Chapter 271

The original actress who played Second Sister in "Xi Ying Men," Wen Yujuan, is also from Shandong; "Xi Ying Men" was her first film, and before that she had performed in spoken drama for two years at the Nanjing Air Force Art Troupe.

Later, she also performed in the stage version of "Kai Sheng Zai Zi Ye."

The stage version earned Wen Yujuan the Plum Blossom Award, while the TV version won Zhu Lin the Golden Eagle Award for Best Actress.

Director Zhao Huanzhang didn't demand high acting skills—he valued temperament: a kind, understanding, soothing maternal aura, one that must be grand, not petty.

From first impressions, Zhu Lin met his expectations, but the real test would come with a scene rehearsal—she'd need to wear the costume and see how she felt, since this was a rural drama, while Zhu Lin came from an academic family of professors and doctors.

While Zhu Lin was auditioning for "Xi Ying Men," Gong Rui had already met Wei Ming, and Wei Ming had asked her to wear a helmet and accompany him to the Overseas Chinese Apartment.

"Don't worry—my parents are both at the Sihe Academy right now."

Since they needed to care for Doggy Yinxing, and the Sihe Academy had more space and was close to Xintiandi, her parents had moved their cooking duties there a few days ago, took lunch breaks there, and today even her grandmother had gone over—a rare opportunity.

The gatekeeper, Old Sun, saw Wei Ming driving a woman in and his eyes lit up: "Oh? This girl hasn't shown up in a long time."

In fact, Gong Rui had only come once at the beginning; all later visits were Zhu Lin's—but with helmets on and thick winter clothes, he couldn't tell them apart.

Gong Rui kept her helmet on until she reached the apartment and entered the room, afraid neighbors might recognize her.

"Mu Ma Ren" gave her far more exposure than "Hao Shi Duo Mo"; many from Shangyingchang said she'd likely make the final nomination list for next year's Hundred Flowers Award and would be Zhang Yu's main rival.

That's the Hundred Flowers Award, voted on by millions of fans with real money!

After entering, she heard a meow, took off her helmet, and immediately saw a juvenile Black Cat Detective.

"Can I pet it?" Gong Rui was eager.

Wei Ming: "You're not familiar with it—it won't let you touch it, but I can."

Sister Xue gently punched him, then looked around the living room.

When she first came, they'd just moved in and had few belongings; the 150-square-meter apartment felt empty. Now it was full—telephone, TV, all there.

But what most drew her attention were the paintings: the original Panda Hugging Bamboo still hung, and now there was also "Children at Play"—and it was by Zhang Daqian.

Wei Ming wrapped his arms around Sister Xue's slender waist: "I bought many landscape paintings; my mom dismissed them all—but this one? She loved it most and insisted on hanging it in the living room."

Gong Rui understood at once, her cheeks flushed red—but no matter how bold she was, she'd never dare have a child out of wedlock; she'd put the helmet back on later.

Next, Wei Ming led Gong Rui to the study—his finest collection was here.

"Ten Thousand Mountains Red!" Gong Rui's voice rose sharply; though she'd known from Wei Ming's letters that he'd bought this painting, seeing the original still thrilled her.

Wei Ming: "Too bad Rongbaozhai wouldn't sell me the largest version—this one's still a bit small."

"But the grandeur isn't lacking," Gong Rui gazed spellbound, even more reluctant to admit she could paint.

Wei Ming then displayed other pieces—few in number, but each a masterpiece by a master: Pan Tianshou, Zhang Daqian, Guan Shanyue, Fu Baoshi.

He also brought out several other sets from the White Stone Elder's flower-and-insect series, offering them to Sister Xue for her refined appraisal, complete with magnifying glass.

Gong Rui looked at the paintings; Wei Ming looked at her.

"How about we go to the Art Museum tomorrow? Ah Long won third prize in the Youth Art Exhibition—probably had something to do with Ah Ying."

"Oh, really? If I'm free tomorrow, let's go," Gong Rui replied, but someone's hands were already restless. "Stop it—I haven't finished looking yet."

