[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-246":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},2260954,4412,"Chapter 246: New Star Concert, One Song Enters the Soul (Guaranteed Today!)","rising-in-1979-chapter-246",246,"\u003Cp>There were so many seats—why was she sitting right in front of me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying smiled at Zhang Yu, then hurriedly ate faster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu greeted her enthusiastically: “Comrade Gong Ying, what do you think of this outfit I’m wearing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rice-eater Gong raised her head, glanced briefly, then sincerely said: “Very beautiful—it suits you perfectly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu smiled: “I bought it in Beijing. The store’s called Dongfang Xintiandi—you’ve heard of it, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing Zhang Yu mention her boyfriend’s store, Gong Ying grew serious: “Of course I have.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu grinned: “I saw your poster right outside that store.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah, the shop’s run by a friend of mine,” she admitted openly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu: “Isn’t that funny? There was another poster too—the actor on it is Zhu Lin. I ran into him at Beijing Film Studio.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Beijing Film Studio?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, the female lead in Shui Hua’s new film ‘A Tragedy of Lost Love,’ opposite Comrade Da Shichang.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, I think I saw it mentioned in the paper.” But Gong Ying hadn’t paid much attention to the female lead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I thought you knew him well. The boss said you and Zhu Lin are friends.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying’s heart skipped. I don’t know him—I’ve never even heard that name before.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She guessed Zhang Yu’s “boss” must be Xiao Mei, and Xiao Mei must’ve misunderstood something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking of this possibility, Gong Ying smiled faintly: “I haven’t been to Beijing in a long time—I really don’t know much.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, I see~” Zhang Yu was disappointed by Gong Ying’s indifferent reaction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as she was about to mention how Wei Ming had taken Zhu Lin back to Beijing Film Studio, Gong Ying stood up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Comrade Zhang Yu, I’m done eating. I have filming tomorrow morning—I’ll be off now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in her guesthouse room, Gong Ying immediately opened Wei Ming’s letter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The letter contained two good pieces of news: first, ‘The Game of the Brave’ was selling well and receiving strong reviews in North America—Wei Ming had truly become “International Wei.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying genuinely rejoiced for the little man; later, Wei Ming mentioned his new painting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The mountains blaze red, the forests all dyed!” Gong Ying sighed. She’d seen this painting in a magazine—it was breathtakingly beautiful. She never imagined the little Wei had bought it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without Wei Ming’s invitation, Gong Ying wanted to see the original. But her role was small and fragmented, and as soon as this film wrapped, she’d already signed onto another.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying spread out a sheet of paper and began writing back to Wei Ming, casually mentioning her friend “Zhu Lin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a green train.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang and Zhang Yimou squatted at the junction between two train cars. When they finished the last chicken leg, Beijing arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>‘The Ox and Ox Two’ wasn’t finished shooting—Zhang Yimou had returned for classes. He’d gained enough on-set experience and now needed to supplement it with classroom knowledge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei’s ox hadn’t finished filming yet, but Mid-Autumn and National Day were coming—he had bigger plans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During this period, the ox’s scenes were few, and Li Baotian got along well with the ox. Even when Old Wei wasn’t around, the ox still cooperated, so the director gave him a short break to return to Beijing and reunite with family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During this time, Zhang Yimou had been tagging along with Old Wei. Though he ran errands for Uncle Wei, his mouth never went hungry—the villagers’ chickens were nearly eaten bare, and Zhang Yimou’s gaunt face had grown plump.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the way, they changed trains in Dezhou and didn’t even get seated tickets, but Old Wei still bought Dezhou braised chicken—they ate their way through the journey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the bus station, they parted ways. Old Wei headed straight for the address and route his wife had written in her letter—to the new home in Huaqiao Apartment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though they’d been writing regularly, Old Wei hadn’t told his wife he was returning today—he planned to surprise the family and celebrate Mid-Autumn together tonight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But things didn’t go as planned: first, he couldn’t even get into the compound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Sun blocked this ragged, dirt-stained middle-aged man who looked like a beggar from the city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Buddy, only residents can enter. Try over there.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Big brother, I’m not a resident, but my son is—Wei Ming? The famous writer?” Old Wei offered a cigarette.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know him,” Old Sun took the cigarette, sizing him up skeptically. “Buddy, you just came out of the mountains, didn’t you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You got it—I was shooting in the mountains with the crew,” Old Wei pulled out a photo. “You know Liu Xiaoqing, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a group photo taken by Zhang Yimou—Old Wei, Liu Xiaoqing, and three oxen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hey, you’re an actor too!” Old Sun was surprised. Wei the writer’s whole family was talented—his sister was even a genius from Peking University.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sort of,” Old Wei added. “I’ve got our family portrait too—want to take another look?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No need, no need,” Old Sun stopped blocking him. “Building Four is that way.