Chapter 209: Wei Ming

Returning to the overseas Chinese apartment, although Zhu Lin had taken only a few things, the place felt strangely empty.

Wei Ming turned on the tape player, playing the music Melinda had brought back from England, and flipped through the best-selling children's books she had gotten for him.

She first looked at her hardcover edition of "The Game of the Brave": the paper quality was clearly upgraded, it included several additional illustrations compared to the paperback, and most notably, the game inside the book had been fully restored.

If Sister Lin were here, we could play together and replace those lions, crocodiles, and other disasters with punishments like taking off clothes or spanking—definitely a lot of fun.

Wei Ming sighed and flipped through the other children's books; there were very few purely text-based ones, mostly picture books or illustrated novels.

For example, the picture book he was now reading introduced African animals: lions, zebras, elephants, giraffes, baboons, honey badgers, warthogs, and more.

Africa is so far away; many native animals are completely unfamiliar to children in China today, and only a few major cities' zoos even have zebras or giraffes.

But Wei Ming was fine—he wasn't unfamiliar with these animals; earlier, while gathering story ideas for "Black Cat Detective," he'd read many animal books and paid special attention to the animal section of "One Hundred Thousand Whys."

He had stored away a wealth of animal knowledge and now leaned toward writing another fairy tale with animals as the main characters—though he wasn't sure which one to choose.

That night, Wei Ming sat at his desk, doodling with a pencil on paper.

Before deciding what to write, he first sketched out cartoon versions of various animals, trying to pick one he liked.

The next day, as soon as Wei Ming arrived at work, Mei Wenhua and Zhao Debiao stopped him.

Biaozi said, "Big Brother Wei, we've thought it through—we want to go into business together, and you'll be the boss!"

Yesterday, back at school, Mei Wenhua easily convinced Zhao Debiao, then spent considerable effort persuading Biaozi to become the third partner, while Mei himself wanted to be the second.

Wei Ming said, "Let's go out for lunch and talk while we eat."

Because of business confidentiality, Xiao Mei specifically chose a restaurant far from Peking University to avoid running into acquaintances.

Wei Ming got straight to the point: "Thanks to Melinda, one of my novels has been published in Britain and earned me some foreign exchange—I definitely won't spend it all. If you want to expand the business, I'm willing to contribute part of it. Now I need to know how much you can invest."

Mei Wenhua said: "If we hadn't bought this motorcycle, each of us could have contributed 3, 00."

Biaozi: "I can contribute 4, 00!"

Xiao Mei was shocked: "How can you contribute that much?"

Biaozi: "I included Yanzi's and my mom's shares—they're willing to support me and gave me their bonuses and savings."

Mei Wenhua felt a bit envious; his parents didn't support his business ambitions and wanted him to get a stable job in the military, thinking that was the only proper career—but they had no power or influence to help him.

Still, Mei Wenhua wanted to be the second partner, believing he was better at business than Biaozi and thus deserved greater decision-making power.

So Mei Wenhua made a painful decision.

"Biaozi, how about this: the motorcycle stays with you. I don't ask for much—just one percentage point more than you."

The motorcycle had been bought jointly, each paying over a thousand yuan.

Biaozi calculated: if the motorcycle went to him, he'd owe Xiao Mei over a thousand, making Xiao Mei's contribution 4, 00 and his own 3, 00—but since he only needed one more percentage point, this was totally doable!

Meanwhile, Xiao Mei thought: even though ownership went to Biaozi, Biaozi would be filming with the crew for a while anyway, so he'd still be using it—no real difference.

Both were pleased with the proposal and turned to Wei Ming, eager to see how much he'd invest and what equity he'd want.

Wei Ming asked first: "Have you figured out how much money you need and what kind of business you want to run?"

Mei Wenhua: "We've discussed it before—we want to open a store mainly selling clothing, with other hot southern goods as side items. We'll produce the clothes ourselves and source the rest from big-time smugglers."

Wei Ming shook his head and asked Biaozi: "Has your mom not quit yet from the street clothing factory?"

"Not yet—she's just waiting for my signal."

Wei Ming realized his aunt was also a bold, impulsive type.

He immediately rejected the idea: "We're not ready to produce clothing ourselves. Clothing manufacturing is a labor-intensive industry—if we do this, the number of workers we'd need would be terrifying, and we'd all be in danger."

In four or five years, this might be fine—Li Chengru's "Te Te" became fully integrated, controlling production, processing, and sales, amassing tens of millions by the 1990s.

But it's 1980 now; reforms aren't deep enough yet, and setbacks still happen.

Although there are pioneers like Nian Guangjiu who've already opened private factories with over a hundred workers, we're right here under the imperial palace—everyone's watching. None of us have strong connections, so we must stay low-key.

