Chapter 273: Xue Linlin

Wei Ming had arrived at Tuanjie Lake, worn his Casio watch, but after waiting an hour, it was dark and Sister Lin still hadn't come.

Had she gone home again? Or was she held up somewhere at Beiyingchang?

Too bad this apartment at Tuanjie Lake had no phone, not even a TV—bored, Wei Ming left a note and went downstairs, glancing at the room of Biaozi and Xiao Mei in the other building: lights on.

So he went back up and knocked on Mei Wenhua's door.

"Brother?" Xu Yunyun was surprised Wei Ming had shown up suddenly.

Wei Ming asked: "Is Xiao Mei home?"

"She is."

Now that Xintiandi was running smoothly, with a store manager and advanced systems, the boss no longer needed to stay late with employees every day.

Wei Ming asked again: "Have you eaten yet?"

Yunyun: "We were just about to."

Wei Ming: "I haven't eaten either."

Yunyun smiled: "Come in quickly, or should I go call Sister Yan and the others?"

Wei Ming chuckled: "That'd be great—we haven't all gotten together in a while."

He walked in and saw Mei Wenhua in an apron, bustling around the gas stove—Wei Ming was stunned: "You cook at home? Yunyun is really irresponsible."

Mei Wenhua smiled: "Usually Yunyun cooks, but from now on, I'll handle it."

Wei Ming: "What's wrong? Does her cooking not suit your taste? Too spicy?"

Mei Wenhua set the dish on the table: "No, no, no—it's delicious. I was going to wait another two months to say it, but since you asked…."

Wei Ming quickly stopped him: "No need to say more—I understand."

He took a sip of tea, gloomy—two of his buddies were about to become fathers; soon they'd all be family-of-three outings, who'd still take him along?

He wondered whether Sister Xue and Sister Lin would ever want to be his family of three.

Soon after, Biaozi and Yanzi arrived with two bottles of liquor, ready for the three brothers to drink properly.

Huang Jiaoyan wasn't showing much yet and even wanted to have a sip, but Biaozi firmly shut her down.

After eating, Mei Wenhua first reported last month's turnover—the final month of 1980.

"Despite competitors copying us, our December turnover easily surpassed 250, 00. The down jacket you suggested is great—light, warm, expensive, but the market loves it; we sold a thousand just of those, and we're the only ones selling them."

This was Wei Ming's suggestion for winter clothing—now goose and duck down from the suburbs of Beijing were fetching good prices.

But Wei Ming noticed, looking closely, goose down peeking through the fabric on Biaozi and Xiao Mei.

And the filling was excessive, making the jackets look bulky—the craftsmanship was still immature.

Biaozi, in charge of clothing production, said: "But farmers are now hesitant to sell duck and goose down—the authorities issued two documents recently, cracking down again on stealing chickens and ducks."

Wei Ming had just been thinking of importing advanced Hong Kong garment techniques during his trip there, to establish in-house production and sales—but he held back; the wind had shifted again, and as a model example, they should stay low-key.

Xiao Mei comforted him: "Don't worry—we still have enough goose down to last through winter, but next year everyone will make down jackets, and then it won't be so easy to collect."

At that moment Yunyun suggested: "What about collecting from Hengzhou? It's not far, and there are plenty of free-range ducks and geese there."

Wei Ming smiled: "When I go home for the New Year, I'll mention it to the old Party secretary. We've opened up the domestic down jacket market—whether we buy or not, they won't have trouble selling."

After dinner, the two pregnant women went to the kitchen to wash dishes; Mei Wenhua told Wei Ming: "Starting this year, the individual income tax law takes effect—does that mean our dividends drop too?"

Wei Ming shrugged: "As long as you've got enough money, I'm fine with anything."

He still had over twenty thousand on hand, plus plenty of foreign exchange—he wasn't short of cash.

Biaozi agreed—he had only one wife, and his expenses were even lower than Wei Ming's.