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei carried a suitcase and a woven sack, his hair greasy—his appearance was far from elegant. But in the underworld, looking shabby kept thieves from noticing you.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though neighbors coming and going were all well-dressed and affluent, Old Wei’s spirit was strong. Once he washed his hair and changed clothes, who’d remember how he looked before?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when he reached the third floor and found the apartment, he knocked—no one answered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This is it? Why is no one home?” It was dinnertime—where was everyone?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had they gone out to eat again?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei guessed he was right—there were people on set who adored Xiao Ming’s essays, and apparently, the essays always mentioned which restaurants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Old Wei went back down the way he came up—only now he wore clean clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he left, his neighbor Wu Zuoren and his wife Xiao Shufang also stepped out together, dressed formally—clearly heading to some official event.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Big brother, no one’s home,” Old Wei told the guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Sun: “I remember now—your wife went out and hasn’t returned. Wei the teacher hasn’t come back either.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei: “Can I leave my luggage with you? I’ll go for a walk—they’ll come back before dark, won’t they?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course, of course.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s nearby worth seeing?” he asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Sun: “North of here is Zizhuyuan Park—nice environment, not far, ten minutes or so.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang nodded, planning a stroll and a meal—but when he reached Zizhuyuan Park, damn it, they charged admission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The price wasn’t much, but it was just a park—how could it compare to Yuanmingyuan? Yuanmingyuan was free.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Old Wei turned around and left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d meant to find a restaurant, but as he walked, he saw a crowd—thick and buzzing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei loved a spectacle, so he stepped forward: “Comrade, what’s going on here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Head to the Capital Gymnasium—there’s a concert today.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gymnasium? Concert?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei was a countryman—he didn’t get the connection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But so many people—it must be good. He asked again: “Can anyone get in?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course not,” the old Beijing resident glanced at Wei Jiefang impatiently. “You need tickets.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How much?” Old Wei had some spare cash—he’d buy a ticket if he had to. This concert seemed more worthwhile than a park.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old Beijing man chuckled: “Sold out. I queued up at dawn—from the gym to the Zoo. The tickets only went on sale for three hours—and all thirty thousand were gone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waved his ticket proudly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were now near the Capital Gymnasium, where a long line stretched down—the scale dwarfed Zhao Tianya’s concert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei was frustrated—the harder it was to get in, the more he wanted in. He rushed to the front to see if there was any chance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, he saw hope.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A thin girl struggled to push an elderly man in a wheelchair—the man was paralyzed, silent, eyes lifeless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone like this attending a concert must be important—he used a separate entrance, apart from ordinary spectators.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the entrance had a ramp—the girl was struggling, the wheelchair nearly sliding back. Old Wei rushed over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let me help—don’t let the old man fall.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, Uncle,” the girl didn’t mind his shabby clothes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who is this man?” As they drew closer, Old Wei confirmed the old man was paralyzed—probably stroke-induced, and likely blind too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s an elderly neighbor of mine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang: “Wow, even like this, he comes to a concert—how passionate!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl: “Grandpa Liu is a great musician—but also a tragic figure.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A musician? My son’s a musician too. What songs did this old man write?” Old Wei planned to show off his son—what could this old man possibly match against his son’s songs?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl: “Have you ever heard ‘My Home Is on the Songhua River’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei hissed in surprise: “He wrote that song?!” His son couldn’t compete.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei: “...” Kid, you’re funny.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl continued: “During the War of Resistance, there was the ‘Three Songs of Exile.’ ‘My Home Is on the Songhua River’ was the first. The other two were also composed by Grandpa Liu. He wrote many other powerful songs—even people in Taiwan sing them. But those songs brought him too much suffering.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl fell silent—she feared the old man might understand. Old Wei didn’t press further—he understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ahead, someone guarded the entrance. Old Wei exclaimed: “I just checked my ticket—can I go in with you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl: “Sure, I’ll tell them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guard was cooperative. After the girl showed a document, they were let in immediately—this guest was special.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside, staff greeted them and seated them very close to the stage—VIP, but barely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei felt uneasy: “Is it okay for me to sit here? Maybe I should move to the back?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl: “It’s fine—I’ll stand if needed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei laughed: “No need—I rode the train all day—I just want to stand.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uncle, I forgot to ask—what songs did your musician son write? He must be young, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, nothing much—just ‘On the Fields of Hope.