Chapter 242: A Man

The ticket only listed the time and address: tomorrow evening at eight, Beijing Exhibition Hall, admission by ticket only.

Everyone now talks about Sino-Japanese friendship and Sino-American friendship, but over the past year Wei Ming hadn't seen any American or Japanese singers come to China for concerts.

"Shouldn't this be the first Japanese singer to hold a concert in China?" Wei Ming asked.

"Seems like it—probably the political review process here is too hard to pass," Uncle Anping analyzed.

Wei Ming recalled the popular Japanese singers of the 1980s, and the first name that came to mind was Yamaguchi Yoshiko, who excelled in film, television, and music.

But when she became a sensation in China, she had already retired in Japan—apparently this year.

He still remembered her song "Autumn Cherry"—so beautiful; Wei Ming could still recall the melody.

Thinking of "Autumn Cherry," Wei Ming had a sudden insight—he now knew who this concert was by, and it was definitely worth attending.

When leaving, Wei Ming took away a large bundle of letters from young readers, collected by Children's Literature on his behalf.

He'd have to pick a few to reply to tonight.

To confirm Zhu Lin's schedule, Wei Ming went to Beiyingchang the next noon—they were about to start shooting "A Story of Loss," and Zhu Lin was usually on standby there.

He found her in the cafeteria, sitting with Zhang Jinling and Cai Ming.

Years ago, Zhu Lin had met Cai Ming once—when Cai was casting for "Hai Xia," Zhu Lin had auditioned and been selected, but she later withdrew due to lack of acting experience, missing the opportunity.

After the film's release, she went to see it herself, deeply impressed by Cai's portrayal of young Hai Xia, so she actively befriended him after joining Beiyingchang.

When Wei Ming arrived, Cai Ming was asking Zhang Jinling about the adaptation of "Xu Mao and His Daughters."

This popular Sichuan novel from last year had already been adapted into Sichuan opera and TV drama; recently, rumors in the studio said it would become a film, directed by Wang Yan.

Zhang Jinling had collaborated with Director Wang Yan on "From Slave to General" and had a good relationship, so Cai Ming wanted to ask her if she had any insight—after all, Xu Mao had nine daughters.

Just as Zhang Jinling was about to speak, Wei Ming sat down opposite her, beside Zhu Lin.

"Wei Writer," Zhang Jinling said. Both she and Cai Ming had met Wei Ming before, but rarely had they been this close face-to-face—he was indeed more handsome than Tang Guoqiang.

"Are you here on official business?" Cai Ming questioned.

"Oh, I need to talk to Sister Zhu Lin," Wei Ming didn't hide it.

Zhang Jinling and Cai Ming's eyes sparkled with gossip—they'd heard Zhu Lin was recommended to Shui Hua by Wei Ming, and their relationship was close.

Wei Ming said he had something to discuss, but didn't say what; Zhu Lin didn't ask either—she just asked if he'd eaten.

"Not yet."

So Zhu Lin pulled out a cafeteria ticket and told him to get food; if they weren't in public, they could share one meal—and even feed each other mouth-to-mouth.

After they slowly finished eating, Zhang Jinling and Cai Ming had already left; only then did Wei Ming bring up the matter.

Zhu Lin thought it was about the apartment, but Wei Ming said it was about a Japanese singer's concert and asked if she wanted to go.

"If you don't go, I'm going with Xiao Hong."

Zhu Lin was very interested in new music; though she didn't understand Japanese, she didn't understand Cantonese either—but that didn't stop her from enjoying Cantonese songs—so she agreed immediately and set a time.

As Wei Ming left Beiyingchang, he met Factory Director Wang Yang at the gate, accompanied by an old man.

He introduced: "This is Director Ling Zifeng, one of Beiyingchang's Four Masters."

Wei Ming immediately expressed admiration—the three surviving Masters could still make classics, and only this "Hello, Sexy Guy" grandfather still could.

"Yesterday I read in the Beijing Evening News that Beiyingchang is preparing to film 'Camel Xiangzi' and is struggling to find the right actor—is that true?" Wei Ming asked.

Wang Yang nodded—it was true. Xiangzi was the most famous character in Lao She's works, a young man who needed both acting skill and the physicality of a rickshaw puller—such a candidate was rare.

They'd scoured major studios without success; previous candidates included Tang Guoqiang, Zhou Lijing, and Ling Fei (Ling Xiaosu's father and Ling Zifeng's son), all eliminated.

So Beiyingchang resorted to a nationwide casting call, with the headline: "Where Is Camel Xiangzi?"

Wei Ming said: "I do have a suitable candidate—you two can take a look, whether you listen is up to you."

For the female lead of "A Story of Loss," Wei Ming had truly interfered not at all—it was pure rumor—but for "Camel Xiangzi," he genuinely wanted to help Beiyingchang avoid detours.

