Chapter 280: Where Did Wei Ming

(Finally released the last chapter~)

Because he couldn't go to the gravesite on New Year's Eve, Wei Ming went alone on New Year's Day to make up for it.

Looking at the tomb of "Wei Senhao," Wei Ming thought that in a few more months, he and his grandfather would finally meet—the first time in two lifetimes that grandfather and grandson would see each other.

After sweeping the tomb, Wei Ming wanted to return to Beijing immediately, because if he didn't go back soon, Zhu Lin might leave.

Wei Ming could leave, but Old Wei and the others couldn't, because the village was about to implement the household contract responsibility system and prepare to divide the farmland.

Now, only Wei Jiefang and Xu Shufen were listed on the Wei family's household registration—they couldn't afford to be absent.

Qi Kexiu was delighted, because land was allocated by headcount, and his family had just gained one more member, meaning one more share of land.

Moreover, his father-in-law's land would eventually become theirs anyway, and even if Wei Jiefang received his share, he wouldn't farm it himself—it would all end up benefiting them. Altogether, their family was nearly becoming the village's largest landowners; thinking this, even his sperm duct didn't hurt anymore.

It was a pity that Wei Hong had entered university early and moved her household registration to Beijing—otherwise, she could have received another share.

Wei Hong stayed behind as well; she planned to set up a free tutoring class for the village's high school students, helping them prepare for the college entrance exam, and then she would join her parents and grandmother in Beijing—this would count as her holiday practical activity.

So on the second day of the New Year, Wei Ming returned to Beijing with Uncle Anping's family, leaving Long even behind.

On the way, Uncle Anping and Aunt Xiaoyan discussed the dramatic changes of that era with their nephew, based on the plot of "The Righteous Path Is Full of Sorrow"—people their age had no lack of enthusiasm for national affairs.

But they also had another motive: they wanted to find out whether their own fathers would appear in later episodes.

Since they were close relatives and Wei Ming was about to write about the Liaoshen Campaign, he added a bit more screen time for Uncle Lü, making him run errands for Jiang Limin—this would appear in the third volume.

Aunt Xiaoyan was very satisfied, but Uncle Anping was gloomy: "Why isn't my father in it? She's your aunt, but I'm your uncle!"

Wei Ming had indeed overlooked this, but his cousin's father had died early; when Wei Ming asked Old Ghost about him, he said there was nothing notable to mention.

To keep the protagonist's storyline tight, no such side character was placed beside him.

Still, Uncle Anping had no real emotional attachment to his biological father—he didn't even compare to Wei Senhao.

When the train arrived, Wei Ming returned to the Overseas Chinese Apartment; it was nearly dark.

He sorted and stored the local specialties he'd brought from home—this was only a small portion; there would be much more when his father and the others arrived.

Right now, though he missed Linjie very much, if she didn't come to him voluntarily and on her own, he'd just drink some cola and watch TV.

He took out a cola, turned on the TV, and began enjoying the conveniences of modern society.

The moment he turned on the TV, a duck wearing a bow tie popped up, speaking in a hoarse voice about the "Golden Ratio."

"Donald Duck in Mathmagic Land"—Mickey Mouse's brother made his first appearance on CCTV; this was an old cartoon from over twenty years ago, yet it still felt timeless, and Wei Ming, a 20-year-old boy, watched it with great interest.

After the news ended, "Eighteen Years in the Enemy Camp" began airing—the first Chinese TV serial drama.

TV dramas had existed before, but only those with three or more episodes were called serials; this was the first time such a nine-episode serial had been produced.

They had to produce their own content now: TV sets were selling more and more, but domestic programming was far from enough; imported shows had all kinds of problems—sometimes they'd stop broadcasting halfway—so producing their own was easier to control.

The cast was still impressive: director Wang Fulin would later direct "Dream of the Red Chamber" and "Romance of the Three Kingdoms"; lead actor Zhang Lianwen was among the top male stars of Beiyingchang; lead actress Li Xiaoli had just collaborated with Snow Sister on "Midnight."

Wei Ming had never seen it before, because when he started watching TV dramas, it was already the 1990s, when "Wang Ke," "The Editor's Story," and "The Investiture of the Gods" were popular.

So he watched it with great enjoyment—until he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Who could it be at this hour?

The answer: Zhu Lin.

"Surprised? Delighted?" Zhu Lin tilted her head, still holding something in her hand.

"How did you know I just got home?!" Wei Ming was genuinely surprised—and suspected his home had been bugged.

"I didn't know," Zhu Lin said. "I was visiting Director Shuihua, and when I left, he gave me some homemade fried meatballs. Then I passed by your place, and Grandpa Sun told me you'd returned."

