[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-248":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},2260956,4412,"Chapter 248: Again Testing the Clouds and Rain","rising-in-1979-chapter-248",248,"\u003Cp>This is the fifth issue of this year’s literary bimonthly magazine “Shouhuo.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without any breakout articles, “Shouhuo”’s circulation is generally slightly lower than “People’s Literature,” given the latter’s price advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this issue of “Shouhuo” is poised for a comeback, as it has a breakout piece.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After returning from the cafeteria, Wei Ming felt slightly drowsy; after a short nap, he still felt some soreness in his wrist, so he picked up the magazine first.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leading the table of contents was Ye Xin’s new work, “Wasted Years.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Previously, Ye Xin had made his debut in “Shouhuo” with “Our Generation of Youth,” but it received little attention because it coincided with Wei Ming’s debut, “The Tale of Two Donkeys.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After that, Wei Ming experimented with different themes, while Ye Xin, drawing on his decade-long rural experience in Guizhou, persisted in writing about educated youth literature, resulting in this work that made him famous: “Wasted Years.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since it’s a long novel, only the first part is published.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the break is perfectly timed, leaving readers desperate to know what happens next to the protagonists; by the time the conclusion appears in the next issue, Wei Ming remembered that “Shouhuo”’s circulation broke one million for the first time, reaching the magazine’s circulation peak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing half of “Wasted Years,” there was another serialized long novel ending: “The Echoes of History,” by Li Keyi.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was called an ending, but in fact, it was abandoned due to irresistible circumstances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The author, Li Keyi, suddenly died of a cerebral hemorrhage last year while writing this novel, completing only the first of its four volumes; the rest existed only as outlines and summaries, yet even the first volume exceeded 300,000 characters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s foreseeable that if completed, this would be an immensely detailed, panoramic depiction of the historical and cultural landscape of the eastern Ussuri River region during the late Qing and Republican eras, highly significant for studying land now occupied by the Soviet Union.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming continued reading and spotted a short story by Master Zong Pu: “Mi Family Landscape.” It had been a while since he’d checked in on Mei’er’s family.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After work, Wei Ming first strolled around Weiming Lake, checking if any fishermen were around.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fishing was officially prohibited at Weiming Lake, but once a year before winter, campus workers would collectively net the fish to give students and faculty an extra meal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this ban didn’t apply to the little kids of faculty and staff—they sneaked in to fish. Wei Ming had seen them several times during his patrols; who’d bother with children?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although he didn’t like sweets, he always carried various candies in his pocket; these should be enough to trade for a few small fish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Leaving the library and arriving at the southern shore of Weiming Lake, he spotted two brothers on a rock jutting into the lake—familiar faces: Pu Shu and his older brother Pu Shi, neighbors of Uncle Wei Anping and Wei Ming’s young readers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi, six years older than his brother, was more outgoing; he held a fishing line with a hook baited with a wet steamed bun kneaded into dough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi fished, while Pu Shu kept watch for him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their father, Professor Pu, was still studying in the United States; their mother was a key staff member at Peking University’s Computer Research Institute and was often busy, so Pu Shu looked up to his older brother, his eyes full of vigilance—until he saw Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“W-Wei Teacher…” Pu Shu stammered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “How many fish did you catch?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing it was Wei Ming, Pu Shi wasn’t afraid and proudly showed his small bucket: “Two fish, three shrimp.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not bad. How about selling them to me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi said: “Sell? I’ll give them to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh? So generous?” Wei Ming was surprised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi said: “I just learned a song called ‘The Same Song.’ I heard you wrote it—consider this payment for the lesson.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming accepted with a smile and pulled out two candies from his pocket—he wouldn’t take them for free.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I didn’t bring a bag—could I borrow this bucket?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shu asked: “Are you going to eat the fish, Teacher Wei? These fish have a lot of bones.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “No, I’m giving them as a gift—to a mother cat and her kittens.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing there were cats, the two brothers immediately begged Wei Ming: “Can we come see them too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course. Carry the bucket and follow me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, Pu Shi felt the line tug: “Another one!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the way, Pu Shi asked Wei Ming: “Is that foreign Mr. Why also you? My dad said he saw your books in bookstores in America.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded: “Yes, that’s me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shu, who knew Wei Ming better, bragged: “Teacher Wei is so amazing!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi: “I still think writing songs is more impressive. I heard a Japanese singer even gave you a guitar.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s true.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi said seriously: “I’m saving up too—I’ll buy a guitar someday.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This kid also loved music; later, Pu Shu’s first guitar was left to him by his older brother.