Chapter 208: Three Long, One Short, Red and Slightly Curled (Guaranteed Dual Chapter)

Although she went to bed late, Melinda woke up early because today the chairman had a meeting with senior officials, and she needed to be present, so she had to return and prepare.

While Melinda was washing up in the bathroom, Wei Ming leaned against the doorframe; music played in the living room—it was the Genesis album she'd brought last night.

The band's lead singer, Phil Collins, had a daughter named Lily Collins.

"Can we meet again?" Wei Ming asked.

"Of course. Wait for me at the National Guesthouse at six tonight—I'll bring you the hardcover edition and some other best-selling children's books. Don't miss your chance."

"Can you come out?"

"No, there's a banquet tonight—all the leaders of China's publishing industry. Our chairman wants to break into the Chinese market, so I must attend. I can only slip out for a moment."

"So you're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes, we're leaving." Melinda saw the regret on Wei Ming's face in the mirror—half a year apart, yet they'd only spent one night together.

She lifted her nightgown: "Next time we meet might be when I come to China—or you go to Britain. Who knows how many years that'll take? Do whatever you want."

Wei Ming grunted: "What do you think I am? That's not what I meant."

Melinda turned back with a smile: "Are you tired?"

Wei Ming: "Wait for me—I'm going to get a condom."

A Chinese man who prides himself on strength can't let a foreign girl look down on him. This isn't about him—it's about the honor of Chinese men!

This is a battle for dignity!

But Melinda stopped him and proposed something bolder: "No need. My period just ended two days ago—it's perfectly safe."

The invitation was too tempting for Wei Ming. He always believed hearts were hidden behind flesh, and even more so behind lace. Without that barrier, people could truly connect, truly trust each other.

Now, Wei Ming and Melinda weren't just former lovers—they were partners who had built each other up, and they must trust each other unconditionally.

So Melinda gripped the sink, Wei Ming held Melinda, and they pushed their friendship to a new height.

About the length of one album passed. Wei Ming worriedly asked Melinda: "Won't this delay your official business?"

"No, I knew this would happen—I made sure to leave plenty of time. Now I really need to pack and go."

"Alright."

Wei Ming knew they'd eventually part. He didn't disturb Melinda further, tidied up, and turned to leave the bathroom.

But he froze—he noticed something at the door.

He walked over and saw a cloth bag on the floor. It hadn't been there before. Wei Ming's heart sank. He opened the bag and saw green, glossy zongzi inside.

The color of these zongzi matched Zhu Lin's head right now.

Wei Ming remembered what Zhu Lin had said last night—she was going home to help her mother wrap zongzi. Looking at these ugly, lumpy parcels, he was certain they were her handmade love zongzi.

He rushed to the window—but Zhu Lin was already gone.

When Melinda stepped out of the bedroom, dressed and radiant, she saw Wei Ming sitting on the sofa, smoking, with a bag in front of him.

"Didn't you say smoking is bad for health and you never smoke?" Melinda asked, puzzled.

"I wish I were unhealthy right now—maybe then I'd get some sympathy points."

Melinda didn't understand. "What's this?"

"Zongzi." Wei Ming pulled one out, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth.

Melinda: "I know this—it's 'Duanwu Ankang,' right? So today's the day Qu Yuan drowned himself!"

Wei Ming said nothing, just kept eating zongzi—one after another.

"Don't eat them all—save a few for me. I haven't eaten yet."

Wei Ming: "Alright, I'll get you a bag."

Melinda grinned: "You prepared this yesterday, didn't you?"

Wei Ming: "No, someone just delivered it this morning."

"I didn't see anyone."

"Neither did I—we were busy."

Melinda: "…."

She suddenly realized, her face flushing: "Did she see everything?"

"Relax—it was a woman."

Melinda exhaled: "Then you're the one who got the worse deal… Wait—a woman? Could it be… her?"

Wei Ming sighed: "Enough. Go now. I'll meet Mei Wenhua this afternoon and pick up his bike."

Mei Wenhua, you bastard—look what you've done!

Melinda had planned to ask Wei Ming to drive her back, but now she couldn't bring herself to say it—so awkward. She was his first love, but that was in the past.

"Alright then. Don't stress. Always look on the bright side."

"What bright side?"

Melinda: "At least she knows you have overseas connections. That's probably good for a Chinese man, right?"

Wei Ming, irritated by her seriousness: "Go, go, go—I won't see you off."

Melinda: Hmph. Put your pants on and suddenly you're full of courage.

After Melinda left, Wei Ming calmed down and quickly cleaned the room. He arranged the remaining zongzi on the table into a heart shape, hand-washed and hung up Melinda's nightgown to dry, then grabbed a trash bag and headed downstairs.