She claimed it was just a passing by, but clearly it wasn't on her way—she was about to leave for Shandong to film, so she wanted to check if Wei Ming had returned; if he had, she'd find a way to meet him.

She hadn't expected him to be back—and even more, Grandpa Sun revealed he was alone—so she came straight in; it had been a long time since she'd entered this door.

Lovers meeting, eyes blazing—they immediately embraced and kissed, and Linjie playfully slipped her hand under Wei Ming's shirt, pressing against his skin.

Sister's being unsteady.

Though she'd worn gloves before, Zhu Lin's hands were still chilly; Wei Ming immediately placed them on his warm abdominal muscles, while he placed his hands on her chest.

The thought of letting her take the lead vanished instantly—Wei Ming became terrifyingly proactive.

"Wait a minute, where's your police chief?" Zhu Lin grabbed his hand beneath the tight sweater; she'd long wanted to see that black cat, heard it could do somersaults—but she'd never had the chance to visit the Overseas Chinese Apartment these past months.

Wei Ming held her and sat on the sofa: "I left it at the Sihe Academy—the one I bought for my parents. There's also a dog there to keep it company, and Xiao Mei and Biaozi help take care of it."

Wei Ming said it calmly, expecting Zhu Lin to question him—but she didn't ask about the Sihe Academy at all; instead, she sighed regretfully: "Too bad, I missed it again. Actually, I like dogs too."

"What's hard about that? Tomorrow we'll go over there and take a look—I'll show you around."

Zhu Lin knew that place had once been where Wei Ming and Gong Yu met—it was ancient and elegant, beautiful. Hmm, I'll see just how seductive it really is.

"Sure," Zhu Lin agreed cheerfully, glancing at the TV. "You're watching 'Eighteen Years in the Enemy Camp' too? My parents are watching it too."

"What do you think of it?"

Zhu Lin: "It's quite good. I even met Comrade Zhang Lianwen at Beiyingchang. Before filming, many said he shouldn't do TV dramas—that it wasn't art—but the response has been great; he's been on the front page of several newspapers."

"Domestic TV sets are increasing rapidly, and color TVs are now made locally too. Soon, TV audiences will surpass moviegoers."

Wei Ming thought Linjie and Snow Sister could also make TV dramas in the future, expanding their influence—though only if the work was truly classic, otherwise not worth acting in.

But now wasn't the time to talk about that: "Sister, I've been on a train all day—I'm tired."

Zhu Lin: "Then I won't disturb you. My parents are waiting for me to go home."

Wei Ming tightened his arms around her waist: "I'm tired, but you're not. Can't you be a little more proactive?"

Zhu Lin lightly slapped him: "Don't wear yourself out."

Wei Ming slapped back hard: "I'm being modest—you really think I'm easy to take advantage of?"

Saying that, he carried Zhu Lin into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

Returning to this place, Zhu Lin felt complex emotions—this bed had witnessed too much: Melinda, perhaps even Little Snow?

Wei Ming gave her no time to think—soon, her body was reduced to instinct alone.

This Spring Festival, everyone was happy~

It was just a pity that Gong Yu was alone, watching Mudo TV with her family; today they were watching a live recording of Satoda Masashi's concert.

Gong Yu and Gong Ying nervously waited for their parents and older siblings to see them on TV.

But in the end, not a single shot of their five viewers appeared.

The next day, Wei Ming woke up to the sight of Zhu Lin's face in her sleep; looking at that face filled him with joy—it felt like a cure for longevity.

Last night, Linjie had planned to go home, but she lacked the willpower—he asked, and she gave in, and they didn't stop until deep into the night.

Now, saying she'd go home sounded ridiculous; it was more practical to make up an excuse the next day.

Though the quilt was warm, Wei Ming thought Wu Lao should be home now; if he waited too long, Wu Lao might go out for his walk, so he went over to pay New Year's respects and brought some local specialties from home.

Then Wei Ming visited the gatekeeper—Old Sun got his share too; he chuckled and gladly accepted it.

Wei Ming was about to return and prepare breakfast when the mailman arrived with an international parcel, asking for his signature.

It was from Melinda in England.

When he got home, he didn't open it immediately; instead, he prepared a simple breakfast and dragged Linjie out of bed.

She was still reluctant to get up; when Wei Ming climbed onto the bed, she clung to him.

Wei Ming acted decisively—gave her a morning workout.

The phone rang outside during it, but he didn't answer—who knew who it was?

Now they could finally eat properly: "This sausage is great, and this cured pork is delicious too."

"The fried meatballs from Director Shuihua's place aren't bad either," Wei Ming commented. "You should go home soon—take some of our hometown specialties to give to your parents."