So Mei Wenhua decided Wei Ming would receive a fixed 1, 00 yuan monthly dividend, and they'd follow the same ratio, keeping surplus profits in the company account.

"When the wind turns favorable, I'm definitely going into production."

After ten, Yunyun started yawning; Wei Ming and Biaozi stood to leave. Biaozi and Xiao Mei laughed and chatted their way home; Wei Ming walked alone to Building No. 2.

He looked up—the lights were still off. He opened the door—sure enough, Sister Lin hadn't come. Wei Ming, with two girlfriends, was left alone in an empty room.

The next day.

Zhu Lin finally woke from her hangover, instinctively hugging the person beside her, thinking it was Wei Ming, her long legs rubbing against him.

But when she touched the chest of the person beside her, she suddenly realized something was wrong.

It wasn't particularly large, but it definitely didn't feel like a man's pectoral muscle!

Zhu Lin opened her eyes and saw Gong Ying sleeping beside her; both were barely dressed. With daylight coming, the heating had faded, and she felt a chill, quickly pulling the blanket tighter around them.

She remembered—they'd been drinking together yesterday. She hadn't expected a Shanghai girl to be such a drinker; Zhu Lin thought she had it in the bag, but they'd finished an entire bottle.

That was a full jin of baijiu!

And under the influence, they'd shared many stories about Wei Ming—utterly candid.

Zhu Lin told Gong Ying about her previous boyfriend; Gong Ying confessed that during her rural posting, a sent-down youth had confessed to her, and she'd been moved—but then she got into the army, and it ended without resolution.

Later, they crawled into bed, stripped down to just underwear, comparing sizes, even asking for details about sex with Wei Ming.

Gong Ying was far behind—fewer experiences, and Wei Ming dared not do anything too extreme, sticking to traditional moves.

Zhu Lin immediately showed off high-difficulty poses she'd learned from dance training and yoga; Gong Ying stared, dumbfounded.

Zhu Lin made Gong Ying lie underneath and, pretending to be Wei Ming, taught her how to make it comfortable.

I've gone mad! Thinking of last night, Zhu Lin covered her face, too ashamed to show herself—maybe she should suffocate Gong Ying first, then herself.

Just as the thought surfaced, Gong Ying opened her eyes, immediately slapping her forehead, still dazed—she couldn't drink nearly as well as Zhu Lin; yesterday she'd just been forcing herself.

"Sis, you're awake? What time is it?" Gong Ying asked blankly.

"What did you just call me?" Zhu Lin froze, then smiled.

Gong Ying: "Comrade Zhu Lin, what time is it?"

Zhu Lin laughed, looping her arm around Gong Ying's neck: "I'm older than you, after all—calling me 'sister' isn't too much to ask."

Hearing "older," Gong Ying immediately recalled yesterday's intimate body comparison—wondering if men compared lengths too, but as a woman, she felt deeply embarrassed.

"I—I need to go," Gong Ying blushed, searching for her clothes; as she dressed, memories of undressing returned piece by piece.

Definitely shouldn't drink so freely again—alcohol causes trouble!

Seeing Gong Ying's shyness, Zhu Lin—who felt equally awkward—immediately felt a sense of triumph. She picked up her pants: "Alright, if anyone should leave, it's me—this is your room."

Gong Ying slowed down—right.

"So what are you doing next?" she asked.

Zhu Lin: "I'm leaving soon—of course, I'm meeting Xiao Wei."

Gong Ying laughed: "Pfft, shameless."

Zhu Pinched Gong Ying's cheek: "Don't worry—I'll use him one last time. Once I'm gone, he's all yours."

Gong Ying blushed even more, but didn't mind Zhu Lin pinching her cheek; after yesterday's three-year pact and truth-telling session, they could now calmly accept each other's bold remarks.

She asked in return: "Where do you usually meet?"

"Yesterday?" Zhu Lin thought. "We never actually said. He bought an apartment under my name at Tuanjie Lake."

Gong Ying's eyes widened—she'd thought only she had a house!