Melinda had left her stockings behind—he couldn't throw them out, couldn't keep them, so he hid them behind books on the shelf.

How long had Zhu Lin watched? She must be furious now. He'd definitely shown far more stamina with Melinda than he ever had with her.

The more Wei Ming thought about it, the angrier he became. After arriving at Peking University, he went straight to the dorm to confront Mei Wenhua.

But the dorm was empty except for Biaozi doing push-ups. Wei Ming nodded approvingly at the bulging muscles beneath his tank top—though he was too pale. He'd need to sunbathe for a hundred and eighty days to get a nice soy-sauce tan.

Leaving the dorm, he bumped into Liu Zhenyun, who had come to return the dinner money from yesterday.

Wei Ming had just taken the money when he heard Mei Wenhua's voice—he'd been listening for a while.

"Oh, Old Liu, you went out to eat and didn't invite us?"

Liu Zhenyun grinned: "Western food—too expensive. Couldn't afford it."

"Western food?" Mei Wenhua turned to Wei Ming. "You and Melinda ate Western food?"

Liu Zhenyun blinked: "Melinda? What Melinda?"

"You don't know? Melinda came back yesterday," Mei Wenhua boasted. "She came looking for Ming-ge. I gave her your address and phone number. I even lent her my motorcycle."

Liu Zhenyun's eyes widened. He glanced at Wei Ming's shifting purple-green expression, then remembered the beautiful girl named Zhu Lin.

Little Mei—you're dead.

Liu Zhenyun, who had planned to leave after returning the money, decided to stay and watch the show.

Mei Wenhua patted Wei Ming's shoulder: "No need to thank me—we're brothers. Besides, Melinda and I both have the surname Mei."

Wei Ming just kept smiling.

Then Mei Wenhua reached out: "Where's my bike key?"

Wei Ming: "Your bike was confiscated."

"What? Why?!"

Wei Ming: "Melinda rode your motorcycle and got pulled over by traffic police. Foreigners can't ride without a license. They didn't arrest her, but they seized the bike and turned it over to the state treasury."

Mei Wenhua staggered back, slid down the wall, and collapsed onto the floor.

"My bike! My Suzuki!"

He'd poured far more care into this motorcycle than into his old Flying Pigeon. He kept it spotless, like a wife—every time Biaozi used it, Mei Wenhua would re-clean and polish it.

After two loud wails, Mei Wenhua stood up, wiped his nose: "It's fine. Melinda's a refined person—she'll compensate me."

Wei Ming: "You're overestimating your namesake. She's already left Beijing."

"What?!" Mei Wenhua shrieked, then turned to Wei Ming. "She's your girlfriend—you owe me!"

Wei Ming shook his head with a smile: "Ex-girlfriend. We're done. Besides, I've got a new girlfriend now. Right, Old Liu? You saw her yesterday."

Liu Zhenyun's eyes lit up—I told you so! Their relationship was never clean!

He chimed in: "Yeah, yeah! I saw her at Lao Mo yesterday—so gorgeous, even prettier than our Mei-zi!"

The identity Wei Ming had refused to acknowledge yesterday, he finally gave her today.

But Zhu Lin no longer wanted it.

This morning, she'd happily brought Wei Ming zongzi. After entering the apartment, she heard foreign music playing.

She assumed he was in the kitchen—until she passed the bathroom and saw through the crack what was happening, heard the moans.

Zhu Lin didn't even see who Wei Ming was thrusting into—she simply lacked the courage to push open the door and confront him.

Saying she was his girlfriend? Just the childish lie of a boy. How foolish of her to believe it.

Zhu Lin mocked herself, dropped the bag of zongzi, and fled. She couldn't imagine the humiliation if she walked in and found all three of them together.

She'd left them some dignity—but at work, the more she thought about it, the angrier and more humiliated she felt. She called in sick and headed straight for Huqiao Apartments.

She was taking back everything that belonged to her!

If Wei Ming hadn't given her hope, she wouldn't have reacted so strongly. But he'd made promises—then immediately betrayed her.

At least wait two days!

As soon as she opened the door, she saw the "zongzi heart" on the table—he'd been here. Did he think this childish trick would make her forgive him?

Hmph. Childish!

And he'd left the table sticky—didn't he know how hard it is to clean? But this time, I won't help you! Zhu Lin thought fiercely.

She turned to pack her things in the spare bedroom—and saw her nightgown hanging on the balcony.

Wet. Just washed. So the woman didn't just sleep with her man—she wore her clothes!