"By the time you finish, Grandma will be back," Wei Ming urged impatiently; Sister Xue had no home in Yanjing—opportunities like this were rare.

They moved to the bedroom. The Cat Detective watched curiously as the two stuck together, then—*bang*—the door shut and locked.

"Ah, pull the curtains~"

The fire ignited quickly—but at the 33rd minute, halfway through, a warm Sichuan dialect rang from outside.

"Grandson, is that you back?"

Oh no—Grandma had really returned! Sister Xue trembled like a leaf.

Though she longed to meet Wei Ming's family, not like this—this was mortifying.

Wei Ming paused slightly, then replied: "Grandma, it's me—I came home for a nap."

Grandma said: "Your parents told me to come home for a nap too. I said I wasn't tired, but they said the door might've been left open this morning and told me to check—so strange."

Wei Ming's head filled with question marks; Gong Rui covered her mouth, stifling laughter—she thought she understood.

You think that's funny, Wei Ming→.

Sister Xue was furious, eyes glistening, wanting to bite him—but afraid he'd cry out and alarm Grandma.

Wei Ming continued talking to Grandma: "Grandma, don't worry—I'll close the door properly when I leave. You can head back to the Sihe Academy."

Grandma understood everything—she knew exactly what was going on, but pretended not to, chuckling: "Wait a bit longer—I'll watch TV. This time of day usually has a Sichuan-Chongqing documentary. Grandson, does watching TV disturb your nap?"

"No disturbance at all." But Wei Ming figured if Grandma returned to the Sihe Academy now, the round trip would take an hour—plenty for a middle-aged person.

Wei Ming whispered in Sister Xue's ear: "Let's be quiet. An hour from now, Grandma leaves, then we leave."

Sister Xue shook her head, made a "traitor in the ranks, deal canceled" gesture—Wei Ming relented.

Since it was "canceled," they'd just restart after Grandma left. A young man like Wei Ming, even cooled down, could rebound quickly.

Outside, the TV played; inside the bed, Gong Rui and Wei Ming whispered about films. Wei Ming had already met director Wang Haowei—their communication flowed smoothly.

But he learned from Sister Xue that she favored Ma Xiaowei for the male lead.

Of course, nothing was confirmed yet—Ma Xiaowei had just arrived at Beiyingchang for auditions.

This future "Chairman" looked genuinely good-looking; in the 1980s, he rose to fame through "Yan Gui Lai" and "Xi Ying Men," maintained popularity with "The Happy Bachelor" and "Thunderstorm," essentially an actor of the Shangyingchang system, later joined Bayi Film Studio and played the Chairman several times.

If we were to name the four leading men of this era, Tang Guoqiang and Guo Kaimin were definite; the other two were Zhu Shimao and Ma Xiaowei.

Though Ma Xiaowei was Wei Ming's age, he looked older—perhaps he'd altered his birth year; later, in "The Happy Bachelor," he played Sister Xue's childhood friend's brother without a hint of awkwardness.

"Hey, it's quiet outside? Grandma's gone!"

Gong Rui whispered cautiously: "Are you sure? Go put on clothes and check."

Wei Ming: "No need."

He dashed naked to the window, crouched behind the curtain, cracked a slit, and peered down—like a naked, muscular frog. Gong Rui couldn't help laughing.

The frog immediately leapt back into bed: "Grandma's gone—let's continue!"

Afterward, Gong Rui feared being caught by Wei Ming's family and didn't rest—she headed straight back to the General Political Department Spoken Drama Troupe dormitory; her transfer wasn't official yet.

After dropping her off, Wei Ming returned to the library. At his desk, he wrestled with sheet music; after work, he went to Shao Yuan to find Li Aiguo, who was with Li Kui and several girls.

"Leonardo, did you finish writing that song for John Lennon?"

Wei Ming: "I came today to tell you about it—take a look."

Li Aiguo said: "I'm no expert in music—I can barely read sheet music. Let Li Kui sing it for us."