"Oh, who? You're not suggesting yourself, are you?" Director Wang Yang teased—he knew Wei Ming adored Lu Xun and Lao She, especially "Diary of a Madman" and "Camel Xiangzi."

Wei Ming smiled: "I'm not recommending myself. During casting for 'Er Niu,' a film academy student from the '78 class made our shortlist—Zhang Fengyi. You should check him out—I think he has Xiangzi's spirit."

The two exchanged glances—they'd never heard of him; among '78 grads, they only knew Zhou Lijing and Fang Shu.

Wei Ming said no more—just left the name and walked away.

Ling Zifeng, desperate, told his assistant director Li Tang to go to the film academy and bring Zhang Fengyi over.

But when Li Tang went, Zhang Fengyi wasn't there—he'd gone to northwest China to shoot a Hong Kong martial arts film.

Still, Li Tang brought back a photo of Zhang Fengyi; Ling Zifeng was overjoyed—that was exactly the look he wanted.

"Tell his teacher to have the boy come to Beiyingchang immediately when he returns!"

Wei Ming was just doing a favor—Xiangzi was destined for Zhang Fengyi; his appearance was practically tailor-made for the role.

At four-thirty in the afternoon, Wei Ming locked the storage room and left early.

But at the door, he saw Wei Hong with a child.

"Big Brother ×2!"

"Xiao Hong? Xi Zi?"

Wei Hong beamed at Wei Ming: "Brother, you're hiding things well—you're taking me to the concert and didn't tell me, but Xi Zi already told me."

Wei Ming looked at the little boy.

Xi Zi blurted out: "Mom's bike broke, and we only have one now—front and back seats. Me and Le Le fought for a long time before I got to go with Big Brother!"

Wei Anping knew Wei Ming was focused on writing, so he left Xi Zi at the library to follow Brother Xiao Ming and Sister Xiao Hong.

Then Xi Zi was spotted by Wei Hong, who came to the library to reserve a seat; hearing about this treat, her roommates were green with envy, grumbling as they rushed in to claim seats, cursing Wei Hong would fail her next exam.

Wei Ming rubbed his head—Xi Zi wasn't a problem; he had his own ticket, just a bit of a third wheel—but Xiao Hong was superfluous.

"Hong, you just started school—you need to study hard, can't skip class. Don't you have evening classes?"

Classrooms were tight; evening schedules were common, especially for freshmen with heavy loads.

Wei Hong grinned: "This week, tonight's the only night without class!"

You have no class, but I don't have a ticket either!

To say it outright might hurt Xiao Hong's feelings—she was family—so Wei Ming decided to try his luck at the International Students' Dormitory.

"Hong, wait for me at the south gate—I have something to do, I'll join you shortly."

Then Wei Ming hurried to the dormitory—such events usually gave tickets to Japanese international students, and often one to their accompanying companions too, though not all wanted to go.

After all, you talk about friendship above, but many below still harbor grudges against Japan from their ancestors' past.

For example, a physics classmate of Wei Ming's from Nanjing—he was an accompanying companion to a Japanese student.

He once told Wei Ming he sometimes feared he'd suffocate his roommate with a pillow in his sleep, so he comforted himself by thinking: "I'm here to monitor him."

Thank heaven—he indeed had a ticket, hadn't planned to go, and had torn it up.

He rummaged through the trash and found it for Wei Ming.

"Teacher Wei, if you want it, just stick it back together—but don't start liking Japanese culture because of this."

Wei Ming patted his chest: "I'll listen with a critical mind!"

As Wei Ming left the international students' dormitory, he saw several Japanese female students and their companions dressed for the outing—probably heading to the concert too.

At the south gate, Wei Ming led Xiao Hong and Xi Zi straight to the Beijing Exhibition Hall on Xizhimen Outer Street—the concert was at the North Exhibition Theater, which Wei Ming had visited with Melinda several times for ballet and opera.

It was still early before showtime; Wei Ming told Xiao Hong to take Xi Zi to get something to eat.

"After you eat, go right in—I have something else to do." Then he handed Xiao Hong the re-stuck ticket.

"This ticket?"

"Accidentally damaged—it's fine, still works."

After settling them, Wei Ming went back to Beiyingchang—Zhu Lin was already waiting at the gate; they still needed to eat.

To save time, they didn't go to a fancy restaurant—just had a bowl of noodles.

"You rushed in and out at noon—I didn't ask how your exam went yesterday," Wei Ming slurped his noodles.

"I felt good, but I won't know until next week's results—our crew starts shooting then, and I don't know if I'll have time to go."

"Don't worry—I'll just call Ah Long and he'll tell me the results."

