Chapter 188: The Homeowners (Guaranteed Minimum Chapter 1)

On the motorcycle, Wei Ming sat in the driver's seat, Uncle Anping sat at the back, with Lele in between, while Xi Zi had to perch on the fuel tank.

On the way, Uncle Anping told Wei Ming that the correspondence course exam had been confirmed for October.

"But after school starts, you should still work at the library—it's a better environment and more convenient for your writing."

Wei Ming grunted—he'd ended up becoming a librarian at Peking University Library, a promising job after all.

They arrived at Huaqiao Apartment with ease; the gatekeeper still remembered Wei Ming—the guy who rode a motorcycle, surely rich or noble, possibly his future landlord.

Then the four walked in—this time to another building, on the third floor, which was perfect: not the top, yet still private.

First, they knocked on the door of Mr. Wu Zuoren's unit; his second wife, Xiao Shufang, opened it. The old lady was nearly seventy, a renowned painter who blended Eastern and Western styles, especially skilled in flowers, and like Wu Zuoren, she had been a student of Xu Beihong.

Both had been married before: Wu Zuoren's Belgian wife had passed away, and Xiao Shufang had been abandoned by her first husband.

Now, after over thirty years together, they were both spouses and confidants, often exchanging painting techniques, sometimes invited abroad by foreign peers to lecture or sketch—how delightful.

Since this was the home of two great painters, the walls were covered in paintings—some of their own, some from artist friends, others by masters like Xu Beihong and Qi Baishi.

The value of just these paintings was surely more than ten times the price of the apartment.

For Xi Zi, visiting Huaqiao Apartment for the first time, the place was simply colorful and pretty; the apartment itself didn't impress him much—it wasn't as big as his grandfather's.

After Wei Ming introduced himself, Xiao Shufang smiled and invited them in; soon after, Mr. Wu Zuoren emerged from his study, ink still on his hands.

"You're Wei Ming, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Wu."

At that moment, Wei Ming stood beside a painting of a panda—Wu Zuoren's latest work.

Looking at his own painting, Wu Zuoren grew animated: "I read your article—the one about pandas. What do you think of my painting?"

Wei Ming smiled: "I was drawn to this painting the moment I walked in—it's like I saw Gangdan again, so lifelike."

Wu Zuoren sighed: "I painted this after observing the giant pandas at Yanjing Zoo, but I've never touched one—I don't know what their fur feels like. Your father's the real talent—he's got skills."

Of course, a painter of his stature had privileges; they probably kept him from touching the pandas for safety—adult giant pandas were still dangerous.

Then Wei Anping chimed in: "My older brother really has a knack with animals. When we were kids, we poked a beehive—the bees stung me but not him."

"You must be Director Wei Anping."

"Hello, Master Wu." Then Wei Anping introduced his two children.

Old Lady Xiao immediately gave them candy and sunflower seeds, delighted by them.

Their own children weren't around, so they adored these clean, cute little ones. Wei Ming thought if Xi Zi and Lele were sweet-tongued, they might even walk off with a painting.

After a few pleasantries, Wu Zuoren finally brought up the condition of the neighboring apartment.

"It's the same layout as ours—150 square meters, four rooms, two bathrooms. If you're fine with the size and layout, I can take you over to meet the owner now."

This was the smallest unit in Huaqiao Apartment—and exactly what Wei Ming wanted. A single man didn't need a huge place: one room for himself, one for Xiao Hong, one for his parents, and one for a study—perfect.

Seeing Wei Ming had no objections, Wu Zuoren added details about the neighbor, then led Wei Ming and Wei Anping to knock on the adjacent door.

A messy-haired young man opened it, rubbing his eyes, as if just waking from a drunken stupor—call him Xiao Wang.

His parents had abandoned him during the special period and fled abroad; now that things had stabilized, they planned to bring him overseas.

The cost: he had to give up his long-term girlfriend. His parents' resources could only take him alone.

Xiao Wang was heartbroken—his girlfriend treated him wonderfully, and her parents treated him like their own son. But his past decade had been brutal; even this apartment had only just been returned to him. He longed for a better life.

So he decided to sell the apartment, keep all the money for his girlfriend, hoping it would help her remain faithful. If he ever succeeded abroad and could afford it, he'd bring her out.

"Master Wu."

"Xiao Wang, this is Xiao Wei—he wants to see your apartment." Yesterday, after receiving a call from Wu Zuxiang, Wu Zuoren had already told Xiao Wang about this.