Wei Ming eyed Li Kui's dark face dubiously; this was a female vocal song, titled "Moonlight Shadow," which could be translated as "Moonlight Shadow" or "Moon Shadow."

But Li Kui insisted—he could read numbered notation and realized the song was surprisingly good. As he studied the score, he stared at Wei Ming: "Hey, bro, nb!"

Though not a masterpiece, and though Wei Ming already had a musical reputation in China, this was an English-language composition—equivalent to him and Li Aiguo writing a polished five- or seven-character regulated poem.

When he finished reading, Li Kui began singing: "The last that ever she saw him / Carried away by a moonlight shadow…"

After the song ended, Li Aiguo's expression was complex: Hmm… how to politely reject Wei "Leonardo" Ming? The lyrics were decent—about Yang Jiang's grief after John Lennon's death—but it just didn't sound good.

It might sell, but after all the effort to write my father a letter, asking him to use MCA connections—it felt pointless.

At that moment, a British girl couldn't hold back—she took the sheet music from Li Kui, studied it carefully. Li Kui, still immersed in his performance, eyes moist, convinced he'd sung it heartbreakingly.

After a while, Lisa, another British girl from Melinda's homeland, began singing—the same lyrics, same melody—but Li Aiguo felt invigorated.

After a while, Lisa, Melinda's fellow countrywoman from England, began to sing—the same lyrics, the same melody—but to Li Aiguo, it lifted his spirits.

Lisa was merely an amateur singer, but her voice was soft, perfect for this gentle, melancholy tune; Li Kui turned it into a gangster ballad—dark night, murder and robbery vibes.

When Lisa finished, Li Aiguo clapped: "Leonardo, you're a genius! A genius in every way!"

Wei Ming clapped too—applause for Lisa: "Thank you, Lisa. I can't sing well myself, but this is exactly the feeling I wanted."

Li Aiguo promised to write to his father in the U. . that day: "The Western music world will surely welcome a song commemorating John Lennon—especially one from China. This is so cool."

The song was written in 1983. Though some claim it was composed to honor John Lennon, the creator denied it, and the lyrics' dates and gunshot count don't match. But Wei Ming fixed all those bugs—this is now definitively a tribute to John Lennon, and that's what drives traffic.

"Who says mainland China has no modern music? This will blow the minds of ignorant foreigners!" Li Aiguo carefully tucked the sheet away.

Though Wei Ming was an oddity among Chinese, Li Aiguo believed more like him would come—he was a living symbol of China's opening to the world!

Wei Ming couldn't let Li Aiguo work for free—he promised to give him 10% of his earnings from the song as a commission, just like Ah Min.

Li Aiguo was delighted that his Chinese friend understood capitalist ways so well. Though no contract was signed, Wei Ming was a writer with global reputation—his nephew in America had even heard of Mr. Why. He wouldn't renege.

And this time, the pen name used was Mr. Why—Wei Ming planned to use it abroad from now on; everyone agreed it was memorable.

That night, Li Aiguo began writing his family letter. Though he'd return home for winter break, he had nearly a month to wait—he couldn't wait, so he sent the letter ahead to America.

When Wei Ming returned home, he wrote to Melinda, attaching his refined Rubik's Cube guide for her to assess commercial potential, and also sent her a backup copy of "Moonlight Shadow."

He made another backup, slipped it into a separate letter, and wrote on the envelope: "Do Not Open."

This could serve as evidence of the song's creation date. Though just a song, nothing major, but better safe than sorry—he hadn't slept with Li Aiguo, so he wasn't fully trusting.

John Lennon's assassination had a huge impact—even Ah Min mentioned it mournfully in her recent letter and sang several of Lennon's hits on the tape.

The next day, Wei Ming and Gong Rui visited the China Art Museum. Both wore masks—even to prevent colds was good.

Before finding Ah Long's cartoon, they were stunned by a two-meter-long, one-and-a-half-meter-wide oil painting titled "Father."

