[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-171":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},2260879,4412,"Chapter 171: Aming and Amin: Hearts in Tune, Souls in Harmony (Guaranteed Minimum Chapter 1)","rising-in-1979-chapter-171",171,"\u003Cp>It wasn’t just Biaozi and Xiao Mei’s family who went from Beijing to the south to trade goods; they were newcomers in this line, and their scale was small, not even full-time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the alley youth Jia Aiguo was fully dedicated to trading, making two trips south every month.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Mei Wenhua and the others were still figuring out how to avoid train conductors, he had already established connections on the trains, shipping goods car by car.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Much of the bell-bottom pants and frog-eye sunglasses now popular in Beijing came from his stock, though he didn’t sell them himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Mei Wenhua and the others were thrilled to become thousand-yuan households, Jia Aiguo had already been a ten-thousand-yuan household last year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What pushed him to take his first step was Wei Ming’s “Spring River Water Warm, Ducks Know First,” specifically the line: “The brave enjoy the world first.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when he received a package from Peking University did he remember writing a letter to Wei Ming during his own period of confusion, enclosing all his Sichuan-Chongqing grain coupons inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although Wei Ming never replied, he understood—many confused readers must have written to Wei Ming at the time; how could he possibly reply to all?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unexpectedly, half a year later, he received a reply—and it was a book.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ferocious Animals,” a collection of all Wei Ming’s mid- and short stories since his debut, with his signature and a seal reading “Wei Ming’s Ass,” plus a note: “I hope you’re no longer confused.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This deeply moved Jia Aiguo, now wealthy, who immediately sent a junior to ride a tricycle to the nearby Xinhua Bookstore to buy up the entire stock—he planned to give them as gifts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the junior returned with only two copies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s this? Only two left?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The junior: “No, they said it’s selling so well they’ve imposed a limit—each person can buy at most two.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Jia Aiguo laughed: “Then I don’t need to intervene!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Readers like Jia Aiguo, who had become wealthy, were rare; most readers who received Wei Ming’s signed books came from families that were already well-off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For example, a girl named Xu Ye, eighteen, from a diplomatic family in Beijing, was a fan of Wei Ming’s poetry; last year, impulsively, she sent grain coupons and even slipped in five yuan—a fortune—and hoped to become friends with Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her letter vanished without reply; she was deeply disappointed, and though she still read his new works afterward, she wasn’t as obsessed as before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today, upon returning from school, she received a package from her sister; opening it, she found Wei Ming’s own signed first book, sent to her!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had been hesitating whether to join the crowd and buy a copy for collection, but he had mailed her one—he remembered her!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Ye, who had danced since childhood, spun joyfully in place, then rushed to the bookstore and bought two more copies of “Ferocious Animals.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She would keep Wei Ming’s copy forever; the two she bought were for daily reading—one for herself, one for her eleven-year-old sister Xiao Qing, who still read “Children’s Literature”—it was time she had something better.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming’s signed novels had so far only been mailed to Beijing, Tianjin, Hebei, and nearby regions; farther areas would take more time, but the letter sent earlier to Zhou Huimin had already arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin opened the mailbox at home first—too bad, still empty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But once inside, she saw a small package on the table.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her mother said solemnly: “It’s from your Peking University pen pal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin’s face lit up, but her mother added: “What did he send you? Can I take a look?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her mother couldn’t help worrying—this child checked the mailbox every day; it was just a pen pal, a harmless distraction from studies, yet she took it far too seriously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, her daughter had started menstruating, stood one meter sixty tall, and had blossomed into a graceful young woman; Zhou’s mother couldn’t help fearing they were using pen pals as an excuse to court.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin sensed the tense atmosphere and obediently agreed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The package contained quite a few items.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Wei Ming had discussed films with Zhou Huimin, he also sent her several issues of “Mass Cinema,” with the voting pages torn off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was also a box of Beijing pastries sturdy enough to survive long transport.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, the cassette tape: “The Children of the Shepherd Class.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shipping all this to Hong Kong cost a lot, but Wei Ming treated it as an investment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For his grandfather, it was filial piety; to earn foreign exchange, he could only rely on Amin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou’s mother flipped through the magazines—just a film journal, no unhealthy images, entirely consistent with her view of the mainland.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The pastries were called “Daoxiangcun”; they tasted them, and Zhou’s mother found them closer to Suzhou’s flavor near Shanghai, and couldn’t resist eating two more pieces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing her mother enjoy them, Zhou Huimin felt proud, yet uneasy: “Aming is too generous—sending so much. How do I repay him?