Chapter 260: Gong Ying

The editorial office of "Harvest" also wrote Wei Ming a letter of introduction, so he traveled without hindrance and checked into the Suqian County Guesthouse the same day after walking a stretch.

After a restful night's sleep at the guesthouse following his journey, Wei Ming slung his bag over his shoulder and set out with his camera to gather material.

For convenience, he borrowed a bicycle from the guesthouse, since the staff had read his novels and heard his songs, making them unusually accommodating.

Since he intended to observe rural life, Wei Ming cycled outward toward the city's edge.

Suqian's water system is well-developed, boasting two major freshwater lakes—Luoma Lake and Hongze Lake—with numerous rivers, including the Grand Canal, the Ancient Yellow River, and the Huai-Shu New River, flowing through its territory.

Wei Ming cycled along the canal for a while, then turned onto a side road, stopping occasionally to take photographs.

Since he had now confirmed the presence of "Lupine," he could confidently incorporate this element into his script.

He went to the fields and conversed with farmers using his imperfect Northern Jiangsu dialect, learning what crops they grew, how the harvests fared, and what their incomes were like.

The old farmer mistook Wei Ming for an official from above and spoke only flattering words; only after Wei Ming repeatedly denied it did he take a photo of the man, whereupon the farmer finally opened up.

"Farming alone won't feed us, but both my sons work on boats, so we manage—though they're never home, and never have a chance to find wives."

Wei Ming asked what the place was called.

"We're Goudong Village. Ahead is a town called Lailong Town—there's a market today, very lively. Just follow this road straight and you'll get there."

Hearing there was a lively market to attend, Wei Ming drank two sips of water and set off again.

But when he arrived, it was already noon—the market was nearly over, and the crowd had thinned.

As soon as Wei Ming entered, he smelled fish—people were selling it, and not just one stall; after all, this was the south, where even though his hometown had rivers too, fishery resources were far less abundant.

Wei Ming took photos intermittently, drawing glances from passersby, though some were so absorbed in their own business they didn't notice him at all.

A boy, about six or seven, led a girl, three or four, who stood gazing intently beside a pork stall, their four eyes fixed.

The pork vendor sighed: "Kid, if your grandma doesn't come soon, I'm going to sell this slab of fat to someone else."

The boy, sturdy and round-faced, swallowed hard: "Uncle, please wait a bit longer—Grandma will come once she sells her duck eggs."

Wei Ming smiled. Nowadays people preferred fatty meat—it sold better—but the Wei family had long transitioned from greasy fat to lean, healthy meat.

Since they ate meat every meal, they no longer cared much about the extra fat; instead, they began favoring ribs others overlooked.

Pushing his bicycle a few more steps, Wei Ming spotted a vendor selling roasted snacks—already packing up. He bought some sunflower seeds; the taste was good.

He then thought of the idiot sunflower seeds from neighboring Anhui—apparently now a huge operation with many workers, reportedly earning a million in savings last year, though they'd been arrested often too; stretch too far, and you're bound to tear something.

As Wei Ming walked, suddenly an old woman rushed out.

"Young man, want duck eggs?" the woman pleaded, her eyes earnest; she didn't look old, but appeared worn.

Wei Ming smiled and waved: "Auntie, I'm from out of town—I couldn't eat them even if I bought them."

Seeing he hadn't flatly refused, she hurried on: "These are home-cured salted duck eggs—perfect with steamed buns or rice. If you don't like them, no charge."

Wei Ming recalled the two children at the pork stall, glanced around, and saw only this one woman still selling salted duck eggs—he guessed she must be their grandma.

So he asked with a smile: "How much?"

"One yuan for four. I have nine left—just give me two yuan."

Wei Ming had no objection to the price and paid promptly.

The old woman strung the duck eggs together with dry grass and hung them on Wei Ming's bike—this was a skill old Wei knew well, but Wei Ming had never learned.

The old woman immediately headed back the way Wei Ming had come; Wei Ming prepared to find a restaurant in town for lunch.

After asking around, he realized he'd passed it and turned back to find the town's only small eatery.

