Chapter 160: Ah Min, Seeing Your Handwriting Is Like Seeing You Face to Face (Guaranteed Second Update)

Before reading the letter's content, Lao Gui first saw a photo of four people.

This, this was Jiefang, his wife, and their two children!

Lao Gui tenderly touched the photo; aside from his son looking a bit rough, his daughter-in-law and grandchildren were exceptionally outstanding, especially his grandson Wei Ming—a spirited young man who already bore seven-tenths of Lao Gui's own youthful spirit!

As for Jiefang, one could still glimpse traces of his childhood self, but it was a pity he didn't see Anping.

After staring at the photo for a long time, Lao Gui finally read the letter; seeing that Jiefang's family lived in harmony and their lives kept improving, he smiled until his eyes grew moist.

When he saw his grandson's account of his literary achievements, Lao Gui was utterly astonished.

Though he didn't know what "Shouhuo" was, when he left the mainland, "Renmin Wenyi" was already famous, and "Wenhui Bao" had a long history—both its Hong Kong and mainland editions were prestigious brands!

His grandson had published articles in them—and was even about to compile them into a book! Clearly, the boy had real talent.

Though the Wei family had always stood on martial prowess, his elder brother had originally wanted to be a scholarly teacher; the Wei family did have a tradition of literary education.

Yet his grandson hadn't forgotten the Wei family's martial roots—he even wrote wuxia novels! Too bad he hadn't mailed any this time, and even more regrettable that Lao Gui hadn't passed on his martial skills to Jiefang or Anping.

Finally, his grandson asked him to visit someone in prison—the father of his best friend, a Foshan man who'd been jailed for gang involvement.

Lao Gui could go, as long as he didn't reveal his identity; that wasn't a problem. The problem was Wei Ming hadn't said where Liu Bin was imprisoned.

Was it Stanley Prison or Victoria Prison? He'd probably have to ask around.

Lao Gui didn't want to reconnect with his elder brother's side, but seeing how much his grandson and son cared for him, he was willing to make an exception.

Since it involved gang matters, he'd ask that young man from the Xiang family.

When Zhou Huimin returned home, her mother called out to her: "Ah Min, come here—I have something very important to tell you."

Zhou Huimin nervously asked: "What is it?"

Zhou's mother smiled: "It's good news—my public housing application has been approved! We're moving!"

Hong Kong's public housing system was a public housing guarantee designed to solve housing problems for low-income families, with rent typically only one-quarter of market rates.

As a widow and orphan, they certainly qualified, but they'd applied for years—public housing units were limited.

Though the public housing wasn't luxurious, it was far better than their current wooden shack on the hill—they were practically in the wilderness.

"And this new public housing is closer to your school. You're growing up, and every time you walk home along this mountain path, I worry," Zhou's mother said. She thought her daughter was already a little beauty; with so many perverts in society today, she dared not take chances.

"But what about our grocery store?"

Zhou's mother sighed: "Since your grandmother passed away, the store has become a burden. I earn more working outside than I do keeping this shop."

She glanced at the humble little grocery: "It's time to shut it down."

Zhou Huimin lowered her head sadly. She knew her mother was right, but leaving the place she'd lived in for over a decade still hurt.

Zhou's mother added: "You've always loved music, right? After we move, I can sign you up for piano lessons."

"Oh! Mom, you're letting me learn piano!" Zhou Huimin exclaimed in delight.

She'd never told her mother she wanted to learn piano—family finances were too tight—but her mother had known all along; every time they shopped, Zhou Huimin couldn't tear her eyes away from pianos, so her mother had been planning this all along.

Music lessons were a luxury for their family. Zhou's mother didn't expect her daughter to achieve greatness—she just wanted her to be happy and confident, not to feel inferior to other children because she had no father.

Zhou Huimin rushed into her mother's arms, moved. "When I learn, I'll teach younger kids—it'll help support the family."

Zhou's mother gently stroked her daughter's curly hair: "Good, good."

Now there was only one problem—if they moved, how would she receive her pen pal's letters?

"Mom, when are we moving?"

"Once I've sold off all the store's stock—it'll take three or four days," Zhou's mother said. "Oh, by the way, here's a letter for you—from your mainland pen pal."

"Ah! Finally!" Zhou Huimin cheered. "Today, many classmates shared stories about their pen pals—I was too shy to say anything."

Holding the letter, Zhou Huimin immediately climbed onto her top bunk and opened it.

It began: "Ah Min, seeing your handwriting is like seeing you face to face." Hmm—definitely cultured.

