Chapter 213: Drama Adaptation, Buy Another Apartment, Meet the Parents for the First Time

Fortunately, Wei Ming hadn't been drinking tea or water, or he likely would've sprayed it out.

The old man actually used such a codename back then? So cringey!

Besides, in his past life, Master Lan had never told him, or else he'd have definitely asked Qian Yanqiu to change the protagonist's name—they all knew each other.

Now Wei Ming couldn't look his grandfather in the eye anymore; just thinking of him brought to mind lines like "I bet your gun's out of bullets."

Then Master Lan shared a few more of Wei Senhao's glorious wartime exploits that he could speak of, greatly deepening Wei Ming's respect—he hadn't realized Old Wei had shed so much blood of traitors and Japanese devils; "Blood Hand Butcher" suited him far better.

"Later I heard he went to the Magic City to carry out higher-level missions; from then on we basically lost contact. Because we were fellow townspeople, I was among the few who knew his real name."

As they chatted, someone knocked on the door; the moment the person entered, Wei Ming stood up: "Director Yu."

The visitor was Yu Shizhi, the actor who portrayed Wang Lifa, the male lead in "Teahouse," and also the First Deputy Director of the People's Art Theatre, with Cao Yu as the Director.

Yu Shizhi and Lan Tian were roughly the same age, with Yu slightly younger.

"Wei Writer, we meet again—you and Old Lan have already confirmed your hometown connection."

They shook hands; they'd met before at the Literary Congress and even taken a photo together.

"Yes, not just fellow townspeople, but descendants of old friends," Master Lan patted Wei Ming's shoulder. "Keep in touch—always welcome to visit the People's Art Theatre."

"Absolutely, absolutely."

Yu Shizhi quickly added: "Don't just come to play—why not write us a play? I know you can write scripts."

The controversy over the script of "The Herdsman" proved his dramatic writing ability was unquestionable.

Of course, film scripts and stage plays were two different systems; stage scripts emphasized dialogue, sometimes even requiring exaggerated lines.

Wei Ming scratched his head: "Then Director Yu, you'll have to wait a bit—I'm currently busy writing a long novel, and all my energy is on that."

He really couldn't take on any other work besides writing a fairy tale for Melinda, since his outline was already fully developed and ready to begin.

Master Lan immediately asked what genre the novel was.

Wei Ming didn't hide it: "It's a wartime story woven from some of my grandfather's experiences—I mostly heard about him from my grandmother and father, and today I've learned more real deeds from you, so I feel much more confident."

Master Lan chuckled: "Your grandfather's stories are fascinating—we'll be waiting to read them. I'll give you my home address; anytime you want to chat, as long as I can speak about it, I'll tell you."

"Great!"

Then Wei Ming turned to Yu Shizhi: "Director Yu, if you're looking for scripts, consider adapting my earlier works. They're not masterpieces, but if you like them, you can change them however you want—I won't charge a cent."

He knew the People's Art Theatre had its own screenwriters who were more professional at writing stage plays.

Yu Shizhi replied: "Wei Writer, you're too modest—I've just been rewatching 'Beastly'; every one's a classic. I especially love 'The Children of the Choir'—the scenes are minimal, but there are too many child roles, making adaptation extremely difficult."

Having adults play children just looked ridiculous.

Wei Ming thought of his few novels: "I think 'The Tale of Two Donkeys' would be much easier to adapt."

Yu Shizhi paused thoughtfully; this novel, Wei Ming's debut, had gained considerable fame but also sparked major controversy—especially the heated debate over whether peasants or educated youths suffered more, leaving many educated youths ashamed.

If adapted, would this story be too provocative?

Yet Yu Shizhi truly loved the dialogue style of this novel—long, machine-gun-like passages, sharp and satirical, with simple scenes—it had real potential as a strong script.

Plus, the main characters were all young, making it ideal for cultivating a new generation of stage actors.

Finally he told Wei Ming: "I'll give it serious consideration."

