Chapter 219: Three Like Scholars (Guaranteed Dual-Chapter Merge)

Mei Wenhua was overseeing the renovation when he heard the roar of a motorcycle and rushed out, thinking someone was stealing his bike.

Then he saw Wei Ming, and just as he was about to greet him, Xu Yunyun jumped off the back seat—Mei Wenhua immediately smoothed his hair and waved at her with a smile.

"Oh my, Yunyun, you're here! Xiao Hong too! Mingge, come in, come in!" He adjusted his glasses, exuding the air of a scholarly businessman.

Although Xiao Mei was speaking to Wei Ming, his eyes held none of him.

Wei Ming asked: "How far along is the renovation? Can you open within a week?"

The two girls walked inside—the nearly three-hundred-square-meter space was still very large, and the interior design was highly modern, quite stylish.

Xiao Mei waved her hand: "No problem at all. We're already finishing up; next we just need to put the clothes in."

When it came to serious matters, Mei Wenhua became serious—Biaozi had already gone to Sichuan and Chongqing to film, and before Wei Ming returned, he had handled every single task himself.

Wei Ming glanced around; though it fell short of his imagined modern clothing store, it was still a generational leap ahead of current ready-to-wear shops. He asked about the clothing situation.

Mei Wenhua: "This part's handled by Biao Mom. We've made some women's wear already—different venues get different styles. Jeans are too late to make, so I bought a batch from big traders to fill the store. Also, leather shoes, hats, scarves, silk scarves, belts, and sunglasses—all we can get from traders. Profit margins will be lower."

Wei Ming nodded. Originally, Mei Wenhua wanted to sell everything, with clothing as the main focus and southern popular goods as side items, but he later changed his approach—now he'd sell only items related to attire, hoping customers would buy clothes and then buy shoes, hats, sunglasses, and scarves too, maximizing profit.

That required skilled sales staff—oh, Mingge called them "sales consultants." He looked at Xu Yunyun: "Cousin, what do you think of our store?"

"Great. Perfect." Yunyun sincerely replied.

Her voice was soft—clearly a gentle girl—but her accent needed fixing. In the capital, you had to speak Mandarin. He'd teach her gradually.

Wei Ming looked around and said to Mei Wenhua: "Where's the red scarf I asked you to prepare?"

"Oh, Biao Mom already made them. They're still at her factory."

Wei Ming: "I still need to accompany the students. Go get them, and bring a few finished women's outfits—standard sizes."

Xiao Hong's eyes lit up—this meant new clothes for them!

Mei Wenhua: "Alright, I'll go get them. Where should I deliver them?"

Wei Ming gave him Li Guangfu's address and told him to drop them off there, then join for dinner.

The red scarves were for the students—taking kids on trips meant fearing they'd get lost, so a uniform identifier was best.

Buying them matching outfits was too expensive, and hats were beyond our technical reach, so red scarves it was.

Rural elementary students learned about red scarves from Chinese and math word problems since childhood, but none had ever seen one.

And the legendary Youth Palace—that was a place they'd need decades to reach.

When Wei Ming rode off with the two sisters on his motorcycle, Mei Wenhua rode off too.

Back at Li Guangfu's house, Wei Ming dropped off the two sisters and prepared to leave.

"Brother, where are you going now?"

Wei Ming: "Oh, I'm mailing the article I wrote on the road. I'll be back before dinner, won't miss it."

With that, the motorcycle sped away—Wei Ming was going to see Lin Jie. It had been over a week; he missed her, and she must have missed him too.

At this hour, she'd probably just finished work.

Wei Ming timed it perfectly—before he even turned off the engine, she walked out.

One wave, and Zhu Lin dropped her bicycle and ran over, climbing onto his bike without hesitation—their coordination was seamless.

Wei Ming apologized: "Good sister, I can't have dinner with you today—I'm taking my hometown students out to eat."

Zhu Lin had heard about this before; she sighed, "Oh."

"That's important. Go take care of the students first. How many days will you be busy?"

Wei Ming: "Three days, starting tomorrow. I'll be with them the whole time."

"Alright then. I'll come find you after you're done."

"You can find me, but no staying over—my place is inconvenient now. My little sister Xiao Hong and cousin Yunyun have moved in."

"Ah?" Zhu Lin thought, That's a disaster.

Wei Ming knew what she was disappointed about. He took her small hand: "Don't worry—I'll get them working at the store. They won't come home all day. If nights don't work, we can do it during the day."

Zhu Lin lightly slapped him, embarrassed that her desire had been so plainly seen.

She truly wanted it—and her period had just ended, the perfect safe time to grow closer.

It was so beautiful. She regretted not meeting Xiao Wei at eighteen—wasting ten precious years of youth.

