Chapter 203: The Poisoned Queen of the Women's Kingdom (Guaranteed Dual-Chapter Merge)

Zhang Mingmin became famous not only in Hong Kong but also gained some recognition in Guangdong, though few paid attention to the lyricist and composer of a few of his songs.

Even Pacific's boss Liao Mingzu didn't connect the songwriter "A Ming" with Wei Ming, and proceeded confidently with his cover project.

How many tapes can you smuggle in from Hong Kong? We need localization!

Such great songs can easily sell a million copies—by Hong Kong standards, a million sales equals twenty platinum records.

Wei Ming didn't tell Biaozi or Xiao Mei about his connection to this album; if they found out he was secretly earning Hong Kong dollars, they'd be devastated.

They'd just begun feeling their gap with Mingge was narrowing, and were feeling fiercely motivated.

Besides earning money, their motorcycle arrived two days later—a small-displacement Suzuki costing them 2, 00 yuan; they had full use of it, and planned to buy another once they earned more.

When they returned, they only brought back the goods; the motorcycle was harder to transport—it was large and didn't enter through official channels.

Originally, they'd thought of disassembling the bike and mailing the parts back to Beijing, but luckily they met a good older brother from Beijing in Guangzhou; this elder brother ran a big business and used a freight car to haul cargo, so he helped them bring the bike back without charging a penny for trouble.

Today they rode the bike back; though not as imposing as Wei Ming's, it was more than adequate—it was the second motorcycle in the Peking University Security Office.

On this joyous occasion, Fengge decided to treat the three young men to dinner; because Biaozi and the others helped transport goods, he'd made a lot of money—earning two months' salary in one go.

Fengge's mother-in-law kept nagging about when the two boys would return south so she could resume her stall.

The two motorcycles parked outside the Changzheng Cafeteria drew glances from everyone passing by.

Outside, the two motorcycles were the main attraction.

Inside, the two foreigners became the center of attention.

They were used to it; they finished their meal under curious stares, and just as they were leaving, they ran into Wei Ming.

"Leonardo!" Li Aiguo and Li Kui were delighted to see Wei Ming.

Wei Ming was equally happy; he hadn't seen them in a long time.

Since Melinda left, Wei Ming had been transferred out of Shao Yuan; his relationship with the international students had become like that of a divorced man and his ex-wife's family—cut off.

It wasn't deliberate avoidance; he'd just lately been auditing mostly literature and history classes, and even when auditing English, he attended Chinese students' sessions.

Biaozi and the others ordered first; Wei Ming chatted with the two foreign friends about recent developments.

"Did you know Ma Meilan is getting married?" Li Aiguo told Wei Ming.

Ma Meilan?

Wei Ming paused a moment—oh, right, a female international student from Canada; he'd interacted with her during his dormitory supervisor days.

"Who with?"

"A Chinese student from Peking University's Department of Spanish. An international marriage," Li Kui said.

"Oh!" Wei Ming was surprised; though international marriages had happened before, this was the first he'd heard of at Peking University.

Li Aiguo said: "They've already obtained their marriage license in Haidian. Tomorrow we're planning to celebrate—want to come join the fun?"

They'd already gotten the license; Wei Ming couldn't help thinking of Melinda again.

"Sure, I'll definitely be there tomorrow." He had nothing else planned, so he nodded in agreement.

The next day after work, Wei Ming arrived at Shao Yuan; the gatekeeper was still Old Qin, who smiled warmly: "Long time no see!"

"Yes, it's been a while. I'm heading in."

At the international students' cafeteria, Wei Ming saw many familiar faces—students and accompanying family members alike.

His appearance sent the atmosphere into a new frenzy; he was now a contemporary Chinese celebrity, and the bride and groom both eagerly asked for photos with him.

He'd been producing little lately, keeping a low profile—only one short poem—and everyone was now pressing him for more.

"Soon, soon, right away, right away," Wei Ming grinned as he handed out his gift.

This was the first international marriage anyone here had witnessed; thin and tall Xiao Cha raised his glass and walked over to Wei Ming.

"I actually thought you and Melinda would be the first Chinese-foreign couple to marry here."

Wei Ming smiled: "Everyone has their own path."

"True, everyone has their own path. Little Zhu is already happily preparing to move to Canada with Ma Meilan—he'll be a foreign friend soon." Little Zhu was today's groom, a bespectacled, gentle-looking college student who looked even more delicate than Ma Meilan, the white foreign girl.

Xiao Cha knew that if Wei Ming had agreed to go to Britain with Melinda, he'd have left long ago—and wouldn't have broken up.

