[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-245":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2260953,4412,"Chapter 245: Gong Ying and Zhu Lin Are Friends","rising-in-1979-chapter-245",245,"\u003Cp>This time, since it was indoors and the door was locked, it wasn’t as tense as last time outdoors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the handkerchief was still the same one; Wei Ming suspected Ling-jie had left it specifically for him to use this way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If she used it regularly too, then she must love it deeply.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before leaving, Wei Ming announced the upcoming Star Music Concert after Mid-Autumn Festival: “I’ll release a new song then.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin expressed great anticipation for the new song, but she was too tired to see him off, telling him to go on his own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming felt sorry for his sister; she clearly wanted it too, but the soundproofing didn’t allow it, so she had to hold it in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’ll have to push Master Lei again—maybe gather all his apprentices to renovate their own places; I’ll pay extra.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua: I’ll pay double!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They met at the Overseas Chinese Apartment; Yunyun called out “Big Brother” and hurried upstairs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua, however, looked gloomy, head hung low, too ashamed to face anyone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Damn it, I failed again!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thought the street-facing environment made him too tense, so he also wanted to finish renovating his place soon—at least he’d have a bed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, after Master Lei heard both employers’ requests to speed up progress, he decided to split Zhao’s crew between the two households, since the Zhao family wasn’t in a hurry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Lei also set a final deadline: “We’ll work overtime for National Day—we should finish by then.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming thought: half a month left—I can endure it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today he received another remittance from Hong Kong: the Cantonese lyrics he wrote for Tan Yonglin’s “Water Fairy” had been approved, plus partial royalties from the Mandarin album sales—totaling 3,000 Hong Kong dollars, all sent by Amin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming now had a significant surplus of foreign exchange; since he had nothing better to do, he went to Rongbaozhai at noon to buy another masterpiece.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time he got straight to the point: after being seated in the VIP lounge, he said he wanted to buy Li Keran’s “Ten Thousand Mountains Red,” also known as “Ten Thousand Mountains Red, Layers of Forests Drenched.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was Li Keran’s most important landscape painting, inspired by the line from Chairman Mao’s “Qinyuanchun·Changsha”: “Ten thousand mountains red, layers of forests drenched, the river green and clear, a hundred boats racing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its bold use of red was unique in landscape painting and one of Rongbaozhai’s most treasured pieces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu fell silent for a moment, then ordered staff to serve tea—fine tea—and went to the storage room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming stood up to examine the paintings replacing Qi Baishi’s “Leaves Conceal Sounds: Detailed Insects and Flowers Album”—including Pan Tianshou’s “Lotus Painting” and Qi Baishi’s fan painting “Red-Eyed Geese”—both masterpieces from these two great artists.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the clerk ready to pitch more paintings, Wei Ming smiled: “I’ve already chosen the painting. Do you have any famous calligraphy works here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d recently been practicing brush calligraphy and wanted to study a master’s style.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, we have Master Qi Gong’s ‘Copy of Huai Su’s Self-Narrative Scroll.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huai Su was a great Tang dynasty calligrapher, known as the “Sage of Cursive Script”; his “Self-Narrative Scroll” is his masterpiece.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming shook his head: “I can’t handle cursive script yet. Do you have running script?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He preferred natural, free-flowing running script, like the “Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion,” the greatest running script in history.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The clerk thought for a moment: “The most renowned running script we once had has already been handed over to the state.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “You mean Mi Fu’s ‘Shaoxi Poem Scroll,’ right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Teacher Wei, you know about it too?” the clerk was surprised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming, after all, had a neighbor like that and so many professors at school—he must know a few things.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mi Fu, one of the Four Great Calligraphers of the Northern Song, has only two surviving works: one, the “Shu Silk Scroll,” is in the National Palace Museum in Taipei; the other is the “Shaoxi Poem Scroll.