Wei Ming: "Ten years ago, I probably couldn't have made you happy yet~"

Wei Ming added: "Sister, I need one more favor from you."

"What favor?"

Wei Ming glanced at her figure: "Help me take a few photos."

When he returned to Li Guangfu's house, Mei Wenhua had already arrived and was joking around with Yunyun.

Wei Hong held the clothes Mei Wenhua brought: "Brother, are these for me and Yunyun?"

"Of course not. I have a use for them." Wei Ming took them and put them away.

Wei Ming added: "Soon, you and Yunyun will help out at the store. I'll pay you wages—or you can take clothes as payment."

Xiao Hong's eyes sparkled—perfect!

Wei Ming saw the elementary students already wearing red scarves—though each wore them differently, their faces glowed with the pride of socialist successors.

Wei Ming smiled and shook his head: "Come on, let me show you how to wear them properly."

He called Qi Delong over to demonstrate, then asked Mei Wenhua to help tie the scarves—the two teachers had to learn it themselves.

After completing the ceremony, the group headed out for dinner—noodles with fried sauce. They arrived late, so the restaurant was quiet, and they filled the entire place.

Dumplings on the way, noodles on the way back—noodles were perfect for newcomers to Beijing.

A simple bowl of white noodles was a luxury for kids from Gouzitun; even more so when the sauce contained diced pork and had been fried in oil—something they'd never dared dream of.

The children devoured their noodles, and the first to finish was the tiny Shen Xiaobao—he set his bowl down and stared out the window, curious and timid.

Qi Delong finished second and asked Wei Ming directly: "Mingge, can I have another bowl?"

Wei Ming laughed: "If you're still hungry, get another. Xiaobao, you too."

Shen Xiaobao tried to refuse, but Wei Ming had already ordered—this time they switched to eggplant and pork noodle soup, equally delicious.

Many chose seconds. Some girls found it hard to eat two bowls alone, so they shared one, glancing nervously at the price list as they ate.

Though the younger students didn't get real cash prizes, spending days in Beijing cost plenty—it was worth it, extremely worth it!

Especially the third-place student, who couldn't help feeling grateful he'd only beaten fourth place by one or two points—they'd first grasped the idea that "one point could change your fate."

For Wei Ming, money wasn't the issue—the real problem was grain coupons. Too many people, so he'd need Xiao Mei to help him get some from the black market. Yunyun would need them too once she settled in Beijing—everything had to come through unofficial channels.

Xiao Mei immediately agreed: "I've got no choice but to help!"

Wei Ming told the elementary students: "After dinner, I'll take you to see Beijing's night view."

The children cheered excitedly again.

In this era, Beijing didn't really have a night view—electricity was scarce; even main roads had only dim streetlights.

But areas for foreigners and top commercial streets still had some lighting.

So Wei Ming planned to walk them to Wangfujing Street—some shops were still open, mainly to see the Beijing Hotel.

So far, they'd only seen low houses and Sihe Academy courtyards—not impressive at all. But the 80-meter-tall, majestic, brilliantly lit Beijing Hotel would give them their first real sense of modern China.

Mei Wenhua volunteered to be their guide. As they stepped out of the small restaurant, they saw streetlights glowing along the main road—a sight that amazed the rural kids.

They'd only seen diesel-powered bulbs in village threshing grounds during harvest season—they knew light and electricity were precious.

Now they saw that in the capital, lights could be placed right on the roadside.

Next, they walked along Dongdan Third Street to Wangfujing, where more shops glowed with light and remained open. Xiao Mei explained what each shop did and their histories.

Everyone listened half-understandingly, just feeling they'd gained new knowledge.

Qi Delong felt uneasy—Beijing had such wonderful places, yet he'd never visited them during his annual summer visits to his grandfather's house.

At that moment, he suddenly wanted to be a Beijinger.

When they reached the outside of the Beijing Hotel and saw its golden-glowing structure, the children froze in awe.

So tall!

So beautiful!

So amazing!

Wei Ming had more authority on this than Mei Wenhua—he briefly explained its history and purpose.

Wei Hong asked: "Brother, have you ever gone inside?"

The two teachers shook their heads with smiles—they'd just heard Wei Ming say this place was for foreigners only, so how could he…

Wei Ming: "I've been inside. I've even eaten there."

The children's eyes grew even more reverent toward Wei Ming.

Wei Ming: "Alright, we'll stop here. West of here is Tiananmen. Tomorrow morning, we'll come to watch the flag-raising."

Hearing the name, the children cheered wildly—Xiao Hong and Yunyun too, they'd never seen it.

In that era, many people's lifelong dream was to stand before Tiananmen and take a photo with the Great Leader's portrait, to witness the flag-raising once.

