Chapter Sixty-Six: The Master Returns from His Pilgrimage!

After reading through the script, Li Shixin had formed a rough idea of Coach Liu’s character. This was a man both strict and old-fashioned, yet attentive to the smallest detail. The script, perhaps to satisfy the censors, didn’t delve much into Coach Liu’s past. Thus, when the turning point comes—when Qiao Hong cannot bear the hardships of the gymnastics team and falters—Coach Liu’s emotional reversal feels rather abrupt.

But after searching online for the original autobiography and reading that part, Li Shixin realized that Coach Liu was a character of real depth. The script, in order to maintain a brisk pace on screen, had cut many characters, events, and details from the original.

In Chapter Fifteen of Qiao Hong’s autobiography, there is an account: after Qiao Hong won the national gymnastics championship, Coach Liu borrowed her medal. That day, he took leave, saying it was for a visit to a grave.

Chapters Seventeen and Twenty-four recount two more incidents. During a team training, a veteran mentioned to Qiao Hong that Coach Liu should have a daughter, though no one had ever seen her. Later, a sports team official told Qiao Hong that Coach Liu did indeed have a daughter, but she died in an accident during the countryside labor movement.

Piecing together these clues, Li Shixin searched for more information about Coach Liu online. There wasn’t much, since the former provincial gymnastics coach had already passed away. Still, Li Shixin found records of Coach Liu’s family. When he saw the web page about a girl, once a team member, who had gone to the countryside for construction work and lost her life in the mountains, all his doubts were resolved.

A father and coach who had lost his daughter—and perhaps placed some of his hopes onto Qiao Hong—gradually became clear in Li Shixin’s mind.

By the time he finished compiling all the information, it was late at night. He looked across at the rows of windows in the neighboring building, all dark now, then took off his reading glasses and rubbed his swollen, tearful eyes. He set the spittoon at the foot of the bed, loosened his clothes, and went to sleep.

That night, he got up ten times to relieve himself, but found no respite.

...

The next morning, Li Shixin rose early. As he was brushing his teeth, the door rustled and Zhang Ying entered, carrying a heap of groceries.

“Well, old man, you’re up early today!” she greeted, her smile blooming like a flower.

Seeing his goddaughter’s radiant face, Li Shixin spat out the last of the toothpaste foam and replied with a smile, “You didn’t come home last night?”

Although his sleep had improved lately, he’d napped a bit at noon and his body was still sore from yesterday’s audition, so his rest was light.

“Yeah,” Zhang Ying said, placing the groceries on the floor and handing him a newly bought towel. “I finished work pretty late last night. I was worried about Xiaomeng getting home alone, so I walked her back. I thought I’d disturb your rest if I came back, so I just stayed at her place for the night.”

Li Shixin nodded. There was a reason people called daughters ‘little cotton jackets.’

See how thoughtful she is!

Together, he and Zhang Ying cleaned the vegetables and prepared a simple breakfast. As they chatted about yesterday’s audition, Li Shixin’s phone rang—it was Jiao Chendong.

On the other end, Jiao sounded exhausted, as if he’d been up all night. At Li Shixin’s “hello,” Jiao breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Thank goodness, old man, you’re still here.”

Li Shixin’s face fell. What kind of greeting was that, first thing in the morning?

“Director Jiao, is there something urgent this early?” Li Shixin asked.

Jiao quickly explained the production schedule: the crew was mostly made up of the team from “Spring Dawn” after filming wrapped. Though the other actors hadn’t arrived yet, the locations were already selected, and filming could begin, albeit barely.

Jiao admitted that he was worried Li Shixin might have issues, so the company had held an emergency meeting the night before to finalize the shooting plan.

The outcome was both amusing and exasperating for Li Shixin—all his scenes were scheduled as the highest priority in the filming plan! The company’s intention was to finish his parts as quickly as possible.

“Old man, you must hang in there for these two months!” Jiao pleaded, almost in tears.

Li Shixin smiled lightly at the anxious young man. Look at how frightened he is!

Don’t worry, even if you die, your old uncle isn’t going anywhere!

After reassuring Jiao Chendong about his excellent condition, Li Shixin hung up.

“Godfather, was that Director Jiao? Is the new film about to start shooting?” Zhang Ying asked, chopsticks in hand.

Li Shixin nodded. “The locations are ready. We’re filming at the old sports arena in Rongdian.”

Zhang Ying was surprised the production was starting so soon, and after congratulating him, she suddenly realized, “Oh no, if the crew starts, I haven’t prepared the props yet! I thought filming would be at least a month away, so I took on several jobs. I won’t be able to get out of them in time! What should I do?”

Seeing her anxiety, Li Shixin placed a piece of marinated tofu in her bowl and laughed, “Don’t worry, girl. Your godfather sorted everything out while experiencing daily life!”

When Zhang Ying heard that Li Shixin had stockpiled a heap of props at the landfill, she was secretly delighted.

This is what people mean when they say an old man at home is a treasure. She finally understood.

With Zhang Ying looking at him with admiration, Li Shixin stroked his bristling white beard.

That companion at the landfill must be missing him by now.

...

Third Waste Sorting Plant.

This once desolate place, visited only by the scheduled garbage trucks, had become lively thanks to the scavenger elders and the wandering ‘master.’

Aside from the regulars like the big guy, Needle, and Li Erchun, since early morning the day before, dozens of fans and streamers had arrived, all searching for the ‘master.’

After discovering they’d missed him, and that the master had “gone traveling,” none of the fans or streamers left.

The fans were simple—having watched the master’s videos, they felt this wasteland, scattered with garbage and abandoned cars, was like a hidden paradise, tranquil and peaceful.

The streamers were even simpler—having spent money on plane tickets to chase the master, they were determined to get their money’s worth. If they couldn’t catch him, who would reimburse their travel expenses? They needed to ride the master’s wave of popularity!

Even the landfill where the master had stayed became a hotspot.

The once quiet landfill was now a gathering place for fans and internet celebrities.

The sudden influx amused the regulars—the big guy and Li Erchun—no end. Just by helping sort abandoned cars to provide accommodation for fans and streamers, they’d earned three thousand yuan in two days.

Early that morning, after the big guy and others had returned from collecting junk, the streamers—whom the vagrants considered half crazy—began fiddling with their phones.

“Hey folks, I’ve learned that where I’m standing now is where the master always started his mornings. From here, looking east, the sunrise is beautiful. The master could find beauty in life even in a landfill! Look at the distant city, the morning glow to the east—it’s so poetic!”

Li Erchun, typing away in the bus, glanced at the streamer’s spot and smirked silently.

Nearby, the big guy sorting cardboard burst out laughing, snorting like a pig. “Ha ha ha, Hanghang, you’re full of it! The spot you’re standing on is where the old man did his business every morning! You’re standing right on it!”

“Damn it!” came a shriek, as the vagrants laughed until they doubled over.

Just then, outside the landfill, the sound of a motorcycle engine echoed.

“The master! The master’s back!”

A moment later, someone shouted.

Hearing the cry, the big guy, Li Erchun, and the others paused, then rose to their feet.