Chapter 217: Vulgar Words! (Guaranteed Double-Chapter Combo)

The Gaokao in July was indeed too hot, which is why it was later moved to June.

And strangely, it almost always rains during the June Gaokao, adding a bit of cool relief for the candidates.

On the morning of the 5th, Wei Ming arrived in Ping'an County and, as usual, first visited Long's maternal grandfather's home to borrow a vehicle.

"Teacher Yang," Long's mother opened the door for Wei Ming.

Teacher Yang: "You've finally come back! Xiao Hong can rest easy now—she kept asking when you'd return."

Wei Ming first handed over the speciality items from Shanghai that Long had asked him to bring, along with the roasted chicken he bought in Dezhou.

Then he asked: "Did I miss the deadline for filling out my college preferences?"

Most preferences are now filled out before the Gaokao, so many regrettable mistakes occur.

"Don't worry—teachers helped her fill them out. Her first choice is Peking University's Economics Department; all others are top universities in Beijing."

Wei Ming nodded: "So is she still at school or on break?"

"She's been on break since yesterday. Everyone got a full day to relax; students from remote areas went straight back to school to avoid trouble tomorrow."

After that, Wei Ming went to see Yang Songqiao's room—the old man was drawing a new comic strip, its intricate lines brimming with artistic beauty.

"I heard you've already bought a house in Beijing. I need to earn more money so our Xiao Long can buy one too," the old man joked.

Wei Ming smiled: "You don't need to rush—Xiao Long can easily save up for a house himself."

The key is, that kid actually saves money.

Yang Songqiao put down his pen: "He's slow-witted; you're sharp. You've got to guide him more."

Wei Ming chuckled: "We help each other, grow together."

Wei Ming noticed two volumes of "Heroes Emerge in Youth" still on the old man's desk—he clearly still closely followed his grandson's career.

Finally, the old man pointed to where the motorcycle keys hung. Wei Ming didn't hesitate—he rode off on the bike.

He didn't head home right away; instead, he went to the county's bus station, introduced himself, and quickly found the manager.

The man shook his hands with both of his, clearly honored—this was the celebrity effect. In Beijing or Shanghai, his name might carry less weight, but back home, it still opened doors.

After Wei Ming explained his purpose, the man expressed strong support—the discussion went smoothly.

Wei Ming hadn't returned to his hometown since the New Year—six months had passed—and yet the road into the village had become much smoother; riding his motorcycle, he felt almost no bumps.

Inside the village, he saw the slogan "Never let poverty rob children of education; never let hardship steal their childhood" painted on his own family's wall—he'd seen it several times already in the county and other villages he'd passed through.

This slogan had become, alongside "The Spring of the Sheep Herding Class" and "Love Life," Wei Ming the Writer's most important work this year, spreading nationwide at lightning speed, reflecting the people's deep commitment to education.

Every day, Xu Yunyun saw this slogan on her second aunt's wall and regretted not studying harder. Now that Xiao Hong was going to university in Beijing, there'd be no one left in the village she could truly talk to—it was time to return home.

She sighed, looking at the chickens and ducks at the gate, when suddenly she heard the rumble of a motorcycle.

"Big Brother Wei! You're back!" Yunyun ran inside to tell her aunt, grandmother, and Xiao Hong.

With Wei Jiefang gone, only four women remained in the house.

Wei Ming glanced at the chickens and ducks at the gate—hey, their numbers had grown. I wonder who'll be unlucky today.

With her son home and her daughter taking the Gaokao tomorrow, Xu Shufen would surely kill a chicken to celebrate.

"Brother!"

Unlike Yunyun's reserve, Xiao Hong flung herself into Wei Ming's arms. Seeing Yunyun standing nearby, wanting to come closer but feeling shy, Wei Ming quickly pulled her over and hugged her too, patting her back.

A boyfriend deserves both arms wrapped around him; sisters must be treated equally.

