[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-21":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2260729,4412,"Chapter 21","rising-in-1979-chapter-21",21,"\u003Cp>When she got home and heard her husband mention Wei Ming, Lu Xiaoyan was initially confused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What’s this? Isn’t Xiao Ming just a children’s storywriter? Why’s he suddenly into serious literature?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Playing around is one thing, but how did he get noticed by *Shouhuo*?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What will Chinese kids read now?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, everyone knows serious literature carries higher prestige, greater fame, and more social status, while children usually only remember the characters in the story, not who wrote it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To reassure his aunt, Wei Ming insisted repeatedly: If it weren’t for your magazine demanding just one story from me each issue, I wouldn’t bother writing serious literature—I actually have great faith in children’s literature!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s the truth. Think of the writers’ wealth rankings in the future: bestselling authors come and go, but Zheng Yuanjie and Yang Hongying remain unmoved, firmly in the top five, earning millions annually in royalties from their old books, occasionally even topping the charts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Clearly, building an outstanding children’s literature brand can sustain you for life, and children’s literature shapes a child’s soul from the ground up—it’s profoundly meaningful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Wei Ming would never abandon the pen name “Wei Shénme,” and he was willing to invest even more energy into children’s literature.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Lu Xiaoyan happily took apart Xiao Le’s old clothes and tiny quilt to make Wei Ming that thing—the “neck pillow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>According to Wei Ming’s instructions, sew a long strip of fabric into a long cylindrical tube, seal one end, turn it inside out, then stuff it with cotton until it’s just right—neither too tight nor too loose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, seal the other end, and sew a string to each end.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How do you use this thing?” Lu Xiaoyan asked, holding up what she’d made.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming took it, draped it around his neck, then tied the strings to encircle it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He leaned back against the wall: “This way, even on a train, your neck gets a little relief.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, let me try,” Wei Anping said, intrigued.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “Uncle, you and Auntie both sit at desks all day—sitting too long is bad for your health. You should make one too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Anping tried it out: “Hey, this is actually pretty good. Xiaoyan, come here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wei Ming suggested some improvements: use two pieces of fabric—one longer, one shorter—to form a U-shaped pouch when sewn together, then stuff it with cotton for better comfort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Xiaoyan understood immediately and started experimenting right away; the next day, she made her husband wear the U-shaped neck pillow to the office.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Wei Ming returned to his dorm, the small room was already packed with people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because so many male and female students from the Chinese Department came to see him, the commotion spread through the campus security team: Wei Ming not only told great stories but also wrote well—he was a super-genius even the top students in Chinese Department couldn’t match.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming expected to be showered with praise and flattery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instead, they cared most about: “Before you leave the security team, finish telling *The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*—otherwise, who will we go to for stories?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were most concerned about: “Before you leave the campus guard unit, finish telling us the story of The Heaven-Dragon Eight Parts—otherwise, who will we find to tell it next?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t you dare abandon it!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming laughed bitterly: “First, I won’t leave the security team anytime soon. Second, this story will be finished in two days—don’t worry, I’ll finish it before heading to Shanghai!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before bed, Wei Ming told another segment, then fell asleep clutching the book *Children’s Literature*.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next morning, his roommates cleared the room for him so he could focus on finishing *Er Niu*.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, the word count seemed higher—around forty-five thousand words. He wondered what price *Yanjing Literature* would offer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the afternoon, he still had to stand guard; an hour before shift’s end, Zhang Dening arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, sorry, I must be interrupting your duty. Maybe I should wait somewhere else?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait? What for?” Feng Ge suddenly appeared. “Xiao Ming, entertain Editor Zhang first. Mei Wenhua, cover his post.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua had no complaints—he hoped Wei Ming would publish more articles and gain fame; if Wei Ming shone, the guards shone too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His lost dignity depended on Wei Ming to restore it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guards’ dorm was messy, so they found a spot beside the May Fourth Playground, where Wei Ming pulled out his new work, *Er Niu*.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>*Er Niu* sounded unfamiliar—what if it were called *Fighting Bulls*?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Add keywords like Director Guan Hu, Huang Bo’s Golden Horse Award-winning masterpiece, and even more people would recognize it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This story was based on a widely circulated legend from the Yimeng Mountains; *Fighting Bulls* was an adaptation, but Wei Ming thought the name was meaningless—*Er Niu* cut straight to the core.