They finished eating by seven; Wei Ming and Zhu Lin hurried off, and he told her about the earlier incident.

"If you run into Xiao Hong, my uncle, or my aunt, just be natural."

"You don't have to tell me—I'm not nervous," Zhu Lin insisted, though inside she was flustered—more so than when she'd manually blocked for Wei Ming in the alley.

As Zhu Lin hugged Wei Ming's waist, she suddenly pulled her hand back—she'd almost slipped instinctively—oh no, too dangerous.

Wei Ming felt Zhu Lin's small hand warm against him—he considered visiting the renovated apartment after the concert to check progress.

When they arrived, most audience members had already entered; over two thousand seats were nearly full. Wei Ming and Zhu Lin had no good seats left—only corner seats in the back row.

Tickets had no seat numbers—first come, first served; the hall was too big, and Wei Ming couldn't spot Xiao Hong, Xi Zi, Uncle Anping, Aunt Xiao Yan, or Le Le.

At the same time, Wei Hong hadn't seen her brother—she and Xi Zi were surrounded by Peking University alumni, Chinese and Japanese alike—all wearing school badges, seated together.

Learning Wei Hong and Xi Zi were Wei Ming's younger siblings, several Japanese women became enthusiastic, slapping their chests offering to translate for them.

Wei Hong: "Then, sisters, who's performing tonight?"

It was now confirmed who the performer was.

Zhu Lin asked: "Is Sada Masashi famous in Japan?"

Wei Ming: "He's quite famous—a singer-songwriter who writes his own lyrics and music; last year one of his albums sold 1. million copies."

Even Yamaguchi Yoshiko's "Autumn Cherry" was composed and written by Sada Masashi.

Wei Ming had also heard his hit album "Kanpaku Sengen" at the dormitory.

Zhu Lin thought: "He's not as good as you."

"Huh?"

"I once read a newspaper saying the cassette of 'The Spring of the Sheep Herding Class' sold two million copies—so you're still better."

Wei Ming smiled modestly: "That's not quite right—we have more people."

Of course, China didn't have many cassette players; it might even have fewer than Japan, so "The Shepherd Class's Spring" was already the ceiling of cassette sales.

"That's not entirely true—our country's tape recorders aren't widespread yet; otherwise, 'The Shepherd Class's Spring' would've sold far more."

Suddenly, one of the listeners beside Wei Ming joined their conversation.

Seeing Wei Ming and Zhu Lin stare at him in surprise, the man extended his hand: "Teacher Wei, hello. I'm Sha Qing, a cultural reporter for the Yanjing Evening News—I wrote a music review on 'On the Hopeful Field.'"

"Oh, Reporter Sha, hello." Wei Ming shook his hand.

Zhu Lin sat up straight. What bad luck—listening to a concert and running into a reporter? That meant her conversation with Xiao Wei had to revolve around music and art, be serious, no frivolity allowed.

Sha Qing said: "I previously interviewed Teacher Gu Jianfen, one of today's concert consultants. She holds you in very high regard."

"Teacher Gu is too kind—I've only picked up a few basics and written children's songs."

"That's not fair to say. Your songs have wide appeal—suitable for all ages. In fact, the Yanjing Evening News is planning a concert, and several pieces on the playlist are yours and Teacher Gu's."

"Oh, really?" So what? It doesn't pay me a cent.

This reporter Sha was very talkative; Wei Ming and Zhu Lin never got a chance to speak. They really wanted to switch seats.

Fortunately, the concert officially began, and a host took the stage to introduce the musical achievements of Mr. Satoda Masashi.

In short, he was a top-tier Japanese folk male singer.

The prefix "top-tier" suggested his dominance wasn't absolute—just like Wei Ming in today's literary scene, he was a top-tier young male writer.

Satoda Masashi himself came on stage. He was young, wore glasses, held a guitar, stood short—about 1. meters, roughly the height of the female host without heels—and looked refined and scholarly.

Behind him stood a translator to facilitate his conversation with the host.

During the dialogue, Satoda Masashi said that due to family influence, he had long admired China and dreamed of coming here, speaking with great humility.

"Because I've been busy with this performance, I haven't had time to visit the Great Wall or the Forbidden City yet. But tomorrow my schedule will be packed—if possible, I'd like to see the Yangtze River in Shanghai."

Wei Ming: Go ahead, then rack up a mountain of debt and only pay it off when you're old.

In the future, Satoda Masashi would become most famous in China not only for "Kanbai Sengen" and its Chinese translations, but especially for his bankrupting documentary "The Yangtze."

He squandered all the money he earned from singing and accumulated a massive debt of 2. billion yen, only repaying it in his twilight years.

Japan's big-budget film "Godzilla" that year cost only 1. billion; Kurosawa's epic "Ran" cost just 2. billion.