Besides, even sourcing raw materials would be a problem—right now, you need coupons just to buy fabric; state and collective factories have the advantage.

So Wei Ming proposed: "Selling clothing is a great idea—whether bell-bottoms, jeans, or other stylish clothes, there's huge demand in Beijing. We can partner with garment factories, specify what to produce, and handle sales ourselves—no need to limit ourselves to one factory. We can work with many small street factories and share the profits."

He held the same view toward Mei Wenhua and Biaozi: share the wealth. He offered to directly contribute $5, 00 USD, to be converted into RMB as startup capital.

At the official exchange rate, that's equivalent to 8, 00 yuan; on the black market, it could fetch 10, 00 to 20, 00.

Wei Ming's investment far exceeded the combined contributions of Mei and Biaozi.

But he only wanted 51% equity—the remaining 49% would be split as 25% for Xiao Mei and 24% for Biaozi.

This relieved Mei Wenhua: $5, 00 could be exchanged for 30, 00 RMB; if equity were strictly proportional, he and Biaozi wouldn't even get 10%—that would make the whole venture unbearable.

Of course, Wei Ming would only set the overall direction initially; he had a real job, unlike the two of them.

Mei Wenhua said: "Biaozi, come with me after this to exchange the money—I know where to get the best rate."

He invited Biaozi along to avoid suspicion; black market exchange rates fluctuated wildly, and having two people present prevented any disputes.

Wei Ming added: "No rush—we won't need all that money right away. First, let's secure a location and pick a shop name, then apply for an individual business license."

Individual business licenses didn't yet exist in China, but applications had been permitted; last year, Zhang Huamei in Wenzhou applied to run a small goods business, and only this year-end was her license approved—the first individual business license after reform and opening.

Even without a license, people were already opening shops—it was common practice.

Biaozi offered: "Yanzi and I love shopping at Wangfujing and Xidan—lots of people, lots of stores, every shop feels bustling."

Mei Wenhua nodded: "Rent there must be high, but with Big Brother Wei's money, I think it'll be enough."

Still, it wouldn't be abundant—Xiao Mei had some idea of the rental costs there.

Xiao Mei knew Wei Ming had more than $5, 00, but asking him to invest more would make him feel uncomfortable taking such a large share, so they'd have to make do with what they had.

Then came the issue of the shop name.

Biaozi humbly said: "Naming the shop? That's definitely your job, Big Brother Wei."

Xiao Mei agreed—shop names had to be catchy; this was a job for a real cultured person.

So Wei Ming quickly scribbled down several names and let them choose.

They were: "Te Te," "You Yi Ku," "Yi Jia Yi," "Xi Duo Duo," and "Dongfang Xintiandi."

Since he heard Old Ghost was planning a food business, Wei Ming also gave him some name suggestions.

With this talent for naming shops, he could make a fortune—both men were thrilled by the names; they all liked them and wanted to use them all!

"Yi Jia Yi" and "You Yi Ku" clearly indicated clothing—perfect for their main focus.

"Xi Duo Duo" and "Te Te" sounded unique and sparked curiosity.

Finally, "Dongfang Xintiandi"—Mei Wenhua loved this one most; it sounded grand, unmistakably a big business—he worried their small shop couldn't live up to it.

"It's definitely too grand now, but in a few years, when things become clearer, we'll expand the store and hire more staff—then it'll fit perfectly."

Xiao Mei slammed the table: "Then it's settled! Dongfang Xintiandi!"

Beijing's Dongfang Xintiandi was Li Ka-shing's project, opening two decades later in the Wangfujing-Xidan area; the name was majestic, and Wei Ming liked it too—later, if they transitioned from clothing to a comprehensive mall or real estate, it would be even more suitable.

With these decisions made, Biaozi and Xiao Mei got to work, starting by exchanging the dollars.

Only with money could they rent a space and negotiate with garment factories.

But Mei Wenhua kept a clever trick—he exchanged only $4, 00, keeping $1, 00 to grease palms.

It wasn't bribery—what's wrong with exchanging my dollars at the official rate to someone who needs them?

Whether those people were garment factory managers, material suppliers, or officials handling individual business licenses—well, that's just coincidence.

Wei Ming decided to help them one more small favor—he sent a telegram that same day to Gong Yu in Shanghai, briefly explaining the situation in dozens of characters.

At this time, Gong Yu was deep into filming "Good Things Take Time," but one thing annoyed her.

Her on-screen husband, Guo Kaimin, and her on-screen best friend, Zhang Zhihua, were a couple off-camera too; she constantly saw them showing affection, making her feel even more lonely and helpless.

She desperately wanted to finish filming and return to Beijing—to see if Wei Ming had bought the Qi Baishi painting.

