Chapter 234: The Darkest Hour of Science Fiction Literature

"Because I caught them with Xi Zi before, I know a place where cicada nymphs are especially numerous." Wei Ming thought quickly and easily brushed it off; Zhu Lin had no reason to doubt him.

Wei Ming exhaled in relief—he must ban words like "again" and "once more" from his life henceforth, and try to make sure whatever Xiao Xue had, Zhu Lin had too, to avoid confusing himself.

Juggling two people was hard enough; he wondered if three might be easier.

It was still that same small grove, but now it was August, and cicada nymphs were far fewer—many had already molted and flown away in the past few days; the tree trunks and ground below were littered with their discarded shells.

But Wei Ming never cared much for the cicada nymphs; in the deep quiet of night, with no one around, Zhu Lin was soon pinned against a tree, the two clinging and kissing.

Perhaps the tree bore too much pressure—suddenly something fell from above and landed on Zhu Lin's head.

"Ah!" She startled.

"Don't be scared, don't be scared," Wei Ming plucked the object off her head. "Congratulations—we've opened for business!"

It was an unlucky cicada nymph—perfectly clinging to the tree until their vigorous shaking dislodged it.

In the end, they only caught a little over twenty; partly because numbers had dwindled, but mostly because most of the time was spent kissing.

Zhu Lin drew the line at anything more extreme—this was outdoors, and her mindset wasn't that progressive, even though she very much wanted to.

This made Wei Ming even more eager to buy another house.

They also discussed the casting for "A Sad Story," learning that Da Shi Chang would play the male lead. Wei Ming thought it fitting—he knew Da Laoshi was a famously devoted husband, with impeccable character and professional skill, so he wasn't worried about anything developing between them.

"So are you still taking the part-time acting class at Beijing Film Academy?" Wei Ming asked as he walked Zhu Lin home.

The filming schedule seemed to conflict with the class.

"I consulted the director and Factory Director Wang Yang—they both encouraged me to further my studies, saying it would help me portray more diverse roles later, and promised to reserve time for the exam."

"That's good," Wei Ming smiled. "You can't rely solely on your natural persona forever—there aren't that many intellectual young women left for you to play."

Xiao Xue, by contrast, was far more formidable—she looked like a delicate white flower, yet she'd already begun challenging herself with roles of fallen women, deliberately raising the difficulty level, with great ambition in her acting.

But they were both outstanding women—he truly hoped one day they'd become inseparable friends.

When Zhu Lin got home, it was still early; her parents hadn't slept yet, still watching TV—actually waiting for her.

Lately, her parents had looked at her with new respect—their daughter had become the female lead in the director of "The White-Haired Girl"'s new film, adapted from Lu Xun's work.

Even though they didn't particularly like their daughter becoming an actress, collaborating with such a giant in the industry and portraying a master's work filled them with pride—they felt no shame speaking of it.

Zhu Lin greeted them and headed for her room, but her sharp-eyed father called her back, pointing at her hair: "What's that on your head?"

"Something there?"

Her mother walked over and plucked a cicada shell from her short hair.

Zhu Lin immediately realized it must have gotten caught when she and Xiao Wei kissed against the tree trunk.

"Probably fell from the tree while I was walking," Zhu Lin took it back, hurried inside, and—still thrilled—placed it on her desk as a decoration.

Her parents exchanged a glance, and one word flashed in their minds: "sneaking into the grove!"

Wei Ming also had his mother waiting for him; when she saw he'd gone to catch cicada nymphs, Xu Shufen couldn't help but laugh and sigh.

"You're already a big writer, and still so mischievous."

"Mom, fry them up for me—Grandma's still awake too, let's all eat together."

Just a few of them—each person got two bites and that was it—but Xiao Hong said these were the best cicada nymphs she'd ever eaten.

Xu Shufen thought to herself: of course they were—she'd used plenty of oil this time. Now she could afford oil, even though Wei Ming only had one person's oil ration—he could buy extra tickets, enough to last the whole family endlessly.

