1979 Gold Age

Chapter 11 Fame Before It's Too Late

Since the birth of mass media, only its form has changed, while its essence has remained the same.

Chen Qi's essay is no different from what influencers on Weibo, Xiaohongshu, Douyin, and Bilibili do—stirring up emotions, guiding public opinion, and attracting traffic to achieve personal goals.

He follows the emotional influencer route, the kind that evokes strong feelings—men silent, women in tears.

In his essay, he criticized the Second Plastic Factory. If this were the future, the factory would engage in PR damage control, possibly even turning public opinion in their favor and making a fortune through livestream sales.

But things are different now.

People don’t have the same mindset, and the environment doesn’t allow for such strategies.

"I must have the worst luck in the world—how did I end up with these employees?!"

At the Second Plastic Factory, the factory leader, holding a newspaper, was smoking furiously, full of grievances.

He was indeed aggrieved. According to procedure, the so-called “holding a meeting for discussion” wasn’t wrong. In these times, the working class was revered! Punishing workers over trivial matters? Would anyone agree to that? It wasn’t something he could decide alone.

It had to be discussed.

But before they could even reach a conclusion, the other side didn’t play by the rules and directly delivered a knockout blow.

"Once it makes the news, it gains public attention. With public attention, higher-ups will start looking into it... Now we're done for. Not just those few workers—I'm in trouble too!"

"What do we do now?"

"What else can we do?"

The factory leader huffed and said, "Our management team will immediately conduct a self-criticism meeting, a thorough review, and submit a written report. The higher-ups will surely send people to investigate.

"As for those workers, suspend them for now and have them wait for further disciplinary action!"

After saying this, the factory leader thought for a moment, then suddenly grabbed his coat. "I'm going to the Dashilan Subdistrict Office to have a proper talk with them!"

...

Qianmen, east side of the Arrow Tower.

It was midday, and twelve young tea vendors were taking shifts to rest. Why twelve? Because a couple of them had sneakily skipped work again.

After days of experience, they had quickly picked up tricks—like pouring tea in advance and covering it with a glass sheet to keep it warm and dust-free, so customers could drink it right away.

Sales had also been steadily rising. Yesterday, they sold 3,000 bowls.

"Whew, I'm exhausted!"

Huang Zhanying, following the bad example of a certain someone, broke apart a steamed bun, stuffed it with pickled vegetables, and made herself a giant pickled vegetable burger. "Feels like there are more and more people—it's getting hard to keep up!"

"Yeah, the morning flew by... Hey, where's Chen Qi?"

"Said he had a stomachache, resting at home."

"Why is he always having stomachaches?"

"Slacking off, obviously!"

Huang Zhanying took a sip of water. "A reporter came to interview us yesterday, said we'd be in the newspaper today, but we've been too busy to check. After work, I have to buy a copy."

"Yeah, me too. They took a group photo yesterday—I want my mom to see it, so she stops saying I’m useless."

"Wonder what the article says... all mysterious—"

"Ah! Stop pushing!"

A sudden scream interrupted them. Huang Zhanying shot up, thinking trouble was brewing again, but when she looked over, a crowd had gathered around the tea stall.

Men and women, mostly young, none looking like tea drinkers. They all wore expressions of curiosity and excitement.

"This is the place, right?"

"Yeah, there’s only one tea stall at Qianmen!"

"Wow, so this is where Comrade Chen Qi works? Our cooperative makes bedding, and I thought that was tough, but you guys have it worse—no shelter from the wind or sun."

"..."

Huang Zhanying was baffled. "What are you all here for? If you’re not buying tea, don’t block the stall!"

But instead of dispersing, the crowd got even more excited.

"Is Comrade Chen Qi here?"

"We want to meet him!"

"I read the newspaper and came all the way from Haidian!"

"He... he's sick today and took the day off."

"What? What illness? Is it serious? How did he suddenly fall sick? Where does he live? Can we visit?"

"Yeah! I have so much to say to him!"

"It's nothing serious, his parents are taking care of him. It wouldn't be appropriate for you all to visit... But I’ll pass along your regards. You’ve all come a long way—have some tea!"