There he saw a small child and a larger one helping an old woman walk slowly—it was the same woman who had sold him the duck eggs; besides supporting her, the boy carried a large slab of white, glistening fat.

The old woman blushed: "I ran too fast earlier and fell."

Wei Ming saw how pitiful this old woman and two children were—they'd never make it home on foot in time.

Since he was also seeking a rural sample, he offered: "Auntie, sit on my bike—I'll take you home."

"Oh, that wouldn't be proper, it's too much trouble for you."

"No trouble at all—helping others is a joy. But you've got to feed me. Whatever's fine."

"Grandma says we're having pork fat rice today!" the six-year-old boy exclaimed.

His sister chimed in excitedly: "Grandma, I want pork fat rice too!"

The old woman hurriedly said: "We can't have it for lunch—it'll be too late. We'll have it tonight."

The little old lady had clever plans. Wei Ming smiled: "I can stay until tonight."

The old woman: "..."

Wei Ming pointed to the duck eggs: "Let's eat these for lunch."

The two children swallowed hard—this was a treat; their grandma usually didn't let them eat them.

Wei Ming helped the old woman onto the bike, pushed it back to the village, while the boy supported her and the girl, too short to reach, helped carry the fat.

"Young man, what do you do?" the old woman asked, noticing Wei Ming's clean clothes and the object hanging around his neck—clearly a camera, something no ordinary person could afford.

Wei Ming: "Haha, I'm a novelist. Came here to gather material."

"What's 'gathering material'?" the boy asked.

Wei Ming: "It's a way to make stories feel more real. For example, I want to write about rural Suqian, but I've never lived here, so I need to come see for myself."

The boy nodded thoughtfully; his sister still didn't understand and asked: "Brother, what's 'gathering material'?"

The boy: "It's being bored and going out to suffer."

Wei Ming laughed—he was quite perceptive.

The village wasn't far from town—half an hour's ride. Along the way, a friend of the boy called out: "Dongzi, did your family buy meat today?"

The boy, Dongzi, beamed: "Yeah! Grandma sold her duck eggs—three catties of big fat!"

Wei Ming froze. Dongzi?

He studied the boy behind him—sturdy, round-faced, like someone he knew.

Then he remembered: Suqian's most famous historical figure was Xiang Yu; the second most famous was that Dongzi.

So he asked the old woman: "Auntie, your children are so well-behaved—how old are they?"

"Oh, one's six, the other's three."

The ages matched. He asked: "Do you take care of them alone? Must be hard."

"Yes, their parents are busy."

"Busy making big money?" Wei Ming smiled.

"What big money? Just hard labor—working on boats, traveling up and down the canal. They don't even have time for their kids." The old woman sighed.

Parents working on boats—this matched too. Dongzi's ancestors had been well-off, owning several merchant ships; during special times, the boats were seized, and Dongzi's father dropped out of school early, working on boats before and after marriage, but the family's merchant spirit remained.

In the 1980s, they sold family assets, borrowed money, and finally bought their own boat—life improved, and they became the first in the village to build a flat-roofed house and buy a TV.

Later, they wanted to upgrade from small to large boats, increased investment, got swindled, and fell deep into debt—so when Dongzi entered university, the family's condition was indeed modest.

"Young man, what's your full name?" Wei Ming asked Dongzi.

"I'm Liu Qiangdong."

Wei Ming grinned. Hey—it's you!

They arrived at Dongzi's grandparents' home; the grandfather immediately came out upon seeing them and listened to their story.

Dongzi's grandfather thanked Wei Ming profusely and invited him to stay for lunch.

Wei Ming offered the salted duck eggs he'd just bought—they'd eat those for lunch.

"Oh, that's not right—they're yours."

"It's fine. I couldn't find a restaurant. I'm already grateful you'll feed me."

Dongzi's grandfather said: "Our chicken laid eggs—I'll add a dish. Sit, sit."

Wei Ming surveyed the typical Northern Jiangsu rural courtyard and pulled out his notebook to take notes.

When he finished, Dongzi curiously approached: "Uncle Wei, what have you written?"

Wei Ming asked: "Have you heard of 'Black Cat Inspector'?"