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the 1960s, a young man from Northeast China came to Yanjing to sell paintings; Rongbaozhai bought it for 1,400 yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the time, Sha Zhu’s monthly salary was 38.5 yuan—not expensive at all; this first-class national treasure was worth just three years of his pay.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After authentication confirmed its authenticity, Rongbaozhai restored it and dutifully handed it over to the state; it now resides in the Palace Museum. Wei Ming had seen it only once during his many visits in his past life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Wei Ming chatted casually with the clerk, Manager Yu returned, holding a scroll about half a meter long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the clerk helped unroll it, the red remained as vivid as ever, layers of mountains surging toward him, piercing Wei Ming’s eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming closely examined the painting’s details and inscriptions, feeling the master’s unique brushwork and ink techniques.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He loved the red so much, yet shook his head: “A magnificent painting, but this isn’t the one I want. Manager Yu, Rongbaozhai has two ‘Ten Thousand Mountains Red’ paintings—why did you only show me one?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu smiled: “Teacher Wei, you’re truly an expert. But that one isn’t for sale.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Keran actually painted seven versions of “Ten Thousand Mountains Red”; they’re largely similar but differ in size, inscriptions, and composition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first two were painted while he recuperated in Guangdong; one remained in his home, the other donated to the China Art Museum—Wei Ming had seen both during previous exhibitions, each about three square feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, while living at Badachu in western Yanjing, Li Master painted four more—two large, two small—using half a catty of imperial palace-preserved cinnabar, making the colors even more brilliant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The small ones were three square feet; the large ones, ten square feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of the two small ones, one remained in Li Keran’s personal collection; the other was sold to Rongbaozhai for eighty yuan—the very one Wei Ming now saw.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of the two large ones, one was donated to the Yanjing Academy of Art; the other was likely sold privately by Li Master himself and later auctioned for nearly 300 million.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The final one—the largest—was painted in 1964 to celebrate the 15th anniversary of the founding of the PRC, commissioned by Rongbaozhai; it’s unquestionably their flagship treasure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So unless Rongbaozhai goes bankrupt, such a historically significant masterpiece will never be sold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Really not for sale? I’ll pay more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu smiled faintly and refused firmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright then, how much for this small one?” Wei Ming reluctantly settled for it; this one was 75 cm long and 46 cm wide—smaller than the other, but its artistic merit was unquestionable, and Wei Ming felt it would look stunning on his wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu held up three fingers: “Three hundred U.S. dollars.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s a hundred dollars per square foot—very expensive, as expected for foreign exchange generation; they treated foreign exchange users equally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine. But Manager Yu, keep an eye out—if anyone privately sells a ‘Ten Thousand Mountains Red,’ I’ll buy it, and I’ll pay in foreign exchange.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides the one Wei Ming held, three other “Ten Thousand Mountains Red” paintings circulated outside official channels—one large and two small; if possible, Wei Ming wanted to acquire them all, just for that dazzling red.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu thought: You still have foreign exchange? How long will that one book last you?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Manager Yu knew Wei Ming was Wei something; after all, Wei Ming could produce so much foreign exchange—he must have a source. To avoid suspicion, Wei Ming let slip a hint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, Wei Ming spent 500 U.S. dollars, taking away Li Keran’s “Ten Thousand Mountains Red, Layers of Forests Drenched,” Pan Tianshou’s “Lotus Painting,” Qi Baishi’s insect painting “Red-Eyed Geese,” and a pair of calligraphy scrolls by Qi Gong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Calligraphy prices were far lower than paintings; Qi Gong’s scrolls were practically half-gifted, since Wei Ming had spent heavily at Rongbaozhai—and all in foreign exchange.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among writers, he was the only one with such a lavish foreign exchange spending habit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though the sale was made, Manager Yu felt a hollow emptiness—Wei Ming had bought Rongbaozhai’s finest pieces, many by deceased artists, irreplaceable resources.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Would he eventually buy up all of Rongbaozhai’s treasures?