But many international students looked down on Ma Meilan and Xiao Zhu, thinking Xiao Zhu married Ma Meilan just to get out of China; still, both were willing.

When the party ended, Li Aiguo stopped Wei Ming; he'd collected a pile of magazines and asked if Wei Ming wanted them.

Wei Ming: "Give them to me."

They weren't current, but they helped him understand the outside world—even if someone handed him Playboy, he'd take it.

"Damn, you actually have it!"

Li Aiguo blinked: "What can I say? Men."

So when Wei Ming left, he carried a large box—Playboy hidden beneath, on top were magazines like Time.

As he walked out of the men's dormitory building, someone walked out of the opposite women's dormitory.

"Hey, Leonardo!"

"Hi, Susan." She was a Black woman, also British—and after Melinda left, she'd knocked on his door.

Susan told him: "Last month I went back to London. Guess who I met?"

"In London? Elizabeth II?"

"You're still so funny," Susan flashed a bright white smile. "I met Melinda. Have you kept in touch?"

"Yeah, haven't contacted her in a while." His last letter to her had been nearly two months ago; he hadn't received a reply yet.

Susan said: "She's doing great—works at the famous British publisher Macmillan, dresses well, paid off her student loan, and even moved into a pricey downtown apartment."

"Oh~" Wei Ming thought: Maybe she didn't reply because she moved—but she should've told him before relocating.

"Thank you, Susan, thank you for the good news. I'm glad Melinda's doing well." He thanked her, hugged the magazines, and left—but still wondered: Hadn't Melinda cracked under the temptation of wealth after Braveheart sold out?

When he got home with the box, he happened to meet Wu Lao and his wife returning from their evening walk—they crossed paths on the stairs.

"Xiao Wei, what are you carrying?" Old Xiao asked.

"Oh, old magazines from international student friends. Would you two like to look?" Wei Ming asked.

He wasn't worried about them seeing Playboy—they'd studied in France, what hadn't they seen?

Wu Lao shook his head: "No, no, keep them for yourself. Young people should learn more about the outside world. We're past that age now—our only concern is vegetable prices."

Wu Lao added: "Oh, your one-month deadline with Rongbaozhai is half a month away. How's your foreign currency coming along?"

Wei Ming: "I'm waiting for my Hong Kong friend's reply. If it succeeds, no problem."

He went upstairs to the third floor, opened the door, found the room dark—Zhu Lin wasn't home—so he put down the magazines and resumed refining the outline of "The Right Path of Humanity." When tired, he flipped through the foreign magazines.

"Whoa, Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back is out!"

This was the second film in the Star Wars saga; the first had set a record, and though this one was slightly weaker, it still crushed all other films of the season.

In North America, a famous film called The Shining came out shortly after—it earned far less at the box office but received good reviews.

Moreover, Stephen King, author of The Shining, had released a new book nearly every year, consistently landing on the New York Times bestseller list. Thinking of how fast foreign writers earned money, Wei Ming sincerely hoped Melinda hadn't run off—he hoped their friendship could continue.

That was the awkwardness of being stuck at home: abroad, he needed Melinda as his agent.

In Hong Kong, he needed his grandfather and A Min's help; A Min was just a pen pal, and the most reliable among them was his grandfather.

Meanwhile, in Hong Kong.

Lao Gui hadn't expected the manuscript to be accepted so easily—by the left-leaning newspaper Xin Wanbao. Perhaps they thought the novel could effectively promote mainland China's Terracotta Warriors, so they accepted it and paid promptly, even raising the fee to 3, 00 Hong Kong dollars.

Looking at the money in his hand, Lao Gui hesitated.

His grandson had already bought a house—he probably didn't need money, and hadn't he said before that if Lao Gui ever needed cash, he could take it freely, as filial piety?

Hadn't he meant more than just the fee for "Heroes Rise from Youth"?

And now, coincidentally, Lao Gui was short on cash—if he kept this money, he could immediately rent a storefront, upgrade his business, and expand!

So Lao Gui wrote Wei Ming a letter, planning to act first and inform later—he'd rent the storefront first, since his money was Wei Ming's anyway.

On the other side, Zhou Huimin had already submitted the three songs from "Water Flower" to PolyGram.

But that day, neither Tan Yonglin nor the general manager was there; only a junior department head received them, and asked Zhou Huimin how she sang—as if he thought she wanted to debut.

Zhou's mother immediately stepped in front of her daughter, explained their purpose, and they took the songs and sent the mother-daughter pair home to wait—days had passed.

Zhou Huimin planned to go again tomorrow; if they weren't interested, she'd give the songs to Brother Zhang Mingmin—even if the style didn't quite fit, his company might accept them for other singers. She felt smaller companies were less bureaucratic, and she could even talk directly to the boss.