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At Professor Feng’s house, Master Zong Pu was there too, reading a fresh copy of “China Youth Daily.” On page two: “The Game of the Brave” had stormed into America, topped the New York Times bestseller list, and claimed first place in children’s book sales!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Little Wei, congratulations! Many of my classmates in America told me they bought this book for their kids. They read the summary and couldn’t believe a Chinese writer wrote it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Master Zong Pu graduated from Tsinghua’s Department of Foreign Languages; many of her classmates lived and worked overseas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh? What’s so unbelievable about it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zong Pu said: “It feels like a story that couldn’t have been written under our educational system—so wildly imaginative.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I have to say, these people really have good taste.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming pointed to his head: “If I didn’t have some wild imagination, how could I write children’s literature? Children are at the stage where imagination guides their interests and hobbies. This kid, for instance, now dreams of growing up to be a police officer catching mice.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming pulled the shy Pu Shu forward and introduced the two brothers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Pu Shu ever truly gave up singing because of “Black Cat Detective,” he’d help him compose those songs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, you brought gifts? Thank you!” Professor Feng came out too, but this great philosopher clearly held less appeal for the two kids than the three tiny kittens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could already run, weren’t afraid of people, and came running at Wei Ming’s call, letting him pet them freely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming loved them all: the white cat and the tricolor were mothers, gentle in nature; only Wei Ming’s Detective was male, extremely lively, with potential for chaos.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Usually, a mother cat’s maternal instinct lasts one to two months; now Mei’er still doted on her three kittens, munching on the fish and shrimp Wei Ming brought, then lying down to expose her double row of nipples for nursing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But next month, she’d probably grow tired of these clingy little pests, so Professor Feng arranged for Wei Ming to come next month to take the cats.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming felt a little excitement—he’d have his own cats!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his past life, he’d raised cats, and his home was adored by Xi Zi’s seven Gourd Brothers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was getting late; Wei Ming bid farewell to the two boys and asked: “Are you going home or waiting for your mom at her workplace?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pu Shi: “We’ll go find Mom.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Wei Ming took them to the Computer Research Institute and waited until they sat quietly outside before leaving.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Earlier at Professor Feng’s, Zong Pu had asked about the progress of Wei Ming’s new long novel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When she learned he’d written 300,000 words, she assumed he’d soon publish it—but Wei Ming said: “I’ve only written half.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zong Pu admired Wei Ming’s patience—such a young man daring to tackle a super-long novel—and felt a pang of regret: she hadn’t seen any new work from him in over half a year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking back to last year’s six months—when he published a new story every month, all in top literary journals—he’d practically bombed the literary scene. What youthful vigor, what boldness!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, looking at Wei Ming—only nineteen—he already carried the calm composure of an old artist. Writing long novels truly aged people, even the young.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming, however, wished he could appear more mature—it would make him look more fitting beside Xue Jie and Lin Jie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Lin Jie clearly didn’t think so; she loved eating fresh meat—it kept her immortal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today she’d seen the latest report in “China Youth Daily” about Wei Ming’s overseas fame; the progress bar had reached North America, sales remained strong, reviews were excellent, and the title “King of Fairy Tales” rang louder than ever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It seemed Melinda was really going all out for her ex, Zhu Lin thought privately in her guesthouse room that night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just then, the lobby attendant called to say someone was looking for him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Who could it be? So late.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin went downstairs to answer the phone—it was Wei Ming. He told her: “Tomorrow morning, my parents are returning to our hometown. Xiao Hong is staying in the dorm, and Yunyun has night shift.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin’s heart pounded—she knew she’d get to eat meat again. Before Wei Ming finished speaking, she said: “Come pick me up after work.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This period of abstinence was cruel for a woman with a fully mature body and mind, especially since they often had intimate contact—she could see it but couldn’t have it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She even worried that not releasing herself might affect her upcoming filming schedule.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next day, Old Wei didn’t let his son drive him; he and his wife loaded their full luggage onto a bus to the train station. Wei Ming and Xiao Hong would return after Peking University’s holiday.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That afternoon, Wei Ming left work early, first went to Oriental New Town: one, to deliver Zhang Yu’s endorsement poster to Mei Wenhua; two, to tell him that he and Yunyun could come home late—or not at all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua immediately understood: his brother-in-law was giving him another chance. Fine—he’d give it another shot. Damn it, he’d go all out!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming asked about the poster: “How are you planning to replace it? Is there still space to hang a third one?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua: “I can take down the previous two.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three months had passed—replacing the posters was reasonable, especially since Zhang Yu was currently at her peak, and Wei Ming could keep the previous two permanently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But then you’d only have one poster—wouldn’t that look too plain?” Wei Ming said. And it wouldn’t be symmetrical.