He shook his head.

Wei Ming: "What about 'The Legend of the Heavenly Book'?"

He still shook his head.

He probably hadn't heard of any other works either—Dongzi, you're not as cultured as Ma Huateng from Hainan.

Wei Ming asked: "Have you heard the songs 'The Girl Who Picked Mushrooms,' 'Where Is Spring,' or 'Little Grass'?"

Feeling slightly ashamed, Dongzi finally perked up: "I've heard them—I can even sing 'Where Is Spring'!"

Without waiting for Wei Ming's cue, he insisted on performing, singing while shaking his head cutely.

After finishing, he asked: "Did you write these songs?"

Wei Ming nodded: "I mainly write novels, but I write songs too."

Dongzi marveled: "So amazing!"

He now wanted to see those "Black Cat Inspector" things Wei Ming mentioned.

Later, Wei Ming chatted with the grandparents about their rural life, taking notes as they spoke.

After lunch, he asked: "Can I take a photo? Just of this courtyard."

"What's so special about this shabby yard?" the couple asked, puzzled.

Wei Ming explained: "For my creative work."

He also volunteered to take a family photo of all four of them—they fully understood and were both excited and solemn.

Wei Ming waited over ten minutes while they changed into their best clothes, then took the photo—it was Dongzi's second photo, his sister's first, and their first family picture together.

Wei Ming confirmed the village name: "When I get back to town, I'll develop the photos and mail them to you."

He'd also write "Wei Ming's Gift" on the back—after all, Dongzi had face blindness, but not illiteracy; as long as the photo existed, perhaps when he grew up, he'd remember this moment.

Dongzi's grandmother held onto Wei Ming and asked him to stay overnight: "I've rendered the lard, my leg's better—I'll cook you two good dishes tonight."

This time, she truly meant it.

But riding back to the guesthouse would take time; eating dinner would be too late, and who knew if the rural areas of Subei were safe at this hour—his whole outfit was worth robbing.

Wei Ming could only politely decline.

It was hard to get Wei Ming's novels in such a poor village, but movies were easier.

So he told Dongzi's grandparents again.

"If a movie called 'Mother, Love Me Once More' ever comes to screen in the village, you absolutely must watch it—it's written by me."

To help them remember, Wei Ming planned to write the movie's title on the back of the photos.

By the time he returned to the county town, it was already dark; he had no time to develop the photos, so he entered his guesthouse room and began organizing today's notes.

The next day, he developed the photos, wrote the notes on the back, and before mailing them, he visited the county's Xinhua Bookstore again—luckily, he found the newly published 'The Lion King' and the reprinted 'Beasts of the Wild,' which he mailed to Dongzi as well.

Then he changed direction and continued deeper into the countryside, blending in with the locals.

The next day he sent another letter, this time to Lin Jie in Yanjing, telling her about his new screenplay and his field research in Subei's rural areas.

He casually mentioned that his mother had watched 'The Traitor' and praised it highly.

After three days like this, Wei Ming had gathered a substantial amount of material and finally headed home, setting off for Modu.

At this point, Dongzi and his family had received Wei Ming's letter.

The photos were excellent, with writing on the back—and two books, both by the writer Wei, but why were the authors' names different?

It was Dongzi's grandfather, the most experienced among them, who explained: "Don't you get it? His surname is Wei, his given name is Ming, and his courtesy name is 'what.'"

Everyone understood. Dongzi loved the cover of 'The Lion King' and hurriedly urged his most learned grandfather to tell him the story inside.

Maybe someday Jingdong's mascot won't be a dog but a lion.

Wei Ming had been away for a week; when he returned, Sister Chen had already finished revising the manuscript and was preparing to head back to Beijing.

So Wei Ming treated her to a good lunch outside, devouring the Shanghai-style braised pork with gusto, as a farewell.

That evening, he contacted the Shanghai Film Studio guesthouse to find Comrade Gong Yu.

Then Sister Xue told him good news.

"The old Western-style house is completely empty—the Bai family has moved out!"

Wei Ming perked up: "Oh, they moved out so fast?"

