Chapter 243: How Many Good Sisters Do You Really Have?

"When I was chatting with a madam at a nightclub, she sighed and said, 'These days, all men are useless—men need to have some backbone. I told her, Maestro, write a song to give men some spirit,' and that's how 'Kanpaku Sengen' came to be…"

Saota Masashi was being interviewed by CCTV, and the translator struggled through the interpretation, hitting two knowledge blind spots in just one sentence.

What's a nightclub?

What's a madam?

He could only translate them as "restaurant" and "landlady" based on context, but he knew he was wrong—he knew the correct Chinese terms for those.

At that moment, Wei Ming and Guo Jianmei entered, followed by the CCTV cameraman; Wei Ming glanced at his name tag—Wang Zhongqiu, a man in his thirties, a name he felt he'd heard before.

After Saota Masashi finished the interview, Teacher Gu introduced Wei Ming to him in Japanese—Teacher Gu had spent her childhood in Japan.

Saota Masashi smiled and shook Wei Ming's hand; Wei Ming noticed he was genuinely short, barely one meter sixty, making Wei Ming tower over him like a giant.

Saota Masashi looked up and said, "I hear Brother Wei isn't just a musician but also a famous writer—truly admirable."

Teacher Gu served as interpreter for both, though Saota occasionally slipped in a few Chinese phrases—he understood only a little, but still better than Wei Ming, whose Japanese was barely passable.

Wei Ming didn't downplay it, saying writing was his main profession and music was just a recent venture; Saota was even more astonished—he'd heard several songs Wei Ming had written for Hong Kong musicians, and even ignoring the lyrics, the melodies alone were already highly mature.

Perhaps this was what a genius looked like, but Saota Masashi considered himself a musical genius too—he mostly wrote his own songs and rarely used others' work, unless singing in a foreign language.

"May I ask Brother Wei to compose a song for me? Could you write Chinese lyrics for it? You may use any melody from today's performance—I'd like to sing one song in Chinese during my upcoming concerts in China."

Wei Ming: "What a coincidence—how about 'Manhood Manifesto'?"

"Do you have pen and paper?" Wei Ming asked.

"Ah?" Saota blinked, then quickly called his assistant for paper and pen.

Wei Ming swiftly wrote down the lyrics of "Manhood Manifesto," which he had just sung for Lin Jie.

After writing, he sang it again; though Saota understood little of the lyrics, he recognized it as his own "Kanpaku Sengen" without doubt.

After listening, Guo Jianmei led the applause—Little Wei might struggle with composing melodies, but writing lyrics was as easy as drinking water.

The lyrics achieved faithfulness, expressiveness, and elegance—remarkable skill.

Guo Jianmei clapped, the female interpreter, and other audience members who understood Chinese all applauded—clearly satisfied with this version.

From their reactions, Saota Masashi knew this Chinese adaptation of "Kanpaku Sengen" was excellent.

So this young writer had composed such a refined adaptation in just minutes after hearing it once?!

Saota Masashi found it unbelievable, and looking at the towering Wei Ming, he felt even more awed.

Wei Ming didn't deceive him—he asked Teacher Gu to explain: Saota learned Wei Ming had heard the song before and, from Chinese students abroad, had grasped its general meaning, then later wrote his own lyrics—just for his own amusement, never published.

So that was it—Saota breathed easier; at least he wasn't facing something too supernatural.

He then invited Wei Ming to sing it again so he could record it for later study.

Wei Ming didn't refuse, but wondered about the honorarium…

Saota Masashi had thought of the honorarium too, but felt it would be vulgar to pay money to a renowned Chinese writer; so he gritted his teeth and picked one of his own favorite guitars to give Wei Ming.

"As the saying goes, high mountains and flowing streams seek kindred spirits—I gift this guitar to a kindred spirit," Saota Masashi said in Chinese.

Though Saota didn't say how valuable the guitar was, Wei Ming could tell—it had excellent tone, unmistakably the work of a master.