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a widely circulated legend in the Yimeng Mountains region; “Fighting Cattle” was adapted and crafted from it, but Wei Ming thought the name was nonsensical—he preferred “Two Cattle,” which struck straight to the core.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Aren’t you reading it here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I need quiet to read.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then can I go back? Tomorrow I’m leaving—I still need to pack.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Dening: “Can we talk about your previous work? I’m curious—what story moved *Shouhuo*?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, briefly: it’s about a sent-down youth battling two donkeys.” (If unclear, watch the movie *Walking and Looking*—starring Jiang Wen.)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two donkeys? Zhang Dening glanced again at the two oxen in her hand. This handsome boy clearly loved writing about livestock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “What can I say? I’ve lived it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While telling *Lv Wu Lv Liu*, Wei Ming even acted it out—especially the long monologue where the male lead speaks to He Liu, the younger brother of He Wu, making Zhang Dening want to slam her hand on the table in admiration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was undoubtedly a fascinating, deeply memorable piece—too bad it wasn’t for *Yanjing Literature*.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Wei Ming reached the end—where He Liu, seeking revenge for his brother, transforms into donkey-meat dumplings, leaving only a charred skeleton—Zhang Dening felt a pang of sorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Wei Ming reached the end, where Black Six transformed into a donkey-meat fire-bun to avenge his brother, leaving only a charred skeleton, Zhang Dening couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet she clearly sensed the donkeys in Wei Ming’s story weren’t just donkeys.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They seemed to represent a certain kind of person.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But without seeing the original text, this was only Zhang Dening’s speculation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Comrade Wei Ming, let’s stop here for today. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure this story won’t disappoint me—I hope we can collaborate often.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming said bluntly: “That depends on your journal’s sincerity.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sincerity? You mean the payment?” Zhang Dening asked uncertainly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.” Wei Ming was perfectly calm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, you’re so materialistic!” Zhang Dening teased. Nowadays, writers pride themselves on literary integrity—they’re ashamed to talk about money.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming replied sincerely: “Since childhood, my mother told me poor children grow up fast. My parents are farmers who scratch a living from the soil; both are in poor health, and I have a young sister who needs school. Sorry to burden you with this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Dening couldn’t laugh anymore. This tall boy now seemed towering in her eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She said seriously: “If the work is truly good, I’ll fight the leadership for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“One more thing—can you publish it as soon as possible? I need the money urgently.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well…” Wei Ming said, “The *Shouhuo* piece won’t appear until November at the earliest. If you can publish before then, this will be my debut.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Dening understood: if Wei Ming truly soared in the literary world, *Yanjing Literature* would be remembered as the platform that launched him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this month was impossible—the earliest would be October.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She nodded, agreeing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in the dorm, Zhao Debiao was leaning against the wall wearing Wei Ming’s neck pillow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Big Brother Ming, this thing’s great—I’ll get my mom to make me one too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His mom worked at a street garment factory—no cost involved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Always thinking of yourself. What about Feng Ge? What about Wenhua?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua hadn’t expected to get one too—his help standing guard and bragging for Wei Ming had paid off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At Feng Ge’s prompting, Wei Ming began the final chapter of his storytelling session: *The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, the dorm was packed; the door was left open so those who couldn’t fit sat outside with stools, and familiar faces passed around cigarettes—the room felt like paradise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, their dorm was packed with people, so they left the door open, letting those who couldn’t fit sit outside with stools; acquaintances passed around cigarettes, and the room felt like paradise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as Wei Ming reached the moment when the heroes of the Central Plains and Emperor Yelü Hongji’s army faced off, and Duan Yu and Xu Zhu seized Yelü Hongji with their formidable martial arts—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun suddenly pushed through the crowd: “Xiao Wei, so you live here? Are you holding a class meeting?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Breaking off here would invite lightning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming quickly pulled Liu Zhenyun aside: “Brother Zhenyun, sit on Biao’s bed—I’m almost done.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming didn’t even have time to introduce Liu Zhenyun—delaying now would risk offending his ancestors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He continued: then Xiao Feng and the others forced Yelü Hongji to swear he would never again launch an army against the Song Dynasty in his lifetime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yelü Hongji, his life in their hands, had no choice but to agree.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He issued an imperial decree, sounded the war horns, and prepared to return to the capital.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he turned to Xiao Feng and sneered: ‘Great Lord Xiao, you’ve done the Song such a great service—high rank and rich rewards await you.’