Afterward, Wei Ming chatted further with the two elders about the art of theater; since he'd spent ten years immersed in the People's Art Theatre, his deep understanding of it surprised them greatly.

Yu Shizhi even considered transferring Wei Ming to the People's Art Theatre, but then remembered his current employer—Peking University—and immediately abandoned the idea; Wei Ming might've been fine as a temporary worker, but he was a full-time Peking University employee.

Even though the People's Art Theatre was China's highest temple of theater, the two elite universities still held immense prestige in the hearts of their actors—and Yu Shizhi himself was a Peking University alumnus, having studied French, though he'd dropped out.

After a while, someone reported a visitor had arrived—from the Beijing Film Studio. Since Master Cao wasn't present, Yu Shizhi, as First Deputy Director, had to receive them.

Master Lan told Wei Ming: "Probably Director Xie Tian—he wants to adapt 'Teahouse' for the big screen."

"Oh my, that's a huge challenge—will you be acting too?"

"Director Xie Tian wants to bring the entire original stage cast over for the film—I imagine I'll still play Qin Zhongyi."

Wei Ming suggested: "Making a film is great—it lets more people appreciate the acting of these masters from the People's Art Theatre, benefiting ordinary folks."

Now he could act in films, and later TV dramas—he was already looking forward to Master Lan's most iconic role appearing sooner.

Afterward, Master Lan took Wei Ming to watch actors rehearsing; by noon, Wei Ming took Li Guangfu out.

Li Guangfu was too embarrassed to treat, so he let Wei Ming choose.

Wei Ming asked: "Can you handle spicy food?"

"Sure."

Wei Ming: "Then let's go to Emei Restaurant—I'm half Sichuanese."

This was also a trial run—he could invite his grandmother when she came to Beijing.

This was a top-tier restaurant; Li Guangfu was flattered, yet couldn't help wondering if Wei Writer had some ulterior motive.

Emei Restaurant was a time-honored Chinese establishment founded in the 1950s by national treasure-level Sichuan chef Wu Yusheng, and in the 1960s received an inscription from Mei Lanfang.

The restaurant was on the second floor of Xidan Mall—not far; a motorcycle ride took minutes.

At Emei Restaurant, Kung Pao Chicken was a must-order—it was a relatively common dish, but Emei's unique lychee-flavored version had its own distinctive taste.

Then Wei Ming ordered Fish-Flavored Pork Shreds and Spicy Pepper Fish Head; Li Guangfu quickly stopped him: "That's enough, really—this is already too much."

And all of them were meat dishes; Li Guangfu usually only ate like this during the New Year, since his family had fallen on hard times.

Old Li's father had once been formidable—he ran rubber and beer factories in Tianjin, operated foreign trading houses in Yanjing, and held shares in major factories; as a child, Li Guangfu had played with gold bars as toys. But after his father died at age eleven, and their property was seized or collectivized, things went downhill.

Still, Wei Ming knew Old Li had real business acumen—in his past life, when Li Guangfu first joined the People's Art Theatre, he ran a side business as a photocopier agent between film shoots, and later raised his son to become a top lawyer.

Finally, Wei Ming ordered one vegetarian dish: "Emei Tofu." Four dishes total—that was enough.

Li Guangfu exclaimed: "This is way too lavish!"

"Today we entered the People's Art Theatre and met so many theater masters—wasn't it joyful?"

After eating a bit, Wei Ming shifted the topic to housing.

"This morning when I picked you up, your home seemed to still house other families?"

Li Guangfu sighed: "It's a historical leftover issue. Since I was a child, the house was seized; they only left my orphaned mother and me one room. In recent years, policy improved and ownership was returned to us, but over the years the courtyard filled up with people—we couldn't forcibly evict them, so we wait until they get their own housing. Now I'm basically their landlord, collecting a little rent."

And the rent was extremely low—just symbolic.

Wei Ming: "Are all the Sihe Academy returned to individuals in this situation—filled with tenants, impossible to fully reclaim?"

"Pretty much," Li Guangfu took a bite. Now he understood what Wei Writer wanted. "You're not thinking of buying a Sihe Academy, are you?"

