Chapter 211: Officially Endorsed Fairy Tale King (Guaranteed Dual-Chapter)

Seeing Zhu Lin hesitate, Wei Ming said sternly, "This is a game for the brave—it requires courage. No problem: admit you're a coward and go back to the start."

"What's the big deal, hmph!" Zhu Lin stood up and swiftly removed the bottom garment.

She glanced again at the penalties leading to the finish line—this was way too outrageous; some she simply didn't have the nerve to do.

She pulled her nightdress together and glared at Wei Ming, furious and embarrassed: "Did you come up with all this?"

Wei Ming nodded proudly—it was his masterwork, the result of endless brainstorming.

Zhu Lin: "Shameless, no decency at all."

Wei Ming: "Why would I be proper with someone like you? We're not a proper couple—we're an improper one, so of course we play improper games. My turn."

Wei Ming only jumped one square: "Oh no, kiss your opponent, Sister Lin, you're shy?"

Before Zhu Lin could react, Wei Ming kissed her; after he let go, she grumbled, "Is this your penalty? This is a reward!"

Wei Ming chuckled: "Who says I'm lucky? Keep going."

Zhu Lin glanced at her path behind her, hoping to roll three dots—there was nothing there, no penalty.

But she rolled two dots; her face darkened immediately—this penalty was too humiliating.

Wei Ming laughed: "Sister Lin, I've got strong hands, bear with me."

Zhu Lin: "You—you're still pulling down my pants?"

"Can't hear it through the pants."

Zhu Lin: "..."

Sister Lin bit down so hard her teeth felt like they'd shatter—this was too embarrassing. Since she could remember, her parents hadn't spanked her; at most, her sister would get angry and hit her. After middle school, she knew not to provoke her elder sister—but now, this, this...

Still, after hitting her, Wei Ming knew to rub it gently.

"Let go. Keep going." Zhu Lin rolled up her sleeves, determined to reclaim her dignity.

But humiliation piled up; several times Zhu Lin couldn't bear it and reluctantly retreated to the start.

As they played, their clothes vanished. Wei Ming, relying on his thick skin, reached the finish line—the game ended.

Zhu Lin suddenly remembered something: "Now you've won—but so what?"

Before they played, they never said what the winner got or what the loser lost.

Wei Ming thought: wasn't the "reward" during the game enough? He'd made Sister Lin do things she'd never have done before, loosening her up about sex.

Even now, she'd already mentally prepared herself to accept Xiao Wei's body and heart.

Wei Ming flopped down, covering her entirely, gazing deeply into her face: "Now I'm claiming my ultimate reward."

Zhu Lin had come prepared to reconcile, but never imagined the brat would succeed so easily.

But now she had no courage left to resist—her courage had been entirely spent in that game.

She felt this game had been a trap dug just for her, stripping away all her modesty and morality, turning her into a slave to desire.

When all was quiet, it was past midnight. After the peak of pleasure, they showered together, both too restless to sleep.

Wei Ming was thinking he'd need to buy a water heater—the bathroom was spacious enough to install a bathtub in the main one.

Now they relied on solar heating; only after spring, when it warmed up, could they shower often. In winter, they mostly had to go to public bathhouses.

He'd never taken Sister Lin for a bath together—he had to arrange it. He still had over thirteen thousand dollars; first, raise his personal living standards.

Zhu Lin was thinking she might never be able to leave this boy again.

These past days, she'd considered: Xiao Wei was too young, his heart unsettled—they probably couldn't end up together. Maybe she should just marry some decent, reliable man.

But after tonight's wild games, she realized she was completely his. No matter what man she met in the future, she'd never forget tonight's ultimate pleasure—and it wouldn't be fair to him.

Whatever. Let it be. Drink today's wine, forget tomorrow's worries.

The next morning, at some unknown hour, Zhu Lin jolted awake: "What time is it?"

Wei Ming hugged her tighter: "Don't worry, it's Sunday. No work."

Zhu Lin closed her eyes again: "Good."

But soon it wasn't good—Wei Ming woke up, energized, and started scheming again.

Zhu Lin, worn out, jumped out of bed: "No more sleeping—I can't take it. Too much fluid loss isn't good."

"I'll make breakfast." She escaped his grasp.

As soon as she left, Wei Ming quickly pulled out the tiger bone wine from the hidden compartment under the bed and drank a capful.

Last night's battle had been no problem for him—he just took a sip preemptively, for safety.

He lay back for a while, feeling warm all over, and only got up when Zhu Lin called him.

"I just heard someone pass by the door and stand there for a bit," she said.

Wei Ming opened the door, glanced out, then came back with several newspapers.

