Chapter 9: The Interview

A red-and-white Skoda bus screeched to a halt near the front gate.

At that time, Czechoslovakia was still part of the Eastern Bloc, officially known as the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic. Many of the imported trucks and buses of that era were manufactured in Eastern Europe, long before Skoda was acquired by Volkswagen.

Sheng Yongzhi, a veteran reporter for the China Youth Daily, squeezed his way off the bus with some difficulty. He wiped away sweat and smoothed out his cotton shirt, trying to make himself look presentable. He had worked at the newspaper his entire career, returning to his post following the publication’s revival, though he would be retiring in a few years. With few young people in the office, the newspaper placed great emphasis on mentoring the next generation.

"Little Yu, hurry up!"

"Coming, coming!"

Yu Jiajia quickened her pace to catch up. In her early twenties and quite attractive, she had just taken over her father’s position as a rookie reporter. She clutched a bag containing a precious camera.

"Little Yu, you should ask a few questions later."

"Ah? I don't know what to ask."

"How can a reporter not know what to ask? I brought you along to gain experience. Think about it."

They walked for a while until they reached the east side of the Arrow Tower. Sure enough, they spotted a tea stall bustling with about a dozen young people, serving a large crowd of customers.

Sheng did not reveal his identity right away. He queued up and said, "Two bowls of tea, please!"

"Coming right up!"

"That’ll be four cents total!"

Huang Zhanying served with growing efficiency. Sheng picked up a large bowl, inspected it, sniffed it, and then took a sip. "Is this jasmine tea?"

"It is!"

"The water quality in the capital isn't great, but jasmine tea doesn't mind the water—it's perfect for a street stall."

"Oh, you’re an expert! Are you a local?" Huang asked, chatting as she usually did.

"Yes. Do you have this many customers every day?"

"Just about. More and more people know about us now, and everyone is very supportive."

After chatting for a while, Sheng smiled and extended his hand. "Hello. Let me introduce myself formally. I am Sheng Yongzhi, a reporter from the China Youth Daily, and this is Comrade Little Yu. We are here to conduct an interview."

"In-in-interview??"

Huang was stunned, stammering, "Why interview us?"

"What interview?"

"Did something happen?"

"My god, the China Youth Daily!"

Hearing this, the other young people gathered around, shouting excitedly. In this era, print media held supreme authority, and being a journalist was a universally envied profession.

Sheng, being experienced, took control of the situation. "May I ask, who is Chen Qi?"

*Swish!*

Twelve pairs of eyes turned in unison toward the right side of the tea stall, where a young man was squatting, holding a wooden box and counting money.

***

Is he in charge of the finances?

Sheng thought to himself as he walked over and reached out his hand. "Hello! Are you the one who wrote the letter to our newspaper?"

"Hello, hello!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice you earlier; I was just balancing the accounts!"

Chen Qi stood up quickly, his face betraying a hint of shyness and nervousness—he looked every bit the handsome, bashful boy. He scratched the back of his head and said, "Yes, I wrote it. I never imagined you would actually come to interview us."

"Your letter was excellent. Shall we chat for a bit?"

"Yes, of course!"

The customers grew restless. *Oh, a reporter! Are we going to be in the paper? Can we get in the paper too?* The crowd grew larger.

Huang Zhanying, showing initiative, brought over some stools. Sheng sat down, didn't stand on ceremony, and asked about the general situation. "Could you describe the conflict from that day?"

"It was our first day of business. During the lunch break, I was eating when I heard jeering. I went over to check and saw those workers from the Second Plastics Factory. They were mocking us for no reason and even sang 'The Song of the Wanderer.' A few of the girls were so upset they cried."

"And then?"

"Luckily, the police arrived in time to stop them. We are all very young—the oldest is only 21—and half of us are women. If the police hadn't come, we really wouldn't have known what to do. Sigh..."

Chen Qi answered truthfully, his expression bitter. "They were filled with social prejudice. That very day, some of our comrades wanted to quit. We had to do a lot of convincing to keep the group together."

