Chapter 2828 Reporter Mai Ruibao

The restructuring target was the Lingao County Opera Society. Compared to the puppet troupe, most of the opera society's folk art performances required minimal investment—just one or two performers with little expense for costumes or props—making them well suited for individual solo operations.

"Since they feel they earn too little in the troupe, let them strike out on their own," Dingding said, expressing his support. "A forced melon is never sweet."

"Going solo is fine, but I didn't pass on these skills for nothing..." Wang Tao said.

In this timeline's storytelling and folk arts world, Wang Tao occupied a position practically equivalent to a founding master. Not that his professional technique was particularly refined—this timeline had plenty of skilled professional "stars" who far surpassed Wang Tao the amateur enthusiast. But when it came to commanding the most scripts, no one in the world could compare.

First, as an enthusiast, he had amassed a vast collection of classic scripts during the crossing, including scripts and performance recordings from all national schools of storytelling. Second, there were the various related materials brought by the Grand Library and other Senators—especially the boundless ocean of web novels, many of which had been adapted into storytelling versions.

With such an abundance of materials at his disposal, apprentices holding only B-level diplomas could do nothing but kowtow in reverence. Thus, Wang Tao's proposal was that performers wishing to go independent would need to pay "usage fees" based on the scripts they had learned—one script, one fee.

"Fees paid annually, linked to annual performer license registration," Wang Tao proposed. "The money collected would count as our department's operating funds."

"How much should the fees be? I think collecting based on a percentage of their revenue would be reasonable..."

"True, but how could we possibly know their specific income?" Wang Tao smiled. "We can only roughly apply the fixed-tax method—collect an annual fee. Generate some income. If they go out and business booms, collect a bit more; if business is slow, collect a bit less. As for the exact collection method, I'll give it more thought."

This proposal now sat on Dingding's desk. Though he had not yet had time to read it carefully, a cursory glance showed that Wang Tao had put considerable thought into it. And his calculations aligned with Dingding's own: avoid maintaining professional troupes whenever possible.

Though this only concerned folk art performers for now, when the time was ripe, the approach could be extended to prepare for "privatization."

Wang Tao currently served as Performance Division chief, and his thinking aligned with Dingding's. Many matters would be easier to handle. As for Fang Fei, his enthusiasm lay in organizing various group calisthenics and large-scale performance programs, creating a "ritual atmosphere." He had no particular ideas about the performance market.

Dingding first leafed through the relevant proofs on his desk. Proofreading work no longer required his attention now—his role was more about deliberating over wording. Sometimes such deliberation took considerable time, but today he merely skimmed through. He picked up the report on Liangyou pictorial magazine's inaugural matters.

Liangyou was a sixteen-panel photography pictorial that Propaganda was preparing to publish. Unlike the lithograph and copperplate pictorials they had published earlier, Liangyou's content would primarily come from news photography. This benefited from years of progress in the Chemical and Optical departments, which had industrialized photography and image printing.

Though Dingding did not know how much effort the industrial departments had invested behind the scenes, he understood the enormous benefits that imaging could bring to newspapers and magazines. News photography pictorials especially—in an era without television, illustrated pictorials wielded far greater influence than newspapers.

For Liangyou's launch, besides establishing a new printing facility, a special news photography training course had been held to train photojournalists.

The Liangyou masthead was planned to be written by Wen Desi or Wang Luobin. After brief consideration, Dingding added a note: "This matter should have a Senator proficient in calligraphy do the writing. It's not advisable..." He thought a moment, then crossed out "not advisable."

The pictorial was planned at thirty-two pages in sixteen-panel format. Besides twenty-six pages of photography, there would be six pages of lithograph comics. All layouts would employ a mixed text-and-image format.

Dingding picked up the pictorial printing proofs that had been delivered and examined the image printing quality. For pictorials to better showcase image effects, even black-and-white printing had certain requirements for paper, ink, and printing presses. In earlier years, the Senate's printing factory could only manage lithograph technology for image printing. Now being able to print photography pictorials represented a major advancement.

On this late spring morning of 1638, Liangyou pictorial's trainee photojournalist Mai Ruibao was experiencing an indescribable mental daze. Though his body still bounced on the first-class carriage's sofa seat as the urban rail clattered along, he felt as though he had magically floated into mid-air. A month ago, when he officially joined the pictorial, Director Dingding had personally handed him the brand-new "Lingao Optics" camera, instructing him on the essentials of interviewing and photography. Mai Ruibao had felt a wave of happiness rush to his head, leaving him intensely moved.