Wei Ming nodded: "I've considered it."

Li Guangfu waved his hand: "If you have spare cash, I'd suggest buying one of the new apartment buildings near Tuanjiehu—they just came out. Though I grew up in a Sihe Academy, I still envy people living in apartments. Now Tuanjiehu is open for purchase—if you have money, you can buy. If you have even more, consider the Overseas Chinese Apartments."

Wei Ming smiled: "I've already bought an apartment in the Overseas Chinese Apartments—it's close to Peking University, convenient for commuting—but I still want to buy one inside the city, which is why I'm thinking about Sihe Academy. Today I came to ask for your advice, Brother."

Hearing this, Li Guangfu froze mid-chopstick. Holy cow—he'd already bought in the Overseas Chinese Apartments and now wanted another? This novelist was ridiculously rich!

He teased: "Lately I heard a fairy tale writer bought a house because he got too many fan letters—your fan mail must be even more?"

Wei Ming felt embarrassed—he hadn't realized his "Wei" persona had become so legendary.

He smiled: "I want to buy a Sihe Academy because I like these traditional old homes, and also because when relatives come from home, they'll have a place to stay—staying at guesthouses is such a hassle."

Li Guangfu gave a thumbs-up—this was truly noble.

He assumed Wei Ming was preparing for his hometown villagers, but Wei Ming was mainly planning for Old Wei's mother—they'd never be able to enjoy life with Linjie and Xuejie if they lived in the Overseas Chinese Apartments.

So even for the sake of future happiness, he needed another house; since he already had an apartment, why not add a Sihe Academy?

"So if you hear of anyone wanting to sell a Sihe Academy—especially one fully owned by a single person with clear title—let me know."

Li Guangfu was well-connected and well-informed—he could certainly help inquire: "But don't get your hopes up. There might be some Sihe Academy fully reclaimed, but they're extremely rare, and almost always owned by descendants of powerful, famous figures—not someone like me, a merchant's son. They rarely need money."

But such people, once politics stabilized, often wanted to flee abroad—they had money but nowhere to spend it, and too many worries.

Wei Ming added: "Also, I can pay in foreign exchange—not foreign exchange coupons, but U. . dollar cash."

"What?!" Li Guangfu looked at Wei Ming with new respect—how much power did it take to have that much foreign currency in this era?

"Alright, after work today I'll start asking around. With dollar payments, more people will be interested," Li Guangfu eagerly offered ideas. "You could also inquire about Sihe Academy owned by public institutions—if their offices relocate, those Sihe Academy might be sold, and without all the messy complications."

Wei Ming smiled: "That's perfect."

Afterward, Li Guangfu shared his insights on the pros and cons of Sihe Academy in Beijing's various districts—no wonder he was a lifelong hutong veteran; he understood far better than young people like Biaozi or Xiao Mei. If you wanted to buy, you needed someone like him.

After eating, Wei Ming personally dropped Li Guangfu off at the People's Art Theatre, then returned to Xidan, because earlier on his motorcycle he'd spotted Mei Wenhua's car.

He parked his vehicle beside Mei Wenhua's motorcycle outside a shop.

Xiao Mei was shaking hands with a government official and seeing him off.

After the man left, Xiao Mei noticed Wei Ming approaching and enthusiastically welcomed him in. "Ming-ge, come quick—this is our Oriental New World!" Xiao Mei stood in the empty shop, excited.

Wei Ming stepped inside—the shop had been abandoned for a while and needed renovation, but the space was decent, about 270–280 square meters.

Wei Ming asked: "How much?"

Mei Wenhua replied: "At sixty yuan per day, they rounded down the total—so one year's rent is twenty thousand."

Originally they demanded a minimum three-year lease, but luckily Mei Wenhua had dollars to bargain with, so they lowered it to one year; otherwise they couldn't even afford the rent.

But Mei Wenhua had already planned—if business was good, he'd renew for several more years to avoid rent hikes.

Hearing this price, Wei Ming exclaimed: "Whoa!"

