Chapter 206: Don

Wei Ming rode his motorcycle to the capital airport at noon, having filled the tank beforehand—the distance was considerable, a three-hour round trip, and he hadn't ridden this far since buying the bike.

Upon arrival, Wei Ming followed the signs to park in the designated area, where most vehicles were cars; he even spotted one bearing the British Union Jack—likely from the embassy.

Is this here to pick up some big British figure? Thatcher didn't fall this year, did she?

The filming location was the terminal hall, capturing the scene where the male lead sees his father off—mainly the father-son dialogue between Zhu Shimao and Liu Qiong.

Wei Ming announced himself, and assistant director Huang Shuqin personally came to fetch him; upon arrival, director Xie Tian didn't ask any gossip about the pretty woman who answered the phone that morning.

Seeing Wei Ming dressed stylishly and like a high-class executive—clearly someone who took international flights—he was invited to cameo as a passenger.

"No need to change clothes or apply makeup—just carry a suitcase."

Embracing the "since I'm here" mindset, Wei Ming made his film debut, performing naturally.

In his past life, due to his good looks, he often cameoed in his own works, but never with close-ups or too many shots—lest audiences mistake him for a major character.

Director Xie Tian clearly understood this, so he had Wei Ming blend into the crowd as background, with just one fleeting shot for future fans to spot.

Walking through the hall with his suitcase, Wei Ming, seeing the familiar scene, recalled the early-year farewell kiss with Melinda, arranged among fellow exchange students in public.

Less than half a year had passed, yet it felt like a lifetime—truly bittersweet.

Wei Ming walked through this scene three times: the first wasn't good, the second passed, the third was "one more take," then cut!

Crew members shook hands and congratulated each other—this was Wei Ming's first film adaptation, and also his first to be released, further expanding his personal influence; his name would appear prominently at the opening credits, even ahead of the director's.

Although his original novel was wildly popular—with the magazine's first print run selling hundreds of thousands and the collected edition surpassing a million copies—no matter how you calculated, his reader base was unlikely to break ten million.

But this was a film of this era, directed by Xie Tian, with high quality; attendance exceeding a hundred million was virtually guaranteed, its influence surpassing literature.

Next, they planned to return to Beijing Hotel for dinner; though there was no such thing as a wrap-party back then, after traveling thousands of miles to finish filming and with budget left over, treating themselves to a good meal was only right—it also helped build team cohesion.

As they left the terminal hall, Wei Ming saw the embassy car with the British flag he'd noticed earlier—three cars parked in a row, surrounded by airport security personnel.

Soon, a group of foreigners emerged—about six or seven—with an elderly white-haired man at the center, speaking pure London English, looking over eighty but full of vigor.

The rest were likely aides; among them, Wei Ming spotted a flash of bright red.

Though her long hair was pinned up, her edges softened, dressed elegantly in high heels, black stockings, and a knee-length skirt, exuding the aura of a successful woman, Wei Ming recognized her at once.

Don't think putting on clothes means I won't recognize you!

The distance between them wasn't far; Melinda saw Wei Ming too, and he immediately waved his left arm silently at her.

His left hand still wore the watch he'd exchanged with Melinda, but he saw no trace of his own "Shanghai" watch on her wrist.

Melinda glanced his way but gave no sign—she got straight into the car.

Behind Wei Ming, Zhu Shimao asked: "Wei writer, why aren't you moving?"

"Oh, nothing. How did you guys get here?"

"The crew rented a minibus—want to ride with us?"

Wei Ming: "I came on my motorcycle—I'll head off now. See you at Beijing Hotel."

Then Wei Ming's motorcycle trailed the British embassy car, unsure whether Melinda had noticed him.

In the end, the car didn't stop at the embassy—it stopped at Diaoyutai State Guesthouse, another place Wei Ming couldn't enter.

Isn't Melinda supposed to work at a publishing house? Can a publishing house boss stay at a place like this?

Diaoyutai's prestige was high now—not some ordinary venue where movie stars could casually show up for birthday parties; those who stayed here were mostly foreign dignitaries or politically influential entrepreneurs or celebrities.

He waited a long while, but Melinda didn't come out; still, this wasn't a place to linger—guards here were armed, and a motorcyclist like Wei Ming loitering too long might get arrested—or worse, turned into a moving target.

He had to leave, but he felt disappointed not to have seen Melinda—even though he now had Lin Jie.

Men, after all, eat from the pot, hold the bowl, and still eye the basin.

When he arrived at Beijing Hotel, they were already waiting; dinner began.

During the meal, director Xie Tian revealed the film would likely release in December; six months for post-production was more than enough.