Zhu Lin's eyes burned red. She silently packed her belongings. She would never come here again. This was too cruel.

Then she went to the bathroom to fetch her toiletries; seeing the sink, she felt a surge of sorrow—how could they have done that here!

This is where you wash your hands and face!

As she was packing, Zhu Lin suddenly noticed something.

She crouched down and found a strand of red hair beneath the sink; she picked it up—it was long and slightly curled.

Zhu Lin suddenly thought of Melinda, whom she had only ever seen in photos.

Is it her? Has she come back?

Is this a king's return?

Zhu Lin stopped packing and continued searching for traces.

Wei Ming had cleaned thoroughly—he wanted to erase all evidence of Melinda's presence here. Though Zhu Lin had already seen it, he still hoped it might ease her pain a little, yet some traces remained.

!

Soon, Zhu Lin found another identical long red hair on the sofa.

Finally, on the bed, she found two red hairs—one long, one short.

Three long, one short in total!

Zhu Lin specifically opened her photo album, found Melinda's color photo, and after comparison, confirmed it was her.

She's making a comeback!

Zhu Lin checked their contraceptive supplies—she kept track—and discovered three had been used.

Three! How greedy!

But now that she had confirmed the woman's identity, Zhu Lin found she wasn't as angry as she had been at first.

After all, she was his first love, and they hadn't broken up over emotions—so meeting again and acting impulsively was somewhat understandable.

The real question was: would Melinda leave again? Zhu Lin, weak-willed, wondered.

She even wanted to put back everything she'd packed, pretending nothing had happened.

But the zongzi on the table reminded her—it was useless. He knew she'd been here; if she said nothing, he'd become even more reckless.

This time, she had to stand her ground!

But she was alone, with only a bicycle—she couldn't carry all this stuff at once.

So Zhu Lin selectively took some of her belongings, planning to retrieve the rest later.

To show her resolve, she slipped her key through the door crack.

After tricking Mei Wenhua, Wei Ming was in high spirits and planned to tell him the truth in the afternoon.

At noon, he rode his motorcycle to Zhu Lin's workplace, waited all afternoon without seeing her, and reluctantly returned home.

Then he saw Zhu Lin's key at the front door—she had come back!

Wei Ming quickly checked: some things were missing—items belonging to Zhu Lin. Had she drawn a line between them?

But not entirely—many of her things still remained.

Wei Ming breathed a little easier—there was still hope. As long as the green hills remain, firewood won't run out. Sister, wait for me!

At school, Mei Wenhua stared blankly at Biaozi: "Why aren't you worried at all? The motorcycle is half yours too!"

Biaozi, doing sit-ups, replied: "Because I'm about to join a film crew—I won't need it anymore."

"But what about after filming? Won't you use it?!" Mei Wenhua fumed.

Biaozi: "That's ages away. I'm sure Brother Ming will sort it out."

"Sort out what? It's been seized by authorities and handed over to the state treasury—can you claw it back?!" Mei Wenhua was heartbroken.

At that moment, Wei Ming arrived at the dorm after work.

"Mei Wenhua, come with me to get your bike."

"Ah, the bike's coming back?!" Mei Wenhua jumped up in delight.

Biaozi: "I told you—trust Brother Ming, you won't lose out."

Half an hour later, staring at the sign, Mei Wenhua felt dizzy.

"Brother Ming, where are we?"

Wei Ming: "Isn't it written there? You're not illiterate."

Mei Wenhua: "Melinda lives here now? She's doing well!"

"Not bad—mainly because she picked the right boss." Then Wei Ming explained Melinda's boss, Harold Macmillan's background, leaving Mei Wenhua speechless—this was once the head of a nation, a great power like Britain, no wonder he lived in such a place.

Soon, Melinda emerged in a beautiful long evening gown, while a staff member pushed out the motorcycle, its carrier bag bulging.

"Melinda, you're too generous—it was only used for one day, no need to give so much."

Wei Ming walked over: "Get lost—this is for me."

Melinda first pulled out the hardcover edition of *The Game of the Brave* for Wei Ming to see—the entire design was her work, infused with her heart and soul.

Mei Wenhua glanced and exclaimed: "I really have no culture—this is a book?! Made to look like a gift box!"

Since the banquet was about to begin, Melinda spoke briefly.

"After returning to China, should you open a foreign bank account in your own name? That way, you can use your foreign exchange income normally when traveling abroad."

Transferring money to Wei Ming's domestic account would be inconvenient—the state needs foreign exchange so badly that once money comes in, it's hard to take out.

"Fine, open one with a branch in Hong Kong," Wei Ming said—he'd go to Hong Kong eventually—"but you can also send some back to China." Sometimes he needed foreign exchange coupons to buy things.