Huang Zhanying’s eyes twinkled as she waved a hand. Her team caught on instantly and started pouring tea.

"There’s an old Chinese saying—‘Since you're here, might as well!’

—Albert Einstein"

Since they had come all this way, of course they had to drink some tea. And after drinking, it’d be awkward not to pay.

Huang Zhanying put on a show, acting reluctant but ultimately accepting their money.

She thought it was just one group, but more and more people kept coming—

All looking for Chen Qi.

Some even brought letters, asking her to pass them along. At this point, she felt like a celebrity manager dealing with a crowd of obsessed fans.

"Two bowls, please!"

"I'll have one too!"

"You guys work really hard. Our cooperative is over in Dongcheng—we're all comrades in the revolution, let’s support each other!"

"Queue up, don’t push!"

It was supposed to be their lunch break, but they ended up so busy they barely had time to breathe. While they scrambled to keep up, all they could think was—I have to buy a newspaper after work!

...

"Whoa!"

"Another sackful!"

At the China Youth Daily office, near the end of the workday, an editor dropped a large sack of letters onto the floor, exclaiming in disbelief.

"Young people today are too passionate! The article just came out today, and already hundreds of letters have arrived—all responding to it!"

"Are they for us or the author?"

"Both!"

"Call Lao Sheng over to take a look!"

A moment later, Sheng Yongzhi arrived, picked a letter at random, and read:

"Dear comrades at the newspaper,

I read the article ‘The Road of Life—Which Path Should We Take?’ today and was deeply moved. I couldn’t resist sharing my thoughts—please forgive my presumption.

The author suggests building a ‘spiritual home,’ which makes sense, but I don’t entirely agree.

I believe limiting ideals to internal self-fulfillment is too narrow. As young people in our prime, we should aim to realize our own value while contributing to society and our nation..."

"Impressive! These young people have strong opinions."

Sheng Yongzhi nodded. "Since this topic is so popular, why don’t we select some letters with different viewpoints and publish them in a column? Let everyone voice their thoughts and foster discussion."

"Good idea! The editorial team was thinking the same thing!"

"It’s been years since we’ve seen this kind of atmosphere!"

"A new era, new spirit!"

The room buzzed with enthusiasm. As intellectuals, they had endured a period where they had no voice.

Sheng Yongzhi, holding a stack of letters, gave new instructions:

"Xiao Yu, keep an eye on that tea stall. Leaders might visit later—remind me when they do."

"Got it!"

"And follow up on the author. See if there are more stories there."

"Will do!"

Yu Jiajia agreed cheerfully.

"My son!"

"I just found out how much you've suffered!"

As soon as she got home from work, Yu Xiuli rushed in and hugged her eldest son, crying her heart out. Beside her, Chen Jianjun looked on, feeling both proud and heavy-hearted.

Chen Qi rolled his eyes. He had come to realize that his mom had a bit of a drama queen personality, while his dad was the silent, reserved type. Writing an article and shedding a few tears in private was one thing—but why take the crying session out into the courtyard?

Obviously, it was to show off to the neighbors!

And it worked like a charm. No one was cooking dinner anymore. The whole neighborhood had gathered, forming a tight semi-circle around their house, with Chen Qi as the center of attention—like a monkey in a zoo.

"Xiuli, this is such a great thing—stop crying!"

"Yeah! Your boy got published in the newspaper! Way better than my son. Mine got caught holding a girl’s hand yesterday and nearly got taken in by the police!"

"Hey, Xiao Chen, do you get paid for this?"

"How did the reporter interview you?"

"Whoa, do you think leaders will come to inspect the place?"

"I always said this kid was good at writing essays since he was little. Going to the countryside wasted his talent!"

"...”

As the neighbors chattered away, Chen Qi remained completely indifferent—

As detached as a subway passenger,

As blind as a husband sleeping in the living room,

As deaf as coworkers in the break room,

As carefree as a parent bringing a teacher home to tutor their child...

If it were any other young person, they might have already been floating on air.

But he knew the truth—he didn’t have real social status yet. Writing a single letter didn’t mean much; this was just fleeting hype.

Still, it was a good start. Fame should come early!