Gong Yu: "Maybe they wanted to get the final payment quickly—Uncle Ye also lent a big hand."

Wei Ming: "Then let's go inspect the house today—if everything's fine, I'll transfer the money. Are you free tonight?"

"Yes, my scenes are mostly done—I'll have more free time from now on," Gong Yu said meaningfully.

Wei Ming thought for a moment, pulled off the guesthouse's bedsheet, and stuffed it into his bag.

He was very much looking forward to tonight, because without a house, he and Sister Xue had only done it once, truly and directly.

Not enough—not nearly enough!

As before, Gong Yu came to the guesthouse to meet him, and they went out together; though the distance was short, this time they took a taxi.

The courtyard gate was locked, but they both had keys; they slipped in in the dark and locked the main gate behind them.

Then came another door; Wei Ming turned on his flashlight and switched on the living room light, revealing an empty living room.

Gong Yu said as expected: "Of course nothing's left."

Wei Ming: "No problem—this saves us the trouble of throwing things out. After renovation, we'll buy all new furniture."

They checked several bedrooms—no beds at all.

Wei Ming picked a clean bedroom on the second floor and prepared to take out the bedsheet from his bag.

At that moment, Gong Yu suddenly said: "By the way, while you were away, I watched another movie."

"What movie?"

"It's called 'The Traitor,' from Xi Film Studio."

Wei Ming's hand froze—why was Sister Xue bringing this up now? Did she know everything?

As Wei Ming felt guilty, Gong Yu smiled and asked: "You have a friend named Zhu Lin, right? The other girl on the poster outside Xintiandi—wasn't she also in this movie?"

Wei Ming admitted: "Yes, she played a supporting role—I haven't seen it yet."

Gong Yu smiled: "This is her first film, isn't it? I see my own past self in her."

In other words, her acting wasn't as good as hers now—so Sister Xue cared about this.

Though she was a few months younger than Zhu Lin, she entered the industry earlier and was her senior—Zhu Lin should call her sister.

Wei Ming sighed in relief and immediately changed the subject.

"Almost forgot to tell you—before I left, I got a letter from my mom. Guess what it said."

"What?"

Wei Ming: "She said she watched 'Good Things Take Time' on its opening day and loved the actress who played Liu Fang—she even called her the perfect daughter-in-law."

Hearing praise from her future mother-in-law, Gong Yu blushed, squirming playfully.

Wei Ming seized the moment and hugged her, kissing her.

Gong Yu guessed what Xiao Wei wanted to do and hesitated: "Not now, there's no bed here."

Wei Ming pulled out the bedsheet from his bag: "Just make do—we'll buy a bed tomorrow."

When she saw the bedsheet, Gong Yu knew her virtue was lost tonight—not because she wasn't firm enough, but because he was too cunning!

Who brings a bedsheet to inspect a house at night?

Wei Ming was very satisfied with the house—it was far from neighboring homes; closing the windows meant he could shout freely.

Though Sister Xue didn't cry out loudly, at least she didn't have to suppress herself—her soft Wu dialect moans had a unique charm.

Wei Ming declared: I love it!

The next day, Wei Ming paid the final balance and gave Sister Xue another sum of money.

Since she wouldn't be filming soon, he entrusted her with the renovation.

But for safety, she shouldn't deal directly with the construction team—better to go through Old Fei.

Gong Yu said: "Why not let my father handle it?"

"Oh? Does Dad have experience with this?"

Gong Yu: "His former master lived in an old Western-style house, so he understands their aesthetic—he'll just supervise the renovation. I'll say it's a friend's house."

Wei Ming thought it was sensible: letting his future father-in-law renovate the house where his daughter and her lover would be intimate—his daughter didn't even find it cruel, so Wei Ming had no objections.

By the time he learned the truth, he'd probably already be back in Yanjing.

So it was settled. Wei Ming said he'd make a final push on the screenplay and asked Sister Xue to come see the finished draft in two days; they shouldn't contact each other in the meantime—he feared Zhu Lin might misunderstand.

Zhu Lin had already received Wei Ming's letter and was about to reply…

(End of Chapter)