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Wei Ming, Wei Hong, Xu Shufen, Wei Anping, Lu Xiaoyan, Xi Zi, Le Le, Xu Yunyun, and Mei Wenhua sat on the other side of the stage, also in the VIP section, facing the stage directly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this was a gymnasium—the stage was enormous, and all seats were VIP, just positioned on opposite sides.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today was the Mid-Autumn Festival, a day of reunion; they had all chosen to spend it this way with family, so Wei Ming simply arranged a ticket for each of them, letting everyone sit together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the show officially began, Wei Ming glanced around but didn’t see Teacher Gu; he must be backstage. Though he had contributed a song, today he only wanted to be a pure listener.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as he watched, he didn’t spot Teacher Gu—instead, he saw his neighbors, Wu Zuoren and his wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uncle Wu, Aunt Xiao, you’re here too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Shufang said: “Our tickets are over there—we’re lucky we didn’t end up sitting apart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their tickets weren’t arranged by Wei Ming; he had asked earlier if they needed help, but the two elders said no—they had their own connections.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Shufang’s uncle, Xiao Youmei, was the father of modern Chinese music, one of the founders of the Shanghai Conservatory, and once served as Secretary to Mr. Sun—his musical network ran deep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After chatting with Wei Ming for a moment, Xiao Shufang and her husband went to find their seats—coincidentally, they sat right next to Old Wei’s group.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But they didn’t recognize Wei Jiefang; however, seeing Grandpa Liu in the wheelchair, Xiao Shufang’s eyes welled up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Xue’an, how did you end up like this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The musician Liu Xuean in the wheelchair showed no expression—his eyes had long been blind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Shufang assumed Old Wei was also a relative or friend of Liu Xuean, so she introduced: “He’s one of my uncle’s students—one of his most talented.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the concert officially began, Xiao Shufang began singing to Liu Xuean: “Ten thousand li of the Great Wall, ten thousand li long, beyond the Wall lies our homeland, tall sorghum rich, soybeans fragrant, golden fields free from calamity…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl beside Old Wei whispered: “This song is called ‘Ballad of the Great Wall’—it was composed by Grandpa Liu.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei recognized the tune—he felt sure his own grandfather had sung it to him as a child.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But such a beautiful song, such fine lyrics—why had he never heard it since growing up?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing his own composition, Liu Xuean’s clouded eyes finally stirred—he clearly understood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the entire hall’s lights dimmed, leaving only the stage illuminated; Xiao Shufang fell silent—she knew the concert was about to begin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Hong tugged her older brother: “It’s starting—finally!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen looked at the crowd around her and felt a pang of regret—Ping’an’s family was here, Yunyun had brought her husband—if only Jiefang could have returned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He must never touch films again—he’s wasted so much time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Past performances usually had an announcer, but today’s China Song and Dance Troupe’s announcer, Kan Lijun, was different—she was closer to a modern host.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After taking the stage, she explained the significance of the New Stars Concert, introduced the first singer, and interacted with the audience—not just mechanically stepping up, announcing, and leaving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first performer was Su Xiaoming from the Navy Song and Dance Troupe, singing her signature song, “Night at the Naval Port”: “The night at the naval port is quiet, the waves gently rocking the warship…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming sang along—he’d heard it on the radio, though it hadn’t yet become widely popular.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, Su Xiaoming went to France to study music, and eventually married a Frenchman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in later years, Su Xiaoming was better known as a TV actress, playing all sorts of sharp-tongued mothers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came Zheng Xualan from the Oriental Song and Dance Troupe, singing “Sun Island”: “On this bright summer day, the sky is so clear, the beautiful Sun Island so enchanting…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This song became famous through the TV travel documentary “Harbin’s Summer,” and many in the audience sang along.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this time, Zheng Xualan had not yet sung her famous “Shepherd’s Song,” nor had she become an American.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next was Ren Yan, a soprano from the Central Song and Dance Troupe and a student of Teacher Gu Jianfen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She sang “Young Friends Meet Again,” composed by Teacher Gu—its popularity surpassed the previous two songs; almost everyone knew it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps influenced by Teacher Gu, she later mostly lived in Japan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then came Teacher Zhu Mingying from the Oriental Song and Dance Troupe—her songs were always sung and danced, highly effective at stirring the audience’s emotions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today she opened with “Wishing Everyone Success.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Later, she went abroad, opened a company in the U.S., became an entrepreneur, and actively donated to charity—yet she never abandoned her singing career in China.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next came Wu Guosong from the Central Song and Dance Troupe, singing the year’s hit “On the Field of Hope,” once again lifting the crowd’s energy to a fever pitch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei, seated on the left side of the stage, exclaimed excitedly: “That’s my son’s song! Awesome!