Chapter 118: New Position, New Work (Guaranteed 2nd Update—Request Monthly Tickets)

Biaozi is really suffering now.

It’s not because Wei Ming came back to live here—he’d be thrilled if Ming Ge returned.

But today two beautiful older sisters came looking for Ming Ge, and he didn’t get to see either of them, while Mei Wenhua saw them all and kept gushing about them.

Wei Ming plugged in Melinda’s cassette player, turned down the volume, and began listening to the radio.

“Biaozi, don’t feel bad—you’ll see them eventually,” Wei Ming chuckled.

Biaozi hurriedly asked: “Are they coming back to see you?”

Wei Ming shook his head: “You’ll see them at the cinema.”

“Why’s that?”

Feng Ge said: “I know Zhu Lin—she got cast in a movie and’s going to act.”

Wei Ming added: “The other sister I recommended for the female lead in ‘The Herdsman.’ She said she came to thank me—most likely the role’s hers.”

Mei Wenhua exclaimed: “You know two future movie stars!”

Wei Ming laughed: “They should be the ones excited to know you.”

Biaozi nodded: “Exactly—knowing Ming Ge is their honor!”

Wei Ming took a deep breath: This is the feeling—back home, everything’s back.

After turning off the lights and the radio, no one wanted to sleep. Wei Ming hadn’t spent a night here in over a month; they missed him terribly, wishing they could crawl into bed with him.

Sure, they saw each other during the day, but daytime talk couldn’t compare to the heart-to-heart you had lying naked in bed.

Biaozi said: “Ming Ge, let us see that watch Mei Saozi left you again.”

Wei Ming raised his arm; in the dark, a faint glow appeared. The others immediately praised: “Foreign tech really is amazing!”

Mei Wenhua added: “Mei Saozi’s glow-in-the-dark watch costs way more than your Mudu brand.”

Biaozi: “You don’t get it—sentiment’s priceless, can’t be measured in money.”

Wei Ming: “True, but this watch isn’t cheap—I couldn’t afford it even after writing novels for half a year.”

They were hit again: You can afford a motorcycle but not a watch? Clearly, even poor foreigners are still foreigners—even a rotten boat has three nails left.

Now Mei Wenhua and Zhao Debiao felt even more acutely how important money was—they each earned only 18.5 yuan a month, barely enough for their own expenses, and had to keep taking money from their parents.

Mei Wenhua remembered the cassette tapes and asked Wei Ming: “Ming Ge, are those tapes you’re selling really profitable?”

Wei Ming denied it outright: “No way—I didn’t make a cent. I sold them at cost, just out of respect for Mu Rong Saozi.”

Qiao Feng: “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Then Wei Ming added: “But if you sell cassettes privately, you make serious money.”

Domestic blank tapes cost just over two yuan; music cassettes imported from Hong Kong were as cheap as three yuan—but in Beijing, each sold for six or seven, nearly half profit.

Zhao Debiao worried: “Is that legal?”

“Not legal at all,” Wei Ming said bluntly. “I make money precisely by breaking the rules.”

Only selling cassettes through official audio stores is legal—everything else is illegal. But they sell Hong Kong and Taiwan tapes, and you’ve got no legal channel.

In this wild, untamed era, these small-time street vendors are among the cleanest earners—aren’t they more upright than those trading in approval slips?

“It’s not just cassettes—take a trip south, and you’ll find electronic watches, aviator sunglasses, trendy clothes—all smuggled back for resale, all gray zone, but the profits are extremely high,” Wei Ming added.

“Aviator sunglasses? Like the ones in ‘The Man from the Atlantic’?” Biaozi asked excitedly.

Wei Ming: “Exactly—those. Just wait—by the time the drama ends, those sunglasses will be everywhere.”

Mei Wenhua asked: “Where can you source these goods?”

Wei Ming thought: “Shenzhen—things are developing fast there. Haven’t you seen the news? They just sold a plot of land to a Hong Kong businessman to build apartments—anyone can buy them.”

Qiao Feng: “I saw that—Southern officials still dare to think and act boldly.”

Wei Ming hoped this wind would blow to Beijing soon.

Two men and two boys didn’t know how long they chatted, but the next morning Wei Ming woke first—the sky was just bright, perfectly clear.

He had to see his parents off.

Ping’an Shu was there too. They saw them off at the bus stop. They’d arrived light, but now they were leaving heavily laden—bought plenty of things.

Ping’an Shu also gave them gifts—learning materials for Wei Hong, from first and second year high school, obtained through his connections.

“Alright, go back. Ping’an, if you can come home for the New Year, do. My auntie misses talking to you.”

The past two years they didn’t return because the kids were young, his career was rising, and their house was nearly uninhabitable. Wei Ping’an promised he’d return this year.

Wei Jiefang declared: “Fine—I’ll clean up the house for you when I get back. Let’s go.”

Watching the bus drive away, Wei Ping’an turned to Wei Ming: “What really brought your parents to Beijing? Can’t be they just missed you?”

He still cared about this.

Wei Ming didn’t hide it: “Sigh—it’s just my dad’s nervous. He got a letter from Hong Kong, feared it was from his older brother on the other side, came here to consult me. He begged me not to tell you—you’re an official, any connection to that side could hurt your career. So just pretend you don’t know—I’ll handle it.”