It seemed that after this concert, melancholic university boys across China began popularly strumming guitars, influencing a whole generation of folk singers.

Wei Ming accepted the guitar, and CCTV cameraman Wang Zhongqiu solemnly recorded the moment Wei Ming received it.

Wei Ming had wanted to give something in return—perhaps a cassette of "The Children of Chorus" or a copy of "The Beastly Animal"—but he hadn't brought anything.

Afterwards, Saota Masashi left his business card, with his company's address and contact details.

Unfortunately, Wei Ming had none of his own, so he wrote his Peking University address on the back of the lyrics and invited Saota to visit Peking University if he ever had the chance—he'd make arrangements then.

Saota Masashi smiled and said, "Of course, of course," but he still had to meet Japanese students, so Wei Ming and Teacher Gu took their leave.

Wei Ming hurried to find Lin Jie, but saw a group of Japanese students approaching—including Qinghua and Peking University students, and Wei Hong.

"Little Hong, what's this?"

"Oh, my senior sisters dragged me backstage to hang out," Wei Hong pointed to the Japanese students beside her—all old acquaintances of Wei Ming's, some even having once tried to replace Mei Linda.

Wei Ming asked: "Where's Xi Zi?"

"Left with Uncle Anping and Aunt Xiaoyan."

Wei Ming: "Good. You go back to school with your senior sisters—I've got things to do, I'll leave first."

Wei Hong: "Huh?"

Wei Ming introduced her to Teacher Gu: "My sister—she's studying at Peking University."

"I've heard of her from Lu Xiaoyan—a genius girl," Teacher Gu smiled.

When they returned to the venue, most audience members had left, but the reporter Sha Qing remained.

Teacher Gu waved him over; his eyes immediately landed on Wei Ming's guitar.

"You two sat together—I don't need to introduce you," Teacher Gu said.

Wei Ming was surprised: "Teacher Gu, you know him?"

Reporter Sha Qing said: "Our Evening Paper is co-hosting a New Star Concert with CCTV—Teacher Gu is our consultant."

Wei Ming: No wonder she's a great musician who absorbs global music—she's indispensable at events like this.

But this "New Star Concert" he mentioned—he vaguely remembered it as a major cultural event; back in his past life, he'd been in the countryside and only learned about it indirectly from newspapers.

After that, the term "singer" became acceptable to say openly.

Guo Jianmei said: "Cheng Lin, who sang your songs before, has also been invited to this concert."

Thirteen-year-old Cheng Lin, now on salary at the Navy Art Troupe, had recently gained fame—not only for Wei Ming's "Little Girl Picking Mushrooms," but also for her new hit "Little Conch," which was trending without criticism.

Sha Qing said: "Actually, I wanted to ask—has Brother Wei written any new music recently? Our concert aims to promote more new songs and new artists, but there are still too few popular new songs these days—we're worried we won't have enough for a full concert, since we're holding it over two days."

The 1980 New Star Concert is considered the starting point of mainland pop music, but the promoted singers were mostly official musicians, and the songs were all like "Young Friends Meet Again," "Night at the Naval Port," and "On the Field of Hope"—most of Wei Ming's Hong Kong songs couldn't be used.

But one could: "Dream Camel Bell"—its content was positive and uplifting, and it was beautiful; Wei Ming strongly recommended it.

"What? You wrote 'Dream Camel Bell'?" Sha Qing exclaimed.

Guo Jianmei nodded: "Yes, he wrote it—I can vouch for it."

Sha Qing paused, then said: "We were debating whether to include it, but since it came from Hong Kong, we weren't sure."

Suddenly, Sha Qing realized: "So 'Sly Girl' and 'Water Flower'—those are yours too?!"

Wei Ming was surprised: "'Water Flower' has already reached the mainland?"

He admitted it!

Sha Qing swallowed hard: "I just heard it recently—I'm the music columnist for the Evening Paper, so I get access to the latest music. This tape has several songs by you with extremely high quality—I heard they sold incredibly well in Hong Kong and Taiwan, but their tone doesn't suit our concert."

