Chapter 138: Reading Ten Thousand Books and Traveling Ten Thousand Miles (4500 Monthly Ticket Bonus)

In the dining car, Wei Ming rolled the fragrant pork head meat into a steaming hot pancake, while Xiao Hong stuffed meat between steamed buns—both had so much meat it was about to spill out, making nearby passengers envious, but they couldn’t order more.

“Brother, after watching ‘The Shepherd Class’ yesterday, I suddenly got interested in music—music is truly magical!”

Wei Ming: “Hong, listen to me—just listen to music, you’re not cut out for it. This year Peking University’s Economics Department launched a new major in National Economic Management—consider that; the admission score is high.”

This was the predecessor of what later became Guanghua School of Management, though whether it would still be called that in the future wasn’t certain.

Wei Hong: “I didn’t say I wanted to sing—I just like listening. If only I could hear those songs you wrote for Lele and the others anytime I wanted.”

“That’s easy,” Wei Ming chuckled. “I’ll buy a cassette player for home soon, and those songs’ tapes should be out soon—then you can listen whenever you want.”

Hearing “cassette player,” Wei Hong couldn’t contain her joy: “That’s wonderful!”

At that moment, Wei Ming overheard someone at the next table mention they were entering Lüliang territory—the setting of “Heroes of Lüliang.”

An idea struck him: “Don’t get too excited yet—I’ll give you a challenge. We’re heading to Lüliang—name three famous people from Lüliang. Get them right, and I’ll buy you the cassette player right when we get back to Yanjing.”

“Ah, that’s too hard!”

Xiao Hong looked pained—she only remembered watching a related movie as a child.

Their conversation caught the attention of a bespectacled young man beside them; he turned around and joined in: “Comrade, I’m from Wubao—basically a neighbor of Lüliang—and I can’t name three either.”

“See? Even the neighbor doesn’t know. Brother, you’re being unreasonable,” Wei Hong quickly seized the chance to ask for an easier question.

Wei Ming looked at the bespectacled young man: “Then how many do you know?”

The young man adjusted his glasses: “I only know two women—one surnamed Wu, one surnamed Liu.”

Xiao Hong didn’t know, so Wei Ming helped her connect the dots.

Wei Hong exclaimed: “Wait—they’re both from Lüliang?!”

She’d studied Wu Zetian in history and “Liu Hulan” in Chinese literature, but this fact was new to her.

So this is what Brother always means by “Reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles”?

Wei Ming: “That was Dong Qichang who said it.”

The bespectacled young man added: “Yes, but Wu Zetian’s ancestral home is Lüliang—scholars still debate where exactly she was born and raised.”

Wei Hong asked Wei Ming: “That’s two—can you name the third?”

Wei Ming: “I’ll name three more.”

Hearing Wei Ming could name three more, even the bespectacled young man and other diners turned to look—was this young man really so well-read?

Wei Ming smiled: “If Wu Zetian is from Lüliang, then at least her father Wu Shiyue, her nephew Wu Sansi, and Wu Chengsi are also from Lüliang—right?”

The bespectacled young man slapped his forehead, enlightened: “Right, right—no problem.”

Wei Hong’s mouth dropped open: “You can do that?!”

Seeing she was still skeptical, Wei Ming went on to name three more Lüliang figures.

“Everyone knows ‘Heroes of Lüliang’—it was even made into a film. One of its authors, Ma Feng, is from Lüliang—he’s the same hometown writer who penned ‘The Biography of Liu Hulan’ just two years ago.”

The bespectacled young man groaned: “Of course! How did I forget him?!”

Wei Ming added: “In the early Qing Dynasty, Yu Chenglong was praised by Emperor Kangxi as ‘the foremost honest official in the land’ and posthumously granted the title of Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince.”

Wei Hong had never heard the name, but the bespectacled young man, who knew some history, confirmed: “He’s one of the most famous upright officials in history.”

“How do you know that?” Wei Hong asked her brother.

“I heard it while auditing a history class.” He loved auditing history lectures.

Wei Hong: “Only one left—I bet you can name someone else.”

Other diners, even several attendants, stopped what they were doing just to listen to him.

This was genuinely tough—Wei Ming thought hard for a while before remembering one.

“Zhang Mingjue,” Wei Ming said.

“Who?”

Everyone in the car said they’d never heard of him—even a passenger from Lüliang hadn’t heard the name.

Oh, this man was incredible—he held two titles: “Father of the Birth Control Pill” and “Father of the Test-Tube Baby,” one preventing life, the other enabling it—both were groundbreaking contributions to humanity.

Of course, he’d long been an American citizen; he didn’t return to New China until 1972, then came back multiple times to lecture and invited Chinese youth to study and work in his lab.

But Wei Ming couldn’t directly tell everyone about Zhang Mingjue’s field—this era might label him a pervert.

