Chapter 105: Attention from Director Xie Jin (Monthly Vote 1000 Bonus Update)

Wei Anping sized up Wei Ming and saw that he was full of vigor, with no signs of being drained of yang energy.

On the contrary, he himself had been somewhat exhausted these days—Wei Ming had even noticed and asked him, “Uncle, has your work been especially tough lately?”

Wei Anping waved his hand: “The new vice principal, Wang, has taken a liking to me and let me participate in the demolition and construction project.”

Lü Xiaoyan called from the kitchen: “Your uncle has been working overtime lately, coming home very late.”

Wei Ming smiled and asked, “I heard everyone’s watching the new housing. Since you’re involved, don’t a lot of people want to go through you?”

Wei Anping said, “I can at most help Qiao Feng secure one unit—he’s my soldier, the one I brought into Peking University. As for others, I can’t help them all.”

As for Wei Ming, he wasn’t even married, so he wasn’t considered at all.

Then Wei Anping added, “The school just doesn’t have money. If it did, Peking University’s land alone would be enough to solve housing problems for faculty and staff who’ve started families—even if the main campus isn’t enough, the branch campuses are huge.”

Right now, Peking University relies almost entirely on central funding; its ability to generate its own revenue is still weak, and the only departments that can turn a profit are mostly science and engineering.

This kind of major issue isn’t something a lowly dorm supervisor like him can comment on—what mouth could he even stick his nose into? Just Mei…

Wei Ming shook his head; he was getting too obsessed with these things lately.

At that moment, Lü Xiaoyan brought out a dish: “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

Once seated, she immediately asked, “Xiaoming, the photos—didn’t forget them this time, right?”

That “family photo” he and Gong Yu had taken with Xile in the Summer Palace—Lü Xiaoyan had strongly demanded Wei Ming get her a copy, claiming it featured her son and daughter.

Wei Ming knew her real motive, but her reasoning was solid, so he’d brought the photo along.

Then the whole family gathered to look at it, mostly focusing on Gong Yu.

At first glance, she was indeed beautiful—not worse than a movie star—and clearly a gentle, soft-spoken girl.

But it was also obvious she was probably a bit older than Wei Ming—looked like she was twenty-three or twenty-four.

Still, Wei Ming insisted she was just an ordinary friend he’d met on the train.

But Wei Anping and Lü Xiaoyan wouldn’t believe that—how could an ordinary friend spend half a day accompanying her?

They put the photo away and dropped the subject—for now.

As soon as Wei Ming walked in, Lü Xiaoyan handed him the royalty payment for the second chapter of *The Book of Heavenly Secrets* and the December issue of *Children’s Literature*. The money was the same as before, but there was another piece of good news.

Over dinner, Lü Xiaoyan told Wei Ming: “China Children’s Publishing House has decided to compile *The Book of Heavenly Secrets* into a book after the serialization ends next year.”

Wei Ming paused: “Huh, won’t the word count be too low?”

“It’s under forty thousand words, but children’s books can enlarge the text, and with the illustrations, it’s more than enough.”

Wei Ming understood—it was called “compensating for insufficient text with pictures.”

“If the illustrations aren’t enough, I can ask my classmate to draw some more,” Wei Ming smiled, giving Long a chance to earn some money.

Getting published was certainly good, especially next year, when royalty rates would rise and print-run royalties were reinstated.

Though it wouldn’t be as sweet as earning a percentage of the cover price per copy like royalties, it still meant the more printed and sold, the more the author earned—and that gave authors more incentive to publish.

When that time came, he’d definitely compile his several novellas and short stories into a book too.

In this era, publishing a single novella wasn’t unusual—thin little booklets were common in bookstores. Zhang Dening had even suggested publishing *Er Niu*, but since there were no print-run royalties this year, Wei Ming had refused.

Next year, when he compiled his animal series into a book, given their popularity and classic status, selling a million copies wouldn’t be unreasonable, right?

As soon as Wei Ming left, Wei Anping and Lü Xiaoyan immediately began whispering, debating whether the red-haired foreign girl was better or the gentle older sister.

Little did they know, beyond these two, there was another hidden force.

Today was Sunday; Aunt Wang covered Wei Ming’s shift so he could come out for dinner.

After Aunt Wang left, Melinda arrived again, bringing a new cassette tape—still swapped from that music teacher.

As soon as the music played, the dorm office buzzed with activity, surrounded by Latin American international students, some even dancing salsa.

But when the tape reached its end, Wei Ming froze: “This isn’t Latin American music, is it?”

Melinda: “Maybe the teacher made it himself?”

Wei Ming rewound and listened again—it was an incomplete melody, unmistakably Chinese, and oddly familiar, as if from long ago.

Wei Ming told Melinda: “Next time you go see her, take me along—I want to meet her.”

Melinda said no problem, and before heading upstairs, she whispered to Wei Ming: “Two’s enough. Three’s too much for me.”