*Oh!* Yu Jiajia was moved. If she hadn't taken over her father's job, she might have ended up in a cooperative doing sewing and mending.

Sheng continued, "What do your parents do for a living?"

"They work at the Xinhua Bookstore."

"That's a good unit. Why didn't you take over their positions?"

"..."

Chen Qi hesitated for a moment before saying, "They wanted to retire early. On one hand, I know it's a good choice and would be very beneficial for my life. But on the other hand, I told myself that it would actually be quite spineless."

"Spineless?"

"Just think, my parents are only in their forties. If they retire so early, what would they do? I’m only 19, I have hands, feet, and an education. My life is still ahead of me. I couldn't accept letting my parents make that sacrifice for my own selfish gain!"

Chen Qi’s expression was firm. Sheng was moved. *What a good kid.*

"Most people are very kind, especially those visiting on business. They all praise our stall and say it makes things convenient for the public."

"On the very first day, we sold over 2,000 bowls!"

"There are too few commercial service outlets in the capital. I think our cooperative can fill that gap, but people's mindsets are hard to change, which makes us feel a bit inferior."

As the conversation deepened, Chen Qi seemed to lose his nervousness and began to speak eloquently.

Sheng felt he had enough and left the floor to Yu Jiajia, signaling her to ask a question. She thought for a moment and asked, "What is your vision for the future?"

"For now, I just want to run this tea stall well. I love literature and film, and I'd like to try writing something."

"Is that what you call your 'spiritual home'?"

"Yes. Whenever I've felt negative or despondent, my spiritual home has saved me countless times. I am still full of hope for the future. I believe that young people of my generation will be surrounded by flowers, and I believe even more that our motherland will only get better!"

"Just like that line you wrote: 'Facing the sea, with spring blossoms'?" Yu Jiajia laughed.

"Uh, I was just scribbling!" Chen Qi scratched the back of his head again.

Sheng had a very positive impression of this young man: humble, thoughtful, and grounded. He had a bright future. As a traditional intellectual, he was always happy to offer guidance to promising youth. "We all read your letter and were deeply moved. We've decided to publish it, but the title is a bit problematic. Although you wrote some dark things, the ending is positive, and you said you have the strength to keep moving forward. So, 'Life’s Path, Why Does It Narrow as We Walk?' is not quite appropriate."

"I suggest changing it to: 'Life’s Path, How Should We Walk It?' It fits the content better and highlights an attitude of communicating with readers."

"You're right, that's how it should be!" Chen Qi immediately agreed.

The title didn't matter to him; he only chose that depressing one originally to play a "meme." That specific phrase, "Life’s Path, Why Does It Narrow as We Walk?", was actually the title of an article that would be published in *China Youth* magazine next year—a piece about someone facing various hardships and contemplating suicide. It was a famous article that sparked a nationwide debate on the meaning of life.

But Chen Qi wasn't plagiarizing; he was writing an "advertorial" to promote the tea stall, the plastics factory, and to build his own reputation by crafting the image of a positive youth—in short, building a persona!

"Very well, I'll talk to the editors when I get back." Sheng nodded. A young person who listens to advice is a good young person. He added, "Do you want to use a pen name?"

"A pen name... can I use 'Night Rain, Carrying a Blade Without an Umbrella'?"

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. I can't think of one. Let's just use my real name."

"Hmm, that works too."

Afterward, the two went to interview the rest of the group. They were much less impressive, chattering away like a flock of ducks—too much talk, not enough substance. Finally, Sheng took several photos of them and the tea stall before waving goodbye.

As soon as they left, the group swarmed around Chen Qi.

"Wow, we're going to be in the paper!"

"Chen Qi, I absolutely admire you!"

"You and Sister Ying are a perfect pair—one with the brains, one with the brawn. With you two leading us, we're sure to succeed!"

When these words were spoken, no one felt it was out of place. Without even realizing it, everyone had tacitly accepted the two of them as their leaders.