After the morning shoot ended, Zhang Yu came to find Guo Kaimin, saying they needed photos for next month's movie promotion. Zhang Zhihua, who usually laughed so much, suddenly fell silent—she knew her boyfriend had kissed Zhang Yu in "Lushan Love"!

It was only a cheek kiss, but still—a kiss! I haven't even kissed him properly yet!

Seeing the young couple bickering, Gong Yu, the older sister, finally felt a little better.

Oh dear, how mean of me! I must've learned this from Little Wei.

Just as she was thinking of Wei Ming, she received his telegram in the afternoon—thrilled but worried: what urgent matter warranted a telegram?

After reading it, she immediately asked Zhang Zhihua: "Where did your Guo Kaimin and Zhang Yu go to take photos?"

Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, Old Ghost and Ah Min received Wei Ming's reply almost simultaneously.

At this time, Old Ghost and Aunt Zhou were selecting a location for their new fast-food snack shop.

Investment was split 60-40: Old Ghost took 60%, thanks to his grandson's funds—he could be the big boss, while Aunt Zhou wasn't losing out either; if business was good, her 40% would be better than her previous street-hawking days.

The location wasn't settled yet, and they were already arguing over the shop name.

"Alright, let's postpone the name debate for now—tomorrow, let's check out the shop near Hong Kong University," Old Ghost said.

"Good idea—I think Hong Kong University is perfect: lots of foot traffic, and Ah Min can feel the atmosphere of a prestigious university," Aunt Zhou said. After all, wasn't she working so hard so her daughter could get into college? But HKU was a bit too ambitious a goal.

Hong Kong had too few universities and admitted too few students—only 2% of high school graduates could access higher education locally.

！

Hong Kong University was the top institution; only top students from their class or school had a chance—Ah Min clearly wasn't one of them.

When Aunt Zhou returned home, Ah Min was reading Wei Ming's letter, her expression shifting constantly.

In his previous letter, Ah Min had cautiously asked about Wei Ming's romantic history; he didn't hide it—he openly admitted to a failed cross-border romance with a tall, beautiful British exchange student, which ended when she finished her studies.

Hong Kong people always felt psychologically inferior toward the British, since Hong Kong was still under British rule.

But the fact that Wei Ming had dated a British student proved how outstanding he was.

Thinking this, Ah Min felt happy for Wei Ming again—and since the student had returned home, this separation was probably permanent.

Then Wei Ming commented on the songs Ah Min had recorded.

First, he praised her voice, calling it beautiful: "You sound like a real beauty."

Ah Min blushed and squirmed: "Oh no, I'm just an ordinary little beauty."

A Ming: "But your mom's right—showbiz looks glamorous, but it's not easy to survive. It's hard work, and you might run into all kinds of dirty stuff. If you can get into university, whether in Hong Kong or the mainland, you'll join the high-income group."

A Min lowered her head slightly, embarrassed. Could she really pass the exam? Her liberal arts were fine, but math was too hard!

Then A Ming told her about his younger sister—he actually had a biological sister, who looked about the same age as her, and would be taking the college entrance exam this year; the mainland's exam age was a bit younger than Hong Kong's.

"I have talent for creation. Even though I didn't get into university, it hasn't stopped me from living comfortably. I even bought a house recently. But my sister A Hong? She's average at creation—she can't make money writing. She's also weak physically. I really don't know what other path she has at this age besides taking the college entrance exam."

After reading this, A Min had a huge question mark: A Ming said he didn't get into university? But wasn't he a teacher at Peking University? Could you become a university professor without going to university?

After talking a bit about studies, A Ming returned to singing.

"Music is actually a great hobby. Even though I sing badly, I still love to sing. If I can't write my own songs, I sing others'. A Min, you said you're learning piano—study hard. If I ever get to Hong Kong and we meet, I'll write you a song as a gift."

"Ah!" A Min jumped up excitedly, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Although Wei Ming had given her many gifts before, they were all polite exchanges. But a song? That would be so romantic!

"Romantic" might not be the right word—but her heart nearly melted when she heard this!

Wei Ming's letter wasn't over—he briefly introduced his second pen name: "Wei Shenme."

The package also included "The Book of Heavenly Secrets" and several issues of "Youth Literature" and "Children's Literature" magazines featuring "The Brave's Game" and "Black Cat Detective."

Too bad Wei Ming hadn't met Melinda yet—if he had, he would've mentioned the UK sales figures for "The Brave's Game." He quite enjoyed being adored by a young female pen pal.

Later, Zhou Ma came home, and mother and daughter had dinner. Just after they finished eating, Ghost Uncle knocked on the door—A Min opened it.

These past few days, Ghost Uncle had been constantly consulting Zhou Ma about their business partnership; outsiders might think they were dating, but Zhou Hui Min was long used to it.