"It's the newspaper delivery guy." He wasn't short on cash now, so he subscribed to many papers and magazines—his monthly expenses for these nearly covered his salary at Peking University. He'd need to buy a house—not just for mail, but for books and periodicals too.

But now he was short on RMB—he'd spent nearly all his cash on the color TV, and the electricity bills for several appliances were high, plus the phone monthly fee—fixed expenses of dozens of yuan each month.

Luckily, he still had thirteen thousand dollars—he'd have to find the black market to exchange some cash.

Hey!

Wei Ming looked at Zhu Lin and suddenly had an idea.

"Lilin, how much money do you have right now?"

"Why? Need money?" Zhu Lin started rummaging in her pockets. She knew Wei Ming earned a lot, but she also saw how recklessly he spent—he could burn through any amount.

Wei Ming waved his hand: "I'm fine. But I've got some dollars—if you want, I'll exchange them with you at the official rate."

Though he could get more on the black market, he knew everyone craved shopping at Friendship Stores, so he'd rather earn less himself.

True enough, hearing Wei Ming had foreign currency and would exchange at official rates, she perked up: "Really? I can exchange as much as I want?"

Hearing her bold tone, Wei Ming quickly added: "These are my own money—you're the only one who gets this deal. Maybe add Uncle and Auntie and Big Sister. No one else."

"I've saved a few hundred myself."

Wei Ming sighed in relief: "I thought you had tens of thousands. Just a few hundred? How much do you have? I'll get you the cash."

Zhu Lin: "I've never seen a dollar before. How did you even get dollars?"

Wei Ming was about to explain the dollars came from pounds, when the home phone rang. Zhu Lin stared at it, eager—could it be that Gong from Shanghai?

"You answer," Wei Ming smiled, picking up the China Youth Daily.

Zhu Lin: "It's your phone—you answer. If I answer, I'll just have to give it to you anyway."

Wei Ming laughed, put down the paper, and picked up the phone. Oh? It really was a long-distance call from Shanghai.

But not from Gong Rui—it was an editor from Children's Literature.

At that moment, Zhu Lin picked up the newspaper Wei Ming had been reading and saw a huge headline: "The Artistic Life of the New Generation Fairy Tale King Wei What!"

She couldn't help exclaiming: "Whoa—this headline is too bold! They're officially naming Xiao Wei the new fairy tale king?"

Though recently no fairy tale writer had matched his fame, it was still too immodest—many veteran fairy tale authors were still actively writing.

Actually, the Children's Literature editor had called Wei Ming precisely because he'd seen this article.

First, congratulations: "The Game of the Brave" was selling well overseas; as the original publisher, Children's Literature was proud to be part of it.

Second, a commission: Wei Ming only published one 2, 00-word "Black Cat Detective" story every two months in Children's Literature.

"That's not enough! Young readers are starving for more. Everyone's eager to see your new works."

Wei Ming modestly declined twice, then said he was currently writing a fairy tale he could submit to Children's Literature.

Though primarily aimed at overseas markets, earning royalties domestically wouldn't hurt—double the harvest.

This royalty would only come after he finished writing.

But the editor next delivered a direct cash gift.

"There's another matter—we'd like to publish a book version of 'The Game of the Brave.' We hope for your permission. We'll pay the highest royalty rate, and the first print run will be 500, 00 copies."

They wanted to ride the wave of overseas success and the China Youth Daily's heavy promotion, sparking curiosity among Chinese readers to profit from it.

With base royalty plus print-run royalties, plus Ah Long's illustrations, Wei Ming stood to earn over a thousand more—he readily agreed.

The editor promised to wire the royalty payment soon.

Wei Ming happily explained to Zhu Lin who'd called: "And another royalty payment's coming. And what I said still stands—you can exchange as much as you want."

At that moment, Zhu Lin had finished reading the newspaper and understood why Wei Ming had so much foreign currency—it was because of Melinda.

Though the article never mentioned Melinda's name, referring only to "a foreign student at Peking University who became a British children's book editor," Zhu Lin knew it was her.

So Xiao Wei and Melinda had this connection—they'd keep in touch. And if he wanted his works published overseas, Melinda's involvement would be essential. "Has Melinda left already?"

Unexpectedly, Sister Lin brought her up. Wei Ming nodded: "She left long ago."

"Will she come back?"

Wei Ming replied honestly: "I don't know. This time she personally brought back the royalties, but now she can just wire them—she opened a foreign account for me."

She even opened an account for him—this relationship could pass for marriage.

Zhu Lin really wanted to ask: if you meet again, will you do that kind of thing?

But from Wei Ming's sincere eyes, she could tell he wouldn't lie—and the answer was almost certainly "yes."

That sink was so fun—he'd never refuse!

