Chapter 148: Give Zhu Lin an Injection and IV (Guaranteed First Chapter)

Wei Ming never expected that his other pen name had already reached frontier regions through children’s audiences; he could barely suppress his grin.

Seeing that Wei Ming wasn’t upset that his favorite author wasn’t him, Cui Cuicui pulled out another copy of Children’s Literature’s January issue, opened to “The Heavenly Book Legend,” and asked, “I love this story—do you really know him?”

Cui’s father laughed heartily and patted his daughter’s head: “Writer Wei writes serious literature—how could he possibly know a children’s author? They’re not even in the same system.”

Wei Ming: “I know him.”

Cui’s father: “...”

Wei Ming took the magazine, pulled out a pen, and swiftly wrote “Wei Shénme” on it, along with a blessing for little Cui Cuicui.

Cui Cuicui blinked, then realized: “I wanted Wei Shénme’s autograph—this is just a forgery.”

Wei Ming tucked away his pen: “Let me be honest—I am Wei Shénme, and Wei Shénme is me.”

The uncle and cousin still didn’t understand what was happening, but Cui’s father and Cui Cuicui both blurted out: “Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”

And both were utterly confident—they refused to believe one man could be two famous writers.

Wei Ming smiled: “Could you get me a pencil and a better-quality sheet of white paper?”

Cui Cuicui dashed into the study and quickly returned: “What are you doing?”

Wei Ming skillfully drew on the paper; soon, a complete picture of Dan Sheng eating a pancake emerged.

“How’s that? Can you prove it now?”

“Prove what? Your drawing doesn’t even look like it,” Cui Cuicui compared.

Long Xiaoyang defended his cousin: “I think it’s pretty close.”

There was indeed a difference; Wei Ming awkwardly cleared his throat: “The illustrations are mainly handled by my friend Liu Rulong. Wait—I’ll draw another one.”

Next, Wei Ming drew an image of Black Cat Detective.

“The March issue of Children’s Literature will publish Wei Shénme’s new story ‘Black Cat Detective’—when you see the illustration, you’ll know if the black cat looks just like this. Would I lie to a child?”

Looking at the alert, spirited detective, Cui Cuicui was half-convinced; Cui’s father was fully convinced—he trusted that a famous writer wouldn’t lie to a child.

“Writer Wei, you’re truly brilliant!” Cui’s father exclaimed. “Writing children’s literature is hard—it requires a child’s heart. And writing both children’s and serious literature? Your mind must be split in two!”

Wei Ming nodded vigorously: “You’re right, Brother Cui. Every time I write children’s stories, I think of my two five-year-old cousins—how they see the world. Sometimes I even become childish myself.”

At that moment, Long Xiaoyang had borrowed the magazine to read Wei Shénme’s stories—and was delighted to discover his cousin’s novels were actually readable to him!

Wei Ming turned to Cui Cuicui: “Next month, ‘The Heavenly Book Legend’ will be published as a book—I’ll bring you a personally signed copy, plus new illustrations never released before.”

Cui Cuicui’s face lit up: “Thank you, Brother Wei Shénme!”

Soon after, Xu Doctor arrived with Zhu Lin; Wei Ming quickly made room for her to sit: “Sister Lin, sit here—do you feel better? Can you eat yet?”

Everyone saw Zhu Lin’s face for the first time and were struck by her beauty; though her complexion was pale from illness, her natural grace remained undeniable.

“Much better,” she said, then looked at the others.

Wei Ming quickly introduced them; seeing Wei Ming’s elders present, Zhu Lin hesitated slightly before calling them “Uncle.”

Cui Cuicui thought Zhu Lin looked about her mother’s age; after a pause, she called her “Sister.”

Wei Ming gave her an approving look.

“Sister, you’re so beautiful—are you an actress?” Cui Cuicui asked.

Zhu Lin smiled: “I’m not a professional actress, but I am currently filming.”

Wei Ming asked Xu Doctor: “Sister Yingying, can she return to the set in her current condition?”

“Return? It’s freezing at night—another bumpy ride and my medicine’s wasted. She’ll stay here tonight. Let Xiao Zhu sleep with Cuicui. I’ll give her another shot tomorrow—she should be fine.”

Wei Ming smiled: “That’s exactly what I thought too.”

Though her fever had temporarily broken, Zhu Lin couldn’t eat—what a waste of this delicious mushroom soup. Xu Doctor suggested an IV drip of glucose.

IV drips easily backflow if unattended; Wei Ming volunteered to stay with her in the consultation room, where the lights were on—he could also browse Cui’s father’s books and magazines.

Seeing Long Xiaoyang still craning his neck to peek into the consultation room, Xu Cunmao grabbed him by the collar: “Come on, go to sleep!”

Watching Wei Ming absorbed in a book on Yunnan’s geography, Zhu Lin propped her cheek in her hand, thinking: This boring book is prettier than me, huh?

“When are you leaving?” Zhu Lin finally broke the silence.

Wei Ming glanced at the IV bottle, then said: “I plan to leave tomorrow. My parents are waiting for us in Sichuan-Chongqing. I didn’t find my aunt this time—I’ll visit a few more places during summer break.”