Romantic fluff, yes—but "Dream Camel Bell" was perfect; now that he knew the original composer was one of their own, Sha Qing felt it must be included.

But knowing Wei Ming's terrifying creative ability, Sha Qing now hoped Wei Ming could write another song like "On the Field of Hope."

Wei Ming wasn't eager to write songs on the mainland, but he was very interested in befriending the "Yanjing Evening Paper"—he still didn't have enough media contacts.

Still, he couldn't agree too readily: "When is your concert?"

Sha Qing: "The 23rd and 24th."

Wei Ming rubbed his chin, frowning: "Still over a week away—tight schedule."

Sha Qing clasped his hands: "Our program will air on CCTV—it'll have huge influence. If Brother Wei can write another popular song and spread it through our event, it'll be a blessing for the people."

Wei Ming: "I'll try my best."

Sha Qing quickly pulled out a notebook and wrote down his office phone number, telling Wei Ming to call him once the song was ready—he'd come pick it up personally.

Seeing Wei Ming agree, Guo Jianmei knew he had a plan—he probably already had the draft; she asked: "Have you decided who should sing it?"

Sha Qing thought: The song isn't even written yet—how can you be thinking about singers already?

Wei Ming said: "The two young singers I collaborated with before—Xia Lin and Cai Mingqing—weren't invited, right?"

Sha Qing: "They're too young—we invited another female singer for 'On the Field of Hope.'"

Cai Mingqing was twelve, one year younger than Cheng Lin; Xia Lin was only eleven, just entered middle school this year—but both were members of the CCTV Youth Choir, so they weren't inexperienced.

Wei Ming, believing today's kindness brings tomorrow's reward, said: "If they're willing to participate, I'll write them a song."

As for Le Le—forget it; she's only five, too young, too much work would interfere with sleep and growth—there'll be plenty of chances later.

Hearing this, Sha Qing guessed Wei Ming intended to write a children's song—slightly disappointed, but still grateful he'd agreed to write at all, especially with "Dream Camel Bell" already secured—the concert was already rich enough.

With the matter settled, Wei Ming took his leave: "Teacher Gu, Reporter Sha, I'll be going now—my friend is waiting outside."

Wei Ming feared Lin Jie might have left first—this late at night, such a beautiful woman alone was dangerous.

But outside the theater, Lin Jie hadn't left—she was chatting and laughing with Uncle Anping and Aunt Xiaoyan.

Wei Ming was puzzled—he hadn't even introduced them yet, how did they know each other?

He strummed the guitar; all three turned to look.

Le Le ran over: "Big brother, I told you this sister was the one from the poster—I wasn't wrong, right?"

So that's how they met.

"Uncle, Auntie, let me introduce you—this is Zhu Lin, an actress, my friend."

Zhu Lin felt awkward, unsure how to address them, especially Lu Xiaoyan, who didn't look much older than her.

Lu Xiaoyan smiled warmly: "You came together?"

"Mm," Wei Ming admitted boldly.

Wei Anping nodded: Good boy—you left your sister and brother behind to go to a concert with a girl. No wonder I saw Little Hong but not you.

Lu Xiaoyan felt a pang of sympathy for her friend Gong Ying—back then, Xiao Xue had been too insecure about her age to make a move; now it seemed Little Ming preferred older women!

Wei Ming saw it was nearly ten—"Uncle, shall we head home? It's getting late."

Wei Anping asked: "What about Little Hong?"

"She's going back with the Peking University students—there are plenty of them," Wei Ming reassured him.

Lu Xiaoyan looked at her two children—they didn't have enough space on one bicycle; they'd need Wei Ming's motorcycle.

Lele grabbed Zhu Lin's thigh directly: "This time, it's my turn to go with Big Brother."

Wei Ming thought to himself, but said aloud: "Big Brother, why are you hugging Sister-in-law?"