Afterward, Wei Ming sat with his grandmother, chatting about family matters, and told his mother about his experiences in Shanghai.

They both loved hearing stories from the outside world.

"I'll kill a chicken," Xu Shufen didn't disappoint—she picked up a knife and moved to catch one.

But Wei Ming stopped her, pulling out the Dezhou roasted chicken he'd bought at the station.

"Eat this first—it won't keep. Kill the chicken after we finish."

Lunch was quickly prepared. As he ate, Wei Ming asked: "Has the road into the village been repaired?"

Xu Shufen: "Yes. Your father said too many officials came to our house—even regional leaders. The commune cadres couldn't stand it, so they fixed the road. All thanks to you."

Wei Hong pointed to the west room: "Brother, your old room's been renovated too—two rows of bookshelves were installed. Dad filled them with our elementary school textbooks just to make them look less empty."

Wei Ming: No wonder he's my father.

The conversation then turned to the Gaokao. Wei Ming dared not pressure the girl—he kept urging her to relax.

But it seemed unnecessary—she was already calm. She hadn't reviewed since he returned; instead, she kept eyeing his bag, eager to see what her big brother had brought back from Shanghai.

"Stop looking—it's nothing. But after the Gaokao, you can come with me to Beijing. Buy whatever you want."

Xiao Hong immediately grabbed Yunyun's hand: "Can Yunyun sister come too?"

"Of course she can!" Wei Ming hadn't expected the two sisters to get along so well—he'd planned to mention finding a job for Yunyun only when his grandmother left, but now he could bring it up during this trip to Beijing.

But he still needed his mother and grandmother's approval.

"Mom, I've started a business in Beijing—with Xiao Mei and Biaozi. You've met them. Two very reliable guys."

"Ah!" His mother was stunned—wasn't her son doing fine writing novels? Why was he now in business? Was it even legal? Was it risky?

"Mom, the policy is definitely fine—don't worry," Wei Ming reassured her with a smile. "It's a clothing store. We need clerks. The work is easy. Would you consider letting Yunyun try it?"

Xu Shufen looked at her mother.

The grandmother beamed, her face full of wrinkles: "Good! Very good!"

The old woman knew being a salesclerk was respectable. She held her grandson's hand, silently expressing her gratitude for him arranging work for her niece.

Yunyun had heard too. She held Xiao Hong's hand, delighted at the prospect of both of them living in Beijing.

Xu Shufen added: "With a job, Yunyun can even live with you. She can cook and wash clothes for you."

Yunyun quickly chimed in: "Yes, Big Brother Wei, I cook really well—my aunt taught me. All your favorite dishes."

Her cousin had found her a job; she felt she should properly serve his daily needs—his food, clothes, and home—so he could write in peace.

This was genuinely appealing to Wei Ming. Plus, Yunyun would be working during the day, leaving him plenty of chances to meet his sisters privately.

So Wei Ming readily agreed—but when Xiao Hong said she didn't want to live in the dorm and wanted to stay with him too, he flatly refused.

No way. Yunyun seems a bit dim and easy to fool, but if this little schemer moved in, he and his two sisters would have zero secrets left.

So he spun a dazzling tale to Xiao Hong about campus life at Peking University and dorm culture.

"Half of Peking University's knowledge comes from classrooms; the other half comes from self-study in the dorms. Once, a department didn't have enough dorm space and forced Beijing students to commute—they all said their university life was incomplete. So you must live in the dorm! I want you to have a complete university experience!"

Xiao Hong listened, enchanted, nodding eagerly. Yunyun also expressed her envy of Xiao Hong's chance to live in the dorm.

As they chatted after lunch, visitors began arriving.

First came the old village secretary, Zhou Xingbang, and the brigade accountant, Jia Saner.

They came to tell Wei Ming: "The elementary school exams are over. Results should be out in two days."

