[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-163":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},2260871,4412,"Chapter 163: The Life of a Person (Guaranteed First Update—Requesting Monthly Votes!)","rising-in-1979-chapter-163",163,"\u003Cp>“Mr. Wei, welcome, welcome.” Liao Mingzu, general manager of the Pacific Company, came out personally to greet Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If there were a music chart at this time, “On the Field of Hope” had in fact become the most popular song on the mainland, surpassing “Homesick Love” and “Camel Bell.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder Liao Mingzu valued Wei Ming so highly—he still counted on Wei Ming to create more hits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when he asked about Wei Ming’s recent creative work, Wei Ming said he had been busy preparing a new long novel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is a novel set during the War of Resistance, with much of the story taking place in Guangzhou, so I’ve come here specifically to seek inspiration.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Liao Mingzu felt disappointed, he thought it made sense—Wei Ming’s previous songs had clearly been written to complement “The Children of the Sheepfold.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet his attitude didn’t change much; he still needed Wei Ming, because Zhu Fengbo and several other singers all wanted to cover “On the Field of Hope” in their new albums, and all required Wei Ming’s approval—and Wei Ming could earn a little more money from it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though the money was small, he earned something every time someone covered his songs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Wei?” Liao asked warmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “If you could help me find a guide who can show me around the old site of the Whampoa Military Academy, that would be great.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No problem at all,” Liao Mingzu immediately agreed, then took Wei Ming on a tour of the Pacific Company.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mainly the high-end recording studio and tape production workshop—the studio could accommodate large symphony orchestras, and Liao Mingzu had been dissatisfied with the recording conditions for Wei Ming’s five songs in “The Children of the Sheepfold.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Here, Wei Ming also heard a familiar melody.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“‘Morning on Campus’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liao Mingzu looked surprised: “Mr. Wei, you’ve heard of it? Oh, right—you know Teacher Gu.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, she’s my mentor in music,” Wei Ming smiled. “I heard a demo of this song last year.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liao Mingzu said: “We’ve hired two accomplished singers, Wang Jieshi and Xie Lisi, to perform it. We plan to compile several more songs into an album.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded: “They sing it well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These two were the top-selling music artists of the era—a man and a woman, not a couple, somewhat like Phoenix Legend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their cassette, titled “When Will We Meet Again?”, had sold several million legitimate copies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After touring the company with Wei Ming, it was nearly dinnertime, so Liao Mingzu invited two company executives to join them for dinner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A lyricist-composer alone wouldn’t warrant such treatment, but Wei Ming was also a highly popular writer, and the two executives were eager to meet someone of his stature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dinner was held at Beiyuan Restaurant near Yuexiu Park.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had rarely visited Guangzhou before, but he had heard of Beiyuan and Nan Yuan restaurants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nan Yuan was famous for its steamed dishes—Buddha Jumps Over the Wall was its specialty—while Beiyuan was renowned for its mountain delicacies, seafood, and rich dried ingredients.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even though Wei Ming had dined at many fine restaurants in Beijing, he had never seen these dishes before, and the prices were high—he felt one meal might cost dozens of yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dishes like “Dried Scallop on Sand River,” “Golden Cup, Silver Basin,” “Clay Pot Hua Diao Chicken,” and “Hundred Flowers in Bloom Duck”—their names dripped with capitalism, each prepared with exquisite care.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Take “Hundred Flowers in Bloom Duck”: it combines fried duck with crab roe, goose kidney, shrimp paste, and squid. Not only were the ingredients abundant, but finding crab roe in winter was already extremely difficult.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liao Mingzu worried that Wei Ming, a writer from the capital, might disapprove of such lavish cuisine, so he explained: “Guangzhou often hosts Hong Kong merchants and foreign guests, so we’ve gone a bit overboard with appearances.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These delicacies fully delivered on color, aroma, and taste—visually, they were a feast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “I’ve heard from some older friends that Beijing restaurants used to be just as refined. After public-private partnerships, they all turned into mass canteens and lost their elegance. Though Laozihao  are now being revived, the master chefs have either passed away or retired, and we can’t reach that level anytime soon—I still feel regretful.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing that Wei Ming wasn’t offended and was even enthusiastically discussing northern and southern culinary traditions, Liao Mingzu asked: “Oh, Mr. Wei, you’re also a food lover?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming laughed more heartily: “Most of my royalties go to restaurants in Beijing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liao Mingzu: “Shall we start eating?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“After you, Manager Liao.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they ate, they talked about music. Liao Mingzu was surprised to learn Wei Ming knew Hong Kong and Taiwan music well—he clearly loved music and must have listened to plenty of illegal cassettes. It was a shame he didn’t keep writing songs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although songwriting paid little, Liao’s hospitality was generous: they ate fine delicacies and stayed at Baiyun Hotel, which, before the Horizon’s Swan, was one of Guangzhou’s most luxurious foreign guest hotels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Wei Ming’s room wasn’t on the top floor, it was still high up—standing by the window and looking north, the vast green expanse of Baiyun Mountain stretched before him. Manager Liao said Wei Ming could stay as long as he liked, and all his expenses at the hotel would be charged to his account.