Chapter 141: Let the Panda Fly for a While (5000 Monthly Votes Bonus!)

"Thank you, Brother Liang, for yesterday’s hospitality—Rongcheng is a city you never want to leave, it stirs the poetic soul!"

Liang Ping’s eyes lit up—he’d been waiting for you, and he was glad he hadn’t given up!

A short poem of two hundred words or so, Wei Ming never expected payment—he left it directly with Editor Liang, then boarded the jeep with his parents and sister, their purchases piled inside; Wei Ming’s Sichuan grain coupons had finally found their use.

This was another first for Wei Hong—she excitedly squeezed in back with her parents, while Wei Ming sat in the front passenger seat.

Only when the car vanished from sight did Editor Liang eagerly open the envelope; even the guesthouse staff gathered around, eager to peek.

After all, this was Wei Ming’s new work—he was burning hot right now.

The title of the piece was simply “Chengdu.”

Editor Liang read it aloud:

"If you write Chengdu, don’t just write Chengdu.

Write the misty blue rain, a cat knocking over the wind at the alley’s mouth.

Write slow pedestrians, lazy tree branches, the Jin River’s tides rising and falling beneath your eyes.

Write the Poet Saint of Caotang who endures a thousand autumns, Su Shi’s moon and Li Bai’s wine.

Write the terraces where literati climbed, and the clouds that stole dew beneath Yang Yuhuan’s skirts.

Write Jinli, write Kuanzhai and Kuanxiangzi, write a single blue stone slab steeped in a thousand years of dust."

Editor Liang read it twice, then praised: "Brilliant—‘a cat knocking over the wind at the alley’s mouth’! Brilliant—‘the Poet Saint of Caotang endures a thousand autumns, Su Shi’s moon and Li Bai’s wine’!"

It wasn’t a masterpiece of dazzling brilliance or profound depth, but its quality was exceptional, rich with charm—Wei Ming, in just a few lines, captured the soul of Rongcheng—what an astonishing insight!

He’d spent less than a full day in Rongcheng, yet he’d portrayed it with such precision—his literary talent was far beyond ordinary people’s reach!

Liang Ping immediately took the manuscript back to Star Poetry Magazine and handed it to Chief Editor Bai Hang—whether to publish it this month or delay until next was up to him.

…

"Brother Wan, what unit are you from? You drive so smoothly."

"Oh, I’m an editor too, though few know our magazine—it’s called Science Fiction World."

"Oh? You’ve heard of it?"

Wei Ming thought: How could he not have heard? Decades later, this would become Sichuan’s most famous publication brand—countless Chinese sci-fi writers launched from here: Liu Cixin, Wang Jinkang, He Xi, Bao Shu, and more.

Wei Ming himself had a sci-fi dream—he’d even shot parody shorts like “Spider-Man vs. Predator.”

Of course, Science Fiction World wasn’t doing well now—it had only just merged last year from two magazines, Science Fiction Art and Strange Tales, and at its lowest, circulation had dipped below ten thousand copies.

But this wasn’t even Science Fiction World’s lowest point yet.

Wei Ming and Brother Wan chatted fluently about sci-fi literature, leaving Wei Hong in the back utterly stunned.

Big brother actually understood sci-fi—he was just too well-rounded!

"Brother Wan, where are you from?" Wei Ming asked again.

"Oh, I’m from Ya’an—I often go to Baoxing; the roads there? Most drivers can’t make it."

Ya’an was a region—later a prefecture-level city—Baoxing was a county under Ya’an, mountainous terrain; the road from Rongcheng to Ya’an was fine, but from Ya’an onward, it got rough—bumps began.

Wei Hong didn’t mind the jolting—she sat by the window, eyes fixed on the roadside, hoping to spot a panda and get her brother to photograph it.

Suddenly, she thought of a question: "Pandas are bears, right? Do they hibernate? Will we even see any now?"

The north was still bitterly cold—they’d boarded the train bundled in cotton-padded coats, though now their clothes were thinner.

Brother Wan smiled: "Pandas don’t hibernate—we have green bamboo all year round in Ya’an. In summer they go higher up to feed, in winter they come down lower—so right now, you’re more likely to see them."

"Have you ever seen a wild panda, Brother Wan?" Wei Hong asked eagerly.

Brother Wan’s expression turned serious: "Yes, I saw them often as a kid. But these past two years, with road-building and farmland expansion, pandas seem fewer—and I see them less."

As the scenery outside grew increasingly familiar, Xu Shufen began recovering fragments of her childhood memories.

"When I was little, pandas often broke into our village to steal food—we saw them several times a year. Once, one was just a few meters away from me."

Even in the future, when panda numbers had dwindled, Baoxing County—with just over forty thousand people—still had nearly two hundred pandas. Back when Xu Shufen was a child, there were likely one panda per few dozen people—the highest panda-to-human ratio on Earth.