Wei Ming slapped her butt and gave her an “OK” gesture.

Melinda thought it meant “fine,” but Wei Ming meant: three times.

As for how to fit three rounds into two sets—that was up to Melinda’s little brain to figure out.

The next day, Wei Ming woke up early as usual, opened the window to air out the room, and cleaned up all the trash Melinda had left behind.

The sheets needed washing, but Melinda had taken them—she’d handle it. Then Wei Ming began his physical training, cultivating his energy.

Today was also the official release date of *Contemporary*’s third issue.

Outside Peking University, the newspaper kiosks were already packed with queues.

After learning that today’s *Contemporary* featured Wei Ming’s work, the kiosk owner had Zaozao written the news on the blackboard outside.

Given that he always ran out of stock and people often had to wait two days or longer, the news spread quickly, and everyone rushed early to queue up, eager to get the first look.

Though the crowd was large this time, the old man had learned from his last two mistakes and had ordered a hundred copies!

This magazine was thick and heavy, priced at 1.3 yuan per copy. Even though students loved it, few could afford it alone—most bought it as a dorm group.

Like Liu Zhenyun’s dorm, all from rural backgrounds.

Liu Zhenyun had already read *The Herdsman* in advance from Wei Ming and finished his critique before the story was officially published, mailing it out ahead of time.

Then his five dorm mates suggested buying one copy of *Contemporary* so they could all read Wei Ming’s new story and explore literary criticism together.

Really, it was just to earn royalties—it was an investment.

!

As someone who’d already read it, Liu Zhenyun felt cheated, but since he’d already earned royalties and was ahead of the others, he didn’t object and chipped in two jiao.

But worse luck—he drew the short straw and got stuck with the task of buying the magazine.

He decided that after everyone in the dorm finished reading, he’d lend it to Guo Jianmei—couldn’t let his two jiao go to waste.

Two jiao could buy a plate of fried tofu!

Beijing in December was already freezing. Liu Zhenyun moved slowly, and his place in line was far back—he worried he’d make the trip for nothing.

He shuffled forward in his peasant-like posture; many ahead of him were from the Chinese Literature Department, and he even spotted students wearing Tsinghua University badges.

The university students ahead were already reading as they walked, their eyes filled with satisfaction.

Having already read *The Herdsman*, Liu Zhenyun knew this story maintained Wei Ming’s high standard, with stronger plot conflicts and even more controversy—likely sparking a wide-ranging debate.

Fortunately, the kiosk owner didn’t let them down—Liu Zhenyun got his copy.

But the old man’s expression remained grim, watching the line keep growing.

It still seemed… not enough!

After buying the magazine, Liu Zhenyun rushed to the South Gate checkpoint to brag to Zhao Debiao and Mei Wenhua about the crowds queuing up to buy *Contemporary* for Wei Ming’s story.

He told Mei Wenhua: “Your Qingqing is in line too, but she got there later—she probably won’t get one.”

Mei Wenhua remained unmoved. Qingqing? So what? Lately, by delivering meals to Wei Ming, he’d (mistakenly) thought he was getting close to the foreign girls—he felt Qingqing was nothing special; compared to their passion and boldness, she was dull.

After Liu Zhenyun left, Liu Rulong arrived—he’d finished the illustrations for *Heroes from Youth*.

Mei Wenhua said: “Go find Biaozi—he’s patrolling now. He should know where Wei Ming is.”

Wei Ming was currently accompanying Melinda in the international students’ classroom.

There weren’t any real classes anymore—mostly just writing theses.

They could afford to appear together so calmly in the international students’ room; in a regular classroom, the other students wouldn’t be able to study.

After finding Wei Ming, Long and Ming left the classroom.

“Only six drawings? Took you this long?”

“Dozens of rejected drafts,” Liu Rulong said. “I started with comic strip style, then tried Hong Kong manga style, and finally settled on this one.”

It was still manga style, but with more power—somewhat like Japanese shonen manga.

For today’s mainstream, it was fresh—just like Wei Ming’s depiction of martial arts in his stories.

Long had deliberately studied this style to better complement Wei Ming’s writing.

Wei Ming was extremely satisfied.

“Too bad the environment isn’t quite right yet—if it were, you could definitely become a manga artist,” Wei Ming sighed.

Shanghai, Shanghai Film Studio.

Shi Fangyu, deputy head of the studio, walked into Xie Jin’s office holding a copy of *New Film Works*.

“Old Xie, I’ve brought you a good script!”

Xie Jin put down the magazine he was reading: “Oh? What script?”

Shi Fangyu flipped open the magazine and pointed to the table of contents: “*Stormy Azaleas*—that novel *The Legend of Tianyun Mountain*. I had the author adapt it into a screenplay and submitted it. Take a look.”

“Hmm, leave the magazine with me.”

As soon as Deputy Director Shi left, Xie Jin immediately picked up *Contemporary* and resumed reading *The Herdsman*…

(End of Chapter)