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mei Wenhua: “I thought the same. But what if we add Chen Chong’s poster too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? You know her?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She’s also a customer at our shop. She came two days ago—I copied the same method, traded clothes for a photo, and hired an artist.” Mei Wenhua said proudly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recently, Chen Chong had been networking in Beijing to obtain permission for overseas study. Although she’d pay her own way, without state approval she couldn’t leave; she’d even gotten Senior Xia from the Ministry of Culture to write a letter on her behalf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhang Yu and Chen Chong were today's top two female stars; Xiao Mei planned to showcase them both during National Day, and Wei Ming could already imagine how wildly popular it would be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder he’s married—Xiao Mei is becoming more reliable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming confidently went to the Beijing Film Studio to pick up Lin Jie. She silently got into his car. They didn’t even eat dinner, rushing straight to the Overseas Chinese Apartment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming calculated the dates—today was still Lin Jie’s safe period. He was going to score—nothing could stop him!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The gatekeeper, Old Sun, saw the familiar figures and smiled: “Just now, Jiefang and his wife left, and now Wei Ming’s girlfriend is coming in.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Won’t your cousin be back soon?” Zhu Lin worried.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Don’t worry—there are still over two hours until her shift ends.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming then swept Lin Jie up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After months of restraint, the release was terrifying—they rolled from the bed to the floor, Lin Jie’s body half off the mattress.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was because of this that she noticed something under the bed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the same time, Old Wei and Xu Shufen had also bounced their way back to Gouzitun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d been brought back from the county town by a donkey cart from a neighboring village—the driver knew Wei Jiefang, but along the way he kept talking about Wei Ming, even knowing that Wei Ming had composed “The Same Song” at the newly held New Star Concert in Beijing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the other party mentioned how Wei Ming received a musical instrument as a gift from a Japanese singer at that concert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although there were no televisions and newspapers were not widespread, rural people had radios, and people from several surrounding villages were actively or passively gathering every piece of information about the great writer Wei Da, so everyone knew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This also meant they gave Wei Jiefang no room to show off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Showing off relies on information asymmetry—I know something you don’t, then I tell you, making you shocked, amazed, and finally envious—that’s how you show off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But you know everything already, and everything I don’t know, you know—this made Old Wei very awkward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If even villagers from neighboring hamlets were like this, those from his own village would be even harder to deal with. When he reached the village entrance and got off the donkey cart, Old Wei’s mood grew heavy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they reached the front door, they found it locked from the inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei immediately knocked, and then Qi Kexiu opened the door—his hair was messy, his beard unkempt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Big brother, big sister, you’re back?” Qi Kexiu said blankly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei frowned: “Kexiu, why are you living in my house?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Kexiu: “Well, there are so many chickens and pigs at home, and Chunhua was worried, plus her belly’s getting big, she can’t manage everything, so I moved over to help you watch the place.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei asked: “You two haven’t had a fight, have you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang immediately put down his luggage and pulled out a package of fragrant braised pork hock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Chunhua loves this. Come back with me for dinner.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, okay.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei noticed Qi Kexiu had changed—he showed no reaction to the pork hock, which was unlike him before, making Old Wei feel uncomfortable pushing it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Forget it, he wouldn’t mention his TV appearance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was mealtime, and Fan Chunhua and her son Qi Delong were eating. When she saw Qi Kexiu return, she snorted: “This time you came back on your own—good for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she noticed Wei Jiefang and his wife, and quickly stood up: “Oh my, big brother, big sister, you’re back!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei handed her the pork hock and frowned at the table: “Chunhua, add a dish. You’ve got so many eggs—why not fry a couple?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fan Chunhua: “Frying eggs uses too much oil. I’m saving them to sell—saving up for Xiao Long’s tuition.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After sitting down, Qi Kexiu ate silently, barely touched the pork hock, then went into the room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Wei worriedly asked his cousin: “What’s wrong with your husband? Who upset him?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d just said nothing about his own achievements, fearing his and his son’s success had hurt his brother-in-law.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fan Chunhua scolded: “Who could upset him? He insisted on writing novels and submitted to ‘Story Weekly.’ At first they returned his manuscripts, then they sent him a letter begging him to stop writing, to spare them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What? ‘Story Weekly’ is being unreasonable! If his writing’s bad, fine—we can practice. But forbidding him to write? That’s overstepping. I’ll have Xiao Ming talk to them.” He knew ‘Story Weekly’ begged his son for stories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Delong couldn’t take it anymore: “Uncle, you have no idea what he wrote.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What did he write?” Wei Jiefang’s heart jolted—was it something forbidden?