Xu Shufen added: "Back then, conservation awareness was weak—I vaguely remember villagers hunting pandas."

"What? How could anyone kill a panda? That’s awful!" Xiao Hong protested for the pandas.

Wei Ming smiled: "You think pandas are cute and cuddly, but they’re actually large predators. And back then, people barely had enough to eat—anyone who came to steal food, whether panda or human, didn’t walk away unscathed."

Brother Wan asked Wei Ming: "Which village should we start asking in?"

The villagers from the village buried by the landslide had been relocated to three villages—Wei Ming’s mother’s relatives were most likely among them.

Since Wei Ming already knew the correct answer, he suggested: "Let’s go to the nearest village."

"Good—Dagou Village. The road there is easier, we can drive right in." Wei Jiefang suddenly perked up: "Sounds just like our Gouzi Village—what a coincidence!"

Xu Shufen quietly gripped her husband’s hand—the moment was at hand!

Xu Cunmao was a well-known poor household in Dagou Village. When he fled famine, he returned with a crippled wife, got no good farmland, then had three children; just a few years ago he buried his father, and now he had to support his elderly mother.

But everyone was poor, so his hardship didn’t stand out—this was how they’d lived for years.

Today was special—it was the day his eldest daughter Yunyun met her future in-laws. They wanted to make their home look less destitute.

Yunyun was eighteen, had only elementary education, but was beautiful and lively—though a bit simple-minded. Xu Cunmao worried she’d be mistreated in her new home.

Neither he nor his wife were lazy, but his wife was disabled, and raising three children alone was hard.

Today, they’d cleaned the house thoroughly—neighbors even lent them a bicycle to display, and the nephew carried two brand-new thermoses.

Just as they finished arranging everything, the matchmaker arrived, dressed in bright red.

The groom, his mother, and relatives had also come, surrounded by curious villagers—including many children.

!

It was just after the New Year, no farm work yet, school hadn’t resumed—everyone was idle.

The boy looked about eighteen or nineteen, sharp in his clothes—he’d long heard Yunyun from Dagou Village was pretty, and today he was determined to seal the deal, hoping to take her home as his wife right away.

But his mother told him to say little, and follow her cues.

"Da Mao, Da Mao, your future in-laws are here—go get Yunyun out so everyone can see her!" the matchmaker called out loudly.

First came Yunyun’s aunt, then the Xu family emerged one by one, finally Yunyun stepped out.

Today was important for her—she wore her best clothes, still patched but clean and neat.

The groom’s mother was satisfied with Yunyun’s appearance—she wasn’t short, maybe even breaking their family’s curse of sons under five feet tall.

Still satisfied, she soon began nitpicking Xu Cunmao’s household—as if to say: You’re so poor, marrying into our family is a huge step up for you.

Xu Cunmao and his wife grew uncomfortable; Xu Cunmao’s mother’s face darkened.

Only Yunyun, clueless, didn’t catch the implied insult—when the woman said their home had nothing, she thought the woman meant to give them things.

The matchmaker made no move to stop her—she fully approved.

In her view, this was a marriage downward-compatible—the groom’s family didn’t mind the poverty, so why should they mind the harsh words?

The groom’s mother couldn’t accept that Yunyun had a younger brother and sister, both minors—she wouldn’t let them leech off her family!

So she laid down the law: "Once Yunyun marries our Nan, you must know which is your real family—don’t favor your birth family over your husband’s, don’t let your family’s wealth leak out."

Yunyun nodded—of course I’m not stupid, I know which is my real family.

Xu Shuxiang, Xu Cunmao’s younger sister, couldn’t take it anymore—she asked her niece directly: "Yunyun, where’s your real family?"

Yunyun pointed to the ground: "Right here."

Xu Shuxiang smiled happily; the groom’s mother grew angry.

"I mean the home you’ll have with Nan after marriage—that’s your real home now."

Yunyun: "That’s my in-laws’ home—this is my birth home—both are my family."

The groom’s mother flew into a rage: "Useless! Useless!"

At that moment, the matchmaker jumped in: "Enough, enough—I see everyone’s happy and satisfied. Let’s seal the engagement today!"

Once sealed, it was an official betrothal—no more proposals from others. After some time together, they’d hold the wedding, and only later register the marriage—possibly after having children.

The groom’s family was decent—same commune, not far away. Aside from the groom’s short stature and his mother’s domineering nature, everything else was acceptable.

Xu Cunmao exchanged glances with his wife, then asked his mother’s opinion—what else could they do? No son-in-law was perfect.

Xu Cunmao was about to nod—when suddenly, the village party secretary Wang Cai ran over.

"Da Mao, Da Mao, don’t you have a sister?"

Xu Shuxiang stepped forward: "Aren’t I right here?"

Wang Cai: "I don’t mean you—I mean your sister, Shufen!"

(Finally finished—please vote for monthly tickets!)

(End of chapter)