Chapter 129: The Queen

Soon Wei Anping returned, and the couple began to seriously discuss the matter.

Although singing and acting are both considered arts now and can both be called “masters,” singing can be done in Beijing, but acting requires going to the northwest—too far away; parents would surely have to take leave to accompany the child, otherwise how could anyone feel at ease with such a young kid?

But this was Xie Dao’s film, adapted from his own nephew’s novel, so both leaned toward accepting it.

Lu Xiaoyan affectionately pulled Xi Zi into her arms: “I always said my Xi Zi is good-looking—he takes after me. Today during recording, that little girl named Xia Lin wouldn’t let him go.”

Wei Anping rubbed his chin: “I think he takes after me more.”

“Sons look like their mothers—what do you know!”

Wei Anping hugged Le Le: “Then the daughter must take after her father—no wonder everyone says Le Le is more attractive than Xi Zi.”

Wei Ming quickly interrupted their comparison and asked: “Xia Lin? Is she the singer from today’s recording?”

“Yes.”

“How old is she?”

“Eleven. She’s been learning to sing from her mother since childhood—oh, her mother’s a soprano in the coal mine art troupe.”

Wei Ming nodded. That must be her—she hadn’t reverted to her original name yet. He hadn’t expected his special album would attract a future diva, let alone that the future diva already liked someone younger than him.

He turned to the boy: “Xi Zi, what do you want to do?”

Xi Zi nearly bounced out of his mother’s arms: “I want to go! I want to go!”

Lu Xiaoyan held him back and asked: “How long will filming take?”

Wei Ming thought a moment: “Actually, this role isn’t heavy. If shot intensively, it should wrap in a week—but before shooting, he needs to bond with the lead actress, develop that mother-son chemistry.”

So the total time needed is hard to say.

Wei Anping asked: “Who’s the lead actress?”

Wei Ming: “Gong Ying.”

“Who?”

Wei Ming: “The sister I met at the Summer Palace that day.”

Xi Zi chimed in: “I remember! She’s really beautiful!”

Lu Xiaoyan quickly pulled out the photo and pointed: “Her!”

Wei Ming nodded, and the couple’s glances turned sly.

Lu Xiaoyan asked: “Will you go to the set too?”

“Of course—if I’m free, I’ll go.”

Lu Xiaoyan smiled: “Then I’m reassured—with you there as her big brother.”

“Of course, it’s not just up to us—we need to let Director Xie assess Xi Zi’s overall ability,” Wei Ming explained.

But as a veteran actor who’d later win the Golden Lion Award for theater, Wei Ming had full confidence in Wei Xi’s acting talent.

“When will he be assessed?” Wei Anping asked. “Do we have to go to Shanghai?”

Wei Ming: “If Director Xie isn’t coming to Beijing soon, we’ll have to go to Shanghai—anytime before or after the New Year works.”

The couple discussed it and decided to go to Shanghai in two days, after finishing their end-of-year work—treat it as a family trip, then return home directly from Shanghai.

After settling this, Wei Ming returned to his dorm. Cheng Long was reading Wei Ming’s script for “The Book of Heavenly Secrets,” sketching scene illustrations himself—he hoped they might serve as his calling card when visiting Meiyingchang.

A few days ago, Wang Director from Meiyingchang called Wei Ming, informing him that the British side, after reviewing his original novel and illustrations, agreed to pay a ten-thousand-pound advance.

This thrilled the entire Meiyingchang staff; the collaboration had advanced significantly. Wang Bairong told Wei Ming the good news—and also nudged him to finish the script quickly.

Another piece of good news: Meiyingchang had decided to adapt “If I Were Wu Song” into a puppet film, and asked Wei Ming to keep it in mind after finishing “The Book of Heavenly Secrets.”

Add to that Beiying’s “Heroes Rise in Youth,” meaning Wei Ming now held three scripts—two long, one short—totaling nearly ten thousand yuan in income. He was almost a ten-thousand-yuan household.

At this stage, writing scripts really did pay faster than novels. Wei Ming estimated he’d finish them all by Lunar New Year, then focus on his long-planned novel.

Writing scripts paid well now, but it was a one-time deal. A novel, once written, could bring endless income.

He’d already arranged with Renmin Literature Publishing House: after “The Children of the Choir,” his first collection of short and medium-length stories would be published by them, including his earlier stories.

Given the classic status of these stories and the promotional power of film and TV, he believed the book would remain popular once royalty payments were established.

The next day, Wei Ming and Liu Long prepared to catch the bus to the station early.

Qiao Feng paced in the dorm: “It’s been so many days—those two brats haven’t returned. Are they making big money and not coming back to work?”

Wei Ming laughed: “Unlikely. They’re not married yet. Future mothers-in-law value steady jobs—they won’t quit until they’ve secured their brides.”

Just then, loud noise came from upstairs.

Wei Ming perked up: “Look, they’re back.”

Soon Biao Zi pushed through the door first, his head wrapped in gauze—clearly badly injured.