By December or November, "Popular Cinema" would probably feature Zhu Shimao and Gong Ying on its cover—or just Zhu Shimao alone, since he was the soul of the male lead.

Next, the director and main crew would return to Shanghai; at parting, Wei Ming handed director Xie a letter he'd prepared, asking him to deliver it to Comrade Gong Ying.

With only the two of them present, Xie Tian chuckled teasingly: "Is this a breakup letter?"

"Where did you get that idea, Director Xie? I just wanted to save on postage. If it were a breakup letter, I'd never entrust it to anyone—feel free to open and read it if you're curious."

Wei Ming's words denied the "breakup letter," yet seemed to tacitly acknowledge his relationship with Gong Ying—but said nothing outright—a perfect non-committal move.

After leaving Beijing Hotel, Wei Ming went straight home; as he entered the courtyard, Old Sun called out to him.

"Wei writer, you've got a package—from Hong Kong."

Another package, another remittance slip—Old Sun realized Wei writer had strong overseas connections.

Wei Ming accepted it, happily opened the door—but Lin Jie wasn't home; he'd expected as much.

In this era, cohabitation before marriage was serious—another three years and they could arrest and sentence you; for everyone's sake, Zhu Lin wouldn't even stay overnight if she came.

Besides, her mother knew many people at her workplace; if anyone ever cross-checked, discovering their daughter claimed to live in the dorm while telling coworkers she went home—yet lived nowhere—things would be terrible.

Still, big sister knows restraint; unlike me, who's hooked—once home, I just want to strip off and cool down.

Stripped down to just one garment, Wei Ming opened the package in the living room.

Inside were cassette tapes, a novel, newspapers, drawings, and assorted snacks—all different.

Wei Ming rarely ate snacks before, but now Lin Jie could help finish them off.

The drawings were by A Min: "Black Cat Detective," but with a mouse added.

At this time, Mickey Mouse and Jerry were undoubtedly the two most famous mice in the world; A Min mischievously placed Mickey and Black Cat Detective on the same drawing, with Mickey fleeing in terror—Wei Ming smiled knowingly: Disney lawyers, beware.

The novel was Jin Yong's "The Deer and the Cauldron"—likely because she thought he liked wuxia, she sent him Jin Yong's final work, the newly revised edition.

This was the classic version, known in mainland China as the Sanlian edition; later, when the author grew old, he revised it again—the "New Revised Edition."

The newspapers were "New Evening Post"—two copies; Wei Ming spotted "Ancient and Modern War: Terracotta Warriors" and felt a jolt—had A Min and Old Ghost communicated?

The cassettes included two by Tan Yonglin: "Rebel Star" and "Love You to Madness"; the third had no label.

After examining everything, Wei Ming finally opened the letter to read.

The girl first mentioned the three songs.

"I really love these three songs, especially the lyrics of 'Flower in the Water.' My Mandarin isn't great, and this song suits a male singer better—so when you hear my singing, don't laugh."

Wei Ming picked up the unlabeled cassette.

A Min added: "There are a few more songs I sang on this tape—I'm in my school choir, you're in for a treat."

So she'd recorded herself singing—little girl was confident.

He didn't listen yet, kept reading.

"The other two cassettes are from PolyGram, Tan Yonglin's first and second Cantonese albums—you've probably heard them. They gave them to you as a gift, showing how much they appreciated your three songs."

"And since 'The Playful One' swept Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan, it had real potential for a gold record, so PolyGram offered a high price: 9, 00 Hong Kong dollars for the three songs—6, 00 was wired to you, and 2, 00 was tucked inside the book."

This was the advantage of being a famous musician—especially one like A Ming, who wrote both lyrics and music.

Of course, A Min happily took her ten percent cut—but she spent nearly all of it mailing packages to you; she even detailed her and her mother's trip to PolyGram to sell songs.

"They thought I wanted to be a singer—listen and you'll see, I really can sing, and I'm a good-looking girl, so their assumption was natural—but Mom disagreed, saying studies come first."

This passage subtly tested him—A Ming had never shown interest in her appearance before; now that she'd mentioned it, she was sure he'd care.

But Wei Ming truly didn't care—he just wanted to give A Min's mom a thumbs-up: what are you doing in showbiz at your age?

Then A Min brought up Black Cat Detective, curious about what kind of fairy tale Wei Ming had written—her words screamed "I want to read it."

Fine—she was at the age for fairy tales; Wei Ming decided to arrange it.

A Min: "You probably like wuxia novels, so I sent you 'The Deer and the Cauldron'—after all, I've made quite a bit. But lately I've been fond of 'Ancient and Modern War: Terracotta Warriors'—I'm sending you that too. I was in a hurry to report about selling the songs, so only two issues so far—ha ha, wait a bit longer; next letter I'll send the rest."