But "The Yangtze" was filmed exceptionally well—no expense was spared.

In his past life, when Wei Ming first got a TV, he watched CCTV's rebroadcast of the documentary "Tales of the Yangtze," later learning most footage came from "The Yangtze."

"The Yangtze" was shot on 35mm film, packed with aerial shots that still felt stunning and moving even decades later.

Rarely, the film portrayed rural China—even in poverty—with more beauty and joy, using an equal-eye perspective that never made viewers uncomfortable, and included reflection and repentance for the invasion of China.

After chatting with the host, the concert began. Satoda Masashi performed his signature songs: "Yuki no Asa," "Seirei Nagare," "Muenzaka," and "Kanbai Sengen."

Though they didn't understand the lyrics, most listeners found the melodies enough—it was an expression utterly unlike current domestic music styles.

But Xiao Hong could not only listen to melodies; a Japanese senior beside her explained the lyrics' gist, helping her better grasp the songs' atmosphere.

Wei Ming might not understand the others, but when "Kanbai Sengen" came on, he could explain the lyrics to Zhu Lin.

"I've heard this song before—the title can be translated as 'Man's Declaration.' Want to know what it's about?" Wei Ming whispered to Zhu Lin.

"You know it?" Zhu Lin doubted. She knew Wei Ming was fluent in English—he'd had a British ex-girlfriend—but he had no Japanese connections.

"I not only know it—I can sing it for you."

Seeing Zhu Lin intrigued, Wei Ming leaned close and softly sang: "Before you marry me, I have some things to say. My words may upset you, but you must listen carefully—listen to what's in my heart…"

Zhu Lin felt sweet—oh, so it was a proposal song!

At that moment, a head slowly turned toward Wei Ming. Reporter Sha had thought Teacher Gu Jianfen's praise of Wei Ming excessive—his songs were popular, but he'd only written a few, and nothing since.

He hadn't expected Wei Ming could adapt foreign songs. Though he didn't know the lyrics, Wei Ming's words matched Satoda's melody perfectly—this was impressive.

Under Zhu Lin's expectant gaze, Wei Ming continued singing: "Every night, you must not sleep earlier than me. Every morning, you must not wake later than me. Cook meals fragrant and dishes delicious. Dress elegantly…"

Zhu Lin grew increasingly uneasy—the male protagonist in these lyrics was so overbearing. You show no great ability, yet demand so much from women.

Is this what a real man is? This is pure male chauvinism!

Listening to this song made Zhu Lin fear marriage.

She now doubted: Did the original really mean this? Or was this kid rewriting the lyrics to turn her into a submissive, obedient, endlessly tolerant little woman?

Though this song was a massive hit in Japan and helped Satoda appear on the Kōhaku Uta Gassen, it also sparked controversy over male chauvinism.

Some said it promoted male chauvinism; others said it mocked it.

Wei Ming's version was mostly satirical, and his fluency came largely from Jiang Kun—the Kun from crosstalk.

Because "Kanbai Sengen" became wildly popular in China, the next year Jiang Kun released a crosstalk piece titled "Man's Declaration," using the song as a punchline, performing it with Li Wenhua—it was hugely famous in the 1980s, often heard on the radio.

Later, a writer named Han Han switched to directing and made a film called "Riding the Wind and Breaking the Waves," adapting the song and having Deng Chao sing it.

When Satoda Masashi finished, Wei Ming finished too, and the performance ended. The audience applauded, but nearby reporter Sha clapped mostly for Wei Ming.

He planned to talk to Wei Ming afterward about the Yanjing Evening News's concert.

But he was a step too late—Gu Jianfen had been searching and finally found Wei Ming at the concert's end, tapped him on the shoulder, and told him to come with her.

As Wei Ming turned, he saw not only Teacher Gu but also a person holding a camera.

"Who's that?" Wei Ming asked Teacher Gu.

Gu Jianfen: "CCTV. This concert will be recorded and broadcast on TV."

Wei Ming thought: Did they film me whispering and singing with Linjie? Probably not.

Wei Ming hadn't seen Teacher Gu in a while, but recently he had duplicated two cassette tapes of "Water Flower"—one for Aunt Xiao Yan, one entrusted to her to give to Teacher Gu.

His progress surprised her, so she invited him to this concert to exchange with Japanese peers.

"Would you like to meet Satoda Masashi afterward? I played him the songs you wrote for Hong Kong—he praised them endlessly, saying he never expected such pop musicians in mainland China, and he really wants to meet you."

Wei Ming didn't really want to meet him—he had little musical expertise and couldn't speak Japanese well.

But thinking of Japan's huge music and manga markets, he relented—more friends, more paths.

Here I come, Satoda-san!

…

(Yesterday's minimum)

(End of chapter)