Big companies did have big-company problems; several days passed before the three songs finally reached Tan Yonglin's desk.

Tan Yonglin had just finished filming a movie in Taiwan, "Happy Enemies," with Lin Fengjiao as the female lead—the same woman who later gave birth to Cheng Long's child.

After the Wunna Band disbanded, Tan Yonglin boldly entered the film industry, filming several movies in Taiwan, collaborating with Lin Fengjiao, Lin Qingxia, and Gui Yalei—but what he truly loved was music.

Two Cantonese albums had already established him as a new force in Cantonese pop; no one except the older generation could overshadow him.

The company considered the Cantonese market a priority but also wanted to consolidate the Mandarin market, hoping he'd release a Mandarin album for Taiwanese fans. This troubled him—he spoke terrible Mandarin, sang it awkwardly, and even used dubbing in his Taiwanese films.

But dubbing didn't stop him from later winning the Golden Horse Award for Best Actor.

Singing, however, couldn't be dubbed. Perhaps aware he was a Mandarin-challenged artist, the company had low expectations for this Mandarin album—just asked him to finish it before year-end.

So Tan Yonglin planned to reuse a few songs from his earlier film "Summer Intern."

At that moment, three songs were delivered to him—specifically written for him. The company's music director had already reviewed them, praising them highly, especially the first one, "Water Flower."

The music director specifically asked him to come to the company tomorrow to test-sing—showing great seriousness.

The reason for this urgency was that they'd noticed a Mandarin album recently selling well—even breaking into the Taiwanese market.

Several hit songs on this album were written and composed by a musician named "A Ming"—the same person who submitted these three songs.

Tan Yonglin played soccer with friends all day, then went to the company the next day to test-sing; though his Mandarin was still terrible, these songs came out with real feeling—no wonder they were tailor-made; they fit his voice perfectly, and he sang them with great ease.

"Director, I want these songs! I think we should release them quickly—I'm sure Taiwanese fans will love them."

!

"Good, I'll contact them right away."

Zhou Huimin had left the phone number of a grocery shop downstairs, but when she prepared to go to school the next morning, the shop auntie, chewing a toothpick, stopped her.

"Aimin, there's a call for you—give this number a return call."

"Did he say what he does?"

"He said his name is Baolijin."

Zhou Huimin: "Alright, okay!"

Yanjing.

Today Zhu Lin came to Wei Ming's home; she was returning the cassette tapes—she had already recorded two in just a few days, and the master tapes were no longer needed.

When she arrived, Wei Ming hadn't come home yet; she put down the tapes and didn't leave, instead beginning her usual routine of tidying up his house.

Wei Ming wasn't truly this lazy—he just figured that if he cleaned up himself, what would Linjie have to do? So he deliberately left things for her.

But he shouldn't have, of all things, left that box of foreign magazines out in the study without putting them away—and Zhu Lin saw them.

The top one was Time magazine; she couldn't read it, so she just looked at the photos.

"Can Xiao Wei really understand all this? So impressive!" Zhu Lin remarked, and every time she saw Chinese people or elements in the magazines, she felt delighted.

After flipping past the top Time magazine, the ones in the middle were about sports and entertainment.

There she saw many Hollywood stars, especially female stars—how beautiful their clothes were!

But some made her frown, too revealing—thighs exposed, cleavage left bare, displayed so openly.

Zhu Lin kept digging downward, then suddenly something flashed before her eyes.

So white!

What is this?

She pulled out the magazine and saw a white woman with almost no clothing on, only covering her private parts.

Two words flashed clearly in Zhu Lin's mind: "poisonous weed!"

She recognized the two English words on the cover: Play, Boy.

This Play Boy magazine isn't anything respectable—how could Xiao Wei have such things?

Zhu Lin was heartbroken and decided to critically examine its contents.

The content was just as explicit, even more revealing than the medical textbooks at her workplace—but the illustrations in medical books calmed her, while these photos stirred her inner turmoil.

Zhu Lin hesitated, closed the study door, then pulled out another Play Boy.

Wei Ming ate lunch today at the school cafeteria and began supervising Biaozi's weight and muscle gain; Biaozi now had plenty of money and could eat without restraint.

All of them had moved beyond the stage where meals required careful rationing—even if they ran out of food coupons, they could just pay extra at the black market.

When Wei Ming returned home and parked, he noticed Zhu Lin's car—he was delighted. He'd been planning to invite her to a movie tomorrow under some excuse, and now she'd come on her own.