Zhu Lin dressed, realizing how cruel this revelation must sound to Gong Ying—a whole apartment worth over ten thousand yuan.

So she draped an arm over Gong Ying's shoulder: "I was with him first, after all. When your feelings deepen further, given his nature, he'll buy you one too."

"He…" Gong Ying hesitated, then didn't mention the old Shanghai villa—she'd be returning to Shanghai in a few days anyway, and the renovation would be nearly done; she'd simply invite Zhu Lin over as a guest.

Gong Ying secretly delighted in her own scheming: I'm so wicked!

Walking out of Beiyingchang into the morning sun, Zhu Lin felt cheerful—now that everything was clear, no need to guard against each other, and with a unified plan, they only had to wait three years until Xiao Wei turned twenty-two.

After that? Just quietly date.

But as she neared Tuanjie Lake, she suddenly wondered—what if, after three years, he chooses someone else?

The question Gong Ying had first considered—she was only now calmly thinking about it.

Zhu Lin was quite good at enduring loneliness; as a child, when her parents were away, she'd been sent to a farm, her sister lived on campus, and she walked to and from school alone—she'd even found it pleasant.

But ever since turning thirty-one, she'd been alone—could she truly endure this loneliness?

If she lost, maybe she should ask Xiao Wei for a child?

As she thought, she arrived at Tuanjie Lake. She wasn't sure if she'd see Xiao Wei—but luck was with her: the brat was still asleep, wearing the electronic watch she'd given him.

Smelled like alcohol?

Zhu Lin thought it was her own scent, rushed to wash up and change clothes—then realized Wei Ming still smelled of alcohol; probably drank with friends.

Originally planning to give Wei Ming a good-morning kiss, Zhu Lin changed her mind—she remembered Gong Ying saying she and Wei Ming had tried oral assistance beyond normal intimacy.

Even as a medical worker, Zhu Lin found it thrilling—this delicate Jiangnan woman was truly unexpected.

As she thought, Zhu Lin reached for Wei Ming's autumn pants.

Minutes later, Wei Ming woke—before he opened his eyes, someone had already risen.

Wei Ming decided not to go to work today; tomorrow Zhu Lin was leaving—today, it was either her or him—he'd fight to the end!

Zhu Lin didn't tell Wei Ming about her agreement with Gong Ying—this had been their prearranged plan; otherwise, they'd seem too easy.

Though Wei Ming's physique was strong, one day of this wasn't realistic—luckily, Zhu Lin carried the script of "Xi Yingmen"; he'd analyze the plot and characters for her, helping her better embody her role.

"Xi Yingmen" had one of the highest attendance figures in 1981; in his past life, Wei Ming had watched it more than once in the countryside, and later several times on the movie channel—he knew the plot and characters intimately.

Zhu Lin had initially been lost in the afterglow, but soon realized Xiao Wei's insights were pure gold; his film analysis was unique, and she'd landed the lead in "Shang Shi" thanks to his help—so she began to focus seriously.

Later, she didn't just listen—she borrowed a notebook from Wei Ming and started taking notes.

Later, when Wei Ming wanted to reignite things, Zhu Lin refused: "Tell me again—what should Second Sister pay attention to when acting with Big Sister?"

Wei Ming: "Ask me nicely."

"Please."

Wei Ming: "Call me 'big brother.'"

"Brother, please."

Wei Ming: "Call me Dad… Ahhh, I'll tell you, I'll tell you."

Zhu Lin: Hmph, I'm not some delicate queen!

She twisted Wei Ming's waist, and he confessed everything—said whatever she asked.

Happy moments are always brief; even twenty-four hours a day seemed insufficient. The next day, Zhu Lin left early for Beijing Film Studio and returned to Shanghai with the Shanghai Film Studio crew. Da Shi Chang also left. Now, if Zhang Yu wanted to speak Shanghai dialect, she could only turn to Gong Ying.

