Chapter 90 New Pimple

"Sister Juan: Seeing the letter is like seeing the person..."

Gu Qiuyue's calm and powerful words seemed to carry warmth, instantly soothing her anxious heart.

"The core lies in 'people' and 'things'," "Capture the realities around us," "Use the plain language of the villagers"... Each clear and concise suggestion was like a ray of light, bringing a sudden clarity to her vision! That's right! Wasn't it that stubborn old man Wang Tieshuan from Liushu Village next door who refused to believe in scientific seedling cultivation, and finally, jealous of other people's increased yields, secretly tried to learn it himself, causing quite a few jokes?

And on the night when the electricity was turned on in Lijiagou, the whole village gathered around the only light bulb and watched the shadow play, which was more extraordinary than the grand ceremony in heaven. Isn’t this a ready-made “new atmosphere”?

The more Sun Juan read, the more excited she became. The clouds of worry on her face disappeared, and she couldn't help but slap her thigh: "Oh! Sister Qiuyue, you are really my living Bodhisattva." She wanted to pick up a pen immediately and write down all the characters and scenes she saw in the newspaper.

However, when she glanced at the last paragraph of the letter, which asked about the "junk" in the warehouse and the old story, the excitement on Sun Juan's face faded slightly, and her brows knitted together again. Those things... they were dusty, and the words were hard to read. What did Qiuyue need them for? But the girl was well-educated, so she must have her reasons. She put the letter down and subconsciously looked towards the heavy, dusty wooden door of the warehouse.

The last cleaning was just the tip of the iceberg. It was pitch black inside, filled with junk left over from who knows when. The stale musty smell seemed to still linger in my nose.

At that moment, Director Wang's signature, slightly bureaucratic voice echoed from the doorway: "Comrade Sun, have you finished reading the letter? What advice did the provincial writer offer you? Have you come up with an idea for the script? Time waits for no one!"

He walked in with a look of inquiry and a hint of imperceptible expectation on his face. His eyes swept over Sun Juan's excited expression, which she had not yet been able to suppress, and the letter spread out on the table.

Sun Juan's heart tightened. She quickly folded the letter and forced a smile on her face. "I have it, Director. Sister Qiuyue gave me a lot of good ideas. I'll start writing a draft right away."

"That's good!" Director Wang nodded with satisfaction, his hands behind his back. "Hurry up and produce something real. Don't let your 'connections' down."

He deliberately emphasized the last two words, his eyes flickering across Sun Juan's face before drifting towards the warehouse. As if casually, he said, "By the way, last time I asked you to clean out the warehouse, did you find anything valuable among that pile of old stuff? Don't just focus on the scripts; you should also be aware of the museum's past."

Director Wang's words were like a small thorn, gently pricking Sun Juan. Valuable? Those moldy, tattered books? At the time, she thought they were choking and useless, but Qiuyue asked for them, and the director asked again... Could there really be some treasure hidden inside that she hadn't discovered? She replied vaguely, "Well, well, I'll look through it carefully later..."

Director Wang said "hmm" and walked out with his hands behind his back.

The office became quiet again, but Sun Juan felt a little restless.

Qiuyue's trust and guidance made her full of energy, but Director Wang's meaningful look and questions about the old items in the warehouse brought her back like a small dark cloud. She looked at the tightly closed warehouse door, and the dark crack seemed to reveal an indescribable chill.

Could there be something else hidden within those scraps of paper, buried by time, besides dust and blurred handwriting? What could it be? Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of curiosity and a vague unease quietly growing.

She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to get rid of this inexplicable emotion. The most urgent thing was the script.

She grabbed the pen and, following the idea inspired by Gu Qiuyue, wrote the first title on the white paper: "The Lights of Liushu Village". The tip of the pen rustled with hope for a new life. However, the heavy door of the warehouse and the dusty unknown behind the door hung quietly on this winter afternoon like a silent footnote.

The pen tip paused under the title "The Lights of Liushu Village", but Sun Juan's thoughts were like dandelions blown away by the wind, with always one or two furry seeds floating uncontrollably towards the closed warehouse door.

Director Wang's words, "Don't let your 'connection' down" and "You have to know your past," were like two little bugs, buzzing in her head.

"Oh, what I fear is what I get." Sun Juan put down her pen in frustration and rubbed her swollen temples. The inspiration for the script was sparked by Gu Qiuyue, but the "junk" in the warehouse had become a new problem.

Sister Qiuyue wanted it, and the curator also asked. If she didn't go and take a look, she would have trouble explaining to both sides. Besides... the curiosity in her heart was scratching like a kitten's paw.

She stood up and walked to the window. The autumn afternoon sun, with a hint of bleak warmth, slanted down on the heavy old wooden door of the warehouse. The mottled paint and deep cracks on the door panel appeared particularly clear under the light. The darkness that came through the crack in the door seemed to swallow up the light, and the faint smell of stale mold seemed to be even stronger.

"Who cares? Whether it's a mule or a horse, just pull it out for a walk." Sun Juan stomped her feet to cheer herself up.

She found the torn mask she used for cleaning last time and a pair of whitened coarse cloth gloves, and took out a flashlight that was almost out of water from the drawer. She shook it vigorously and barely turned on the dim light.

When she pushed open the warehouse door again, the strong smell of dust, mildew and rotting paper hit her in the face, choking her so much that she sneezed several times and almost cried.

She swept the room with her flashlight and found it was packed full. In addition to the pile of "junk" that was cleared out last time, which was still piled in the corner, deeper in the room were old tables and chairs covered with thick dust, stage props with broken legs, and faded banners, piled up layer upon layer like a silent mountain of garbage.

"Oh my God, this will take forever to clean up..." Sun Juan muttered, walking in with one foot deep and one foot shallow.

There was soft dust under my feet, which made a soft "puffing" sound when I stepped on it. The light was too dim, and where the flashlight beam passed, dust particles flew wildly in the light.

She walked straight to the corner where she had found the old books and ballads last time. The pile of things was still there, piled haphazardly on a broken wooden box with a missing corner. She carefully brushed off the top layer of dust, revealing the yellowed and brittle papers underneath. This time, she was patient and carefully looked through the papers one by one in the dim light.

Most of them were indeed useless old account books and meeting minutes, with handwriting so blurred that it was difficult to recognize. Some were handwritten copies of old folk songbooks, and the paper was so fragile that it seemed like it would break at the touch. She thought of the "old stories" and "ballads" that Gu Qiuyue wanted, so she paid special attention to those things written on special paper.