It was the top prize winner of this year's National Youth Art Exhibition, painted by Luo Zhongli after living among the people of Dabashan, combining two real-life models—it carried a powerful, heart-stopping force, and later even appeared in elementary school Chinese textbooks.

As the son of a farmer, Wei Ming felt this painting most deeply. Though northern peasants didn't wear white headscarves or get this dark, they did tie towels on their heads and bore similar deep wrinkles and bewildered eyes.

He thought of his past-life father, old Wei, crippled by lung disease, aged beyond fifty before he died—his eyes suddenly stung.

Gong Rui gently squeezed Wei Ming's hand. Though not a peasant's child, she'd been sent to the countryside and lived in the northwest, where many elders resembled the man in the painting.

The painting drew a crowd quickly. Wei Ming and Gong Rui slipped out of the circle, composed themselves, and continued browsing the exhibition while searching for Ah Long's cartoon.

"Here—it's here!" Gong Rui spotted the name "Liu Rulong" first.

But it wasn't the romance cartoon Wei Ming imagined between him and Gong Ying—it told the story of his parents and himself.

His father left home to earn money; his mother raised the child alone. Years later, the father returned—the child had grown up.

The story was ordinary, but Ah Long replaced the characters with pandas—finally, the panda father returned carrying a basket of bamboo shoots, delightfully cheerful. But Wei Ming, who knew Ah Long, guessed he'd cried while drawing it.

The story was ordinary, but Wu Long changed the characters to a panda, and in the end, the panda father returned with a basket full of bamboo shoots, looking joyful and amusing; Wei Ming, who knew Wu Long well, guessed he must have cried while drawing it.

Moreover, Wei Ming noticed that after a year of training, Ah Long had made great progress in his drawing—he now captured the panda with a sense of effortless grace, using just a few simple lines to convey its spirit.

It was time to give him more responsibility.

That evening, after dinner with Xue Jie, Wei Ming dropped her off and went to the Film Academy to find Ah Long.

"From now on, 'Black Cat Detective' will be published once a month."

"What?" Liu Rulong held up the character designs for Jing Tianming and Xiang Shaoyu, thinking Wei Ming was going to talk about 'Qin Shi Mingyue'—but it was about 'Black Cat Detective.'

Wei Ming explained: "Xiao Yan's aunt has also given me more work—starting next January, 'Children's Literature' is becoming a monthly magazine, so 'Black Cat Detective' must also be one story per month."

In 1980, Wei Ming published five 'Black Cat Detective' stories, and the animated adaptation had only five episodes.

Thanks to its entertaining stories, rich imagination, and lovable animal characters, the series had become a sales guarantee for 'Children's Literature'—even the top fairy tale series—and the revamped 'Children's Literature' still relied on Wei Ming to stabilize its sales.

Moreover, the chief editor had finally decided to publish the first five stories as a book, which required Ah Long to draw several more illustrations.

Ah Long readily agreed—this meant extra income each month.

They then reviewed the character designs for the two leads. They naturally differed from Wei Ming's memory, and there was no need for them to match—Ah Long's designs were no worse.

Since the target markets were Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Southeast Asia, Ah Long's style leaned toward Hong Kong comics, and he left the final approval to Wei Ming.

Wei Ming chose Jing Tianming's design #5 and #8, and Xiang Shaoyu's design #3.

Ah Long smiled: "Jing #5 and Xiang #3 are indeed my favorites—I'll blend in some elements from #8 later."

"You're fine with drawing men, but women are harder—you still need to work on them," Wei Ming patted Ah Long's shoulder. For 'Qin Shi Mingyue,' the exact look of the male lead wasn't crucial—it was the intricate machinery, vibrant action scenes, stunning Chinese aesthetics, and the diverse cast of beautiful female characters that mattered.

Wei Ming had also considered having Ah Long illustrate the covers for his overseas works—he had the skill, and it would let his brother earn this money, which wasn't small; the British picture book artist behind 'The Game of the Brave' had nearly earned ten thousand dollars.