But she still couldn't find her. After Li Jie left, Wei Ming—who had neglected Xue Jie these past few days—naturally made up for it, even taking her to Peking University and guiding her through two freshman English lectures, since she said she wanted to learn a foreign language.

Yu Minhong was the first to notice the girl wearing a mask. Winter had arrived, and many people had colds; wearing masks wasn't unusual. What was unusual was how beautiful her exposed eyes were—and the man sitting beside her was Wei Ming!

Now all Peking University students called Wei Ming "Teacher Wei"—Teacher Wei, who was only nineteen.

Teacher Wei even spoke to that girl.

"Is it hard to follow?"

"A bit."

Wei Ming: "This is the slow class for the Spanish department. The teacher speaks more simply. Other classes in the same year find it even harder."

Yu Minhong overheard this and blushed. Though they were all in the Spanish department, students were still ranked by performance. Someone like him had little chance of becoming a translator at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

After the two lectures ended, Wei Ming and Gong Ying left the scene immediately, heading out to eat.

"Red Sister, was that your brother just now?" asked her roommate Qiao Cui.

Wei Hong glanced at the retreating figure: "Probably. Height matches."

Ning Xin said: "There was a woman beside him, wearing a mask—looks like Gong Ying."

Guo Qian: "You can recognize her even with a mask on?"

Ning Xin: "Didn't you notice when Yunyun got married? She came too. I remember her hairstyle was the same, and her build was similar."

Qiao Cui asked excitedly: "Red Sister, what's your brother's relationship with Gong Ying?"

She especially loved the female lead in the film version of "The Herdsman." When China Youth Daily voted for the "Top Ten Favorite Youth Screen Images," she had even cast a vote for Gong Ying.

Ning Xin answered for her: "What relationship? Just professional collaboration."

Wei Hong nodded blankly: "Yeah, professional collaboration."

She was still so young—completely immersed in the ocean of knowledge, and even less attuned to matters of emotion.

Recently, a freshman from the International Politics Department, rumored to have scored the highest humanities score in the country, sent someone to their dorm to meet Wei Hong. She shot him down immediately: "No time. Not interested."

At the time, she was busy writing and publishing her own works—she had no interest in such social activities.

Two days later, Gong Ying, director Wang Haowei, and the confirmed male lead Ma Xiaowei and others headed south. First to Shanghai for location scouting, then to Subei, where they'd combine on-location and studio shooting.

After Gong Ying left, Peking University entered its final exam period, and Wei Ming began new creative work.

He had originally planned to write that sci-fi novel about dinosaurs first, but then he received a letter from director Li Hanxiang in Hong Kong.

He didn't pressure him to write a script—just chatted casually: about Qing court secrets, Ming-Qing furniture, famous anecdotes, and Hong Kong's film scene last year.

Wei Ming knew exactly what he meant, so he picked up the materials Li Hanxiang had left him and started reading.

Because he admired Liang Jiahui so much, he had thoroughly studied Liang's imperial masterpieces, "The Burning of the Yuanmingyuan" and "The Empress Dowager." Li Hanxiang had also left behind the previous three screenwriters' work—half the job was already done. Wei Ming simply needed to turn one film script into two.

So the task was relatively simple. But determined to leave no room for the client to complain, Wei Ming didn't start writing immediately. Instead, he finished reading all of Li Hanxiang's books, then spent several days in Peking University's rare book library.

Later, under Old Wei's introduction, he met Mr. Wang Shixiang, his elderly friend, and listened firsthand as the old man recounted stories he'd learned about the Forbidden City, palace maids, eunuchs, and the Aisin Gioro family.

He gained immensely!

But the one who benefited most was Old Wei—he met Mr. Zhu Jiajin, Mei Baoyu, and others through Old Wang, and learned many skills from them.

Without realizing it, he'd slipped into the cultural circle! And they had no idea his son was Wei Ming—he'd won them over entirely with his own tongue.

That mouth that could annoy people in Gouzitun now charmed these old masters in Beijing—especially since he knew how to play, and the elders loved to play.

