Chapter 193: The Inspiration From Constellation Short Stories For Chou Manman
Fourth Production Escort Ship, fields.
Xiang Chuan walked on the field path, clutching the meal box in her hand, picking up a toothpick with a plastic texture to skewer a piece of apple, savoring the refreshing sensation brought by the post-meal fruit.
Ouyang Yating and the other two, along with Nancy and Chou Manman, followed behind her, everyone with varied expressions on their faces—some puzzled, some deep in thought, clearly still not having emerged from the previous topic.
The modern field paths were incredibly quiet compared to the 21st century.
Xiang Chuan recalled walking home as a child with Xiang Qi, holding the hand of Xiang Xue who was still a little kid, struggling to keep up with Xiang Qi who was naturally long-legged; insect chirps came from the field edges and the woods not far away, or the calls of chickens and ducks or little yellow dogs raised by neighbors.
But in modern times, fields were not threatened by pests because all insects were in nature reserves. All livestock was strictly managed, and in their staple food crops area, chickens and ducks wouldn’t suddenly appear by the roadside like in Xiang Chuan’s childhood.
But it was also much more desolate because of that.
In the end, Xiang Chuan couldn’t stand the all-around silence.
“I mean, you guys, these are just fantasy stories anyway. Our imagination definitely can’t compare to ancient people, but these are just fantasy stories—it’s fine to just take a look, no need to be so entangled for so long.”
She said this while switching to a fresh unused toothpick, stuffing apple pieces from the meal box into the mouths of Ouyang Yating and the other two closest to her.
This sudden action indeed startled the three, but as the sweet and sour apple entered their mouths, they instinctively chewed the apple pieces; the fruit’s sweet juice flowed in with the chewing, not only relieving the greasiness from the earlier fried rice binge, but also slightly clearing their somewhat confused minds.
Nancy, who had watched the whole thing from the side, saw that her two childhood friends no longer looked as bewildered as before and felt slightly relieved; she stepped forward, patted their shoulders, and said:
“Our Xiang Chuan club president is right. If we can’t do things like writing stories, then just enjoy the achievements of our predecessors. Before the ‘Dark Virus Crisis’ outbreak, humans had built at least five thousand years of civilization; we’re only contacting a part of it now—maybe there’ll be even more explosive stuff later, right?”
As Nancy spoke, she didn’t forget to wink flirtatiously at Xiang Chuan.
Xiang Chuan fell silent, thinking that a certain red-and-white website and a certain yellow-letter website did indeed have more explosive content, but she felt that bringing them up would get her sent off for drinking tea.
“If you say there’s more explosive stuff, I really believe it—after all, today was just listening to Xiang Chuan retell it. But what I’m thinking about is creation: ancient people could create stories with no prior knowledge, but in modern times, it’s like we’ve lost that ability… hey, got it.”
Ainuo said this while taking out their own toothpick for a sneak attack on Xiang Chuan’s meal box, snatching a piece of apple while she wasn’t reacting.
Xiang Chuan quickly closed the meal box in her hand. Though on a production escort ship, fruit was never in short supply (and moreover, due to the big sales of yam dim sum and cake, fruit had been included in the Department of Agriculture’s increased production crops), still, having her own things snatched and eaten made her quite unhappy.
“Don’t you have your own apple? Why do you always come to steal mine?” Xiang Chuan muttered, quietly retreating behind Nancy.
Among the childhood friends trio, Ainuo was always at the bottom of the food chain, and the one who could best control them was Nancy. This was a fact she had discovered during field training.
After ensuring her (apple) was safe, Xiang Chuan spoke up:
“Not everyone starts with such rich imagination and text or painting creative ability. Many ancient creations were built on predecessors’ works, like the Trojan War in Greek mythology—ancient poet Homer added his own creation to that folk story, thus writing the two legendary works The Iliad and The Odyssey. Later people, when turning the Trojan War story into pictures or images, used Homer’s two epics as references. So if creating from zero is too difficult, starting from existing works like the ancients did is also a good choice.”
Chou Manman’s eyes lit up: “I get what you’re saying, Xiang Chuan—you mean expanding or modifying the story and characters of Romeo and Juliet like the Twelfth Fleet did, right?”
Xiang Chuan then remembered Chou Manman mentioning to her the Twelfth Fleet’s hot fan creation phenomenon for Romeo and Juliet. She nodded, thinking that though modern people had limited ability for completely original story creation, with the Twelfth Fleet’s example ahead, their imagination and ability for some fan creation adaptations should be no problem.
“It doesn’t have to be fixating on one work like the Twelfth Fleet—books I published before like The Count of Monte Cristo, Dream of the Red Chamber, Don Quixote, and TV series like Empresses in the Palace and My Own Swordsman are all suitable for fan creation adaptations.”
Especially Empresses in the Palace and Dream of the Red Chamber, which were absolute favorites for domestic web novel writers doing rebirth and transmigration genres. Xiang Chuan complained inwardly.
Ouyang Yating spoke up somewhat worriedly: “But we’re not familiar with the true settings of these novels and TV series—what if we include content that doesn’t match the original…”
“If you don’t understand, just avoid it; if OOC appears… meaning parts that don’t match the original, then find ways to analyze the original characters. Anyway, don’t be afraid—just write freely; if there’s a problem, readers will point it out, and you can revise then.” Xiang Chuan smiled; these were experience talks from her friends who loved producing fan creations, and as the faction specializing in “freeloading food and drink,” she had a handy grasp of fan creation basics.
Once the floodgates opened, Xiang Chuan couldn’t stop: basic precautions for secondary creation, forms of secondary creation, fictional settings, etc., came out like a machine gun, nearly stunning Ouyang Yating and the other two, but Chou Manman grew more excited the more she listened.
In the end, Xiang Chuan talked until her mouth was dry, but Chou Manman was still grabbing her, wanting to hear about those colorful fictional setting creations from the 21st century, even wanting to add some to their drama club’s currently rehearsing script.
Xiang Chuan had to press her friend’s shoulders with both hands and say earnestly:
“Don’t worry about these messy fan creations yet—think about that stuff after your drama club’s first public performance; changing the script before the performance is not a good sign.”
At this point, Ainuo, who had just been dazed by the old era’s new culture bombardment, came back to their senses and spoke up:
“Xiang Chuan is right. My mother said that frequent script changes before a large performance add a lot of unnecessary trouble for newbie actors. Your performance club is all newbies including the club president, so follow the steps steadily until acting skills mature.”
Chou Manman gritted her teeth: “Since even ‘Juliet’ said so, I’ll let it go this time…”
Of course, on the way back to the dormitory, under her persistent coaxing, Xiang Chuan agreed to help compile some insights from ancient people’s secondary creations.
Xiang Chuan glanced at her notebook of recently requested reference materials list, looking at this catalog that her hands couldn’t even count, feeling like modern people were treating her like a humanoid Geegle.