That wasn't cheap—ten-thousand-yuan households were still rare, yet they had to pay twenty thousand upfront, meaning they needed at least sixty yuan profit daily, which was roughly Beijing's average monthly wage.

"Do you have confidence you'll recoup it?" Wei Ming asked.

"Absolutely!" He'd traded in jeans before—he knew the profit margins inside out.

!

Even though people's wages were low now, a pair of jeans could sell for twenty yuan, and each pair lasted years.

So if he sold just a few pairs daily, he'd cover the rent.

Besides, such a large storefront wouldn't just sell jeans—there'd be women's clothing too; women spent money more freely. He just wasn't sure if Ming-ge's "Lushan Love" would really become that popular.

But the advance payment had already gone to the street garment factories, including the one where Biaozi's mother worked—all rushing to produce.

He also bought a batch of denim fabric through a big-time trader and commissioned its conversion into jeans.

Wei Ming: "This storefront needs to be renovated as soon as possible—it must open within half a month."

Mei Wenhua nodded: "Big Brother Ming, I've thought it through—I'm quitting my job right now, along with Biaozi, to focus entirely on our business."

Wei Ming had no objections; working nights and running business by day was simply too exhausting.

He then offered several suggestions regarding the renovation and interior layout—essentially timeless, forward-thinking wisdom.

Xiao Mei and the others had seen many fashionable clothing stores in Guangzhou; he thought he knew how to decorate one, but after hearing Big Brother Ming's advice, he realized how far behind he was—how did he know so much?!

Since the cost of purchasing the sihe courtyard was still uncertain, Wei Ming postponed buying an electric water heater—he'd install one by winter.

Afterward, he returned to Peking University for work, began writing a new fairy tale, and witnessed Mei Wenhua and Zhao Debiao resigning as temporary workers.

Mei Wenhua immediately threw himself fully into preparing for the opening of Dongfang Xintiandi, while Biaozi told Wei Ming:

"Big Brother Ming, Director Xu met with me yesterday. He said I should be ready at any moment—we're heading to Sichuan-Chongqing to shoot."

Over the past month, Xu Xiaoming had traveled to every location mentioned in Wei Ming's novels, mostly in Sichuan and Tibet, and had largely finalized the shooting sites; Yuan Xiangren and his team had also returned to Jingcheng and were on standby.

Wei Ming asked: "Has the male lead been decided?"

"Yes—it's that little Wu kid."

Biaozi was still satisfied; if a ten-year-old boy were to play Yanzi's husband, he feared he might lose control during filming.

Wei Ming: "Unfortunately, I doubt I can see you off—I'll visit Sichuan to check on the set later."

Two films adapted from his own novels were starting production this summer; Wei Ming knew he'd be busy.

The next day, the first of July.

Wei Ming woke up because Zhu Lin had been fussing with him—she came in on her own and then slipped quietly into his bed.

What's the point of sleeping anymore? Let's get heated!

"Don't play around—I bought you breakfast, eat first!"

"Not in a hurry—eat you first!"

Luckily, Zhu Lin arrived early; otherwise, all that fussing would have made him late for work. She risked being late just because Wei Ming was leaving tomorrow.

Today, he saved a few Durex condoms; after Zhu Lin left, thirty big red bills lay in his bed.

Wei Ming laughed and sighed—had he learned this from Mei Linda? It felt exactly like payment for his hard work.

Wei Ming pulled out five more: "Sister, I still owe you fifty yuan."

Zhu Lin pulled up her underwear: "Keep owing me—I want to be your creditor."

Wei Ming hugged her leg, trying to stop her from putting on her pants.

Today, Wei Ming went to the Film Academy and picked up Liu Rulong, who was already on break, bringing him back to the Peking University dormitory; the two would leave for Capital Airport early tomorrow.

He never wanted to endure the misery of long-distance trains again, so he had Anping Uncle help him obtain a certificate granting him ticket-purchasing eligibility.

But A Long thought it was a bit wasteful: "We're not short on time."