But illustrating novels involved "client demands," requiring constant revisions until the client was satisfied—this meant Ah Long, still based in China, couldn't take on the job.

The communication cost was too high.

Back at the Overseas Chinese Apartment, his mother told Wei Ming: "Xiao Zhu called looking for you."

Now that they knew each other well, no one called her "Commissar Zhu" anymore.

"When did this happen?"

"She called at noon."

Wei Ming said: "Mom, I'm going out—I'll sleep at the Sihe Academy tonight."

To Xu Shufen and Wei Jiefang, this automatically translated into: Mom, I'm taking Zhu Lin to sleep at the Sihe Academy.

At Zhu Lin's home in Tuanjie Lake, she had done yoga several times, waited a long time for Wei Ming, and had already gone to bed.

She only woke up when she heard Wei Ming open the door.

"Is that you, Xiao Wei?"

"It's me."

Wei Ming hugged Zhu Lin in her nightgown: "Come inside quickly—it's cold."

They got under the covers. Wei Ming said: "You missed me, didn't you?"

Zhu Lin insisted: "No, I just have something to discuss with you."

"What is it?"

Zhu Lin sighed: "A Shanghai Film Studio movie wants me to play the female lead, but it conflicts with my classes at the Film Academy."

"Do you like the script?" Wei Ming asked first.

"Yes, it's a rural story, but the plot is interesting—it promotes filial piety and fraternal duty, and it's set in the Qilu region. My father is from Shandong, but I've never been there. The film will shoot in Shandong too—maybe I can visit my hometown." This appealed to Zhu Lin.

Wei Ming thought: "What's the movie called?"

Zhu Lin: "'Happy Gate.'"

Wow!

He'd just mentioned Ma Xiaowei with Xue Jie yesterday—and now he heard 'Happy Gate.' The male lead of 'Happy Gate' was Ma Xiaowei—if he took 'Mom, Please Love Me Again,' he wouldn't be able to star in this classic 80s film.

Calling 'Happy Gate' a classic was praise—it set a record as China's most-reproduced film, with over 4, 00 copies in 35mm, 16mm, and 8. 5mm formats.

In 1981, it led in box office revenue and 35mm audience attendance, though total viewership was slightly behind the opera film 'The White Snake.'

"Which role are they offering you?" Wei Ming asked again.

"Second sister."

Oh—that meant the primary female lead. Back then, Wen Yujuan became nationally famous as the ideal sister-in-law through this role; Zhu Lin's gentle, virtuous demeanor matched hers—and she was even prettier.

"I know this film—the story is solid, and the state has been promoting rural themes. This role could make you famous nationwide."

"But what about my studies?" Zhu Lin worried. She was an amateur by training, acting purely by instinct, and had hoped to systematically learn acting to broaden her range.

Wei Ming gave serious advice: "Why not write a letter to the Central Academy of Drama? They've just admitted their 1980 class—apply to be an auditing student after finishing this film. Their acting training is very solid."

Zhu Lin thought it was feasible: "I'll keep attending Film Academy classes, then go to the Central Academy for further study—but the director says we need to experience rural life in Shandong before the end of the year."

"You're leaving?" Wei Ming felt both reluctant and secretly relieved—he wouldn't have to juggle both of them anymore.

Zhu Lin: "You can't bear to let me go?"

"Of course."

Zhu Lin rolled on top of him: "Then spend these next few days with me—don't see anyone else."

Wei Ming nodded seriously.

Zhu Lin: "Do you know what day it is today?"

Wei Ming thought: "Oh! It's December 31st!"

Zhu Lin glanced at Wei Ming's luminous watch: "Yes—in one hour it'll be 1981. Can you make it to '81?"

Wei Ming laughed: "Don't you know my strength?"

Zhu Lin thought: I'm just afraid your strength has already been used up on someone else—and now you're broke.

An hour later, Wei Ming and Zhu Lin crossed into 1981 together.

Last year, the one who had crossed the year boundary with Wei Ming was Melinda.

Who would it be next year?

…

(Today's minimum)

(End of chapter)