[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-137":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2260845,4412,"Chapter 137: Never Let Poverty Rob Children of Education; Never Let Hardship Rob Children of Their Childhood (Guaranteed 2 Updates!)","rising-in-1979-chapter-137",137,"\u003Cp>Wei Hong hadn’t finished reading “The Sheep Herding Class” when they had to board; the family of four hurriedly scrambled onto the train, heading for their exorbitantly priced sleeper berth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were six berths in total, adjacent to each other; the lower berths were fine, but the middle and upper berths were cramped, barely enough to lie down, let alone sit up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were lucky—they had two of the lower berths, so before sleeping, the whole family could sit together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two other middle-aged passengers were aboard: one returning to Taiyuan, the other to Xi’an, both government officials who had come to Beijing on business.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This train didn’t head straight to Rongcheng; it first went to Xi’an, then switched to the Baocheng Line to reach Rongcheng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong had just sat through a hard-seat journey, and now she was in a sleeper berth—everything felt new, and she was thrilled at the prospect of spending over thirty hours on the train.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, all four of them were riding a sleeper berth for the first time, but only she was unreservedly awestruck: “I was worried we wouldn’t have blankets on the sleeper, but they actually provide them!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once the novelty wore off and the train started moving, Xiao Hong leaned back against the blanket and resumed reading “The Sheep Herding Class,” humming “Little Grass” as she went, her voice dripping with melancholy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lao Wei unfolded his newspaper and reread the article in the Hebei Daily about his son’s donation to education.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pointed to one sentence for his wife: “This is what our son said—how well he put it!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That same sentence had also caught the attention of the China Youth Daily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had previously been interviewed by the China Youth Daily and had become a model young Chinese figure promoted by the paper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His every move drew their close attention; these days, everyone was talking mostly about the songs suspected to be his compositions, and today they were all discussing his new piece, “The Sheep Herding Class.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That day, a copy of yesterday’s Hebei Daily suddenly circulated, detailing how Wei Ming had donated one thousand yuan to a village elementary school.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A thousand yuan in those days wasn’t a small sum; donations like this were rare, especially from a writer to a rural elementary school—something almost unheard of.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Moreover, a direct quote from Wei Ming in the article was particularly powerful; the editor who received the paper suggested to the chief editor that they reprint it, but with a new title—using Wei Ming’s own words.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After reading it, the chief editor couldn’t help exclaiming: “‘Never let poverty rob children of education; never let hardship rob children of their childhood.’ Brilliant! Use that as the headline—put it on the front page! And write an editorial note mentioning that Wei Ming’s new work, ‘The Sheep Herding Class,’ is also an outstanding novel about educators.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve already read it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course—I bought it first thing this morning. I almost couldn’t get it; now, whenever bookstores or post offices mention Wei Ming’s new work, readers buy it blindfolded.” The chief editor sighed in awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The amateur painter Zhong Acheng hadn’t managed to buy “People’s Literature,” but when he got home, he found his father had bought a copy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Acheng’s father, Mr. Zhong Dianfei, was a renowned Chinese film critic and theorist; after returning to the city, Acheng not only painted with the Stars Art Group but also helped his father with various tasks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Dad, can I read this magazine?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, I haven’t finished yet. Tomorrow.” The old man picked up the magazine and resumed reading with great delight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re reading Wei Ming’s new work too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Acheng quickly pulled out his own painting, “Ideal”: “I’ll give you my painting ‘Ideal’—let me read this first.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old man snorted: “Your painting’s worth nothing—I’ve got paintings by Zhang Daqian, and I don’t care about yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t your Zhang Daqian paintings get burned years ago? Turned to ash—why bring that up?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Zhong Dianfei felt a pang of sorrow: “Get out! Come back in half an hour—I’m just missing the last bit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Got it!” Acheng checked his watch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Half an hour later, he returned for the magazine and saw his father wiping away tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wow, is it that moving? Has Wei Ming started going for the tear-jerker route?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhong Dianfei: “I thought of some of my old friends.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who among literary people doesn’t have a few kindred spirits? And many of them didn’t survive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He added: “Besides, the final image the novel paints is truly moving.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Acheng took the magazine and asked: “You always say Wei Ming’s novels are cinematic, perfect for adaptation—does this one work the same way?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhong Dianfei: “Yes. If adapted into a film, this novel would be spectacular—perhaps even earn a place in film history.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Director Xie Jin, who had just finished reading the story, thought the same.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d thought “The Herdsman” was already brilliant, but now he’d found an even better one—“The Sheep Herding Class”—and even more astonishing, this guy had written so many outstanding songs just for one novel!