Zhu Lin adored Lele immensely; the little girl reminded her of her goddaughter—she should visit the child soon, as she's about to turn one.

Wei Ming picked up Lele: "Then let Lele come with us."

In Wei Ming's arms, Lele idly strummed her guitar—playing the tune of "Kanpai Sengen," at least five-tenths accurate; the little girl had some talent.

"What's this?" Zhu Lin pointed at the guitar.

Wei Ming: "A gift from a Japanese friend."

"Why did they give it to you?"

"Because of 'Manhood Declaration,'" Wei Ming explained simply.

Wei Ming had Lele hold the guitar and sit between him and Zhu Lin, then waved goodbye to Uncle Ping'an and the others.

If he dropped off Lele first, Uncle Ping'an and the others wouldn't make it home, so Wei Ming decided to drop off Zhu Lin first.

Zhu Lin said: "Take me back to the Beijing Film Studio guesthouse—I've been assigned a room there, and I'll be living there from now on."

Wei Ming's heart leapt: "Do you have a room to yourself?"

In front of the child, Zhu Lin blushed slightly and murmured "yes," but even if she had a room to herself, she couldn't do anything improper at a guesthouse—the soundproofing wasn't good.

Unless both of them were completely silent, but how could such things happen without making noise? Even if he covered his own mouth, the impact would still make sound!

As she thought, Zhu Lin unconsciously reached to hug Wei Ming's waist—then remembered Lele was sitting right between them.

Zhu Lin asked her: "Lele, did you like the songs today?"

"I liked them," Lele said, strumming the guitar randomly but with clear rhythm.

Zhu Lin marveled: "Lele can play guitar already, and she's so young!"

Wei Ming chuckled: "She can play violin too—if her arms weren't too short, we'd have enrolled her in piano lessons."

Lele quickly added: "I can play harmonica too—it was Big Brother's gift to me."

That was her musical awakening.

After dropping Zhu Lin off at the Beijing Film Studio guesthouse, Wei Ming returned to Weixiu Garden. Lele had a key; they waited at home for a while until Uncle Ping'an came back.

It was past eleven. Wei Ming wanted to leave quickly, but Aunt Xiao Yan stopped him with a smile: "Xiao Ming, what's your relationship with this comrade Zhu Lin?"

Wei Ming: "We're very close friends. Today was just me thanking her for being my free poster model."

"So, are you closer to her, or to Xiao Xue?"

A death question!

Wei Ming shamelessly replied: "I've known Sister Xue longer, but I've spent more time with Sister Lin—they're both my good sisters."

Lu Xiaoyan really wanted to ask: How many good sisters do you have?

But Wei Ping'an saved him—he pointed at the two yawning children and told Wei Ming to get out fast.

After helping her nephew escape interrogation, Lu Xiaoyan told Wei Ping'an: "I feel Xiao Ming's about to get into trouble with his conduct."

"No way—he's young, but he's always steady."

Lu Xiaoyan snorted: "You Wei family, you all have the same blood."

"True—this kid's like his father, sometimes a bit unpredictable."

Lu Xiaoyan: "I'm talking about you!"

Wei Ping'an protested: "What did I do? Where's my conduct flawed? I just had one first love—is this still a problem? If you knew I had a second wife too, you'd faint!"

Wei Ming slipped quietly home. The next morning, his mother told him:

"Someone called for you yesterday evening—I wrote down the number."

His mother was home, so she usually caught most missed calls.

Wei Ming took the note and glanced at it—it was Li Guangfu calling, but he didn't say why.

Wei Ming guessed it might be about the Sihe Academy—he'd heard news—but Xiao Mei had already bought a house, and he had no immediate need to buy one himself, unless it was a three-courtyard Sihe Academy.

He'd have to find time to visit him and tell him not to rush.

Unexpectedly, when Wei Ming stepped out, Li Guangfu was waiting outside the compound—he must have an urgent matter.