“Ah, that’s it,” Wei Ping’an nodded. Though the relative was distant, the identity was sensitive—he’d struggled just to get into Peking University because of it.

“How did you handle it?” Wei Ping’an asked.

Wei Ming: “They didn’t reveal their identity, so I wrote back, just described our family situation—play it by ear.”

Wei Ping’an nodded: “For now, that’s the best we can do. A letter from Hong Kong isn’t too sensitive.”

He then encouraged Wei Ming to do well in his new post: “I wanted to transfer you to the library—it’d be easier for writing and studying—but two new people just got assigned there. Let’s wait until next year. This new post is just a transition.” After Ping’an Shu left, Wei Ming called the snack shop.

He called Gong Ying at the General Political Department Theater Troupe—wondering if she was still there.

Luckily, after a short wait, Gong Ying ran over to answer.

“Hello, who’s this?”

“It’s Wei Ming. I heard you came looking for me yesterday.”

Hearing his voice, Gong Ying perked up: “Yes—but you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I went to the capital airport.”

She only knew Wei Ming had gone to see off his girlfriend—didn’t know it was the airport.

“Seeing off a friend? Far away?”

Wei Ming: “Yes, very far—England.”

“Ah!” Was Xiao Wei’s girlfriend going abroad to study?

Wei Ming added: “After this parting, I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again.”

!

Hearing the sorrow in Wei Ming’s voice, Gong Ying wanted to comfort him: “Is this friend very important?”

Wei Ming: “Yes—a girl. We were together before. She’s a British exchange student.”

“Ah!”

Gong Ying was stunned again—twice now.

She’d assumed it was a Peking University student going to study in England—never imagined it was a British student studying in Beijing!

Xiao Wei, you’ve got some serious stuff!

“Xiao Wei, don’t be sad—maybe she’ll come back for you.” Even as she said it, she didn’t believe it.

“I’m fine. I’d already prepared myself mentally.”

“Good. By the way, I’ve got good news—I’ve been cast in ‘The Herdsman’ by Director Xie Jin. Thanks to your recommendation!”

She told Wei Ming how many people Xie Jin had approached to borrow her from the General Political Department Theater Troupe to make it happen.

“After the Spring Festival, I’ll go to a rural area in the northwest to experience life. Might take a few more months before I start filming my scenes.”

“You’ve spent years in the countryside already—still need to experience it?”

“Jiangxi and the northwest are different. I’ve been in the city so long, my instincts are all off,” Gong Ying said, excited.

Though both involved rural life, her feelings now were nothing like when she was a teenager.

Back then, she was lost and helpless; now, she was eager and full of anticipation.

Wei Ming smiled: “Then I wish you a smash hit.”

Gong Ying laughed: “I wish myself a smash hit—if I become famous, it means the movie succeeded, and your credit as the original author is greatest.”

He contacted Gong Ying, but Zhu Lin was unreachable—she’d left her unit. He might only see her again after she finished filming in the southwest.

These two—northwest and southwest—both far away. No more beautiful sisters treating him to meals in the city.

Then Wei Ming went to the cafeteria for a meal, then headed to his new post.

“Wei Writer, what brings you to our campus publication?” Photographer Yang Hao was surprised to see him.

Wei Ming smiled: “I’m joining the campus publication. Brother Yang, please take care of me.”

Yang Hao: “Huh?”

Zhou Junfeng, the deputy editor in charge, stepped out and warmly shook Wei Ming’s hand: “Wei Writer, welcome, welcome! I’m Zhou Junfeng—call me Lao Zhou.”

Then Lao Zhou introduced him to the history of ‘Peking University Campus Publication.’

Its history was indeed long—founded in 1917, over sixty years old, with multiple name changes: sometimes a daily, sometimes a weekly.

Now it’s a weekly, four broadsheet pages, one issue per week, relatively light work.

Each issue includes sections: Headlines, General News, Academic, and Supplement. Covers campus news, social news—even occasional field reporting—but most social news is just reprinted.

“Here’s your desk—next to Haozi.”

Wei Ming: I’ve finally landed at a desk.

Yang Hao laughed: “Wei Writer, you’re really joining the campus publication? Now someone’s finally going to write articles!”

Wei Ming waved his camera: “I’m joining as a photographer.”

Writing news copy pays peanuts—I’m too expensive.

At first, Lao Zhou gave Wei Ming no work—just let him get familiar with the environment and read past issues.

Wei Ming glanced at the latest issue, which mainly reported on Professor Yang Zhenning’s academic lecture, along with some resolutions from school meetings.

The social news covered how Chinese scientists had for the first time set foot on the Antarctic continent — another major advancement.

After a while, seeing everyone was idle, he noticed Yang Hao reading a novel beside him.

Wei Ming simply pulled out a sheet of manuscript paper.

Having finished “The Game of the Brave,” he decided to put “Heroes Emerge from Youth” on hold for now — instead, he’d write the planned mid-length story first.

He had already written about donkeys, oxen, ducks, and horses; this time, Wei Ming would write about — sheep!

……

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(End of chapter)