But then Xu Shufen suddenly realized a problem: if she took over catering for Xintiandi employees, what would she do with the extra oil and meat? Would she have to trade money for it? How high would the cost be?

Not knowing the ins and outs, Xu Shufen decided to find time to consult Sister Liu from Yuebin Restaurant.

In the following days, Wei Ming continued writing, sometimes going to Peking University's library to write, also familiarizing himself with his future workplace.

The task of accompanying his mother and grandmother fell to Xiao Hong.

Only on Sundays, when Xintiandi was too busy, did Xiao Hong rush over in casual clothes to help—even Xu Shufen and the grandmother went.

Xu Shufen could help maintain order; the grandmother sat outside on a small stool, eyes sharp, watching everyone coming and going to prevent theft.

This was her grandson and son-in-law's business—she watched it with fierce vigilance.

That day, no one paid attention to Wei Ming, so he joined Zhu Lin for lunch at Yuebin Restaurant, the same place they'd been before.

Xu Shufen had made the garlic-pork-elbow dish for him these past two days; Wei Ming compared them and could barely tell the difference—his mother clearly had a gift.

The next day, Dongfang Xintiandi was finally less busy, but to make things convenient for the meeting, Mei Wenhua chose Hongbinlou, near Xidan, for the families to meet.

Hongbinlou claimed to be "Beijing's No. 1 Halal Restaurant," originally from Tianjin, invited to Beijing in 1955 by the Premier, and one of the state's key venues for hosting foreign Muslim heads of state.

Wei Ming and the others first went to Dongfang Xintiandi, picked up Mei Wenhua and Yunyun, then walked to Hongbinlou.

On the way, Mei Wenhua deliberately lagged behind Wei Ming, unable to contain his excitement as he told him yesterday's sales figures.

"Brother Ming, over ten thousand! First time breaking ten thousand!"

Yesterday's sales totaled 11, 80 yuan—hundreds of garments sold, stock replenished nonstop, inventory nearly emptied.

And all without discounts—profits were terrifyingly high; Xintiandi had now entered hyperdrive mode.

Mei Wenhua told Wei Ming: "Even if I'm sentenced tomorrow, as long as they don't confiscate my earnings, I'll accept it!"

"Looks like we should thank China Youth Daily for setting the trend—but by now, someone must be copying our model, right?" Wei Ming asked.

"Of course. Recently, quite a few people showing up—clearly managers from state-owned clothing stores—didn't buy anything, just wandered around, watched, asked me about income. I heard a few state stores are considering reform, but they need to hold meetings, report to superiors, then dismantle the counters blocking customers and clothes—this whole process takes at least one or two months."

State-owned units were notoriously slow; private shops could change overnight.

But private clothing stores in Beijing were still few; Dongfang Xintiandi was among the first, and the largest.

Even if they wanted to copy, unless they found a plot in Wangfujing of equal size, insufficient foot traffic would make replication impossible.

Originally, Mei Wenhua had wanted Wangfujing—but no suitable shops were available for rent, so he settled on Xidan.

They also had a moat: the "Dongfang Xintiandi" signboard—covered relentlessly by media, those five characters were now extremely well-known in Beijing and nationwide, forming a powerful brand effect.

"I just hope our business license comes soon," Mei Wenhua said. "At least then we'd be legitimate. Otherwise, I'm always afraid I'll wake up one day and find it shut down."

Wei Ming thought it wouldn't happen that fast—Zhang Huamei of Wenzhou was called the first individual business license after reform and opening, and she'd applied for a year before receiving it at year's end.

As they arrived at Hongbinlou, the interior displayed many inscriptions by celebrities—naturally including Guo Moruo. Wei Ming had eaten at many old Beijing restaurants; few lacked Guo Moruo's calligraphy.

A few days ago, Mei Wenhua had reserved a private room—all neighbors, and Manager Mei had influence.

Not long after, Mei Wenhua's parents and older brother and sister-in-law arrived.

Now there were five on the groom's side, five on the bride's—ten people total. Mei Wenhua ordered twelve dishes, showing off his wealth.

