Chapter 12: Animation

Two?

Wei Ming felt a sudden surge of excitement.

Later, he realized he’d overthought it—one was the original, the other a photocopy.

“The original is for cashing in, the photocopy is for you to keep,” Lu Xiaoyan explained.

She could’ve just collected it for you directly, but such matters are prone to misunderstandings; having this slip proves you never handled the payment yourself.

Wei Ming nodded: “Thank you, Auntie. This has real sentimental value.”

The number on it pleased him greatly: Twenty Yuan!

That meant he was paid four Yuan per thousand characters—double the minimum rate!

Higher than his monthly salary too!

He had one more question: “Wasn’t the royalty supposed to be paid mid-month? Why the early payment?”

Wei Anping called from the kitchen: “Your aunt told the editor about your situation, so they made an exception.”

Lu Xiaoyan: “The September issue is already laid out and ready for printing—it’s set in stone. A little early won’t hurt. Our magazine still has some human warmth. Here, our editor even wrote you a letter of encouragement.”

Wei Ming carefully unfolded the letter.

Dear Wei,

I’m older, so I’ll call you Little Wei. The editorial team has all read “The Toothless Tiger,” and everyone praised it highly.

I hear this is your first fairy tale, yet you’ve managed to fully adopt a child’s perspective—your language is innocent and playful, the story simple and clear, with real-world meaning. It’s rare, perhaps even a gift.

Keep up the good work, submit more stories, and give children even better tales.

—Jin Jin

The letter was short, but knowing it came from the author of “The Little Cat Fishing” and “The Little Carp Leaping Over the Dragon Gate,” Wei Ming felt this letter deserved to be treasured forever.

Lu Xiaoyan continued: “Our editor has good ties with the Shanghai Animation Film Studio. He said he’ll recommend your story when he passes by—they think it has great adaptation potential.”

Wei Ming grinned and pulled an envelope from his pocket: “Auntie, how about you recommend this one too?”

“Oh? A new piece? So fast!” Lu Xiaoyan hurried to open it. Xi Zi and Le Le crowded around, eager to hear the story.

“‘If I Were Wu Song’…”

This manuscript was longer—about eight thousand characters—and would take a while to tell. Wei Ming went into the kitchen to help Uncle Anping prepare dinner.

Watching Wei Ming’s nimble hands, Wei Anping praised: “Looks like you’ve done plenty of cooking at home.”

Not back then—Mother cooked well, so he never had to. But in his past life, he mostly lived alone, so he’d developed solid solo-living skills.

As they worked, laughter echoed from outside—“giggle, giggle, giggle.”

The story was about a little boy named Song Wu who watched TV with his sister. Seeing the heroic tiger-slayer Wu Song, he scoffed: “So what?” was his catchphrase.

Lu Xiaoyan thought of her own two children—and Song Wu’s reckless, bold personality—and felt Little Ming was drawing from real life.

Later, Song Wu dreamed he became Wu Song and encountered a giant tiger…

The original animated film by the Shanghai Animation Film Studio used puppets; some scenes reportedly gave children childhood nightmares. Wei Ming’s version emphasized comedy instead.

Plus, both listeners were preschoolers who hadn’t started school yet—they didn’t yet fear their homeroom teacher—so they found the tiger teasing Song Wu hilarious.

After finishing the story, Lu Xiaoyan stepped into the kitchen to take over from Wei Ming and said: “I can tell your skill has improved in just a few days. I’ve already approved this one—I’m sure the editor won’t object.”

“Haha, thanks, Auntie! I feel like buying a car isn’t far off!”

Without a car, he didn’t want to leave Peking University at all—not even to visit Yuanmingyuan or the Summer Palace, let alone enter the city.

When Wei Ming stepped out of the kitchen, Lu Xiaoyan gently nudged Wei Anping, exchanging a glance.

Wei Anping nodded—he understood.

Though it was just everyday fare, with dishes and meat and plenty of steamed buns, Wei Ming was thoroughly satisfied. The real highlight? His mother’s homemade spicy sauce—loaded with meat and oil!

His only thought: My mom beats Lao Gan Ma!

After dinner, Lu Xiaoyan said: “I’ll clean the table.”

Wei Anping pulled out three tickets: “Little Ming, did you know the big dining hall is showing a movie tonight?”

“Hmm. ‘Nezha Conquers the Dragon King.’” Even though it cost only one jiao, Wei Ming couldn’t afford to spend it.

Wei Anping: “Xi Zi has been begging to see it, but I only got two children’s tickets and one adult ticket. Neither your aunt nor I can skip it… so…”

So they decided not to go themselves—they’d let Wei Ming take the two kids to watch the cartoon.

Looking at the couple’s expressions, Wei Ming had a feeling they’d planned this all along. A department head couldn’t even get two movie tickets?

Still, he smiled and accepted the babysitting duty: “Good—I wanted to see it too.”

This was a classic from the Shanghai Animation Film Studio. Though they called themselves the Fine Arts Film Studio, most of their output was shorts; their only ongoing series was the puppet film “Afanti.”

Their only theatrical features were a handful: “The Monkey King: Uproar in Heaven,” “Nezha Conquers the Dragon King,” and a few others—all painstakingly crafted with massive funding and manpower.

True, “Nezha Conquers the Dragon King” is only sixty-five minutes long, plus travel time—about two hours total.

!

Wei Anping: More than enough!

He added one final instruction: “Remember to pick up three stools at the gatehouse.”

As soon as they left, Wei Anping lifted Lu Xiaoyan off her feet and tossed her onto the bed.

Though Wei Anping was a scholar, he’d served years in the military. Yet Lu Xiaoyan, daughter of a soldier, was even fiercer—within a few moves, she pinned him beneath her.

After so many days, they’d finally gotten rid of those two little light bulbs!

The big dining hall served not just meals but also lectures, meetings, and movie screenings.

Rumor had it there were once chairs inside, but since Peking University didn’t forbid nearby residents from watching films, the chairs gradually vanished.

So you had to bring your own chair to watch movies.

Mei Wenhua, guarding the South Gate, reluctantly handed him the stools and sneered:

“Cartoons are for kids—what’s the point? ‘The Secret Bureau’s Gunshots’ is the real thing. Everyone in the country’s talking about it.”

Wei Xi asked: “Have you seen it?”

Mei Wenhua chuckled: “I’m going into the city tomorrow for it—I’ve got the day off.”

Wei Xi immediately added: “Chang Liang is actually Underground Party Member Number Three.”

Mei Wenhua froze, not reacting.

Wei Le quickly added: “Yeah! He’s the one who saves the hero at the end!”

Mei Wenhua: “….”

Did I just get spoiled? I’m screwed!

He couldn’t yell at children, so he glared at Wei Ming—but Wei Ming had already led the two little devils far away.

But they hadn’t gone far when two foreigners blocked their path—one black, one white, like death spirits—making the kids recoil.

“Hello, what are you… uh… carrying… and running for?”

Probably new international students. Hearing their halting Chinese, Wei Ming switched to English and briefly summarized “Nezha Conquers the Dragon King” and its aesthetic significance.

The two foreigners were astonished—guess what? They understood!

Wei Ming: Obviously—do you think I only studied scripts with foreign actresses? My real goal was learning foreign languages!

And this scene was just witnessed by Liu Zhenyun, passing nearby…

(End of Chapter)