\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Feng shouted: ‘Your Majesty, I am a Khitan. I once swore brotherhood with you. Today, I forced you—making me a traitor to my people. Neither loyal nor righteous—how can I face heaven and earth again?’\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that, he raised the two broken arrow shafts in his right hand, channeled his inner energy, drove his arm backward, and with a *thud*, plunged them into his own chest.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming spoke and gestured vividly; years spent with the Beijing People’s Art Theatre, though never an actor, had honed his performance skills.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every listener gasped as if the broken arrows had pierced their own chests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So painful! So suffocating!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhao Debiao asked anxiously: “Will Xiao Feng die?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming sighed: “He died.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as the audience was about to erupt, Wei Ming raised his hand: “Wait—I’m not done yet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They thought there’d be a twist—but there wasn’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming went on: A Zi dug out her own eyes and returned them to You Tantizhi, then embraced Xiao Feng’s corpse and leapt off the cliff to die with him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And on the journey back to Dali, Duan Yu’s group encountered the mad Murong Fu, accompanied only by Abi.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only then was the novel complete.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, Wei Ming didn’t tell the revised version—Wang Yuyan ultimately married into the Duan family, and the first-person narrator, Duan Yu, married three “sisters” as wives and inherited the throne of Dali, becoming the ultimate winner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming wasn’t talking about the revised edition—Wang Yuyan ultimately married into the Duan family, and Duan Yu, the first-person narrator at the start, took three “sisters” as his wives and inherited the throne of Dali, becoming the greatest winner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His dreamlike success somewhat diluted Xiao Feng’s tragic aura.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when people dispersed and revisited the story did they realize that the one who left them most heartbroken, the one they could never forget, was still Xiao Feng, the righteous hero caught between Song and Liao, who ultimately sacrificed his life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother Zhenyun, what did you think of the story I just told?” Wei Ming asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this point, he had already pulled Liu Zhenyun out of the smoky dormitory and back onto the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A hero’s great righteousness—though it’s popular fiction, it must be a good story,” Liu Zhenyun praised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after he read more Jin Yong’s wuxia, his evaluation changed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother Zhenyun, what brings you here?” Wei Ming cut to the point.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun cleared his throat twice: “I’m here on behalf of Weiminghu Magazine to invite you to submit. The editorial team heard about your achievements and believes that having Wei Ming’s writing in Weiminghu would greatly enhance it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming paused briefly: “Normally, if Brother Zhenyun asked, I’d agree…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although he knew the next word would usually be “but,” Liu Zhenyun already felt honored.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Wei Ming didn’t follow the usual path—he gritted his teeth: “Alright, I’m actually working on a novella for Dangdai. How about I give it to you at a discount?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now it was Liu Zhenyun’s turn to be embarrassed—student magazines like theirs had no budget for author fees, not even when they invited Mao Dun to write a dedication.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, you don’t have a fee budget?” Wei Ming feigned realization, then frowned, “Talking money with students isn’t appropriate, but you know my family is from the countryside—these manuscripts are how I earn money to support my household.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Wei Ming finished, Liu Zhenyun hurriedly said: “I understand, I understand.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If his manuscripts could earn fees, he wouldn’t let Weiminghu take them for free either—he fully stood with Wei Ming, given his own financial hardship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Novels aren’t suitable, then—do you have any earlier poems? Just one small one will do,” Liu Zhenyun lowered his request drastically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming asked: “Are there any theme requirements?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Actually, no specific requirements—but ideally, something about ideals, beliefs, courage, or love would be great.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming shook his head: “I don’t have any. My poems are all about cows, sheep, mules, horses—written when I was a child, and I’m not even satisfied with them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Wei Ming was so firm, Liu Zhenyun no longer pressed: “Anyway, I’m determined to be your friend. I’m honored to know you. Please come visit our dorm anytime—we’re mostly kids from the countryside, and I’m sure they’ll welcome you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Xiong, brother’s done his best.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Liu Zhenyun gave his dorm number.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded and added: “Modern poetry relies on inspiration and emotion. When I feel it, the poem I write will be the first one I offer to Weiminghu—free of charge.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Haha, it’s settled then!” Liu Zhenyun said again. “Not paying isn’t right, but paying isn’t right either—how about the editorial girls each treat you to a meal?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Zhenyun turned and walked away, smiling. After just seven steps, a voice came from behind:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Holy shit! Got it! Got it!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of month—when else to post? Votes, come!)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2438,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","add6c2c6477e6948b9cb99963d7ca32dc6bfad7c7a507f11e7fc5a199fdc7f63","rising-in-1979-chapter-22","rising-in-1979-chapter-20",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]