Hmph, just a sink? I could do that too. But first, I'll try a new position—front and back—on the bed.

Wei Ming sipped his porridge, picked up the China Youth Daily, and saw Zhu Wei's headline—nearly spat out his food. This guy set me up! Too bold!

!

Zhu Wei opened the article by listing the achievements of renowned predecessors like Ye Shengtao, Chen Bochui, and Jin Jin, then discussed the current state of fairy tale writing in China after reform and opening, highlighting how outstanding Wei What's accomplishments were—and how rare it was for his work to spark major reactions both domestically and abroad—hence the title "New Generation Fairy Tale King."

Among new-generation fairy tale writers, Wei What was unquestionably number one—no amount of modesty could change that.

Of course, a young man surnamed Zheng, reading this headline, felt a pang of envy, as if his destiny had been stolen.

Zheng Yuanjie was six years older than Wei Ming, had been writing longer, but his fairy tale debut, "Heihei on the Island of Honesty," was published in the same issue of Children's Literature as Wei What's "The Toothless Tiger"—they were fellow debutants.

However, after that, Wei Ming's works were consistently published in Children's Literature, the top domestic children's literature journal, making him a sales guarantee for the magazine.

Zheng Yuanjie's creative path, however, was far from smooth; his next few works received only lukewarm responses and could only be published in lesser-tier periodicals and newspapers.

At this time, he was temporarily assigned to work at China Children's Publishing House, where he personally witnessed the sale of 500, 00 copies of The Fantastic Legend of the Heavenly Book, and now saw that Wei Ming's The Game of the Brave had become popular in Britain—he was filled with envy and resentment.

And you say you're buying a house just to store readers' letters—how can you be so fake? Are you seriously going to fit all those letters into one house? Why not buy ten?

Zheng Yuanjie admitted he was jealous; from this article, he learned that Wei Ming was only nineteen years old—so young! What could a twenty-five-year-old like him possibly feel?

Moreover, Wei Ming came from the countryside; last year he only got a chance to work as a security guard at Peking University, and began writing to afford a battered, eighth-hand bicycle, drawing inspiration from his twin boy and girl cousins.

Hey, why does this story sound so familiar?

Zheng Yuanjie scratched his still-thick hair, feeling certain he'd heard this story template before—but surely the China Youth Daily wouldn't plagiarize? It must just be a coincidence.

This was actually a plot thread left by Zhu Wei.

Many people already knew the age and Peking University security guard background of the new-generation master writer Wei Ming; now another remarkable Peking University security guard has appeared, also surnamed Wei—readers won't fail to make connections.

After reading the entire article, Zheng Yuanjie resolved to pick himself up and write a blockbuster novel of his own.

He was currently brainstorming a story about a mischievous boy; when he saw that Wei Ming drew inspiration from his cousin, Zheng Yuanjie suddenly wanted to marry his girlfriend and have a child right away.

Suddenly, he stared at the words "boy and girl twins," then lit up—he could write one story about a boy and another about a girl, and make them twin siblings! That would create dramatic tension!

Although he hadn't yet thought of naming the boy Pipilu or the girl Luxixi, Zheng Yuanjie felt a flood of inspiration surge through his mind—he seized this lifeline of inspiration with sharp focus.

Then he was interrupted—his boss called him to a meeting, and the agenda was to reprint The Fantastic Legend of the Heavenly Book.

The previous 500, 00 copies had sold out completely; now the China Youth Daily had placed the title "King of Fairy Tales" squarely on Wei Ming's head, and other youth newspapers under the Communist Youth League would almost certainly reprint and spread the story.

It was predictable that Wei Ming's popularity would keep rising, and market demand remained high—so print another 500, 00!

"Oh, okay, okay, Auntie will treat you all to dinner later."

Wei Ming was on the phone while Zhu Lin was examining the hundred-dollar bills—she'd taken two, and planned to give Wei Ming three hundred yuan later, but she didn't have that much cash on hand.

She didn't dare exchange more; these two hundred dollars in foreign exchange vouchers were enough to take her parents shopping at Friendship Store.

Wei Ming learned about the reprint of The Fantastic Legend of the Heavenly Book from Auntie Xiaoyan; 500, 00 copies meant roughly four hundred yuan, and the spent RMB had quickly rebounded into the thousands thanks to the publishing boom.

This was thanks to the China Youth Daily's powerful promotional ability.

But Auntie Xiaoyan warned him: although the title "King of Fairy Tales" carried great influence, it also carried great responsibility.

"From now on, you'll probably have to consistently produce influential fairy tales," Auntie Xiaoyan said. Big nephew was now stuck in this role.

Wei Ming didn't mind—it took Children's Literature two months per issue, and he could write Black Cat Detective for ten years alone.

