[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-27":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},2260735,4412,"Chapter 27: Child Trafficker","rising-in-1979-chapter-27",27,"\u003Cp>Wei Ming held a little girl in his arms—the same one who had clung to Gong Ying’s thigh at the ticket gate, crying for her mother, her skin fair and adorable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying: How did he end up carrying her? Stealing children is illegal!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wait, why are railway police following him behind? Could he really be…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Gong Ying was lost in thought, the little girl began calling out to her: “Mama!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying covered her face: “Not again!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’m tired. Let it all burn.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming laughed: “Mom, she’s calling for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Henan auntie worried: “Little Wei, what’s going on?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police officer behind said: “Auntie, this young man acted bravely—he caught a child trafficker!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Whoa!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone in the carriage heard and cheered—the child traffickers deserved every curse, they were utterly despicable!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying turned around and saw the little girl’s “mother” being escorted forward, her hands cuffed by a young officer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So she was the trafficker—hair messy, clearly beaten by righteous citizens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mama!” the little girl called out to Gong Ying again, insisting on her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police suggested: “Comrade, why don’t you hold her for a moment, then come with us?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without hesitation, Gong Ying took the girl and gently patted her back to soothe her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They arrived at Carriage 8; the suspect was taken to another compartment for interrogation, and the girl gradually calmed down, so Gong Ying handed her over to a female train attendant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then she quietly asked Wei Ming: “How did you know she was a trafficker?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The officer ahead smiled: “I’m curious too—how did you figure it out?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “I noticed the accent— hers and the girl’s didn’t match.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying: That’s it?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course not entirely—the girl’s skin was unusually fair, and her clothes were clean and neat. But that woman? No way she gave birth to such a beautiful child.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Also, when I first boarded, I saw the girl sleeping. When I passed by again just now, she was still asleep. But when I returned from Carriage 1, she had just woken up—and that woman immediately gave her medicine. That’s when I noticed the accent mismatch.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At that moment, the girl started crying. I asked what medicine she was giving her. She said it was for a cold. I’d never seen a cold medicine like that—it felt like a sleeping pill. So I tried to take it away, there was a struggle, the girl slowly woke up, and said she wanted her mother. Then you arrived.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Both officers praised: “Young man, you’ve got sharp investigative instincts. What’s your unit?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I work in the security department at Peking University. Here’s my ID.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They asked: “What are you doing in Shanghai?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming pulled out another paper: “This is our unit’s letter of introduction.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These days, traveling far was a hassle—you needed official proof of where you came from, where you were going, and why.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another younger officer asked Gong Ying: “And you, comrade?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying: “I’m from Shanghai. Visiting family.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean, what’s your unit?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, do I need to say too?” She started rummaging through her ID.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The young officer chuckled: “Your boyfriend caught a trafficker—you should be proud too. The child’s parents will surely send a thank-you letter to your unit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying froze, her cheeks flushing further: “You’re mistaken—he’s not my boyfriend. We just met.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the officer holding Wei Ming’s letter exclaimed: “Young comrade, you’re a famous writer!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying: Writer?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So guarding the gate was just a cover, right?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “No, no—I’m no famous writer, just written a few articles.” Gong Ying: Strange, this sounds so familiar…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How can you say that? Your article was published in ‘Harvest’—that’s incredible!” the middle-aged officer marveled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What? ‘Harvest’? As in Ba Jin’s ‘Harvest’?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a Shanghai native, she knew exactly how prestigious ‘Harvest’ was—her father, mother, and older brother were loyal readers, never missing an issue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying stared at Wei Ming, as if seeing this mysterious boy for the first time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only when Wei Ming noticed her gaze and turned to look did she quickly look away and show the officer her ID.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah, you’re from the General Political Department’s Drama Troupe,” the officer smiled warmly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After recording their units, they could return to their seats. The woman and the girl would disembark at the next station for interrogation and repatriation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the two returned to Carriage 6, the kind aunt led the applause for Wei Ming. After they sat down, she noticed she no longer needed to push—Gong Ying was now initiating conversation with Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What works have you written? What’s your pen name? Is it just Wei Ming?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming answered honestly: “I used another pen name for a fairy tale published in ‘Children’s Literature.’ All other works are under my real name, mostly still unpublished—‘Harvest’ one, ‘Yanjing Literature’ one, and one in Peking University’s ‘Weiminghu’ magazine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“‘Children’s Literature’? Wait a minute!” Gong Ying excitedly pulled a magazine from her bag: “Is it the September issue?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nearly blurted out “Holy shit”—how could this be so coincidental?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I bought it for my nephew,” she said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming pointed it out to her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So ‘Wei Something’ is you!” Gong Ying laughed. “I bought it specifically because I read that story.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, he likes candy too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He loves candy—has two cavities already.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The aunt: Now they’re chatting about family? This is definitely going somewhere!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If a Shanghai girl says someone loves candy, he must’ve eaten a lot,” Wei Ming teased.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying wasn’t offended and asked more about his writing journey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After discussing fairy tales and novels, she learned he wrote poetry and quickly pulled out a pen and a copy of ‘October’ magazine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Can I read it first? I promise I won’t spread it around.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By now, the poem “Ideal” had already spread from Peking University to Tsinghua—whether it was spread or not didn’t matter anymore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming silently wrote the poem “Ideal” on the blank page at the front of ‘October.’\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as he wrote the first line, Gong Ying began reading—her eyes widened with admiration. The poem was grand, well-structured, powerful, and morally upright—perfect for recitation at formal events.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even without the “seven steps to compose a poem” legend, this poem had already won Gong Ying over.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, like a little girl, she urged: “Sign it! I need your signature!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll write you a ‘to’ signature.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying, being from Shanghai, knew some English—but she’d never heard “to-signature” before. Did he have overseas connections?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To Gong Ying: May your ideals never fade, ever enduring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By Wei Ming\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying said: “I’ll treasure this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wei Ming sighed: “Too bad I only brought school books—if not, you could sign my notebook. I’m sure you’ll become a nationally famous movie star.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gong Ying not only agreed readily but also wrote her own to-signature, wishing Wei Ming’s name would echo through the literary world!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1157,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","cf31850a88a6f0b1f8ee6a9c9867e7ea6c3825a8c8562f9eaac1c5a37fd9cd95","rising-in-1979-chapter-28","rising-in-1979-chapter-26",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]