Wei Ming knew what they were getting at. He smiled: "On my way back, I went to the county bus station and arranged with the manager to rent a coach. Once results are out and Xiao Hong's Gaokao is done, I'll personally take them all on a trip to Beijing."

Jia Saner reminded him: "Don't forget the graduation scholarship."

His own son was entering middle school this year and was eager for that prize—but since the exam was a commune-wide test, he couldn't influence the outcome. Luckily, his son took after him—excellent at math, always ranked first.

"Right, the scholarship too. Accountant Jia, make sure you have the money ready," Wei Ming smiled.

"Don't worry—it's all set. There's still plenty left from the original donation. We could do this again next year and still have enough." He pulled out his ledger, showing every single expense, meticulously recorded.

The original donation was 1, 00 yuan; over 600 remained, because Wei Ming's donation caused a sensation and the county government added support.

The graduation scholarship total was only 100 yuan.

Of course, the top scorer got 50 yuan—enormous money for Gouzitun at the time, worth half a pig.

In lean years, some families couldn't save that much in a year—but now, a bright student could earn it. So this year's graduating class was fiercely competitive. Wei Ming was genuinely curious who would be the first-ever recipients of the Wei Ming Scholarship.

Before the old secretary and accountant left, his cousin Fan Chunhua arrived with her son, Qi Delong.

Chunhua was heavily pregnant—her term was smaller than Mu Rong's, but she looked bigger.

Earlier, Jiefang had promised her: no matter how Delong did, he'd join the tour to Beijing to visit Grandpa.

Chunhua sat down boldly: "Honestly, what's so great about that Beijing house? It doesn't even have room to sleep."

The Qi family's living space was extremely cramped. Qi Kexiu, as the middle child, was neglected at home and could only visit Beijing in summer.

Because in summer, you could sleep on the floor; in winter, the ground was too cold to bear.

So not only did Fan Chunhua not want him to become a Beijing resident again, his parents and brothers also thought it was better for this second son to stay in the countryside.

Wei Ming smiled: "Auntie, don't worry—I've arranged dorms for all the students. Xiao Long won't have to sleep on the floor at Grandpa's."

But Chunhua really wanted her son to stay at Wei Ming's house—she'd already heard from Jiefang that her nephew had bought a huge house in Beijing!

But Wei Ming didn't even hint at that. His house wasn't even for his own sister—he wouldn't let his cousin stay there.

"Delong, how high do you think you'll rank?"

Qi Delong: "First." "Oh, have you progressed this fast now?" Wei Ming exclaimed.

"Oh? You've improved that much?" Wei Ming was surprised.

Qi Delong: "It's all guesswork—might as well guess big!"

Wei Ming: "..." This kid's optimistic—just like his father.

Qi Kexiu was indeed optimistic—who could accept spending his whole life in the countryside? He could.

Right now, he was curled up in bed reading the latest issue of "Story Weekly"—he'd picked it up early that morning at the town post office.

Though "Story Weekly" didn't appreciate his talent, he decided to give it another chance.

He'd just finished reading the serialized "Ancient and Modern War: The Terracotta Lovers," again awed by Wei Kuangren's imagination. He'd long heard the legends of Qin Shi Huang and the elixir of immortality—why had no one written a story about it?

What if Qin Shi Huang hadn't died in his tomb? What if, through some special chance, he crawled out...

"Hey, this story should be written like this!" Qi Kexiu thought this was how it should unfold. He pulled out his notebook, ready for another round of writing.

He had all summer free—he'd even turned down the trip to Beijing.

!

The school and village both hoped he'd go, since he knew Beijing well, but he was too lazy to go—and too lazy to return to his home in Beijing—so this year he let his son represent him.

But now that Qin Shi Huang is still alive, what would he do?

He certainly wouldn't be content being a commoner—yes, he'd rebuild the Qin Empire, and to rebuild the Qin Empire, he'd need money, so he should get money!

I, Qin Shi Huang, send money!