Tomorrow? Zhu Lin hadn’t expected the joy of reuniting with an old friend to end so quickly.

Seeing Zhu Lin’s obvious reluctance, Wei Ming smiled: “We can write letters. You like music, right? I’ve been moving into the music scene lately—did you know?”

Zhu Lin stared at him: “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, what a waste,” Wei Ming said. “I just wrote a few songs—my cassette’s coming out soon. Want to hear them?”

“You... write lyrics?”

Wei Ming: “Five lyrics, four of which I composed.”

Zhu Lin’s interest surged: “Then sing one for me.”

Wei Ming: “I’m not a professional singer, so I warn you—if I sing badly, it doesn’t mean my songs are bad.”

Zhu Lin had a bad feeling—maybe his songs really are bad. Wei Ming: “Four are children’s songs—I won’t sing those. I’ll sing the last one: ‘On the Field of Hope.’”

Zhu Lin froze, then heard Wei Ming sing the familiar melody and lyrics.

His singing wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. As he sang, he noticed Zhu Lin was singing along.

Wei Ming gradually lowered his voice; their duet became Zhu Lin’s solo.

People usually gesture with both hands when singing; seeing Zhu Lin’s tendency, Wei Ming stood up and held her IV arm firmly: “If you’re going to gesture, use the other one.”

In this position, Zhu Lin finished the song, then exclaimed excitedly: “You wrote this?!”

“Yeah. Seems you’ve listened to it a lot.”

“Of course! I didn’t bring a tape, but our crew has a cassette player—this song’s been on the radio lately, and almost everyone in the crew can sing it!”

Wei Ming: “Good. When the cassette comes out, I’ll send you one.”

“But how can you write songs?” Zhu Lin still couldn’t believe it.

!

Wei Ming: “At Peking University, you learn a lot. I learned from a musician who came to collect folk tunes there. One of my songs, ‘The Girl Who Picks Mushrooms,’ was composed by her.”

“How does it go?”

“I’d be too embarrassed to sing it.”

Zhu Lin grinned mischievously: “So how does it go?”

Wei Ming gave in and sang it once.

Zhu Lin burst into laughter, grinning widely.

Luckily, Wei Ming had kept holding her arm—she didn’t dislodge the needle.

“You’re incredibly talented!” she praised. “But your song reminded me of a Yunnan folk tune about mushrooms too.”

“You mean ‘White stems, red umbrellas...’?”

Zhu Lin: “‘Eat it, then lie on the board!’ You’ve heard it too?!”

She was delighted—she felt Xiao Wei was perfectly in sync with her, always saying the same things. This was what they called having common ground.

Watching her joyful, lively expression, Wei Ming felt her illness had already vanished.

Wei Ming glanced again at the IV bottle—it was only half empty. They still had plenty of time to talk. How nice.

Next, Wei Ming asked Zhu Lin which hospital in Beijing was best for rheumatism.

She was the right person to ask: Zhu Lin recommended Xiehe Hospital—not just because of its reputation, but because it had just established the Rheumatology and Immunology Department, one of the first in the country.

They didn’t return to their room until around ten, without disturbing Xu Doctor. Zhu Lin removed her own needle—only then did she realize Wei Ming was still holding her arm.

Wei Ming didn’t let go; he helped her walk to Cui Cuicui’s room.

The next morning, Zhu Lin felt refreshed; Xu Doctor didn’t give her another shot, but Zhu Lin took extra common medicines from her.

Xu Doctor would ride a horse to take Zhu Lin back, and on the way, visit elderly villagers in nearby hamlets for home consultations.

Brother Cui Sheng arranged a car for Wei Ming and the others to Yuxi.

Wei Ming pulled out his camera: “Before we go, let’s take a photo!”

Two photos total: one of Zhu Lin taking a picture of Wei Ming, the Cui family, and the others—though their search failed, meeting was fate.

The other was taken by Brother Cui Sheng of Wei Ming and Zhu Lin.

Wei Ming thought: I already have a photo with Snow Sister, but none with Lin Sister—this won’t do. I treat everyone equally, so this must be arranged.

But the photo with Snow Sister had two extra people—I’ll need to retake it later.

Zhu Lin took their first photo very seriously, fussing over her appearance in the mirror. Xu Doctor kindly applied her cream—Zhu Lin’s skin had darkened slightly under Yunnan’s sun, but after the cream, it looked much better.

“Lin Sister, goodbye—we’ll write letters.”

“Mm. Don’t forget your cassette—and this photo.”

Cui Cuicui: “And my copy of ‘The Heavenly Book Legend’!”

Back at the set, Zhu Lin was warmly welcomed; she also discovered Yu Ping, the actress who had stayed behind at the Yuxi guesthouse, had arrived.

Yu Ping grabbed her arm: “Xiao Zhu, where’s your friend, the famous writer Wei Ming? Director Wu Tianming wants to discuss a collaboration with him—can you introduce me?”

“Huh? He just left.”

“Where did he go?”

Zhu Lin: “To the place you came from.”

Yu Ping: “...”

(Any monthly tickets?)

(End of Chapter)