Recently, Old Wei had been tinkering with more Ming-Qing furniture in the Sihe Academy, even starting to collect porcelain. He'd built a Qing-era huanghuali display shelf and arranged his Ru ware, Jun ware, and blue-and-white porcelain on it.

Wei Ming didn't interfere, occasionally asking if he had enough money, then giving him some so he could buy whatever he wanted.

Every time Wei Ming came to the Sihe Academy, he never checked what his father had bought—he focused on bonding with Yin Xing the dog, sometimes tying a leash and taking it for walks through the streets.

Back then, leashes weren't for protecting passersby—they were to protect Yin Xing. If it ran off and someone spotted it, it'd likely end up in someone's stomach.

Dog meat was premium meat.

Occasionally, Wei Ming would let Yin Xing sit on his motorcycle and take it to the countryside to run wild.

One day, Wei Ming returned to the Sihe Academy from the suburbs with Yin Xing. His mother had just finished lunch, and Old Wei had gone to Xintiandi to deliver meals.

Wei Ming had wanted to replace his father's motorcycle, but Old Wei refused—he said if he rode a motorcycle to collect antiques, people would hike up prices. He actually wanted Wei Ming's old, battered 28-inch bicycle.

Wei Ming had just set the dog down when Xu Shufen pulled him aside: "Your dad spent over a hundred yuan today on a piece of porcelain. You should scold him."

"Over a hundred?" That did exceed Old Wei's usual spending—he'd never bought furniture costing more than a hundred.

"What kind of porcelain?" Wei Ming asked.

"Said it was blue-and-white. Oh, Yuan blue-and-white."

"Oh?"

Wei Ming went to Old Wei's collection room and took a look. It was indeed blue-and-white—but whether it was Yuan blue-and-white, he couldn't tell. But it definitely wasn't the famous "Guiguzi Descending the Mountain" jar or the "Xiao He Chasing Han Xin Under the Moon" vase.

Wei Ming didn't understand it, so he let Old Wei have his way. A hundred yuan wasn't enough to lose money.

In the early 1980s, fakes weren't unheard of—but many were imitations from the late Qing or early Republic, copying Tang or Song antiques. Those were still antiques, just not as valuable.

Besides, Yanjing didn't let him keep donkeys or cows—he had to give him some hobbies.

Wei Ming then reminded his mother: "Be sure to lock the door—don't let Yin Xing in to mess things up."

"I know. It's just that this stuff burns through money."

Just then, Old Wei returned. He didn't mention the hundred-yuan Yuan blue-and-white. Instead, he told Wei Ming: "I met a young guy who wants to visit you. Are you free?"

Wei Ming laughed: "First you hung out with old men—now you're hanging out with kids?"

Such a wide social circle?

"He's not a kid—he's a few years older than you. I met him while collecting antiques. We kept bumping into each other, got to know each other. Don't think he's just a worker—he's got ambition, good at collecting, and even wants to write novels. I told him about you."

"So he wants to see me for?"

"Wants you to read his novel and tell him if he can make a living at it."

Wei Ming thought for a moment. He owed his father this favor. "I'll read the novel, but I won't meet him. I'm busy writing a script for Li Hanxiang. Bring his manuscript home—I'll take a look."

"Hey, great! I'll tell my friends my son's helpful!" Old Wei was delighted—he finally didn't look bad in front of his friends.

Two days later, he brought a manuscript titled "Tonight the Moon Is Full"—a short story.

It told the story of a workshop worker loved by the workshop goddess. The prose was average, the ideas shallow—the author likely had little education. But the story was engaging, the language lively, free of academic stiffness.

Wei Ming thought it was acceptable. Even if it didn't reach the level of the Four Great Masters, it could still be published in a lower-tier journal.

At the end, the author's name appeared—Ma Wei.

Wei Ming looked and said: "Oh? Him!"

Final comment: Suggest submitting to China Youth Daily.

…

(Today's minimum)

(End of chapter)