Wei Ming hadn't expected such coincidence—Zhou Huimin had just happened to read his novel; drawn by its heavy romance, the girl was deeply fascinated by the reincarnation plot.

"A Ming, have you ever been in love? Ever felt you'd want to be with her in the next life too?"

A Min posed as a naive student asking a worldly person about love—really, she wanted to know A Ming's romantic history, given how classic her love songs were.

Wei Ming thought—he'd never been in love. He craved novelty, loved trying new things; all those women from his past life had no desire to return—perhaps their feelings weren't deep enough. But how about these ones in this life?

Finally, A Min asked Wei Ming about the Terracotta Warriors—because of this novel, a Terracotta Warrior craze had erupted in her class, though everyone could only learn about them from news reports.

Mainland China, Xi'an—too distant for Hong Kong high schoolers.

But lucky—he, as the author, had visited the Terracotta Warriors and taken photos; he'd pick one and mail it to her later. After all, she'd helped him greatly with the money; he could treat her as a long-term partner. Wei Ming even considered revealing his "Wei Kuangren" identity to her, letting her represent him in publishing his novels in Hong Kong.

After reading the long letter, Wei Ming finally put A Min's cassette into the player—first, "Flower in the Water."

Though the pitch wasn't quite right and her Mandarin imperfect, her voice was lovely—sounded like a sweet girl.

Next came an English song: The Carpenters' "Yesterday Once More."

Unexpectedly, there was piano accompaniment.

A Min had recorded it alone at home, playing and singing—though both the piano and her voice were slightly immature, she had sung this song countless times; her fluency far surpassed "Flower in the Water." To Wei Ming, she was already at the level of a campus singing contest contestant—deserving a little red flower.

Later came covers of Hong Kong/Taiwan songs: "Olive Tree," "Whenever It Changes," "Spring Dream of Jinghua"—all with piano accompaniment. Her playing wasn't great—probably a beginner—but the girl loved to play.

Overall, her Cantonese singing flowed more smoothly; though becoming a singer now seemed a stretch, with her decent voice and post-training, she might actually succeed.

Wei Ming thought, then began writing back to A Min.

Wait—he'd write to Old Ghost too, and discuss his startup plan; after all, he'd invested money in it.

The next day, Wei Ming still thought of Melinda; at noon, he went back near Diaoyutai to try his luck—didn't see her.

!

Wei Ming was about to give up—when fortune turned.

In the afternoon, back at the campus magazine office, Yang Hao asked Wei Ming: "There's a lecture by a celebrity at the library later—want to come take some photos?"

"What celebrity?"

"The president of Oxford University."

Wei Ming wasn't interested—until Yang Hao added: "And this president used to be the British prime minister."

Former prime minister, president of Britain's top university—Wei Ming's interest slightly piqued.

Finally, Yang Hao said: "He seems to be a capitalist—his family runs a publishing company, and he's the chairman. His name's Macmillan."

Yang Hao was reading from the file; Wei Ming heard and shuddered, quickly snatching the file from him.

His name is Harold, surname Macmillan, a Londoner born in the 1990s of the last century, a World War I veteran, who served as British Prime Minister in the late 1950s, held the position of Oxford's chancellor, and bore the title of Earl.

The family business, Macmillan Publishing, has over a hundred years of history and is a world-renowned international publishing house, also the primary publisher of English-language textbooks.

Wei Ming vaguely remembered that not long ago, Blackie Susan had mentioned Melinda was currently working at Macmillan Publishing in Britain.

It all connects! Everything makes sense now!

No wonder she moved into Diaoyutai—his status was more than enough.

Wei Ming stood up: "What are you standing around for? Let's go!"

The two arrived at the library. Mr. Macmillan's first purpose in coming to Peking University was to donate English-language books—ten thousand volumes total, mostly classics and English-learning materials.

After arriving, Wei Ming and Yang Hao first found the library director and obtained the list of donated books. Wei Ming accidentally spotted "The Game of the Brave" on it.

This must be his book—the title was decided together by him and Melinda.

They then went to the auditorium, where students had already gathered. Today, Harold's primary identity was Oxford's chancellor, so nearly all attendees were students aspiring to study abroad—not just from Peking University, but Tsinghua as well.

Since ballroom dancing was banned, only celebrity lectures could draw such enthusiastic cross-campus attendance.

Soon after, the speaker, Harold Macmillan, took the stage. He was already eighty-six years old, yet needed no assistance to walk up. Behind him followed a red-haired woman—his interpreter for the day.

Though most attendees had some English proficiency, university students' listening and speaking skills still lagged behind reading and writing—translation remained essential.