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Baiyun Hotel was a partner hotel of Pacific Company; all regional distributors had been housed here earlier this year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Wei Ming’s first stay in a modern room since his rebirth—soft bed, bright lights, hot water, bathtub, toilet—all there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he soaked in the bath and sipped a Coke, Wei Ming became even more determined to buy an apartment in the Overseas Chinese Apartments—he wanted to live a modern life!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He still had new songs in hand; Liao’s hospitality moved him, but Wei Ming still decided to save them for Hong Kong singers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They paid higher fees, offered copyright, and gave royalties on high sales—Pacific couldn’t match that. He still needed to save up quickly to buy a house.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, after breakfast at the hotel, Wei Ming went downstairs to the lobby, where the receptionist told him someone was waiting for him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming knew this must be the guide Liao had arranged—he walked to the waiting area and stood before a young man with messy, bird’s-nest hair and glasses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, I’m Wei Ming.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man quickly stood up, embarrassed: “Mr. Wei, hello. I’m your guide today—my name is Chen Pingyuan, but I’m not a professional guide.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “I can tell—you were just reading notes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chen Pingyuan blushed: “But I know the Whampoa Military Academy well—don’t worry. And I’m studying literature, so we should have plenty in common.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He then reintroduced himself: Chen Pingyuan, from Chaozhou, third-year student in the Chinese Department of Sun Yat-sen University, one of the first college students after the restoration of the college entrance exam, highly knowledgeable, among the top of his class.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So how did they find you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pacific contacted our university. Originally, they assigned a female Chinese Department student who had been a guide, but she fell ill today and couldn’t come, so they called me at the last minute,” Chen Pingyuan scratched his head. “I was asleep—I was caught off guard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming hadn’t expected this—he asked bluntly: “Do they pay you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do I pay you?” Chen Pingyuan hesitated, then began fumbling in his bag.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “I mean, do they pay you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No money. Being able to tour with Mr. Wei is a great learning opportunity—I wouldn’t dream of taking payment.” Chen Pingyuan felt that spending a few days with Wei Ming might even give him material for his thesis—he’d gladly pay out of pocket.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the two left the hotel and took a taxi to the Whampoa Military Academy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Along the way, they talked happily about literature. Wei Ming even suggested: “Have you considered applying for a graduate program at Peking University’s Chinese Department?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Me?” Chen Pingyuan looked troubled. “I never thought of it—I planned to stay here for grad school.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded: No grad school? Fine. But you’d better come for your doctorate. No doctorate, no wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This older brother Chen would later become a major scholar, a professor at Peking University. His wife was Xia Xiaohong, from the same 1977 Chinese Department class as Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Whampoa Military Academy was located on Changzhou Island in Guangzhou’s HP District. Back then, Sun Yat-sen had launched two major projects in Guangzhou: the Whampoa Military Academy and the National Guangdong University, which was renamed “Sun Yat-sen University” after his death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So if Sun Yat-sen University was Chen Pingyuan’s alma mater, then the Whampoa Military Academy was his “aunt school”—he had visited it more than once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Actually, Whampoa was only in Guangzhou for less than three years. After April 12, it moved to Wuhan, then to Nanjing within half a year due to the merger of Ning and Han, and finally relocated to Chengdu during the War of Resistance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chengdu was too far; Wei Ming wouldn’t make the trip. He planned to visit only Guangzhou, Wuhan, and Nanjing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whampoa had six-month terms. Wei Ming remembered his granduncle was in the sixth class, enrolled in 1927—meaning he had studied in Guangzhou first, then moved to Wuhan, and likely didn’t directly participate in the April 12 incident.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that time, Wei Ming’s grandfather, Wei Senhao, was still a child—ten years younger than his granduncle. Their father had passed away, so the eldest brother had acted as father—but with constant warfare, he couldn’t take the child with him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because his grandfather stayed in Hebei, at age thirteen during the July 7 Incident, he happened to be in Beijing and, witnessing the Japanese army’s brutal invasion, joined our army without hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, his grandfather followed his aunt to Shanghai and engaged in underground work. That was when the rivalry and conflict between the brothers truly began.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Wei Ming couldn’t write it this way—it was too slow to start, and his grandfather’s rank in our army was far below his granduncle’s in the Nationalist army.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So in writing the novel, Wei Ming needed to reduce the age gap between the two brothers so they could both experience the turbulent, dramatic years of the 1920s together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Chen Pingyuan described the Whampoa Military Academy, Wei Ming took photos and pondered how to open his novel…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1748,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","b45964181ca0c9677b5b31e6927504117f022b9a38bb20cab27f2a0008addc97","rising-in-1979-chapter-164","rising-in-1979-chapter-162",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]