But that paled in comparison to this moment. What had he done to deserve such fortune? A greenhorn fresh out of school, having studied at Fangcaodi for a few years before being selected for the art intensive training class to study painting for two more years. Because he had shown intense interest in the Senators' magical treasure—the camera—he had become a member of the first photojournalist training class. After several months of study, he officially entered Liangyou pictorial. And now, on his very first assignment, he was actually sitting in a Senator-exclusive carriage, accompanying a group of Directors—not to mention the Director of Directors, the beloved Chairman Wang Luobin—on an inspection and interview of the Danzhou Industrial Zone. He would not have dared dream of such a thing.

Most unexpected was how approachable Chairman Wang proved to be, without a hint of "big director" airs. Throughout the journey, he chatted and laughed with various naturalized-citizen staff—getting along especially well with the female reporter Sun Shangxiang from Lingao Times. Miss Sun was so quick-witted; whatever direction the conversation turned, she could respond with clever ease. The carriage constantly echoed with Chairman Wang's hearty laughter and Reporter Sun's lark-like, delicate giggling. And her dark blue dress with white lapels only accentuated her fair skin and graceful figure all the more. Mai Ruibao gazed at Miss Sun as if he himself were the one carrying on that easy conversation with her, his heart overflowing with happiness and joy. When they reached the station, he was reluctant to get off—wait, this urban rail train had really arrived at Danzhou already? How had the journey passed so quickly?

Coming to his senses, Mai Ruibao rushed ahead of the Directors and leaped off the carriage. The recently built Danzhou Yangpu Station primarily handled freight, so besides railway staff, the platform was practically empty. Yet at this moment, beneath the simple rain shelter, two columns of Japanese National Army soldiers had already formed up. As soon as the carriage door opened, a naturalized Kun jumped out. The moment his feet touched the platform, he raised the wooden box hanging from his chest, flipped open the front cover, and out popped a leather-wrapped pig-snout-like thing. He pulled and extended it, aiming left for a moment then turning right, fiddling with various mechanisms on the box that produced clicking sounds. To the alert mercenaries with their simple training, this sequence of movements was indistinguishable from loading and aiming some mysterious firearm. Two nearby Japanese soldiers immediately raised their bayoneted rifles and approached. Fortunately, at that moment, Senator Lu Zeyang walked over from the other end of the platform and stopped the Japanese mercenaries, ordering them to reform their ranks.

Mai Ruibao remained completely unaware of how close he had come to having several extra holes in his body. He surveyed the platform environment and the diffracted light beneath the rain shelter, silently reciting the Sunny 16 rule he had memorized countless times, adjusted the aperture, attached the cable release, then moved back to the viewfinder—focus looked good. Director Lu's head-to-toe inverted image projected perfectly onto the ground glass screen. Then he heard Chairman Wang's resonant voice: "Commander Zeyang—" The inverted images on the ground glass went from one to two. He quickly removed the viewfinder, inserted the dark slide containing the dry plate negative, took a deep breath to steady the camera, and at the moment Chairman Wang and Director Lu's hands clasped, pressed the cable release.

Operating a glass plate camera was complicated. The procedures and mnemonics the Senator instructor had taught cycled constantly through Mai Ruibao's mind. His hands never stopped, consecutively capturing several Directors' heroic poses. Finally, his lens seemed to automatically seek its target and aimed at Sun Shangxiang, who was interviewing Director Lu. Unfortunately, Director Lu seemed distracted, hurriedly saying a few words before ending the interview. By the time Mai Ruibao inserted the dark slide again, through the side viewfinder, he regretfully saw Miss Sun leaving him only a retreating silhouette.

The Senators and their entourage naturally had carriages waiting to take them. Mai Ruibao had originally been "hitching a ride" on the exclusive train carriage. Naturally, he could not hitch a carriage ride too—after all, he was not as cute and charming as Sun Shangxiang.

Outside the station sprawled a simple marketplace. Buildings and shops were all modest, but commerce here appeared quite prosperous. First, there were many taverns and eateries. Second, the station plaza had thirty to forty Zero-model rickshaws queued up waiting for fares.

From Mai Ruibao's experience, commerce around large factory districts was usually prosperous. Workers earned high wages and were generally willing to spend. Though the district was newly built, one could easily imagine it would grow increasingly prosperous with the dual boost of station and factory district.

He hailed a Zero-model rickshaw and traveled along a recently paved road for fifteen minutes, arriving at the newly built Danzhou United Chemical's "Specialty Chemical Zone."

The Specialty Chemical Zone was the highest-security industrial zone. Even before entering, he spotted the "regulations board" at the factory gate—red background with white text, containing several dozen rules in all. Before Mai Ruibao could read them carefully, he was drawn to two huge slogans nearby: "Go to work happy, come home safe" and "Safety is the guarantee of family happiness; accidents are the root of life's tragedies."

At the security room by the factory entrance, he showed his identification and Liangyou pictorial's letter of introduction, received the relevant safety education and security inspection, before finally being allowed to hang a "Press Pass" around his neck and enter the factory grounds.

(End of Chapter)