dkrc Chapter 83 This is a story from Northeast China
Chapter 83 This is a story from Northeast China
More and more people are discussing tea creations made in early spring.
Someone compiled a list of Early Spring Tea's published short stories—"Grandma," "Human Chair," "Summer, Fireworks, My Corpse," "Monkey Paw," and "The Old Corpse in the Countryside"—each with the magazine issue it was published in. The list was pinned to the top of the forum's homepage, and someone commented, "I'm going to find and read all of Early Spring Tea's works," while another replied, "I'm already looking; I've practically worn out last year's bound volume of *The Records of Tang Dynasty Ghost Stories*, but I still can't find the second story."
Another person posted a request for help: "How many articles has 'Early Spring Tea' published in 'The Record of Strange Tales of the Tang Dynasty' before? I bought the entire year's issue of the magazine and found that only two of them are his. Did he change his name?"
Someone replied below: "He didn't change his name. Those articles that can't be found seem to be in 'New Year's Goods Shop'."
Another person commented: "《New Year's Goods Shop》? It's that collection of suspenseful short stories published by Early Spring Tea."
People on the forum started regularly sharing records of early spring tea's publications in various magazines, following his short stories like a serialized novel. Every time someone discovered a "new" piece on early spring tea, the comments section was filled with "Thank you, master!"
Wang He called on the third day after the finale of "The Hidden Corner" was released.
That day, Luo Jinnian was copying down the outline of a TV series in his rented room. When the caller ID popped up on his phone, he thought Wang He was calling to discuss profit sharing. But when he answered, he realized that the first thing the other party said was not in the contract.
"Xiao Luo, your proposal for the Mist Theater has been internally approved."
Luo Jinnian paused for a moment, then remained silent.
"Come to Beijing tomorrow morning. Several people in charge at the company want to talk to you in person." Wang He's voice carried an barely suppressed excitement, a feeling that Luo Jinnian was very familiar with—the same excitement he felt after working with several editors before, the kind of excitement that comes from finding a gold mine and being afraid of being poached by someone else.
After hanging up the phone, Luo Jinnian leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment before sending a message to Director Qin: "Wang He called. They've internally approved the Mist Theater project. I'm going to Beijing tomorrow."
Director Qin replied instantly with four words: "I'll be with you." He added a thumbs-up emoji.
Older people don't have access to emojis.
The next day, Beijing.
Wang He sent a car to pick up Luo Jinnian and Director Qin, taking them directly from the high-speed rail station to the Kiwi Fruit office building. Several people were already seated in the meeting room. Luo Jinnian glanced over and saw Wang He, whom he recognized, and Dai Ying, the head of Kiwi Fruit's self-produced drama department, as well as two unfamiliar faces.
Dai Ying has produced many high-quality web dramas and is recognized in the industry as a promoter of suspense dramas. She had a lot of worries during the filming of "The Hidden Corner". She only met Luo Jinnian briefly when she visited the set in Zhanjiang.
"Sit down, sit down," Dai Ying said, gesturing for them to sit down. Her gaze lingered on Luo Jinnian for a couple more seconds. She had seen this boy once before on set, and at the time she only thought he was Director Qin's kid who had come to play. Later, Wang He told her that the Mist Theater proposal came from this boy's mouth, and only then did she take a closer look at the young man in front of her.
Wang He got straight to the point: "Xiao Luo, we've been discussing the Mist Theater branding plan you mentioned internally for three days. The conclusion is—do it. It's not just about stringing the six shows together into a single list, but about making it an independent brand. A unified visual style, a unified tone, and subtle connections between each show, allowing the audience to develop brand recognition."
Director Qin listened silently without interrupting, his fingers tapping a rhythm on his knees.
Luo Jinnian nodded, his tone flat: "How many parts do you need in total?"
"Twelve series," Dai Ying continued, her voice soft but firm. "Our plan is to produce four series each year over three years, totaling twelve episodes. The first series will establish the brand, and the rest will be produced steadily. Kiwi is willing to invest the best promotional resources to promote this brand, but the core issue is—content. We have the platform, the users, and the capital; what we lack are people who can consistently produce high-quality scripts."
She paused, looking at Luo Jinnian.
Could Early Spring Culture become the primary content supplier for the Mist Theater?
Luo Jinnian remained silent. He was pondering something—he could certainly fit all twelve Mist Theater series in his mind, but he couldn't possibly replicate them all from his previous life's Kiwi Theater. The quality of Mist Theater in his previous life had fluctuated, with only a few truly outstanding works. The rest would either require him to "write" them himself—though this so-called writing would mostly involve plagiarism and modification, like with "The Squid Game," which he would definitely plagiarize—or he would bring in other creators, but he currently lacked the confidence and resources to carefully select collaborators.
"We can't handle everything," Luo Jinnian said. "Early Spring Culture will only produce a maximum of two films a year. You can find other companies to do the rest; I can help you review the scripts."
Dai Ying's eyebrows twitched slightly, as if she was trying to figure out the meaning of "at most two parts".
Is it really possible for anyone in the world to consistently produce high-quality scripts?
"There's one more thing." Luo Jinnian pulled a folder out of his bag and placed it on the conference table. "I came here today to show you this."
Dai Ying turned to the first page and saw the title.
"The Long Season".
The meeting room fell silent.
Luo Jin began to tell the story that was in his mind.
"The story takes place in a small industrial town in Northeast China called Hualin, spanning about twenty years. The protagonist, Wang Xiang, is a train driver at Hualin Steel, an old-fashioned worker who always takes the lead and is an advanced model worker every year. He has a son named Wang Yang, who was involved in a murder case when he was eighteen years old and died."
Eighteen years later, Wang Xiang is still driving a taxi. A car with fake license plates leads him to discover that the escaped murderer from years ago has reappeared. So he, his old partner Gong Biao, and retired criminal police officer Ma Desheng, the three old men form a makeshift investigation team and begin the investigation.
"But this film isn't really about a murder mystery; it's about what a generation has lost: job loss, dignity, family, time..."
That sounds... a bit old-fashioned.
This was the first reaction of several veterans present.
Dai Ying's finger stopped on the two characters "Gong Biao", she looked up at Luo Jinnian, then looked down and continued flipping through the pages.
"Old Yan is the most suitable to play the role of Gong Biao," Luo Jinnian added. Old Yan could play the role just like Qin Hao in his previous life—gain twenty pounds, grow a greasy braid, have a big belly, and wear a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
From a spirited college student in the 1990s to a down-on-his-luck taxi driver.
It wasn't until she turned to the second page of the plot summary and saw where the story was going that Dai Ying sat up straight.
Dismemberment... This is getting interesting.
The dismemberment case is the central murder case in "The Long Season". When dealing with this part of the story, the focus is not on the gore of the case, but on "the corrosive effect of the dismemberment case on a family and an era".
This is a story from Northeast China, a story from an era.
If Luo Jinnian were to rank domestic web dramas, "The Long Season" would always be in the top three.