The China Youth Daily's influence was indeed massive, and it had reached Gong Ying's ears.

She had just read the article and was genuinely delighted that Xiao Wei's work had penetrated overseas, but she also noticed the article's emphasis on the female editor from Peking University.

That must be Xiao Wei's ex-girlfriend; apparently they still kept in touch, and this ex-girlfriend was actively helping promote Xiao Wei's work overseas—surely their affection hadn't faded easily.

Fortunately, she herself was useful to Xiao Wei—she wondered if the package she'd sent had arrived yet.

Wei Ming decided not to go out today; after lunch, he watched TV with Sister Lin for a while, but it wasn't very interesting, then practiced vocal, diction, movement, and acting exercises.

Today's focus was poetry recitation; Wei Ming's "Ideal" was perfect for recitation, though long—yet Zhu Lin remembered every line clearly, simply because he had written it.

Near noon, Wei Ming suggested: "Let's go buy groceries—walk there, it'll be like a stroll."

Although it was late June, today was pleasantly cool.

Zhu Lin looked at the hickeys on her neck in the mirror and firmly refused—she couldn't face anyone like this; she'd go out only after dark tonight.

Zhu Lin: "I'll keep reading. You go alone."

Wei Ming rejected the excuse—what was there to read in romantic novels?

Zhu Lin: "You were too intense yesterday—you broke my bones apart. I'm exhausted, can't even walk."

Wei Ming immediately laughed and pinched her cheek: "Then rest well. What do you want for lunch? How about I make you Mapo Tofu?"

Watching Wei Ming leave, Zhu Lin sighed and shook her head—men.

That remark was mostly to placate him, but she really was tired—thankfully her body was strong; if it were some delicate southern girl, she'd probably be in pieces.

Gong Ying's image immediately popped into her mind.

Zhu Lin was deeply wary of Gong Ying, whom she'd met only once; she didn't possess the soft, watery charm of southern women, but perhaps that was precisely what northern men found attractive.

Zhu Lin glanced at the phone—you'd better call right now, and I'll have a long talk with you.

Just then, the phone rang—Wei Ming was already far away, so she answered it herself.

Zhu Lin answered with three parts nervousness and seven parts anticipation, then heard the voice say: "Hey, A Ming."

Only someone like Long, his Guangdong buddy, would call Xiao Wei that—they'd met once when Long brought drunk A Ming home.

"Hey, A Ming just went out. What's up?"

"Ah!"

Long realized—it was the beautiful older sister from that night! She was still at A Ming's place? No way—were they already living together? Too avant-garde!

"Oh~" Long quickly said, "Sister-in-law, hello."

Zhu Lin neither confirmed nor denied it—she just blushed.

Liu Rulong paused, then said: "I finished my final exams early and have vacation tomorrow, so I'm planning to intern at Shanghai Animation Studio. A Ming said he'd come with me to check on the progress of The Fantastic Legend of the Heavenly Book—I want to ask when he's leaving."

Zhu Lin asked quickly: "Is it the Shanghai Animation Studio?"

"Yes."

Zhu Lin's heart turned sour—was going to the animation studio just an excuse to see Gong Ying?

Zhu Lin added: "He went to buy groceries. I'll tell him when he gets back. Anything else?"

"Oh," Long chuckled, "tell him the Black Cat Detective wooden carving is done—he can pick it up himself at the Film Academy. I won't deliver it."

Don't want to disturb your private life.

"Oh, got it," Zhu Lin said, blushing as she hung up—she understood perfectly.

No, she absolutely couldn't stay here tonight anymore—she couldn't get addicted to that kind of thing; meeting every few days was enough.

Zhu Lin went into the study, planning to pick up a book—this time not romantic fiction, but something serious or professional to cool her temper.

But when she pulled out a copy of One Hundred Thousand Whys, she noticed a dark, fuzzy lump tucked behind the book.

"What's this?" Zhu Lin curiously pulled it out.

The dark lump instantly split into two strands, smooth and silky to the touch, with excellent texture.

"This is…" Zhu Lin made a bold assumption, "these aren't… pantyhose, are they?"

She owned nylon pantyhose, but none this long—this reached nearly to her thighs! And so black!

Suddenly, Zhu Lin realized why Wei Ming had hidden this behind the book—it must have been left by Mei Linda.

She sniffed, put it back, then reconsidered and retrieved it again, slipping it onto her leg.

"Does this really look good?" Zhu Lin doubted, comparing herself in the mirror.

She'd just put on one leg when the phone rang again.

Zhu Lin hurried to the living room to answer.

A middle-aged man's voice came through: "Hey, Xiao Ming, it's Dad."

…

(End of Chapter)