Mei Wenhua's father, Mei Heping, and older brother, Mei Shengli, were both quiet and reserved; Mei Wenhua introduced them, and hearing their names, Wei Ming realized their family naming style ran deep.

At that moment, he firmly decided: any child Yunyun bore must be named by him.

Mei Wenhua's mother and sister-in-law, by contrast, were lively and clearly strong-willed women; they likely had tensions, but today they held back.

Both were minor leaders in their workplaces; Mei Wenhua's sister-in-law came from a higher background—her father was a general, while Mei Heping was only a major—so this sister-in-law naturally dominated, making the previously superior mother deeply uncomfortable.

But Uncle Mei worked in military logistics; once the military lifted restrictions on business, men like him would become highly sought-after—though also vulnerable to corruption.

Mei Wenhua was glad he'd never bragged about Wei Ming to family, nor mentioned his workplace much—so when he introduced Yunyun's cousin as writer Wei Ming, the effect was striking.

His quiet father and brother visibly froze—they never expected a village girl from southwestern mountains to have such powerful connections.

His sister-in-law, Han Chun Chun, reacted even more dramatically—her eyes sparkled.

"Comrade Wei Ming, I'm your fan—I especially love 'The Spring of the Sheep Herding Class.' I heard 'The Herdsman' and 'Er Niu' were made into films. When will this one be adapted?"

Seeing his sister-in-law's reaction, Mei Wenhua relaxed—he gently squeezed Yunyun's hand under the table; with this connection, she wouldn't dare bully Yunyun.

Wei Ming smiled and replied: "Not yet. This is my most cherished work—I'm unwilling to hand it over lightly."

"Being cautious is right. I wouldn't want to see my favorite work butchered."

To keep chatting with Wei Ming, Han Chun Chun switched seats with her husband; Mei Shengli said nothing.

Then Mei Wenhua highlighted the 14-year-old Hebei province's top science student in the college entrance exam, making Mei family reassess the bride's family's caliber once again.

Though merely a cousin, the outstanding achievements of the Wei siblings showed Yunyun wasn't inferior—her future children for the Mei family would surely be exceptional. Mei Heping even showed a rare satisfied smile.

Dishes arrived one by one; they ate and chatted. Braised tendon, braised beef tail, golden shrimp cakes, and halal roast duck were all hearty dishes. The signature dish, "Fish Tofu," turned fish meat into tofu texture—not only novel in preparation, but also soft, tender, and smooth, utterly delightful.

Wei Ming had eaten here once before, but only two people, so he ordered sparingly; today he finally sampled all the restaurant's famous dishes.

Uncle Mei Heping knew Yunyun was from Sichuan-Chongqing, so he brought two bottles of Wuliangye. Wei Ming hadn't ridden his motorcycle today, so he drank some too—but the real powerhouse here was the grandmother.

Xu Shufen had said that back in Gouzitun, it was always the grandmother who drank with Old Wei—she had an excellent tolerance.

The grandmother spoke little Mandarin and said little, but this was how she showed respect to the in-laws; Mei Heping, in his position, was no slouch in drinking either.

So two bottles weren't enough—Mei Wenhua ordered two more bottles of Luzhou Laojiao, another famous Sichuan-Chongqing liquor.

As the wine flowed and merriment rose, Mei Heping brought up the wedding date with his mother-in-law.

"Why not just get married next year?"

This attitude delighted Wei Ming's grandmother, who refilled everyone's glasses—but Mei's mother suddenly said: "Next year might not work."

Everyone paused. She added: "Let's just do it this year."

!

"Whoa!" Mei Wenhua was excited—could they really marry this year? He'd been impatient too.

Mei's mother explained: "Have you seen the news? The Marriage Law is being revised. Next year it'll be officially launched—do you think the legal marriage age will be raised or lowered?"

The sister-in-law immediately said: "Definitely raised. Our unit is promoting late marriage and late childbearing."

She was a classic example—now twenty-five or six, still no children; this was one of her conflicts with her mother-in-law.