"I was thrilled to receive your letter. I don't know what fate brought us together as pen pals, but though we differ in age, experience, and are separated by ten thousand miles, I've already claimed you as a friend."

"Since we're friends, I must say it: your mother is right—you must limit TV watching. Myopia has no perfect cure in the foreseeable decades; once you get it, it's incurable." Zhou Huimin hadn't expected her mother's nagging to be echoed by her pen pal—but this guy was a Peking University top student. Seeing the words "incurable," she felt a little scared.

Fine, she'd just watch less TV from now on.

Wei Ming continued, talking about TV.

"I'm not unfamiliar with television. At Peking University, both male and international student dorms have TV rooms. But mainland TV programs are scarce—TV dramas are mostly one or two episodes; you can't even muster three. So we watch little TV and read more. Even reading requires good posture and never in dim light."

Reading this, Zhou Huimin—who had been lying face-down reading—hesitated, then sat up and turned on her desk lamp.

Wei Ming: "I heard Hong Kong's TVB programs are rich. Lately, 'Mudu Tan' has become wildly popular—is that true? Don't be surprised I know this—I also know Hong Kong's most popular actor right now is Cheng Long."

Zhou Huimin thought: This must be Ghost Uncle telling him—yes, that's it!

Wei Ming: "I'm interested in Hong Kong films. The names Cheng Long, Hung Chin-pao, and the Hsu brothers are legendary. Mainland cinema is currently reviving, with growing creative freedom, but its entertainment value still falls far short of Hong Kong films. The latest movie I watched was 'The Dead Light on Coral Island'—a sci-fi film."

Zhou Huimin hadn't known mainland China even had sci-fi films—she'd never seen one in Hong Kong. She'd heard of sci-fi novels, like the "Wesley" series, which all the boys in her class loved—but she wasn't interested.

After talking about TV and film, Wei Ming finally mentioned music.

"I didn't expect you to like music too—I do. I've explored mainland, Hong Kong-Taiwan, and Western music alike."

!

Zhou Huimin doubted it—was he really that talented?

Wei Ming: "I've heard all the songs you mentioned. You have good taste—I often replay them. There are even channels on the mainland where you can hear Hong Kong-Taiwan songs."

Hearing Wei Ming praise her, Zhou Huimin grinned. Of course she did!

"But lately I've been listening mostly to Western music, because some international students introduced me to Queen, the Beatles, the Carpenters—world-class musicians. It's pure bliss."

Seeing Wei Ming mention the Carpenters, Zhou Huimin nearly jumped off her bed in excitement—she adored the Carpenters too. She hadn't mentioned it in her last letter because she never imagined mainlanders could hear Western music.

Zhou Huimin forced herself to suppress the urge to reply about music and kept reading.

Wei Ming: "I don't just listen—I studied music composition last year under a top mainland musician, and wrote a few pieces myself, composing lyrics and melodies. I've even gained some recognition on the mainland."

Zhou Huimin's eyes widened—was this real? He actually wrote songs!

But then again—he was a Peking University student, one of the best learners among hundreds of millions. It made sense he knew music; Hong Kong's great lyricist Huang Zhan was a Hong Kong University top graduate too.

But what frustrated her was Wei Ming didn't mention his own compositions—he changed the subject.

"But today I want to focus on a song called 'Xiang Lian.' It's highly controversial on the mainland—I believe it changed the mainland's musical style and holds special historical significance. I've written it down for you to enjoy."

Wei Ming didn't just write the lyrics—he included sheet music too. Though he'd copied it from a magazine, Zhou Huimin now confirmed he truly understood music.

But for thirteen-year-old Zhou Huimin, it was still difficult. Though she was top in her school music class, she couldn't quite sing this song.

She'd ask her music teacher later.

Zhou Huimin reluctantly turned to the last page—their exchange for tonight ended here.

"Let's stop here. I'm delighted to have met you, Ah Min. I warmly welcome you to visit the mainland someday to see its famous mountains, rivers, and beautiful scenery—I take decent photos and can be your guide. I look forward to your reply soon."

—Ah Ming.

Zhou Huimin asked her mother: "What's our new address?"

Her mother flipped through papers and pulled one out: "Here."

Zhou Huimin immediately copied it down and began thinking what to write in her reply.

Ah Ming was an absolutely qualified, even excellent, pen pal. She hoped to maintain this relationship long-term—and now that she knew he was a top university student, her mother fully supported it.

But what did Ah Ming study? She'd have to ask him in her next letter.

…

(Very sorry this chapter was late—but being late is being late, asking for votes is asking for votes~)

(End of chapter)