"Can't we discuss this tomorrow?" Zhou Ma asked while washing dishes.

Ghost Uncle: "I've got a new idea for the shop's name."

"What is it?"

Ghost Uncle: "What do you think of 'Haoli Lai'?"

Zhou Ma thought for a moment, then her face lit up: "Perfect! Even if we're not in food service, it works for anything else. How did your brain suddenly wake up?!"

Ghost Uncle: "It just came to me. Good, the name's settled. Tomorrow we'll go to HKU to check out the shop—try to lock it down early."

Then he hurried off again.

【122】 He stormed off again.

Ghost Uncle had just finished reading Sun Zi's letter, in which Wei Ming mentioned their grandmother's experience running a tofu shop in the village after he left in the 1950s.

"Your grandmother expanded her tofu business greatly. She said your talent surpassed hers. I believe you can do it too. And if you grow big and strong, maybe one day you can return to the mainland as a patriotic Hong Kong businessman—past grievances will be forgiven."

This was also why Wei Ming supported the old man's decision to start over at sixty. Hong Kong residents and returning Hong Kong businessmen with capital were treated differently on the mainland—this might be the old man's chance to return home.

Besides, the old man had only one grandson. His entrepreneurship was essentially the same as starting a business in Hong Kong.

Then he'd have food service in Hong Kong and clothing in the mainland—both profitable industries—and he could write books more freely.

"You're starting a business, and I just bought a house—I can't help with funds. But if 'The Ancient Terracotta Warriors' gets picked up for a film adaptation, the royalty money could support you. For now, I can only help brainstorm names."

That's how names like "Haoli Lai" and "Subway" came up. Ghost Uncle immediately chose "Haoli Lai"—a name that sounded lucky. Hong Kong people always loved good omens.

At the time, Wei Ming hadn't received his UK royalty payment yet—if he had, slipping him a few hundred-dollar bills wouldn't have been a problem.

Now, Wei Ming had fifteen thousand U. . dollars and over two thousand RMB left.

He wanted to buy a color TV—he had the quota, and the RMB was enough. Then he'd exchange some foreign exchange coupons to buy a refrigerator and washing machine at Friendship Store, and quickly live a modern life.

He really wanted someone to go with him, but Lin Jie had been ignoring him lately—he'd have to go alone.

Just after work, as he walked downstairs, he saw Mu Rong, six months pregnant, taking a stroll.

She seemed to be waiting for him on purpose—when she saw Wei Ming, she hurried over.

"Sister-in-law, slow down—I'll help you." Wei Ming rushed to her side.

Mu Rong smiled: "I don't have anything else to ask—just wanted to know: are you really with Lin Jie?"

"How did you find out?"

Mu Rong: "Oh, yesterday, Liu Zhenyun from the Chinese Department had diarrhea and came to the campus clinic—I ran into him. He asked me about a former colleague, and that's how I found out!"

She seemed thrilled. She'd long shipped this forbidden pairing, but then Wei Ming suddenly had a foreign student girlfriend. She never expected things could turn around like this.

Since he'd already admitted it to Liu Zhenyun, Wei Ming saw no point in hiding—he nodded: "It's true. But whether we're still in that kind of relationship now? I'm not sure."

"What? You two had a fight?"

"Worse than a fight. She's not talking to me at all."

Mu Rong didn't ask who was right or wrong—she just said: "Then you need to take the initiative! Girls are like that—they need to be coddled."

Older girls are still girls.

Wei Ming sighed: "She's hard to soothe."

He'd gone to Zhu Lin's workplace to wait for her, but never saw her. Her office had several entrances—she was clearly avoiding him.

Mu Rong thought for a moment: "How about this—I'll help mediate. Maybe I can arrange for you two to meet and talk properly."

Wei Ming stared at Mu Rong in surprise: "Sis, you're my real sister!"

Mu Rong planned to go into the city tomorrow with her mother to shop, and then stop by her old workplace.

After saying goodbye to her, Wei Ming went to the south gate to get his motorcycle—and saw a familiar man with glasses.

"Wei Writer, nice to meet you again!" the man greeted him warmly.

"Oh, Zhu Journalist." Wei Ming remembered—he was Zhu Wei from China Youth Daily.

Wei Ming was a model youth promoted by China Youth Daily, a national youth idol, and had been interviewed by the paper multiple times—including once by this very Zhu Wei.

"You're here to see me?" he asked. Why so sudden? No call beforehand?

Zhu Wei looked embarrassed: "I should've called to arrange it, but the upper management was in a hurry. I got the order and came straight over."

He looked at Wei Ming seriously: "But I'm not here to interview Wei Ming. I'm here to interview the fairy tale writer Wei Shenme."

…

(Yesterday's minimum! More tonight—please vote for monthly tickets!)

(End of chapter)