"You're not, but I am." Getting to Shanghai sooner meant more time with Xue Jie—and less strain on his waist and butt.

Yet once aboard the plane, A Long immediately declared the money well spent, pulling out his sketchpad to draw "Rainbow in the Clouds."

But the flight was too short—just over two hours, and they landed at Hongqiao Airport; since it was a morning flight, they missed the in-flight lunch.

Wei Ming: "Next time we fly to Hong Kong, we might actually get a meal on the plane."

But it's just pre-made food—cooked on the ground and reheated with electricity on board.

A Long excitedly asked: "Big Brother, are you going to Hong Kong soon?"

Wei Ming nodded: "'Heroes Rise in Youth' is about to start filming—it'll be released in Hong Kong. I'll ask Qingniao to send me an invitation; after all, I'm the original author and screenwriter."

"What about me? What about me?" he hurriedly asked.

"You?" Wei Ming smiled. "I'll ask around—you're the lead artist of the manga, but you might lack the right credentials. Still, if you're willing to pay your own travel expenses, it's possible."

"No problem at all!" A Long said. "I've saved over two thousand yuan just by following you."

Wei Ming chuckled: "Then you're richer than me—I don't even have that much RMB. If I run short, you'll lend me some, right?"

"What could you possibly spend so much money on?"

Wei Ming stroked his chin: "I wonder how much a meal at the Peace Hotel costs."

When he first came to Shanghai to revise his manuscript, he and Sisters Chen Rong and Qu had strolled along the Bund and passed the Peace Hotel—he'd wanted to eat there, but back then, he was too broke to even dream of it.

A Long had now completed the first three volumes of the manga version of "Heroes Rise in Youth"; after returning to school, he'd finish the last two.

He also planned to personally deliver the third volume's artwork to Shanghai People's Fine Arts Publishing House and collect the royalty for the second volume—so Wei Ming wouldn't have to borrow from him.

Wei Ming felt nervous: "Wait—I have to go too?"

"Aren't you coming? After we finish this, we'll go to Meiyingchang together."

Thus, Wei Ming was dragged by A Long onto a rickshaw and headed straight for the publishing house.

Gong Ying's mother, Zhu Che, was under sixty and had been rehired after retirement from the publishing house; she couldn't sit idle at home and wanted to stay active.

Previously, she had submitted "Heroes Rise in Youth" for publication; the first volume sold extremely well, the second was immediately reprinted, and plans were underway to increase print runs.

But she wasn't actually in charge of comic or serial illustration work.

Shanghai People's Fine Arts Publishing House covered a wide range of business: besides comics and serial illustrations, it also published photography albums, picture collections, wall calendars, lifestyle books, travel guides, and reference materials—all related to images and photographs.

Since Zhu Che had previously managed a photography image agency and was skilled in photography, she handled photographic image books.

After recently taking a photo series of her daughter, she thought the images would make perfect cover material for one of the photography magazines she oversaw.

So at noon, she went home to review the photos and pick the most beautiful one.

She searched for a long time but couldn't find them; she even called a public phone to ask Xiao Xue at Shangyingchang where she'd stored them.

Gong Ying had claimed the photos were for clothing design, but after developing them, she'd mailed them all to Wei Ming—not because she didn't want extra copies, but because she was too broke to afford more.

Photographing and developing dozens of outfits front and back, in color, cost more than her monthly salary.

Still, she received acting subsidies and never expected Xiao Wei to repay her.

Gong Ying stammered, then confessed: "They were taken for a friend—he's opening a clothing store and needs style references."

"I knew it!" Zhu Che asked. "What friend? When the store opens, take me shopping!"

"A friend from Beijing—the store's in Beijing too. You can go if you want," Gong Ying teased.

Beijing? Zhu Che immediately thought of the famous writer Wei Ming—but could a writer run a business?

Helplessly, Zhu Che dug out the negatives, planning to have two more prints made at work.

When she arrived at the office in the afternoon, she saw two young boys loitering at the entrance, looking around. She approached them: "Who are you looking for?"

…

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(End of Chapter)