He quietly entered the house; he didn't see her in the living room, and the bedroom door was open but she wasn't there—probably reading romance novels in the study.

So Wei Ming first went to the bathroom to wash up, then walked to the study and pushed the door open with a creak.

The creak wasn't loud, but to Zhu Lin it was like thunder.

"Ah!" she shrieked, flinging the magazine away—it landed right on Wei Ming's face, and his eyes caught sight of a pair of breasts.

"Why didn't you say you were back?" Zhu Lin accused first, trying to play innocent.

Wei Ming held up the magazine and smiled: "This is my house—I live alone. Who am I supposed to announce my return to?"

Zhu Lin: "Then, then I'll just leave now."

"Have you eaten? Stay and eat something first?"

"No, I have other things to do."

"Would you like to rest a bit before leaving?" Wei Ming suggested, seeing her flushed face—he was genuinely worried about her state; she looked like she might stumble walking.

Zhu Lin felt mocked, so she stopped being timid and picked up a Playboy to lecture Wei Ming: "Xiao Wei, how can you read such things? These are poisonous weeds from capitalist countries!"

Wei Ming teased: "That's unfair—I got these from my overseas student friends; I thought they were just political and social journals. I had no idea they contained this stuff—and now you've found them."

"You really didn't know? I can tell you're not surprised at all—you've clearly seen this before."

Wei Ming laughed: "I really didn't know. If I had, I wouldn't have left them here—I'd have kept them by my bed. But I'm not new to this—I used to see them all the time in the overseas student dorms, both guys and girls read them."

"G, girls read them too?" Zhu Lin was stunned—these magazines were full of scantily clad women; clearly meant for male readers.

Wei Ming: "Of course they do. Didn't you just read them with great interest?"

"I—I didn't! I wasn't! I was criticizing!" Zhu Lin stammered, face burning. "How else would I know whether you could read them?"

"That makes perfect sense," Wei Ming applauded. "Then why don't you keep criticizing? I'll go make you dinner."

"I don't want—" Her words were cut off as Wei Ming shut the door.

Zhu Lin's eyes welled up with anger—at herself for losing control, for reading so long, and for being caught by Xiao Wei.

They're all women—they have the same things. What's so special? They just don't care about modesty and show them off.

And… maybe… they're slightly bigger than mine.

Zhu Lin looked down at herself—oh no, how embarrassing.

At twenty-eight years old, she had never felt this humiliated before.

Zhu Lin would never look again. She opened the study door to slip away, only to find Wei Ming actually in the kitchen, cooking noodles for himself.

Zhu Lin walked over, intending to say goodbye—but the words changed to: "Don't you think it's improper for women to read this poisonous weed?"

Wei Ming: "Not really. Men reading them is worse. Melinda used to love them—she studied the models' outfits to make herself more beautiful."

"Learn from that? Would you even wear that outside?"

"If you can't wear it outside, wear it for me," Wei Ming blurted out.

Zhu Lin: "…"

Hmph, men!

But she had to admit—the lingerie in the magazines was varied and alluring, far prettier than her plain, fully covering ones. After getting used to foreign girlfriends' colorful undergarments, if she took off her clothes, would he even react?

Soon Wei Ming made a bowl of hot noodle soup. Though it was just plain dried noodles—the lowest rung on the noodle hierarchy—it tasted delicious with a few drops of sesame oil and some scallion garnish.

Zhu Lin was indeed hungry, so she didn't refuse. After Wei Ming's casual words, she began to think it wasn't such a big deal.

Even at the dinner table, she discussed European and American fashion—a topic slightly beyond her usual scope—with Wei Ming.

"Linjie, are you free tomorrow?" Wei Ming asked. "A new movie came out—Shangyingchang's 'Bashan Night Rain.' Interested?"

"Already showing? I saw a report in 'Mass Cinema'—it sounded great!"

"Then it's settled. I'll pick you up after work tomorrow."

"Mm."

"Want to take a magazine home tonight?" Wei Ming asked with a smile after dinner.

"Do you want me to get arrested as a female hooligan?" Zhu Lin shot him a fierce glare and warned: "And you're not allowed to read them either—at least not take them outside."

Wei Ming chuckled: "I'm not some naive boy. Those magazines hold no appeal compared to real people."

Zhu Lin's heart pounded—she didn't know whether Wei Ming meant his ex-girlfriend Melinda or herself.

It felt as if his gaze could pierce through her clothes—dangerous, yet thrilling, impossible to resist.

The next day, Wei Ming arrived early at work; at the South Gate, he was stopped by Mei Wenhua.

He held up a newspaper, excited: "Mingge, good news, great news!"

(End of Chapter)