"Hello, come in." Xiao Wang pulled back the curtains. The table held beer and baijiu—the room smelled foul; he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol.

Compared to Wu Zuoren's next door, this apartment felt empty—no decent furniture at all—but it looked new.

The layout wasn't worth inspecting—these days, just having an apartment mattered; choices were limited. The key was price. After a quick look, Wei Ming got straight to the point: the price.

Xiao Wang was direct: "150 square meters. Pay me 160 yuan per square meter, and it's yours."

That meant 24, 00 yuan total.

The price was fair: in a building without an elevator, the third floor was better than the first—unless the first had a courtyard. So 160 yuan per square meter was more acceptable than the ground-floor unit they'd seen earlier.

Wei Ming really wanted this apartment, but he didn't have that much cash—so he began haggling. He finally got it down to 150 yuan per square meter, but then Xiao Wang refused to budge.

Wei Ming couldn't push further. Uncle Anping shook his clothes: "Let me handle this!"

Knowing Xiao Wang had to sell, and that few could pay such a sum outright, Wei Anping seized the advantage and hammered the young man relentlessly.

In the end, Xiao Wang agreed to 20, 00 yuan—and wouldn't go lower. Master Wu couldn't interject; he couldn't keep up, so he simply went back home to chat with the two kids.

But inwardly, he hoped to have a rising literary talent like Wei Ming as a neighbor—Xiao Wang? All he did was drink.

Xiao Wang: "If you can't come up with twenty thousand, forget it. I'll find someone else. This apartment? Twenty thousand is a steal."

Wei Ming thought for a moment: "Would you accept foreign exchange vouchers?"

!

"You have foreign exchange vouchers?" At this, Xiao Wang's expression changed.

He did have some—recently exchanged from dollars sent by his parents. He'd used them to buy his girlfriend a Swiss watch; now they were gone. His parents, fearing he'd cling to his domestic ties, stopped sending money except for the plane ticket.

If he could give her more vouchers, her family could buy appliances no one else had—and feel proud.

Thinking of this, Xiao Wang asked: "How many vouchers do you have?"

Wei Ming: "Two thousand. Let's count them as six thousand yuan, and I'll add fourteen thousand yuan in RMB."

Uncle Anping was stunned—this kid had so many foreign exchange vouchers!

Of course—it must be Melinda. That British girl was truly loyal, leaving him so much.

Xiao Wang refused: "These are vouchers, not real foreign currency."

"So what? When you go abroad, you can exchange them for real currency. Two thousand vouchers can get you over 1, 00 U. . dollars—equivalent to six thousand yuan. This offer is generous. Ask the black market what that much cash is worth."

"I don't plan to take foreign currency out—I'm leaving it for use here. In China, it's just a voucher. Six thousand is too high—I'd even say four thousand is too much." Xiao Wang shook his head.

Then he asked: "Do you have more vouchers?"

"What do you mean?"

Xiao Wang proposed: "If you only have two thousand vouchers, I'll count them as four thousand yuan. If you have three thousand, I'll count them as seven thousand."

He wanted to leave his girlfriend more vouchers—should she ever go to America to find him, vouchers would be more useful than RMB.

Wei Ming had exactly three thousand vouchers total, but he also had four thousand Hong Kong dollars he could still exchange.

Once foreign currency became vouchers, its value dropped; and since Wei Ming wasn't traveling abroad, he couldn't convert his vouchers into real currency—the black market price wouldn't rise.

Wei Ming found the proposal acceptable, so they settled on three thousand vouchers and thirteen thousand RMB.

That left him over a thousand yuan and four thousand Hong Kong dollars to buy furniture and appliances—enough to redecorate the place.

Wei Ming: "Then it's settled. It's late now—I'll come tomorrow to handle the paperwork."

Xiao Wang looked at the apartment where he'd spent his childhood: "Alright. I'll wait here for you tomorrow."

With the deal done, Wei Ming and Uncle Anping left with Xi Zi and Lele—and a small scroll. The scroll was a painting of orchids by Old Lady Xiao, given to the two children; even that was worth a few yuan.

On the way back, Uncle Anping asked: "Do you really have that much money? Should I lend you some?"

Wei Ming smiled: "I've got enough. You've already helped me big time by haggling the price down to twenty thousand. Auntie should be home from work by now—let's all have a meal together!"

Wei Ming's face glowed with excitement—he was about to own a home in Yanjing.

Wei Anping laughed: "Good. But I'm paying for this meal—you'll need money for plenty more ahead."

(End of Chapter)