Li Guangfu pushed his bicycle, watching Wei Ming emerge: "Your compound's really nice."

Wei Ming walked with him for a while, then asked: "Did you find a suitable Sihe Academy?"

"Oh, there are a few courtyards, but none quite right."

Wei Ming: "Then from now on, Brother Li, just look for me a three-courtyard Sihe Academy—my friend already bought one."

"Same one?"

"The one in Tuanjiehu."

"Oh, I know, I know—your friend's no ordinary person!" Li Guangfu marveled; that property must've cost over ten thousand.

Wei Ming laughed: "You're my friend too—you just praised yourself."

"I'm nowhere near that level, nowhere near," Li Guangfu waved his hand, then finally got to the point: "I remember you have overseas connections, right? Friends in Britain?"

Wei Ming nodded.

"Do you need me to carry something over for you?"

"Huh?"

Li Guangfu said: "I'm going abroad."

"Oh!"

Then Li Guangfu beamed and explained: The Beijing People's Art Theatre's "Teahouse" troupe had been invited to tour Europe—fifteen cities in West Germany, France, Britain, and others.

Li Guangfu wasn't a major actor, but he had a small role in "Teahouse," so he'd get to go overseas too.

Of course, his real motive wasn't to help Wei Ming—he wouldn't rush to help unless he wanted something.

Wei Ming asked: "Are you going to the U. .?"

"Isn't the U. . not in Europe? We can't go there."

Wei Ming: "My friend's working in the U. . now—not in London."

"Oh no, what a pity," Li Guangfu sighed deeply.

Wei Ming had guessed his intent and smiled: "You're eyeing my foreign exchange, aren't you?"

Li Guangfu chuckled awkwardly: "I can pay black-market rates. The problem is, foreign exchange isn't always available on the black market—I just want to bring back some foreign goods for my family."

Back then, anyone going abroad wanted to bring back rare items for family and friends, but there were so many actors that the troupe allocated very little foreign exchange per person—so he remembered Wei Ming, whose novels sold well overseas.

Wei Ming waved his hand: "Black-market rates are too formal—how about this: I have U. . dollars, one to two—how much do you want?"

Hearing Wei Ming's openness, Li Guangfu hesitated, then held up two fingers.

"Two hundred dollars?"

Li Guangfu: "Two hundred RMB—I'll take a hundred U. . dollars."

That was already three months' salary for him.

"Come inside for a bit?"

"No, I'll wait here—I'm afraid my bike will get stolen."

Wei Ming went back and brought Li Guangfu a hundred-dollar bill. Li Guangfu gasped: "A hundred? Will this be easy to break in foreign countries?"

Wei Ming: "This amount won't buy much abroad."

"Still great—thank you so much! This helps a lot!" Li Guangfu said sincerely, handed over two hundred yuan, then brought up the Sihe Academy again.

"The Municipal Committee just issued a notice on returning seized private homes—requiring government offices and military units to return them to original owners. These agencies occupy the best siheyuans, including many two- and three-courtyard homes. I'll keep an eye out for you—but only after I return from abroad."

Wei Ming said he wasn't in a hurry—he only had ten thousand or so, and buying a large mansion would be tough.

At Peking University, Wei Ming immediately went into seclusion—but after writing two hours, it was only ten o'clock when Teacher Lin came to find him.

Usually, colleagues avoided disturbing him.

"What's wrong?"

"W-Wei Teacher," Teacher Lin panted, "the south gate guard called—there's a Japanese man here looking for you."

Wei Ming: "Man or woman?"

"Man. Wears glasses. Not tall."

Wei Ming hadn't expected Sada Masashi to actually come—he hadn't prepared at all. Luckily, he bumped into Liang Zuo right away.

"Left Brother, can you help me?"

Liang Zuo felt terrified: "Wei Teacher, don't talk like that—I'm scared."

Wei Ming: "Little Zuo, help me out."

Liang Zuo relaxed: "Brother Ming, speak!"

(End of Chapter)