the art studio and Fang Zailiang saw the unfinished pages of Zheng Fei's new comic *Country Teacher*, even in its incomplete state, he was deeply shaken.

"Teacher Zheng, this is a wonderful story! The ignorant people at the bottom of society create a stark contrast with the lofty alien civilization, and the depiction of the teacher here is exceptionally noble as well."

"Teacher Zheng, I have high hopes for this manuscript. Can we collaborate on an adaptation?"

......

Zheng Fei pondered for a moment, then directly refused him to his face: "I'm sorry, but I have no current plans to collaborate with the Shanghai Animation Film Studio on *Country Teacher*."

Hearing these words, the smiles on the faces of Editor-in-Chief Mo and Fang Zailiang instantly vanished, replaced by expressions of utter incomprehension.