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fan Chunhua: “He wrote that Qin Shi Huang is still alive today, made money, recruited soldiers, and eventually reclaimed the throne as emperor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Delong declared solemnly: “Isn’t this feudal restoration? If Qin Shi Huang becomes emperor again, who did he overthrow? Thank goodness it wasn’t a few years ago—we’d both be implicated!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Good heavens, Kexiu really dares to imagine. But you can’t kick him out to my house—you’re about to give birth, how can you manage without a man at home?” Wei Jiefang said solemnly, playing the role of the wise elder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fan Chunhua: “I didn’t kick him out—he left on his own. He even wants to sleep in Xiao Ming’s bed, saying he wants to absorb Xiao Ming’s leftover literary aura.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang asked: “Which room is he sleeping in?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Delong: “The new west room.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang smiled: “Xiao Ming never stayed there long—the literary aura’s still in the old room.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Kexiu, back in the room, suddenly pulled back the curtain: “Big brother, can I sleep in the old room tonight?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang: “Get out, get out—that’s Xiao Hong’s room now. Would that be appropriate?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qi Kexiu looked crestfallen. Wei Jiefang scolded him further: “And that ridiculous story you wrote—zero political sensitivity. We live in a socialist society where the people rule. Even Qin Shi Huang would have to undergo socialist reform. Why not have him contribute to national construction? Why must he become emperor?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing someone discuss his novel’s plot, Qi Kexiu perked up, shoved his son aside, and sat across from Wei Jiefang: “I thought the same at first. But as I wrote, I realized Qin Shi Huang wouldn’t obey me—he had to become emperor, or the story would lose its essence.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang stroked his chin: “Xiao Ming once told me that in a good story, sometimes it’s not the author controlling the plot, but the characters steering it. But that’s a highly advanced technique—he only feels it occasionally.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Really?!” Qi Kexiu was thrilled—he’d thought he’d gone mad from writing, but now he realized it meant he was too advanced, too high-level!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This restored his confidence—he might yet become a literary master!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fan Chunhua and Qi Delong simultaneously pressed their hands to their foreheads. It was over. Completely over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’d thought Qi Kexiu had finally faced reality, but after Wei Jiefang’s words, he now had no clue how much he weighed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The meal lasted a long time—two full hours.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Similarly, Wei Ming and Zhu Lin had also spent two hours—though they took breaks, then resumed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Wei Ming could no longer stand, Zhu Lin checked the time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh no, it’s been two hours—could your cousin be coming back?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming rubbed her head: “Don’t worry, she’s got a date with Xiao Mei too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin started looking for her clothes: “But I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “Alright, go wash up first, then we’ll eat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhu Lin held her small belly—yes, she needed to wash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After both dressed, Zhu Lin suddenly bent down: “Wait.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She reached under the bed, felt something: “I saw something under the bed—what is it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she laughed: “Oh, it’s my old employee badge—I lost it and searched everywhere.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “That was probably when we first… together.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But as he held the badge, Wei Ming’s smile vanished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Nothing, Wei Ming shook his head—but something was wrong. Normally, dust collects under beds, yet this badge was spotless—highly unusual.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With simple logic, Wei Ming realized his mother had almost certainly seen this badge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not just seen it—she’d taken it out every few days, wiped it clean, and put it back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But she’d never mentioned it or asked about it—this surprised Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Xu Shufen: If there’d been only one, I’d have asked. Sigh!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On September 30, Wei Ming and Xiao Hong boarded the train home for her college welcome banquet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She didn’t really want to hold it—she’d rather go to Xiangshan with classmates to see the red leaves—but it was a chance for her parents to show off, so she couldn’t refuse just because she disliked it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for Xiao Mei and Yunyun, they didn’t need to come—the posters had just been changed, and with National Day coming, the shop would be busy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had worried the journey would be boring, but before leaving, he received a package from A Min.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And this time, she’d sent a special gift.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother, what’s this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Wei Ming pulled out a cube from the bag, she was baffled—she’d never seen anything like it. Each of its six faces was a different color, divided evenly into nine small squares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming explained: “It’s called a Rubik’s Cube—a puzzle toy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How do you play it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not just her—other passengers on the train were also curious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming immediately twisted it wildly, scrambling all six faces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled: “Now you need to restore it—each face must be one solid color.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(Today’s minimum)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",3527,"2026-06-19T16:30:58.707Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","fac67f0dbbec83eebb5d6cc74e861a1c6a34c695c04c3c654b513a9492f172af","rising-in-1979-chapter-249","rising-in-1979-chapter-247",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]