Yunyun glanced at Mei Wenhua, who never left her side: "Culture-ge, will you come tomorrow too?"

Mei Wenhua adjusted his glasses: "Of course I will. I haven't seen the flag-raising in ages—I want to be spiritually uplifted." Yunyun nodded—Culture-ge spoke with such culture; he looked more scholarly than her cousin.

Back at Li Guangfu's house, Mei Wenhua volunteered again: "Mingge, taking two girls alone is dangerous, and you don't have enough helmets. Let me help you drop them off."

Wei Ming gave the two helmets to the sisters, then took Mei's helmet: "We've got enough now. Go home early—you've got to watch the flag-raising tomorrow. Don't oversleep."

This kid's intentions were obvious to everyone. Wei Ming would have to give him a warning—had he forgotten the guy who was half a head shorter than Yunyun?

On the way back, Yunyun asked Wei Ming: "Mingge, how old is Culture-ge? Am I older than him?"

Wei Ming: "He's one year older than me—definitely older than you."

Wei Hong frowned: "Then why does he call you Mingge?"

Wei Ming: "There's an old saying: 'The one who excels is your elder brother.'"

Wei Hong: "I thought it was 'The one who excels is your master.'"

"The principle is the same."

!

Back at the Overseas Chinese Apartment, he found two little girls staring longingly at the TV. Wei Ming sighed and turned it on so they could watch CCTV for a while.

"Keep your distance. Don't get too close."

First, he went into his bedroom and cleaned up any traces of Lin Jie's life.

Then he had to teach them how to use the bathroom, especially the toilet, which fascinated them.

"When the TV shows static, go to sleep." Wei Ming yawned. He wouldn't write today—he'd sleep early.

"What's static?"

Less than half an hour later, they knew what static was—and both thought it was a shame. If only TV programs could run until dawn.

Xiao Hong felt the lights in her brother's home were too bright to induce sleep, so she wandered back to the study, hoping to read a book.

On the desk, she spotted a sketch inside a frame: a beautiful older sister, and the setting looked eerily familiar—it looked just like her brother's balcony!

So who was she?

But her brother was already asleep, and no one could answer. Xiao Hong couldn't sleep now.

Yunyun, sharing the same bed, slept soundly.

On Wei Ming's nightstand sat a chicken-pecking double-bell alarm clock, a secondhand find he rarely used—only when catching trains or flights.

Today it was needed: in July, Beijing's dawn came early, and the flag-raising ceremony followed the sun's rise.

So in later years, many came to watch the flag-raising by camping out overnight. Wei Ming set his alarm for three a. . he'd barely slept five hours.

He woke Xiao Hong and Yunyun immediately.

Xiao Hong groaned: "I just fell asleep—why wake me now?"

"You still want to see the flag-raising? Get dressed!"

Wei Ming estimated they'd reach Li Guangfu's place by half past three, then walk together to the ceremony—about forty minutes on foot.

On Chang'an Street, near Li Guangfu's home, the three on their motorcycle spotted a group of elementary students wearing red scarves.

Wei Ming stopped, took off his helmet—it really was them—and rode over to the opposite side.

They'd also feared missing the ceremony, so they'd risen at three. Only Teacher Li had a watch—he hadn't dared sleep after midnight.

Yunyun scanned the group but didn't see Cultural Brother—probably hadn't expected it to be this early.

Wei Ming set Xiao Hong and Yunyun down: "Alright, walk slowly. I'll park the bike and catch up."

When he arrived at Li Guangfu's sihe courtyard, he saw Mei Wenhua looking bewildered: "Where is everyone?"

Wei Ming glanced at the grumbling neighbors: "Don't stand there—everyone's already left. Park the bike and run with me."

"Oh, oh."

In one room, Li Guangfu, also woken by the students' departure, chuckled and rolled back to sleep.

The two sprinted down Chang'an Street. Mei gradually lost stamina but gritted his teeth to keep up with Wei Ming.

"Ming-ge, is Yunyun not going back home?" he asked.

Wei Ming: "Yes."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Yunyun's so beautiful—she should stay in the capital. Marrying some guy back home would be such a waste."

In his past life, Yunyun truly had been wasted.

Wei Ming glanced at Mei, panting hard: "Hurry up. Your stamina's terrible."

Mei Wenhua: "Impossible! I grew up in a military compound—trained since childhood with my elders. It's not that I'm weak—it's just that you're too strong, Ming-ge!"

Wei Ming suppressed a smirk.

Wei Ming had never come to watch the flag-raising in the year since his rebirth—he'd seen it too many times in his past life.

He'd assumed tourism hadn't taken off yet, and population movement was difficult, so few would come. But now, there were no good spots left.