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wu Zuoren glanced at him slowly, then nudged his wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Shufang: “What’s wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He says this song was written by his son—can you imagine how big a lie some sons can tell?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xiao Shufang whispered: “Poor father.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You might not have a say about other songs, but this one was written by our neighbor Xiao Wei—if you were truly Xiao Wei’s father, would you be sitting here? You’d be with your wife and kids.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just then, a staff member approached and spoke to the girl pushing Liu Xuean’s wheelchair; she suddenly looked flustered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oh no—she has to go on stage too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The program team had arranged this segment, feeling the old man deserved recognition here—his life had been too hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl looked left and right, then said to Wei Jiefang: “Uncle, could you push Grandpa Liu up?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sure,” Wei Jiefang replied offhandedly, then, “Huh? What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Liu Xuean had also composed another famous song: “When Will You Return Again?”—it had been sung by Li Xianglan during the Republic era, and more recently by Deng Lijun, spreading from Taiwan to the mainland.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He composed the music, but it was the lyrics that brought him to his current fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Host Kan Lijun first introduced the recent debate in the Beijing Evening News over “When Will You Return Again?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming knew—the prevailing climate had condemned “Southern Zhu, Northern Li,” let alone this song; but editors like Sha Qing from the Beijing Evening News had fiercely defended pop music, achieving a preliminary victory, which made this grand concert possible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But sadly, to avoid provoking conservative sensibilities, they hadn’t invited Southern Zhu (Zhu Fengbo) or Northern Li (Li Gu), yet they had invited this poor old man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the melody of “Ballad of the Great Wall” began, a middle-aged man pushed an elderly man onto the stage via the VIP entrance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wei Ming, Wei Hong, Xu Shufen, Wei Anping, and everyone else froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could anyone look so identical?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen was the first to react—no, this was her Jiefang!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen didn’t care about the emotional moment on stage—she stood up and waved at Wei Jiefang, though she didn’t call out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many in the audience had stood, but when Xu Shufen rose, Old Wei spotted her immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he saw the others beside her—the cats and dogs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So you’re the ones who weren’t home—you sneaked off here to listen to music behind my back!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he weren’t busy pushing the wheelchair, Old Wei would’ve jumped down right now to kiss his wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The dutiful Old Wei stared at the seventy-year-old man before him—his mind imprisoned in his body, his eyes blind—but now the CCTV camera zoomed in, revealing tears streaming down his face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And after hearing his story, every audience member rose to applaud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, under the host’s direction, the old man was wheeled off by Wei Jiefang; as he descended, he noticed several children eagerly waiting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Onstage, the host continued: “The power of music is immense. Fifty years ago, the music of pioneers like Old Liu inspired us to drive out the Japanese invaders and reclaim our land. Now, a new generation of young musicians are using their works to reflect the voice of the times—songs like ‘Young Friends Meet Again’ and ‘On the Field of Hope.’ And the next song, composed by young musician Wei Ming, will be performed by a group of children from the Galaxy Choir. Please enjoy—‘The Same Song!’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After stepping down, Old Wei was gazing toward Xu Shufen’s direction when he heard “Wei Ming” and “The Same Song.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei excitedly told the girl beside him: “Hey, that’s my son’s song again!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wu Zuoren and his wife couldn’t pretend not to hear—could this man’s son also be named Wei Ming?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Comrade, this musician Wei Ming is also the writer Wei Ming—are you certain you haven’t confused them?” Wu Zuoren asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei: “No mistake—my son writes songs, writes novels, and even speaks English…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When talking about his son, Old Wei went on endlessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wu Zuoren was baffled: “Wait, how could your son be Wei Ming?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My son is Wei Ming! Come on, just listen to the music!” Old Wei interrupted the confused Wu, as the children were already taking the stage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cai Guoqing began: “Flowers told me how you walked, the earth knows every corner of your heart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wang Fei continued: “Sweet dreams none will miss—we’ve finally reached this joyful moment…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the chorus: “Thousands of rivers, ten thousand mountains—we’ve walked them all; every meeting, every smile, etched in memory…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other side, Lu Xiaoyan sighed: “Oh, ‘The Same Song’ is so beautiful—the melody, the lyrics—Le Le’s already singing along.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “I’ll write Le Le another song just as good.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Anping: “But how did Jiefang end up here? And why is he with Grandpa Liu? This doesn’t make sense!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen gazed longingly toward Old Wei’s direction: “Xiaoming, can I go over to your dad? I’m afraid I’ll lose him when the crowd disperses…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(Finally on! Please vote for monthly tickets—Old Buddha will keep adding extra chapters for monthly ticket rewards!)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",3366,"2026-06-19T16:30:58.707Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","e9eff0e3056612a881607f4e155ab2a16acc0c251320ca18c686877e17d005c0","rising-in-1979-chapter-247","rising-in-1979-chapter-245",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]