Zhu Lin didn't bother with politeness: "Good. My dad really likes the spicy sauce Auntie and Grandma make."

"These are also made by my mom and grandma—I brought plenty. I still need to visit some elders and give New Year gifts. Let's set a time—I'll pick you up and take you to the Sihe Academy."

Zhu Lin: "No need for you to pick me up. Just tell me the address and give me the key—you can go there directly after you're done."

"Don't be ridiculous. Silver is just a puppy, but she's a good watchdog—you'll be mistaken for a thief if you go alone."

"Am I a beautiful thief?" Zhu Lin pouted.

Wei Ming: "A heart-stealing thief—living off her looks."

Though Wei Ming refused her, Zhu Lin was delighted—he was truly good at providing emotional value. After eating, Wei Ming pulled out the key again to give it to her.

"You can go ahead and wait for me, but wait until I arrive before you go inside."

This pleased Zhu Lin deeply; she pushed the key back: "I'll lose it again—you keep it. Just be there at five."

As she prepared to leave, Zhu Lin noticed the package at the door, labeled in both Chinese and English.

"From Melinda?"

Wei Ming couldn't deny it.

"Mm."

"Oh." Zhu Lin stared at the package, her feet rooted to the spot.

Wei Ming smiled and picked it up to open it: "Probably good news about the new book—let's open it together."

Usually, a generous girlfriend would say: "I won't look—I'll let you open it yourself."

But Zhu Lin: "Yes, yes! I've never seen an international letter before!"

Wei Ming opened it and found four copies of "The Lion King"—two hardcover, two paperback—with U. . bills tucked inside. Melinda had been thoughtful, converting pounds into dollars.

Just the books contained two thousand dollars; Wei Ming grabbed two bills and tried to slip them into Zhu Lin's pocket—she firmly refused: "I won't be corrupted by British sugar-coated bullets!"

"You don't want to shop at Friendship Store?" Wei Ming smiled, knowing what she was thinking. "And this is all my own hard-earned money."

Zhu Lin realized he was right—but she'd already refused; it was too late to change her mind. Even queens had pride.

So she said: "When you want to spend money on me, I won't stop you—but taking your money isn't appropriate."

"What a principled girl," Wei Ming praised.

Zhu Lin's face turned red—she felt he was mocking her, but she had no proof.

Fuming, Zhu Lin idly flipped through the exquisitely bound edition of The Lion King—the paper, the illustrations, the colors, the price—ugh!

So expensive!

Besides the book, there were dozens of photos of Melinda in America, against different city backdrops, wearing varied outfits and hairstyles, revealing different facets of this redhead's beauty.

She looked so confident; Zhu Lin felt bitter. No, these photos had to be shown to Xiao Xue too—she didn't believe Xiao Xue could stay calm.

"What does the letter say? If it's private, I can step out." Zhu Lin asked with a sour tone—this was what she truly wanted to know.

Wei Ming quickly scanned the letter, then said: "Ah, my eyes are a bit dry—could you read it for me?"

Wei Ming's openness made Zhu Lin slightly embarrassed, but she took it without hesitation: "Oh, it's in Chinese? Fine, I'll read it."

"Dear Ming…" Zhu Lin paused.

Wei Ming: "Foreigners always put 'dear' right at the front."

Zhu Lin continued reading; the rest was much more ordinary—first discussing the publication work of The Lion King and some revenue figures, which left Zhu Lin stunned.

The profit split was 5: : ; the illustrator had brought in a newcomer, and since Mr. Why was no longer a newcomer, Wei Ming could take an extra ten percent.

But Melinda, the translator, still got thirty percent—she was already a well-known translator and editor.

Regarding the first-print revenue of The Lion King, the letter stated that just in the UK, it had earned forty thousand US dollars.

Additionally, The Game of the Brave had already been released in several English-speaking countries—Australia, Ireland, India, Singapore—adding another twenty-two thousand dollars, totaling sixty-two thousand dollars!

Two thousand dollars were sent via parcel to Wei Ming; twenty thousand were deposited into his domestic account; the remaining forty thousand went to his Hong Kong account.

Thus, Wei Ming's account at HSBC in Hong Kong now held over one hundred thousand dollars—enough to be considered modestly wealthy, enough to dream of buying a car or house in Hong Kong.

Melinda then mentioned Xiao Hong's work, saying she was pleasantly surprised; the Rubik's Cube was wildly popular in the UK, but its difficulty limited its spread.

"This work has great market potential, but I'm not skilled in math—I'll hand the translation to someone else. The illustrations need redesigning too. The author credit will go to your siblings—start the project immediately."