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She could afford Hong Kong specialties, but the postage hurt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou’s mother said: “Don’t neglect etiquette. Buy some chocolate or something new from outside the mainland. If money’s short, ask me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Zhou Huimin felt guilty—her mother worked multiple jobs to support her; she’d just send a simple reply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Zhou’s mother pointed to the cassette: “What’s this? Mainland music?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Probably. ‘The Children of the Shepherd Class’—strange title.” Zhou Huimin picked it up, didn’t see “Love for the Countryside,” a few songs were unfamiliar, others she recognized slightly, like “Farewell”—wasn’t that composed by Master Hongyi? “Mom, let’s listen!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou’s mother: “Eat while listening. Then do your homework.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only one letter remained unread; they began listening—the first song was “Where Is Spring?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin often listened to Mandarin songs, and this was a children’s tune—no difficulty for her; she learned it almost after one play.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The second, “The Girl Who Picks Mushrooms,” was another children’s song, slightly harder—she felt she’d need to hear it twice more to learn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The third, “Little Grass,” instantly captivated her with the singer’s voice—catchy. The lyrics felt melancholy yet uplifting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fourth, “Planting the Sun,” was a children’s song sung by a boy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fifth, “On the Field of Hope,” seemed to be a chorus of the four singers—several clearly underage voices together had real power; Zhou Huimin felt she couldn’t sing it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mom, I’m done eating—I’ll go do my homework!” Zhou Huimin took the magazines and letter to her room and closed the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While listening, she’d suspected—weren’t these songs written by Aming?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If so, he was truly talented. Though mostly children’s songs, to write them so catchy as a college student was no small feat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But opening Wei Ming’s letter, her world collapsed—he wasn’t a Peking University student!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the letter, Wei Ming wrote:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Though I’m young, Amin, you may have misunderstood—I’m not a Peking University student. I work at Peking University.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin was stunned: “So he’s a professor at Peking University!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He said he was young—probably compared to old scholars—but he must be at least ten years older than her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin didn’t mind his age, but she felt she’d have to write with more reverence going forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming then briefly explained the items: the “Mass Cinema” magazines would let her fully understand the current state of mainland cinema.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Beijing has few native delicacies; most are adaptations of regional specialties preserved over time. This box of Daoxiangcun pastries is a time-honored Beijing brand, a Suzhou-style pastry—I don’t know if Hong Kong has them, so I sent them for you to try.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, he mentioned the cassette.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I guessed right!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin covered her mouth in excitement—the first five songs were indeed his lyrics; “The Girl Who Picks Mushrooms” was composed by his teacher, the other four composed by him personally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was truly talented!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Aming told Zhou Huimin: “I originally studied music because I needed musical knowledge for a novel, titled ‘The Children of the Shepherd Class’—the same name as this cassette.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Good heavens—he was a writer too!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She desperately wanted to read that novel! She wondered—was he teaching literature at Peking University?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her mind immediately conjured an image of a refined, elegant gentleman, graceful and cultured.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming also wrote: “Now the novel is finished, but I didn’t want to waste my songwriting skill, so recently I composed another song. This style leans toward Hong Kong-Taiwan trends and likely won’t be published on the mainland, so I’m sending it to you, Amin—I know you have musical taste. If you like it, help me submit it to a music company under the name ‘Aming.’ If I earn royalties, we split it nine to one?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nine to one!” Zhou Huimin’s face flushed with excitement—if she could earn money, she could send him a huge, huge package!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her first thought: she wouldn’t need to use her mother’s money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The last page was the sheet music for Wei Ming’s new song: “The Slippery One.” Strange title.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Huimin hummed softly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve never seen me, I’ve never seen you…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She thought: Is this song written for me? They’ve truly never met.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She read on: “Young friends meeting, hearts in tune, in harmony.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She wondered: Can “hearts in tune, in harmony” apply to friends? Yes, surely—though they’d never met, from the words, she felt they were deeply compatible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young friends together, happier than anything…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, this must be about friendship—friends together are always happy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The slippery one, oh she, oh me, one heart, hehehe, one heart, hehehe…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Singing this part tested Zhou Huimin’s Mandarin—it was hard to sing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After going through the whole song, Zhou Huimin realized its quality was high, and it suited Taiwanese singers well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Aming was from the mainland; they didn’t get along with Taiwan—she’d consider Hong Kong singers instead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet Hong Kong had fewer and fewer singers performing Mandarin—how could she help Aming…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1658,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","f43235dd177f6bdc8f2d4f90a80ff460496d81d2ba71306ea03e89eda83ba02f","rising-in-1979-chapter-172","rising-in-1979-chapter-170",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]