The 1950 Marriage Law set the minimum age at 20 for men and 18 for women—a rule followed for over twenty years. But in recent years, with population pressure, late marriage and childbearing had been promoted; some radical areas or units even enforced marriage only after 25.

So this revision of the Marriage Law would inevitably raise the legal age. Mei Wenhua was 20, Yunyun 18—if they didn't marry this year, next year they might have to wait years longer.

After brief discussion, the parents agreed: marry before the New Year!

The grandmother had no objections—in the countryside, after meeting a match, if things looked good, the wedding could be arranged within one or two months. Yunyun and Xiao Mei had been dating over a month, always together—she feared if they didn't marry soon, they'd "get into trouble."

Only Wei Ming felt inwardly stunned—was Xiao Mei really getting married? So fast?

By the end of the meal, Wei Ming took a group photo, then one of Mei Wenhua and Yunyun—these photos would be shown to his uncle back in Sichuan-Chongqing.

Xiao Mei actually wanted to return home personally to let his future father-in-law see him, and to experience firsthand what it felt like to be a tall man—over 1. meters.

Unfortunately, Dongfang Xintiandi is at a critical moment now, and the conditions don't allow him to be away for several days—he'll have to wait until after the wedding to go there.

But getting married requires a house; he's currently living mostly at his parents' or grandmother's place, both inconvenient.

No good—I must buy a house, I need to buy one myself!

Wei Ming originally planned to set up a darkroom in the sihe courtyard; having just received his dividend, he still had the confidence to do it.

But now he wants to buy another house, so this idea must be put on hold for now.

The photos taken at Hongbinlou that day were eventually returned to his original unit's school newsletter office for development.

Afterward, thinking that Uncle Anping should be off work, he went to ask him about the airplane tickets.

Uncle Anping not only gave them a note but also had his subordinates buy the tickets for them, saving Wei Ming a lot of trouble—though of course, the money couldn't be saved.

After knocking on Uncle Anping's door, Wei Ming first heard a chorus of cicadas—naturally Xizi's doing; he not only ate cicada nymphs but also kept cicadas at home, driving Xiao Yan's aunt crazy.

Xizi had a retort ready for her: "Who told you not to let me keep a cat? I can only keep this."

But when he saw Wei Ming arrive, Xizi immediately dropped his cicada pets and clung to him, asking: "Big Brother Ming, have you really seen a lion?"

"I saw one at the zoo."

"What about the 'Pingtou Ge'?"

"There aren't any in the zoo—I saw them in books."

Although Xizi and Lele still couldn't read well, Lu Xiaoyan told them stories, and the one that impressed them most lately was "The Lion King."

Lu Xiaoyan also raved about it—she never imagined "Hamlet" could be turned into a fairy tale so wonderfully, especially the old king's theory of natural cycles spoken to Simba—it felt profoundly elevated.

This story indeed boosted sales of "Youth Literature," at least 30% higher than the previous issue.

Currently, "Youth Literature" has only serialized one-third of the novel; Simba's father, King Mufasa, hasn't died yet—it's mostly a panoramic display of the African animal kingdom and the mischievous adventures of young Simba and his friends, with only subtle foreshadowing.

The second part will be when the father is killed, the mother imprisoned, and the young prince flees abroad to prepare for revenge.

"Isn't Lele at home?"

Lu Xiaoyan brought Wei Ming a fruit platter: "Your uncle went to pick her up at Teacher Gu's place—Teacher Gu recently asked why you haven't released any new songs."

"I've actually written a few songs for Hong Kong lately, but they haven't been released yet—I'll send her a tape once it's out."

Wei Ming waited until Uncle Anping returned with Lele, then took the three tickets and went home; Xiao Hong stayed behind.

A few days later, Wei Ming received a remittance notice from Amin in Hong Kong—"Liu Liu De Ta" had achieved gold record status, selling 25, 00 copies in Hong Kong and Taiwan.

This was his royalty as lyricist and composer: 3, 00 Hong Kong dollars!

A few days later, Amin's package arrived too; in his last letter, Wei Ming thanked her for the fashion magazine, saying it was very useful, and she had bought more.