Throughout the afternoon, several villagers came to Wei Ming's house, nearly all bringing something—even if it was just vegetables from their own gardens, they'd bring some for Wei Ming to taste.

These were families whose children were doing well in school and had a real chance of getting into college; they sincerely thanked Wei Ming for his help to the village school.

Seeing the grateful looks in the eyes of these aunts and uncles who had grown somewhat unfamiliar to him, Wei Ming knew he had to keep the scholarship program going.

A few hundred yuan meant nothing to him now, but to them, it was a fortune that could change their children's fate.

Dinner was eaten early, so Xiao Hong could go to bed early and be well-rested for tomorrow.

With no electricity, Wei Ming didn't stay up late—there was still over a year of life without power ahead for Gouzi Village; he remembered it was around 1982 when electricity finally arrived.

The next morning, after breakfast, Wei Ming rode his motorcycle with Xiao Hong early to take the college entrance exam—her test center was at the County No. 1 High School.

Other students from the village had to rely on family bicycles or donkey carts.

The siblings arrived very early, an hour ahead of schedule, to account for extreme possibilities: sudden hail, motorcycle breakdown, or bridge collapse.

But because they arrived so early, Wei Ming was soon surrounded by examinees and their parents.

The students expressed their admiration for him and asked for writing advice; the parents bowed and bowed again, trying to get close—even some from government offices.

It wasn't that Wei Ming's face had become famous—it was purely because Xiao Hong was so well-known at No. 1 High School; the students there had identified Wei Ming through her.

After dropping Xiao Hong off, Wei Ming quickly left and rode his motorcycle around the county town.

He'd attended school in Ping'an County for three years and passed through it every time he returned home, but he wasn't really familiar with the place.

Oh, the Grand Theater—that's where the county showed movies. But as a backwater county town, it only got copies that had already circulated through big cities multiple times, so the schedule included not just this year's films but last year's too.

As for new releases, wait another six months.

Estimating the time was right, Wei Ming returned to the entrance of No. 1 High School. The first exam was Chinese; chemistry was in the afternoon. Xiao Hong looked cheerful after finishing Chinese.

Wei Ming breathed a sigh of relief—Chinese and politics were Xiao Hong's weakest subjects.

"How was your composition?"

"Great, Brother. You know the story about Leonardo da Vinci painting eggs?"

Wei Ming: "Of course. I know Leonardo better than I know myself."

After all, they were both Leonardo.

"Our composition was based on Leonardo da Vinci's egg-painting story."

She reminded him—he remembered now. Though he hadn't taken this year's exam, he'd seen the essay topic in the newspaper and even written and submitted an article on it himself.

"How did you write it?" Wei Ming asked.

"The story teaches that mastering the basics and persisting leads to success, so I used several historical examples as evidence. Brother, I even mentioned you—you succeeded because you kept writing, didn't you?"

Wei Ming hurriedly asked: "You didn't write my name, did you?"

He'd heard from Teacher Zang that ever since he became famous for his novels, this kid could twist any essay topic to bring up her brother—Wei Ming had become her universal argument.

"I'm not stupid—I didn't write your name. I just said you achieved your dream of writing and profoundly influenced me."

Wei Ming relaxed slightly, then took her to the county's state-run restaurant for lunch—it was still hygienic.

Xiao Hong had eaten at fancy restaurants in Beijing, so she remained calm entering.

After lunch, Wei Ming took her to rest at Old Man Yang Songqiao's house—perfect, since she wouldn't have to travel back and forth during the three-day exam.

Old Man Yang's place was quite good—even had a fan. Xiao Hong could nap; Wei Ming sipped tea and chatted about painting with him. Teacher Yang was proctoring at a commune high school and wouldn't return for lunch.

When the time came, Wei Ming would take her back to school—the motorcycle took minutes; even if the sky fell, he wouldn't be late.