Melinda smiled—Hong Kong? From there, it's easy to get to Britain.

"Alright, I'll write and tell you the account number. The hardcover will be reprinted—I'll get royalties again. And when the U. . branch publishes *The Game of the Brave*, there'll be another big royalty payment."

Melinda estimated Wei Ming could earn at least $100, 00 from this book—not just high in China, but even in Britain.

Neither spoke English; Mei Wenhua understood every word. Wow—so Melinda's return wasn't just about rekindling old flames, but also acting like a benevolent benefactor!

Brother Ming is already earning royalties from abroad—how much money is that?!

He recalled Wei Ming's earlier words: personal effort and ability matter, but choosing the right boss (big brother) matters even more.

Finally, Melinda urged Wei Ming to write a new work soon—translation and artist coordination would take time, so she hoped Mr. Why's next book could be released by early next year.

After Melinda went inside, Wei Ming tossed the bag onto the motorcycle, and Mei Wenhua immediately started the engine and followed.

"Brother Ming, how much royalty did you earn this time?"

"Alright, earned a few more apartments." Wei Ming gave a vague answer.

"Awesome! Totally awesome!"

Mei Wenhua grimaced—he'd copied *The Game of the Brave*—how many words was that? And he made this much!

And it sounded like this was only part of it—more was coming, even more: "So you've got so much money you don't know what to do with it, right? That must be a headache."

Wei Ming: "Not really—just buy a few more apartments. Maybe later I'll have to store letters from foreign child readers."

He thought he might buy a sihe courtyard this time.

In this era, hoarding money had no meaning—only spending gave it value.

Besides future appreciation, a sihe courtyard offered safety—Old Sun from the expat apartment was friendly, but frequently bringing different girls home carried risks.

Even if nothing happened now, trouble could arise in a few years—but if you bring different girls to different homes, isn't that fine?

I wonder if Xue-jie would like a sihe courtyard. If not, the apartment at Tuanjiehu could work too—it's not expensive anyway.

With $20, 00 in hand—equivalent to 30, 00 to over 100, 00 RMB—Wei Ming felt inflated.

As he was thinking, Mei Wenhua asked: "Brother Ming, how about you join my and Biaozi's business?"

Wei Ming chuckled: "Your little side hustle isn't interesting."

Mei Wenhua: "But with you in, it's no longer a little side hustle."

"If I invest, what's left for you and Biaozi? You'd become my employees—no good, no good."

Wei Ming spoke honestly—he had far more money than Mei and Biaozi; how could the ratio be fair?

But if he invested too little, it'd still be a little side hustle—meaningless.

Mei Wenhua weighed the pros and cons in his mind and immediately said: "No, we'd be happy to work for you—it'd earn us more than going solo."

Plus, with a big investor backing them, risk dropped dramatically—sure, someone took most of the profit, but the total profit multiplied many times over!

With this money, even after buying a house, there'd be plenty left—investing in business was a good option, as long as he didn't have to exert himself.

Writing novels and falling in love already drained his brain—he didn't want to pour more energy into other ventures; at most, he'd offer a few ideas.

Wei Ming said: "Talk it over with Biaozi. See you."

Then Wei Ming returned home; Mei Wenhua went back to Peking University.

Meanwhile, at the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse banquet, leaders from the Ministry of Culture and the State Publishing Bureau were chatting warmly with Harold Macmillan, while Melinda, elegantly dressed, translated beside them—showing no trace of her wildness at the sink.

Old Macmillan had come hoping Macmillan Press could enter the Chinese market, especially English textbooks.

The China expert Melinda had told him: this year, English scores in China's college entrance exam had increased—and would keep rising; China's market potential here was enormous.

After finishing translation and beginning dinner, a deputy section chief from Peking University in the Publishing Bureau struck up a conversation with Melinda about British publishing, and Melinda smiled: "Have you heard of *The Game of the Brave*?"

The deputy chief, who had children, nodded: "I've heard of it—the author's name is odd, something like Wei…?"

He remembered "Wei…" clearly—it was distinctive—while the book title had slipped his mind.

Melinda smiled: "Yes, our press has imported this novel—it received widespread acclaim in Britain."

"Oh, really?!"

The deputy chief was first alarmed—how could they publish abroad without going through the Publishing Bureau?!

But after Melinda explained the novel's sensation in Britain, its planned release in the U. . and other countries, and its translation into multiple languages to become a globally influential children's work,

The deputy chief burst with excitement: Our Publishing Bureau is clearly well-led—we've achieved this quietly!

…

(Yesterday's guaranteed update~)

(End of chapter)