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, Wei Ming only picked what he liked; Rongbaozhai’s items were reliable, saving him the trouble of verifying authenticity, and he had no time to wander the streets hunting for bargains—so he preferred coming here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming returned the items to the Overseas Chinese Apartment before heading to work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After showing Qi Baishi’s insect album to Xue-jie, he took it back; for security, the Overseas Chinese Apartment—always occupied and guarded—was more reassuring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oh, I just acquired several paintings—I should tell Xue-jie; maybe invite her over to view them sometime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She admires the paintings; I admire her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the afternoon, at Dongzhimen Middle School, after dismissal, Xia Lin, newly promoted from elementary to middle school, walked home alone with her schoolbag, without friends and not wanting any.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She considered herself mature early; she had nothing to discuss with classmates still stuck in elementary thinking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Would they understand her talking about Japanese musician Satoda Masashi?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They only hummed mindlessly along with the TV, while she, Xia Lin, had a mother who was a soprano singer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When she got home, a man was there; she thought he was her mother’s new boyfriend and immediately frowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because her father’s family background was poor, her parents divorced early; she changed her original name “Wang Fei” to follow her mother’s surname, Xia Lin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she knew her parents still cared for each other—they’d separated out of necessity, and now that time had passed, she hoped for family reconciliation, not a new family structure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her mother, Xia Guiying, warmly introduced: “Linlin, this is Editor Sha Qing from the Yanjing Evening News—come say hello.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What do you want?” she asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sha Qing laughed: “Little girl, you’ve got personality.” He glanced at Xia Guiying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xia Guiying said directly: “You know about the Star Music Concert during Mid-Autumn Festival, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Fei nodded; the concert had been advertised in the paper, with tickets going on sale the 19th.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Satoda Masashi’s recent concert had ignited Yanjing’s passion for music; everyone was eagerly anticipating this Star Music Concert, and Wang Fei had already planned to skip class to get tickets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her mother continued: “Editor Sha is here specifically to invite you to perform at the concert.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? Me? Sing ‘Little Grass’?” Wang Fei secretly rejoiced—no need to fight for tickets; she’d hear songs on stage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sha Qing smiled: “Our concert lasts two days; depending on scheduling, you might sing. But the main song isn’t ‘Little Grass’—it’s a new piece specially composed for you by Teacher Wei Ming.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Teacher Wei Ming? For me?” A flicker of excitement and disbelief crossed Wang Fei’s usually calm face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d never met Teacher Wei Ming, only heard legends about him; his song “Little Grass” had made her a minor celebrity among classmates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He remembers me?” Wang Fei’s expression finally looked like that of an eleven-year-old.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course he remembers. Honestly, your name wasn’t on our original list—you’re too young, and the event’s too big. But when we asked Teacher Wei Ming for a song, he specifically requested one for you and Cai Guoqing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Fei felt a slight disappointment—it wasn’t just for her alone; Cai Guoqing was included too. She and that boy were both members of the Galaxy Choir—old acquaintances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She then asked: “And the song?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sha Qing said: “Tomorrow afternoon, gather at your choir rehearsal room for the first practice. After consulting our music advisor, we decided the song will be performed by the Galaxy Choir, with you and Cai Guoqing as lead vocalists.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sha Qing had high hopes for the song; the writer had completed such a high-quality piece in just three days, but its grandeur was too powerful for two children to carry alone—so they’d use choir format, highlighting the two leads.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wang Fei pouted and murmured “Oh.” Sha Qing stood to leave—he still had to notify Cai Guoqing’s home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cai Guoqing’s father was a baritone at the National Opera and Ballet Theatre; both children came from musical families.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the evening, Wei Ming and Zhu Lin left Qiao Feng’s new home; the family had accepted reality—daughter was daughter; if needed, they’d secretly have another child back in Shandong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Wei Ming knew their thoughts, he might have bulged his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the way back to the Beijing Film Studio guesthouse, Zhu Lin mused: “Becoming a mother really changes you; Mu Rong suddenly seemed so grown-up—she used to be so impulsive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Says the one who’s always so steady,” Wei Ming teased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“In my old workplace, my boss always said I was mature and composed; if I hadn’t started acting, I might’ve been promoted.