“Professor Zhang Mingjue is a biologist with great international renown—he recently donated to Tsinghua University,” Wei Ming said, having learned of him through Peking University students’ admiring chatter and then done some research himself.

Last year, Professor Zhang donated scholarships not only to his alma mater Tsinghua but also to Shanxi University and his hometown of Lanyi County in Lüliang—he held major patents in the U.S., and his donation scale dwarfed Wei Ming’s.

Speaking of donations—

An elderly man with a Baoding accent said: “Professor Zhang donating to universities is good, but our Hebei writer Wei Ming donating to primary schools is good too—both are admirable!” “Ah, the Wei Ming who wrote ‘The Herdsman’?”

“I just read his new novel yesterday—it was fantastic!”

“I’ve heard his ‘Ideal,’ and that line ‘The brave enjoy the world first’—what’s that about, sir?”

“Wei Ming donated too? How much?”

Everyone chattered excitedly—Wei Ming’s name was known to nearly everyone.

Wei Hong’s face flushed bright red—she wanted to shout: “Wei Ming is right here!”

But hearing so many people passionately discuss him, Wei Ming, the actual person, felt embarrassed and quickly pulled the eager Wei Hong to leave.

They’d finished eating—what else were they waiting for? Lunch?

Before leaving, the bespectacled young man stood up and asked: “Comrade, what do you do? You’re so learned!”

Wei Ming: “Oh, I started out as a gatekeeper at a university.”

“A gatekeeper?” The young man stared in disbelief—what university’s gatekeeper could have such broad knowledge? Was it Tsinghua or Peking?

!

Wait—Peking University gatekeeper?

The bespectacled young man suddenly recalled a rumor about writer Wei Ming—he was said to be a gatekeeper at Peking University!

But by the time he realized it, Wei Ming and Wei Hong were already far away.

On the way, Wei Ming lectured Wei Hong: “I read a lot in the Peking University library, but traveling ten thousand miles matters too—I think you should keep a diary recording everything you see on this trip.”

Wei Hong groaned: “No, please~”

Wei Ming: “Cassette player.”

“Fine! I’ll write every day!”

Wei Ming had just narrowly avoided exposure—but when they returned to their car, Old Wei had already sold him out completely.

Jia, the section chief from Xi’an, rushed over and grabbed Wei Ming’s hand: “My god! You’re Wei Ming, the writer!”

“Shh!”

Wei Ming quickly said: “Comrade, no need to announce it—I’m no big shot, just call me Xiao Wei.”

“That’s too disrespectful.”

Old Wei wore a satisfied grin—he’d just had a glorious moment.

He’d spoken freely, and Jia’s reaction had been perfect—he’d mentioned his director was a fan of Wei Ming’s novels.

After a few pleasantries, Jia sighed: “Too bad you’re not getting off in Xi’an—if you were, I’d have invited your whole family to see our Terracotta Warriors.”

“The Terracotta Warriors?!” Wei Ming was surprised. “They’re open to visitors already?”

It had only been six years since their discovery, and only three pits had been excavated so far.

Jia said: “They opened for the National Day last year—lots of visitors, especially foreigners.”

Old Wei said: “Even if they weren’t open, Xiao Jia could just take us there with one word—guess what Xiao Jia does.”

Wei Ming: “Is he in cultural relics?”

Jia chuckled: “I’m with the Cultural Administration Bureau—I helped establish the Qin Shi Huang Terracotta Warriors Museum from start to finish, and I’m in Beijing now to submit a report.”

“Oh, my apologies!”

Jia quickly downplayed himself: “I’ve only made insignificant contributions under the leadership of the mayor, bureau chief, and other superiors.”

With that attitude, Wei Ming figured he’d at least make it to director.

Talking about the Terracotta Warriors, everyone was eager to discuss.

Jia volunteered answers to questions about the Qin Emperor’s tomb and the warriors—inside info, like how the warriors originally had color, but it faded quickly after excavation—such a pity.

He also had a question for Wei Ming.

“Writer Wei, how can we make the Terracotta Warriors famous worldwide?”

Though discovered recently, the Terracotta Warriors were already globally renowned.

In 1978, former French President Giscard d’Estaing, after visiting the Qin Shi Huang Terracotta Warriors, remarked: “The world has seven wonders; the discovery of the Terracotta Warriors is an eighth. Not seeing the pyramids means you haven’t truly been to Egypt; not seeing the Terracotta Warriors means you haven’t truly been to China.”

Since then, “the Eighth Wonder of the World” had become widely accepted.

Of the original Seven Wonders, only the Great Pyramid of Giza still stood; only two major ancient structures from around the third century BCE remained. The Qin Great Wall had low aesthetic appeal compared to the Ming Great Wall.

With just this, the Terracotta Warriors could serve as a Chinese calling card.

As for Jia’s question, Wei Ming thought: “I think novels and films could further spread the Terracotta Warriors’ fame.”

…

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(End of chapter)