This time, she also included two boxes of the "Water Flower" album.

After over two months of preparation, Tan Yonglin's first Mandarin album was officially released. In the original timeline, it wasn't called this—but because Wei Ming's songs were so powerful, especially "Water Flower," the album was named after it, and the other main tracks were all written by Wei Ming.

Tan Yonglin placed great importance on "Water Flower" and paid twice for the composition, planning to adapt "Water Flower" into a Cantonese version.

So Amin wrote on the tape: "Allen's agent contacted me, asking if you could adapt it into a Cantonese song—the timeline is still quite flexible."

Wei Ming decided to take on the job—he immediately wrote back a letter, attaching the Cantonese lyrics, then headed for the airport.

Xu Shufen and her daughter were both excited and nervous, while Xiao Hong was only disappointed—she wanted to take a plane too!

But she knew a round-trip ticket cost over a hundred yuan—that's a whole bicycle gone—it was too extravagant, so she didn't insist.

Only after seeing them off did Wei Hong linger for a long time, until she saw a plane lift off and fly over her head.

To avoid boredom on the plane, Wei Ming bought several newspapers; "Yanjing Evening News" mentioned the grand scene of the Second Stars Art Exhibition.

This Stars Art Exhibition finally entered the China Art Museum properly, but it would be the last one.

In "China Youth Daily," Wei Ming saw news from the recently held National Publishing Workers Conference.

One long passage caught his attention—it detailed Old Qian's views on science fiction, which were plainly hostile.

Wei Ming knew science fiction's future would be difficult, because this man's words carried too much weight.

Since last year, science popularization writers like Zhao Zhi, Lu Bing, Zhen Shuonan, and Tao Shilong had begun systematically criticizing major science fiction authors and works in "China Youth Daily" through their column "Science Popularization Notes."

Because they upheld the "artistic truth" theory, their criticism focused on whether the scientific fiction in the novels was plausible—for example, "Can selfishness be inherited?" "Can dinosaurs be revived?" "Do clones possess the psychological structure of their paternal source?"

The science popularization writers' argument was: if you can't prove these are real, how can you write them? Isn't that misleading readers?

Wei Ming had followed this closely—the science fiction writers and science popularization writers had engaged in a long debate; confined within the discourse of science popularization, the sci-fi writers could only retreat from literature and rebut each fictional claim point by point, inevitably falling into a disadvantage.

Later, this debate escalated into whether science fiction belonged to "science" or "literature"—whether it was a literary genre or merely part of science popularization.

Almost all authors actively writing science fiction at the time agreed that science fiction was a literary form; Wei Ming shared this view—if science fiction dared not imagine, what was the point of writing it?

But science popularization critics, scientists, and relevant officials judged science fiction to be part of science popularization.

From this standpoint, they demanded science fiction focus more on scientific content, compressing plot, setting descriptions, and character development—the literary elements—effectively denying science fiction's literary essence.

Under this backdrop, Ye Yonglie's "Black Shadow," Jin Tao's "Moonlight Island," and Wei Yahu's "Dreams of the Gentle Land" were heavily criticized.

Ye Yonglie, who had participated in editing "One Hundred Thousand Whys" and written "Little Lingtong's Journey Around the World," turned to writing biographies at this time.

During the 1980s literary renaissance, science fiction was only a minor category; this grand debate mattered little to the mainstream literary world—its overall volume may not have even matched the impact of Wei Ming's "The Spring of the Sheep Herding Class," published earlier that year.

But after reading it, Wei Ming sighed deeply—in another decade or so, when Hollywood would open global markets with blockbuster sci-fi films full of imagination, would the Chinese people regret the absence of world-class Chinese science fiction?

And when, thirty years later, we finally had world-class science fiction, wouldn't it already be too late?

At this moment, in Yangquan, Shanxi, a seventeen-year-old boy named Liu Cixin was secretly reading a foreign science fiction novel called "2001: A Space Odyssey."

After reading it, he felt the stars above him were utterly different from before…

(Yesterday's guaranteed two-in-one)

(End of chapter)