Only then did he truly grasp the power of faith: though tourism hadn't yet flourished, thousands came to Beijing daily for work or to visit family.

Many didn't know when they'd return, so they came here—some even camping overnight just for a better view.

Others had nowhere to sleep, so they stayed here overnight—and just happened to catch the flag-raising.

They reached the square around four-thirty. Less than half an hour later, the flag-raising ceremony began.

Some older students lifted younger ones onto their shoulders so they could see better. This scene moved Wei Ming deeply.

The sun leapt, about to break the horizon—dawn rising, a vision full of hope!

Wei Ming raised his camera and captured the moment.

When the flag reached the top, it took a long while for everyone to return to reality. Some students even had tears in their eyes.

No need to ask—because they loved this land deeply.

When the crowd thinned, Wei Ming took them for their first group photo in Beijing. Mei Wenhua operated the camera—teachers and driver all appeared in the frame. Wei Ming would have to develop it multiple times.

Though their morning destination—the Forbidden City—was right ahead, they couldn't enter yet. So they walked back, stopping for breakfast.

"Since you're in the capital, how can you miss a steaming bowl of bean curd juice? Kids, enjoy it all you like!" At a breakfast stall, Mei Wenhua enthusiastically recommended his hometown delicacies: bean curd juice, fried dough twists, and flour tea.

Jia Zhengdao, the accountant's son, bluntly asked: "Is this bean curd juice spoiled?"

Qi Delong, who'd tried it before, said: "Not spoiled—it's supposed to taste like this. That's the real flavor!"

Shen Xiaobao solemnly declared: "I get it—teachers are teaching us that only by enduring hardship can one rise above others."

Jia Zhengdao: "But it smells foul!"

"Same principle—I'm down!" Shen Xiaobao pinched his nose and gulped it down.

Wei Ming, eating fried dough and tofu pudding, gave him a thumbs-up. This kid had potential.

When they returned to the sihe courtyard, Li Guangfu was awake and asked what the kids had eaten.

"Hey, bean curd juice is great—I can't go a meal without it."

He strolled over to Wei Ming, grinned, and whispered an address: "After you're done, come find me—on Nanchizi Street, near the Forbidden City."

Wei Ming nodded. He wouldn't accompany them through the Forbidden City—he'd seen it until he was sick of it.

Luckily, Mei Wenhua was there—he could double as a guide, and he clearly enjoyed it.

Later, Wei Ming walked back to the Forbidden City, bought tickets for them, and let them in.

"Teachers and guides—someone in front, someone behind. Don't lose anyone. Wait for me at the North Gate when you're done. Go in, take your time, look carefully."

After settling them in, Wei Ming turned off Donghuamen Road and arrived at Li Guangfu's address—a crowded courtyard with many residents. This wasn't his own house, was it?

Wei Ming was about to ask someone when Li Guangfu stepped out of a doorway.

"Hey, Wei, you finally showed up." He called into the room, and a slightly older, refined-looking young man emerged.

Oh—it was an acquaintance!

Li Guangfu introduced Wei Ming: "No need for me to introduce him, right? Wei Ming, the writer—barely twenty, already famous nationwide."

The young man stepped forward to shake Wei Ming's hand and introduced himself before Li could: "I'm Li Chengru—sort of an outsider at the People's Art Theatre."

Li Guangfu chuckled: "He's an apprentice of Old Dong—Dong Xingji. I mentioned your name to him, and he actually looked into it."

"Oh, a disciple of Master Dong? Pleased to meet you. I saw him at the People's Art Theatre just a few days ago."

Wei Ming didn't know Li Chengru well—he'd joined the People's Art Theatre after Dong's death, during Wei's own peak commercial years.

Both he and Li Guangfu shared the surname Li and similar histories: their fathers had once been wealthy, then lost everything.

After high school, Li Chengru entered theater, studied Peking Opera, frequently watched plays at the People's Art Theatre, then served under Master Dong Xingji for years, earning the title of apprentice.

Later, he became a classmate of Wei Ming's Lin Jie in the part-time acting class at the Film Academy. After graduation, he joined CCTV and the Journey to the West production team.

At first, he hoped to play Tang Sanzang based on his looks. But Director Yang Jie looked him over and said: "Forget Tang Sanzang—you're better as a production assistant." He stayed in that role for years.

Then came the boom and bust of his business career in the 1990s.

Facing a celebrity like Wei Ming, Li Chengru was warm and eager.

Wei Ming smiled: "Old Li said that house—was it yours?"

Li Chengru shook his head: "I live on Nanchizi. That house is on Beichizi. Wei writer, Guangfu, come with me—it's a great place!"

…

(Yesterday's minimum)

(End of chapter)