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Zhu Lin had no regrets; since “Shang Shi” began filming, she’d been happier than ever at work.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had planned to have Lin-jie help him enjoy himself again today, but when he saw her back to her room, he ran into someone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A new guest at the guesthouse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin immediately recognized the woman as the hottest star in today’s film industry, even surpassing last year’s Chen Chong—months after its release, “Love in Lushan” was still drawing crowds in second- and third-tier cities nationwide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu, too, instantly recognized Wei Ming, the author of “The Herdsman,” who had reportedly rejected her for the role and pushed Gong Yu onto the lead instead. Still, he was undeniably handsome—far handsomer than Guo Kaimin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The beautiful woman beside Wei Ming, however, she didn’t know—but Zhang Yu sensed gossip, even a touch of schadenfreude.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because Zhang Yu had seen them, Wei Ming left right after seeing Zhu Lin into her room; Zhu Lin didn’t dare keep him, and she didn’t understand why Zhang Yu was here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu had been invited by Beiyingchang to audition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beiyingchang was preparing a major film to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Xinhai Revolution next year: “Zhiyin,” about General Cai E and Xiao Fengxian, co-directed by Xie Tieli, Chen Huai’ai, and Ba Hong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The male lead was still seeking Wang Xingang—renowned for both fame and acting skill—and this time he didn’t refuse; though the film included romantic scenes, the age gap between the characters wasn’t an issue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the female lead, they wanted the most popular actress in the country.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chen Chong, now the hottest, had decided to go abroad; Liu Xiaoqing was unavailable—so their eyes turned to Zhang Yu, who might lack allure but had seen her fame explode thanks to “Love in Lushan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu’s audition the next day went smoothly; Director Xie was pleased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, at Beiyingchang’s cafeteria, her colleague Da Shichang treated her to lunch and introduced her to the mysterious woman she’d met yesterday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her name was Zhu Lin—the female lead in “A Mourning Tale”—and in daylight, she was even more beautiful, no less than Gong Yu.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she’d never heard of her before—how had she landed the lead in Shui Hua’s new film?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu decided she’d have to have a proper talk with Gong Yu when she returned to Macau.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Zhiyin” wouldn’t start filming until next year; Zhang Yu had been preliminarily cast as Xiao Fengxian, and she’d return to Macau tomorrow—she’d still be working with Guo Kaimin on Shangyingchang’s “Little Street,” maximizing their CP’s commercial potential.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s fun to do in Beijing these days?” Zhang Yu asked Da Shichang; she planned to go out after lunch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Da Shichang thought a moment: “You’ve heard of Dongfang Xintiandi, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu: “I think I saw it in the paper—it’s said there are no counters, you can browse freely, try anything on, and they have lots of Hong Kong goods.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Exactly—Macau doesn’t have anything like it,” Da Shichang chuckled. “Too bad I’ve been busy filming—I haven’t been yet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin stayed silent beside them, secretly proud of Wei Ming—that was our little Wei’s place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That afternoon, Zhang Yu went alone to Xidan and spotted, from afar, posters of Gong Yu and Zhu Lin wearing their own clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This surprised Zhang Yu even more—were Gong Yu and Zhu Lin acquainted?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since the two posters faced each other, Zhang Yu even felt as if they were gazing tenderly at one another.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm, Zhang Yu shook her head and hurried inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d also read in the papers that the women’s clothing sold at Dongfang Xintiandi were all the exact outfits she’d worn in “Love in Lushan”—it had ridden the film’s popularity straight to the top.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she herself had only worn them during filming; after shooting wrapped, she still wore her usual clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet inside, she found “Love in Lushan” outfits made up only about half the stock—there were also simpler garments, and others she’d never seen before: stylish, beautiful women’s wear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These were new designs launched by Xintiandi after competitors began copying styles—copied from fashion magazines sent by A Min.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not direct copies—too many such designs would scare off buyers, even risk being reported.