Seeing Melinda, not only did Yang Hao beside Wei Ming grow excited, but many students from the Chinese and Foreign Languages departments also stirred—though her style had changed, several still recognized this British exchange student once made famous by Wei Ming.

Zha Jianying was also present. She had firmly set her goal on studying in America. Now she glanced from Melinda onstage to Wei Ming beside her, her gaze sharp with curiosity.

Xiao Cha thought of rekindling old flames; Wei Ming wondered if he'd brought any money.

Wei Ming had long wanted a chance to approach Melinda—even if he couldn't speak, at least slip her a note.

But guards never left Harold's side, and Melinda showed no intention of seeking him out.

So Wei Ming gave up. Let them drift apart, like strangers on the river.

After Macmillan's party departed by car, Wei Ming rode off on his motorcycle—he had a date with Lin Jie tonight.

"I'm going home today," Lin Jie tucked her hair behind her ear.

Wei Ming: "Just dinner. Afterward, I'll drop you off at your parents'—that's fine, right?"

Though she knew a man's promises were like sand—blown away by the wind—Zhu Lin still got into his car.

Tonight they were dining at Lao Mo, the reason: "I just sold three more songs in Hong Kong—something to celebrate."

Zhu Lin: "I hope to hear your new songs soon. My parents are already your fans."

Wei Ming smiled: "You mean Zhang Mingmin's fans."

"No, my dad actually praised the songwriter."

At the restaurant, as they sat down, Wei Ming suddenly spotted familiar faces—more than one.

Not far away, Liu Zhenyun and Guo Jianmei were eating, nearly finished.

Who'd have thought Old Liu, the skinflint, would treat his girlfriend here? This was a massive splurge—more expensive than a full table at the Long March cafeteria.

"What are you staring at?" Zhu Lin asked.

"A friend from Peking University's Chinese Department, another from Law. I'll go say hello."

Zhu Lin grew tense, worried how they might guess her and Wei Ming's relationship.

Wei Ming finished ordering and was about to approach when Liu Zhenyun spotted him first—like seeing a lifeline.

"Meizi, wait a moment—I'll be right back."

Guo Jianmei panicked—would he leave her here to wash dishes to pay?

Just after finishing, they glanced at the menu's prices and realized it exceeded Liu Zhenyun's cash.

Guo Jianmei had expected this—she never intended for Liu Zhenyun to pay alone; she'd cover the difference herself. But now she realized she'd left her wallet—her small cloth purse—back in her dorm.

So the situation was awkward.

Guo Jianmei followed Liu Zhenyun's path and saw Wei Ming—immediately relieved. Then she noticed the beautiful girl across from him, her eyes brightening—she looked stunning even from afar.

Has Wei the Writer finally moved on from his last relationship?

"Lao Liu, this is Comrade Zhu Lin—she used to work with Mu Rong and is also my good friend."

Zhu Lin: Oh, good friend, huh.

"Xiao Lin, let me introduce you—this is Liu Zhenyun, my friend from Peking University, the literary prodigy of the '78 Chinese Department."

Zhu Lin: Xiao Lin? She approved of the nickname.

Liu Zhenyun waved his hands: "Prodigy? Don't flatter me—I live off Wei Ming. He writes novels, I write critiques of his novels. But lately he's been silent, and I'm broke—can't even afford meals."

Treating a girl to dinner without enough cash—and admitting it in front of such a beautiful woman—made even Liu Zhenyun's thick skin flush.

Wei Ming quickly slipped him ten yuan: "Enough?"

"Plenty—just a bit short. My mistake. I won't disturb you two." Liu Zhenyun paid immediately, then brought Guo Jianmei over for an introduction.

Guo Jianmei: Up close, she's even more beautiful—elegant features. Wei Ming's lucky.

Though she looks a bit older—probably has a gold brick or two?

Zhu Lin: Three gold bricks. You flatter me.

Outside Lao Mo, Guo Jianmei immediately started gossiping.

"What's the relationship between that sister and Wei Ming?"

Liu Zhenyun: "Wei Ming says they're good friends."

"Good friends get taken to such an expensive place?" Guo Jianmei didn't believe it. "How did you introduce me?"

Liu Zhenyun: "Classmate."

Guo Jianmei: Do all men do this? Then this "good friend" definitely goes beyond indirect kissing!

Though embarrassing, the food was delicious—but once a year was enough. Too extravagant.

Back at Peking University's south gate, the two saw someone riding out on a motorcycle—a woman with a great figure, though her helmet obscured her face.

Mei Wenhua waved at Melinda riding off on his motorcycle: I'm so damn noble—this is it, Wei Ming owes me a kowtow!

I deserve to be enshrined in the Imperial Ancestral Temple!

(Yesterday's baseline)

(End of chapter)