Everyone gasped. Wei Ming exclaimed: “Yan Zi really went hard on him!”

Biao Zi shook his head: “Not Yan Zi. She didn’t hit me.”

“Didn’t you kiss her?” Biao Zi blushed: “I did. She got furious and bit me on the wrist.”

He rolled up his sleeve to show off the mark.

Wei Ming sincerely rejoiced for him, clapping his shoulder: “You’ve made it, kid!”

“Then what’s this?” Ge Brother pointed to his head.

At that moment, Mei Wenhua came downstairs, closed the door behind him—his arm hung in a sling. Had his arm broken?

Wei Ming studied the two defeated roosters.

“Did something happen in the south? Were you robbed of money or goods?” he asked seriously.

They shook their heads. Mei Wenhua explained: “Someone in our train car was caught by the conductor carrying goods from the south—accused of speculation. Everything was to be confiscated, and they’d be locked up. We panicked. First we tried avoiding the conductor, but couldn’t. When we saw the train wasn’t moving fast, we just grabbed our bags and jumped off.”

Good heavens—they’d jumped off a train!

Ge Brother scolded sternly: “You can’t risk your lives for money. What’s the point if you get hurt or worse?”

Wei Ming asked: “What about the goods?”

Mei Wenhua sighed: “We jumped near a village and sold everything cheaply there—not much profit.”

!

Biao Zi added: “Then we went to the county hospital—spent a lot more. Sigh. This trip was a total loss.”

Wei Ming comforted them: “It’s fine. At least you’re both safe and didn’t lose your capital. Last time you even made money.”

Mei Wenhua looked at Liu Long: “Now that I’ve spent time with Guangdong people, I feel not making money is losing money.”

Liu Long offered an awkward but polite smile.

Wei Ming: “Alright, go over why this failed and learn for next time. Me and Long are heading to the station now.”

“Wait,” Biao Zi grabbed Wei Ming, beaming with flattery. “Ming Ge, how can I face Yan Zi looking like this? I wanted to tell her I made money too. Can you, can you…”

“No,” Wei Ming placed a firm hand on Biao Zi’s shoulder. “Let me give you one piece of advice as someone who’s been there: be honest with your partner. Otherwise, you’ll need endless lies to cover one lie. Tell Yan Zi exactly what happened. If she rejects you for it, she wasn’t worth your heart.”

Biao Zi pondered this, then nodded.

“Wait,” Mei Wenhua called out.

“What now? We’re going to miss the train!”

Mei Wenhua pulled out a letter: “You asked us to deliver mail—here’s the reply for you.”

Wei Ming took it without looking: “They called two days ago—we already settled everything.”

Wei Ming told them to use the already-recorded audio and release the album under the title “The Children of the Choir.”

As for payment, Wei Ming estimated he’d get about a hundred yuan.

“Everything settled? Then we’re off. And if any mail comes for me, hold onto it—especially overseas letters.”

As Wei Ming and the others left Beijing for home, Zhu Lin in Yunnan had just received a package.

They’d begun filming officially. Though her role was small, Zhu Lin always joined the crew—everything fascinated her, except when she had to do retakes.

When they returned from the primeval forest to the local hotel, a crew member stopped her.

“Comrade Zhu Lin, your package—from Beijing.”

The film’s lead actress, Narunhua, smiled: “Sister Zhu Lin, is this from your boyfriend?”

She was an actress from Xiyingchang, ten years younger than Zhu Lin—only eighteen now, recently convinced by Teacher Ma to apply to the Beijing Film Academy’s acting department.

Zhu Lin opened it and saw it was from Peking University. She was stunned. The only person she could think of was Wei Ming—but how did he know she was here?

“Not my boyfriend. Just a very interesting kid,” Zhu Lin said, avoiding the boyfriend label. She carried the package to her room—her roommate hadn’t returned—and opened it. Inside, besides Wei Ming’s letter, were several cassette tapes—identical to the ones he’d sold her before.

He had so many!

Zhu Lin quickly opened the letter.

“Surprised? Delighted?” Wei Ming began smugly.

Zhu Lin sniffed and kept reading. He didn’t explain how he found her address, nor mention his girlfriend—he only listed which singer each tape belonged to, which songs were best, and what the lyrics meant.

Hmph. He didn’t tell me a single thing I wanted to know. He’s forcing me to write back.

Zhu Lin thought a moment, then pulled out a stack of letter paper—she’d already written to her parents and her boyfriend.

As Zhu Lin wrote, the same moment in Hong Kong:

In the small Zhouji Department Store, thirteen-year-old Zhou Hui was helping to run the shop—she was on holiday.

As she idly flipped through magazines, the postman stopped outside: “One letter. Sign here.”

Zhou Hui perked up. When she saw the return address was mainland China, she burst into joy.

As soon as her mother returned, she rushed out.

“What are you doing, Ah Min?”

“I’m delivering a letter to Ghost Uncle!”

(End of Chapter)