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So they made subtle improvements: raised collars to hide cleavage, lengthened skirts so as not to expose the buttocks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thanks to these new designs, a fresh business model, and service warmer than state-run stores, Dongfang Xintiandi’s sales remained high.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But autumn had arrived; Mei Wenhua was already pondering autumn\u002Fwinter collections, while Boss Niang Xu Yunyun greeted every new customer warmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Comrade, hello, what are you looking for…” Yunyun said, then suddenly recognized the customer—“Are you Zhou Yun?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yunyun’s words drew every salesgirl and customer’s gaze—then they gathered around—and Zhang Yu couldn’t move.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu hadn’t expected Beijing fans to be even more enthusiastic than Macau’s—but they had no phones, no posters, couldn’t ask for autographs or photos—just crowded around chatting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Eventually, Manager Mei dispersed the crowd and personally attended to the star guest; Zhang Jinling had visited before, but only near closing time, when few were around.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu mainly wanted to see the outfits she hadn’t worn—she picked a pair of pants and a blouse; as she stepped out of the fitting room, Mei Wenhua immediately showered her with praise.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Swept up in the moment, Zhang Yu skipped trying anything else and moved to pay—too many eyes on her made her uneasy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua blocked her money and declared the items a free gift.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu: “That’s not right.” These two pieces were expensive—nearly a hundred yuan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua pulled out a pair of women’s low-heeled leather shoes, also Hong Kong goods: “This one too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu hurriedly refused—she dared not accept; was this man trying to court her?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t unattractive—short, but this shop was private, and such a big place must be profitable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she was daydreaming, Mei Wenhua said: “I just wondered if I could take two photos of you, Comrade Zhang Yu, and hang them outside as posters.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Zhang Yu’s blush fade back to normal, Yunyun, who’d been peeking nervously, finally exhaled—she’d been terrified.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu first asked Mei Wenhua: “Who are the two people on the posters outside?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua: “One is Gong Yu, the other is Zhu Lin—both actresses.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you know them?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, friends.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do they know each other?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Both are friends.” Mei Wenhua felt uneasy—why was this woman so inquisitive?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They really knew each other—Zhang Yu felt a faint disappointment, then turned her attention back to the shoes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Quality was excellent—these three items must cost at least two hundred yuan. Zhang Yu thought nothing of it; those two were actresses too, and if they could do it, why couldn’t she?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But do you have a camera? I’m leaving for Macau tomorrow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, just bought one.” He’d bought a secondhand camera, kept in the shop, to capture more memories with Yunyun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua snapped two photos of Zhang Yu—payment: one blouse, one pair of pants, one pair of shoes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, this popular star wasn’t close to her brother-in-law—this money couldn’t be saved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But hanging Zhang Yu outside would draw far more attention than Zhu Lin or Gong Yu—those two weren’t famous yet, but Zhang Yu was already world-renowned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That night, Yunyun took the film roll home and gave it to Wei Ming to develop and hand to an artist for poster design.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming, upon hearing this, immediately praised Xiao Mei: “Worth every penny!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To get a top star to endorse you, you give three pieces of clothing and shoes—when would such a deal ever come again? Unless the top star was your own wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Wei Ming developed the photos and went to Daguanlou to find Master Wei to paint the poster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another day passed, and Zhang Yu arrived in Macau; she didn’t rest but reported directly to Shangyingchang, even eating dinner in the cafeteria that night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Yu didn’t go home either—she was in good spirits; she’d just received a letter from Wei Ming, likely sent before she’d sent hers, still unread.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She was eager to finish eating and return to read it, when Zhang Yu, someone she rarely spoke to, sat down across from her with her rice bowl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",3515,"2026-06-19T16:30:58.707Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","a8c84240894187e59db2113c1d62c3c2d13023cd8169bc1a2ff436ba2b36139f","rising-in-1979-chapter-246","rising-in-1979-chapter-244",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]