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now Xie Jin regretted rushing into “The Herdsman.” He wanted to film “The Sheep Herding Class” instead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this time he wouldn’t abandon it halfway—his assistant director Huang Shuqin had already gone to the northwest to scout locations. He’d have to finish “The Herdsman” first, then invite Xiao Wei to the set for guidance, build a good relationship, and adapt his next novel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Damn, he’d already promised the factory chief he’d make “The Legend of Tianyun Mountain” after “The Herdsman.” Should he push it back again?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after seeing “The Herdsman” and “The Sheep Herding Class,” both so subtle and nuanced in their trauma narratives, he felt any traditional, blunt trauma story would ring hollow—like forced slogans. That feeling was almost absent in Wei Ming’s novels; his criticism felt refined, infused with profound love.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Indeed, it was refined indeed!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing “The Sheep Herding Class,” Acheng felt a strong urge to share it with his friends.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The story reminded him of his own time as a sent-down youth; at their village point, some youths had been appointed as rural elementary school teachers, called “kids’ king”—their experiences seemed interesting, worth writing about.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Acheng, who had only written memoirs and theoretical essays before, suddenly felt the urge to write a novel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But holding a pen, staring at the blank paper, he didn’t know where to start. He scratched his head, then pulled out his sketchpad—the image of the students in “The Sheep Herding Class” throwing paper airplanes out the window had left the deepest impression on him; he decided to draw that scene.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not long after leaving Beijing, Wei Ming and his family of four all fell asleep; Wei Ming, Lao Wei, and Xu Shufen slept on the upper, middle, and lower berths respectively, while Wei Hong slept on the other lower berth—still not even to Baoding yet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before dawn, Taiyuan arrived; one passenger got off, leaving only five people in the small space, and it was time for breakfast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dining car wasn’t far, but Xu Shufen wanted to use up their own food first—mainly to save money; her son hadn’t blinked at paying dozens of yuan per sleeper ticket just to accompany her home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their supplies were quite plentiful: canned meat, dried pork, sliced pig’s head and pig’s intestines, staples of Xu Shufen’s baked flatbread and steamed white buns, and even a bottle of drink—Hengzhou Laobai Gan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other Xi’an passenger couldn’t help salivating; he’d tried to hold back, but now he couldn’t resist—he headed straight for the dining car.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though they had plenty of delicious food, it was all cold—edible, but not as good as hot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lao Wei: “I’ve got a solution!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d brought an aluminum lunchbox, two-tiered; he went to get boiling water, filling the bottom layer completely, then placed the top layer on, piled the food on top, and sealed it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait a bit—it’ll be warm soon,” Lao Wei said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen looked at him with stars in her eyes: “Jiefang, you’re amazing!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming and Wei Hong exchanged a helpless glance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few minutes later, they opened the lid—the food was indeed warm, though the portion was small; Wei Ming insisted his parents eat first, promising he and Wei Hong would repeat the process later.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Lao Wei and his wife were enjoying their meal, the Xi’an man returned and said to them: “The dining car can heat your food for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lao Wei: “Ah!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Wei Ming took Xiao Hong and their food to the dining car to reheat it, and ate right there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in the hard-sleeper car, Lao Wei enthusiastically invited the Shaanxi brother: “Comrade, want some? Homemade.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, thank you,” the man replied politely and with restraint—clearly a cadre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Lao Wei’s eyes were sharp; he sensed this man lacked the bearing of Anping—he was probably no higher than a section-level cadre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After chatting further, it turned out he was indeed a section chief, also surnamed Jia—but he was a real one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother, are you all heading to Xi’an too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, no, we’re going to Rongcheng. Listen to my wife’s accent—you can still hear the Sichuan-Chongqing flavor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh my, that’s far! Are you visiting relatives? This trip must’ve been tough.” Jia Section Chief calculated the cost of four sleeper tickets—holy cow, even he’d need two or three months’ salary. And though Lao Wei dressed well, his demeanor was clearly that of an old farmer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Are farmers today really this generous?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s tough, wastes time and work,” Lao Wei said—only he didn’t mention the cost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Jia Section Chief asked: “May I ask, brother, what’s your job?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang: “Me? I take care of the village’s livestock feed. Oh, now I’ve got another title too—I’m the principal of the village elementary school, just a nominal post.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Section Chief was even more surprised—this village was irregular, letting a livestock caretaker manage students?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But brother, your job doesn’t seem very important—elementary school hasn’t started yet, and livestock shouldn’t need much work right now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lao Wei waved his hand: “My job isn’t important—it’s my son who’s doing big things.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh?” Jia Section Chief hadn’t noticed—he looked like a young man, barely out of school, maybe a junior clerk at most.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So what does your son do?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s a long story,” Lao Wei rolled up his sleeves, eager to explain: “You know Peking University, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1745,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","3f28494779894d18926e14b3488323b9d2803460d77edb2da2e5a128f1bc2abf","rising-in-1979-chapter-138","rising-in-1979-chapter-136",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]