After the chemistry exam in the afternoon, he brought her back to the village. Though the school had dorms, sharing a room with several others would be disruptive.

At home, Xiao Hong slept alone; Yunyun slept with Grandma and Aunt.

The next day followed the same routine: math in the morning. Xiao Hong said it was too easy—she'd likely get full marks.

In the afternoon, science students had an extra biology exam, plus politics—Xiao Hong's biggest fear. Neither sibling had much political awareness, but Xiao Hong had an incredible memory; she could just copy textbook passages verbatim and get by.

The third day—the final day.

Morning: physics. Afternoon: foreign language, weighted at 30%—both subjects Xiao Hong excelled in.

When she walked out of the school gate, a group of second-year students she'd known for half a year surrounded her, all eager to compare answers.

Hearing Xiao Hong's answers, some rejoiced, others groaned—everyone treated her answers as the standard. Teacher Yang had given her plenty of private tutoring at home.

It wasn't just because of Wei Ming—the school also hoped Xiao Hong would get into Qinghua or Peking University, so No. 1 High School could gain more resources and funding from the county.

Just like when Gouzi Village produced Wei Ming, the bumpy, broken roads were fixed overnight—celebrity effect still worked.

On Wei Ming's motorcycle, Xiao Hong excitedly asked: "Brother, when are we going to Beijing?"

Wei Ming: "In the next couple of days. Get ready—you've seen Beijing's main sights already. When we go, you'll be our guide for the younger ones."

"No problem!"

Xiao Hong's college entrance exam was over; the village school's exam results and rankings were out.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, they saw the Party Secretary, the village accountant, and the old headmaster—the headmaster held a sealed envelope.

Wei Ming smiled: "Let's call a school assembly tomorrow!"

Accountant Jia: "I already announced it over the loudspeaker this morning. Xiao Ming, can we take a peek now?"

Wei Ming knew he wanted to see his son's scores.

"Better not open it now—I'm afraid my house won't get a moment's peace tonight. Tomorrow, tomorrow morning we'll know. For now, let the headmaster keep it."

Jia Saner stared at the envelope longingly, as if it contained fifty yuan meant for him.

Sure enough, many people came by that night to ask about results. Wei Ming answered every question with "I don't know," saving himself a lot of trouble.

The next day at Gouzi Village Primary, over a hundred students from all five grades showed up—even those with no chance of top rankings came.

And unlike previous years, many parents had put aside their fieldwork to come hear the results.

All village leadership was present, including the increasingly marginalized Village Chief Zhao Chun.

If there were another election, he doubted he could beat Wei Jiefang—if Wei Jiefang ran.

Wei Ming arrived, with Xiao Hong and Yunyun. Xiao Hong held her father's speech draft—Wei Ming had given her the chance to speak.

But Xiao Hong thought he'd just handed her the chance to embarrass herself—his draft was terrible, full of animal metaphors. Brother was too embarrassed to say it himself.

Like: "Students learn with hungry cries, while the village's mules rest, they dare not rest."

Or: "You're all village pigs—if you do well, you'll enter the city and root the city's cabbage." Crude words!

But she had no time to revise—she had to go on.

To her surprise, the kids were thrilled, cheering wildly—apparently they really wanted to enter the city and root cabbage. But girls, why are you so excited? Oh—you've got your eye on city-boy cabbages.

Old Wei's speech earned thunderous applause. Then Wei Ming took the envelope and began announcing the rankings.

Starting with first place in first grade.

Since primary school only had Chinese and math—200 points total—ties were inevitable.

For example, in first grade, if two students tied for second, they'd both be ranked second, and third place would still be next—so four students in first grade qualified for the Beijing trip, plus certificates and stationery prizes.

Then second grade, third grade—each time a child's name was called, parents spontaneously clapped.

But the most thrilling was still the graduating class rankings—after all, they involved the big scholarships.

…

(Yesterday's minimum)

(End of chapter)