Chapter 136: The Girl Who Picks Mushrooms: Li Xiaolin Was Surprised—How Was This Another Nursery Rhyme He

Could it be that Wei Ming heard these songs and was inspired to write a story about a music teacher and elementary students?

But as he read further, he discovered that “The Girl Who Picks Mushrooms” was actually a song composed by the novel’s male protagonist, Teacher Zhong, for a dropout girl student.

There was no attribution indicating “quotation,” so the lyrics must have been originally written by Wei Ming himself!

Li Xiaolin continued reading: “The Little Grass” and “Planting the Sun”—both songs in these two chapters were also created by the novel’s protagonist!

Now Li Xiaolin was almost certain: the several songs he’d recently heard were all composed by Wei Ming, likely side products created specifically for his novel.

But how could even the side products be this good!

Just how many more surprises does this young man have up his sleeve!

The key is that it’s written beautifully; for many, including Li Xiaolin, music is optional—but for Teacher Zhong, his life cannot exist without music.

So besides using bowls and jars to mimic percussion instruments, he made bone flutes from animal leg bones to play “Farewell,” and when spring came, he crafted whistles for each student from willow bark, taking them into the wild to listen to nature’s symphony.

The vivid, engaging descriptions made Li Xiaolin begin to waver—music really did seem interesting, but they’d never encountered interesting music before; in their lives, music mainly served an educational function.

Though the story was light-hearted, Wei Ming never forgot this was a scar literature; beneath the restrained, cheerful main plot ran subtle undercurrents: Teacher Zhong’s exile for protecting ancient musical scores, his friend Professor Yu’s suicide from unbearable humiliation, and his wife’s divorce from him—taking their child to sever ties—all woven skillfully together, making readers laugh until they cried.

Brilliant, incredibly brilliant!

Li Xiaolin applauded Wei Ming’s masterful storytelling again; some editors exchanged knowing smiles with her, clearly also reading “The Shepherd Boy Class.”

Meanwhile, some editors, after finishing “The Director Qiao’s Sequel,” praised Jiang Zilong’s sharp prose before immediately flipping open “The Shepherd Boy Class.”

Only in the final chapter did Teacher Zhong finally regain his reputation; walking with his students through the spring fields, watching children’s radiant smiles, he finally answered the question from Chapter One: “Where is spring?”

“On the fields of hope!” But Teacher Zhong was destined to leave; he left behind his deepest kindness and his attitude toward life with these children. Though he was meant to walk alone, he couldn’t bear to leave—he took with him a parentless orphan named Chen Pi, and from then on, he was no longer alone.

Li Xiaolin wiped away tears of happiness and fulfillment as she finished reading.

“So good, truly!”

She felt Wei Ming had created another new peak after “The Herdsman.”

Compared to his raw, fresh debut “The Two Donkeys,” his later works “The Herdsman” and “The Shepherd Boy Class” already bore the hallmarks of a master’s hand—he likely had no rivals in the mid-length novel category.

Too bad these two were published in “Contemporary” and “People’s Literature”; no wonder “People’s Literature” had the confidence to print 800,000 copies at first run—just this one story was enough!

After all the editors finished reading, they immediately launched into a heated discussion about “The Shepherd Boy Class’s Spring”; few mentioned “The Director Qiao,” and none mentioned “Chen Huansheng”—no one had even read the third story yet.

Many also brought up the several songs they’d recently heard; one editor explicitly stated that the lyrics and melody of “On the Fields of Hope” were both by Wei Ming, even turning on the radio to catch a replay.

“On the Fields of Hope” and “Where Is Spring?” were the two most widely circulated and most frequently rebroadcast among Wei Ming’s five songs.

One simple and easy to learn, the other profound in meaning.

Old Kong, sitting across from Li Xiaolin, sighed: “If only this manuscript had gone to our ‘Harvest’—we might have broken another record in the March issue.”

!

Others directly advised Li Xiaolin: “Contact Wei Ming right away—get his next novel at all costs! Wait too long and ‘October’ or ‘Flower City’ will snatch it up.”

Li Xiaolin agreed—it was no time for hesitation; Wei Ming’s quality was too consistent, he was practically a circulation booster.

She immediately called the south gate of Peking University: if Wei Ming could finish his next story this month, she’d jump him straight to the front of the March queue!

Yanjing, Peking University.

The young man answering the phone looked at Zhang Dening and gave a helpless smile.

“Oh, Editor Li from ‘Harvest,’ right? Ming isn’t here—he hasn’t returned to work yet. Okay, go ahead, I’ll take notes…”

He pulled out a separate notebook filled with names and messages of people who’d called Wei Ming—already several pages long.

After hanging up, Zhang Dening smiled and asked: “Xiao Duan, have there been a lot of calls for Wei Ming lately?”

Gate guard Xiao Duan chuckled: “Sister Zhang, you’ve seen it too—in just a few minutes I’ve already taken two calls for Ming.”

The last one was from “Flower City” in Guangzhou.

Zhang Dening said: “Could you put me first on the list? Tell him to call back ‘Yanjing Literature’ as soon as he returns.”

“No problem—we’re all from Peking University.”

"Haha, kid, you've got a bright future!"

Not long after Zhang Dening left, Biaozi, wearing a bandaged head, and Xiao Mei, with her arm in a sling—the mismatched pair—returned from patrol.

Xiao Duan quickly said: “Wait a moment, there’s more mail for Ming.”

“Reader letters, right? Give them to us.”

Most of these letters now came from readers of “The Herdsman,” but since over a month had passed, the daily volume had dropped sharply—yet Wei Ming’s secondhand cabinet was already full, so now these letters were piled on his bed.

“These might not be reader letters—they’re from Hong Kong, and there are two of them.” Xiao Duan handed them over.

Biaozi and Xiao Mei immediately perked up; before leaving, Ming had instructed them to handle any Hong Kong mail with special care.

So Zhu Lin’s letters from Yunnan had been mixed with regular reader mail, but these two were carefully stored away.

Still, the two were curious and examined the envelopes thoroughly.

Two letters: one seemed written by a girl, with soft handwriting, signed “A Min.”

The other seemed written by an old man, with bold strokes, signed “Old Ghost…”

(End of Chapter)