Finally, she poured out her heart to Wei Ming.

"After reading the song you wrote, I felt a little better. I hope one day I can sing it to you face-to-face… What song!" Zhu Lin was excited—was it a love song? They'd broken up, yet he wrote a love song?

Wei Ming hugged Zhu Lin: "It's a song commemorating John Lennon. You'll hear it eventually."

He said that, but Melinda wanted to sing it to him in person—British men clearly hadn't given up. The Gong-Zhu Alliance must unite and defend the nation's borders!

So when she got home, Zhu Lin immediately wrote to Gong Zhu, telling her everything she'd seen today—she omitted the four times from last night to this morning, to avoid stirring up internal conflict.

Wei Ming rode his motorcycle through Beijing, visiting mainly Peking University contacts: Professors Jin and Qu, Old Feng Youlan, and Library Director Xie Daoyuan—he paid them all visits. Among his peers, he handed out cigarettes—this was the New Year, so the standard was higher than usual.

When Wei Ming finally arrived at the Sihe Academy, it was only 4: 5—Zhu Lin was already waiting.

She pulled down the scarf covering her mouth: "Listen."

Wei Ming heard it: "Woof woof woof."

Zhu Lin: "I didn't just see a dog's nose—I saw a white paw sticking out through the door crack."

The white paw belonged to Chief—though he was the Black Cat Chief, his limbs were black, but all four paws were white.

By the time Wei Ming opened the door, the cat had already run off; the dog was still pawing at him.

Wei Ming told Zhu Lin to lock the door from the inside, to prevent Biaozi or Xiao Mei from barging in and ruining things.

But the remnants in the dog's food bowl showed someone had been there earlier—no need to worry too much.

"Its name is Yinxing?" Zhu Lin looked fondly at the chubby little yellow dog.

"Yeah, it's yellow." Wei Ming pointed to the ginkgo tree in the courtyard.

Yinxing kept circling them; Chief had already retreated to his little house.

Wei Ming didn't have Old Wei's skills—if he did, he'd definitely make Chief do a backflip for Zhu Lin.

Then Wei Ming pointed to a door: "Like antiques? Come see my father's collection."

"Not really interested. Why not go to your bedroom instead?"

Wei Ming was surprised—after all those times yesterday, Zhu Lin was so forward today—had she reached that age?

This wolf-like, tiger-like woman facing his own vigorous self—he wasn't afraid of her.

But once inside the room, Zhu Lin stopped being forward, eyeing the red bedsheet and red quilt—hmm, just as Gong Zhu had said.

Yet Xiao Xue and Xiao Wei had never spent the night here—thinking of that, Zhu Lin's heart burned hot.

The room wasn't warm enough, so they'd need to relight the fire—but heating the room wouldn't happen in a moment.

But as they lit the fire, their bodies warmed up—perfect.

Today was the third day of the New Year; Zhu Lin was leaving on the fifth, so she treasured every remaining day.

Yesterday at the Overseas Apartment, today at the Sihe Academy, tomorrow to Tuanjie Lake—she'd packed her schedule full.

But as dusk fell, Wei Ming and Zhu Lin had just eaten and crawled into bed, not yet getting serious, when Yinxing started barking wildly.

Someone was here.

Wei Ming ignored it, reaching to undress her.

Zhu Lin: "Shouldn't we check? I'm always afraid someone might burst in."

Wei Ming sighed: "Fine—if it's Xiao Mei, he's dead."

Zhu Lin grinned: "What about Biaozi?"

Wei Ming pulled on his shoes: "I can't beat him. What can I do?"

Zhu Lin burst out laughing, rolling around under the quilt.

Wei Ming walked to the door: "Who is it?"

"Oh! Teacher Wei, it really is you! I was passing by and saw the lock was gone—I worried about thieves, so I knocked. Your loyal dog responded enthusiastically. Oh, it's me, Li Chengru."

"Oh, Brother Chengru," Wei Ming opened the door but made no move to let him in. "I'm writing. I came here for the quiet."

"Oh! Sorry to disturb you, my apologies!"

Wei Ming: "No problem—you meant well."

"Hehe, all the neighbors know I'm a warm-hearted person." Li Chengru stood still, clearly eager to chat.

So Wei Ming yawned again—clearly hinting: leave now.

Li Chengru caught on and cut straight to the point: "Teacher Wei, your novel The Right Path of Humanity is brilliant—the bookstore sold out. I paid extra to get this issue of Shouhuo."

"Oh, Brother Chengru, you're too kind—I don't deserve it!"

"You absolutely deserve it—but I couldn't finish reading it. That feeling is unbearable. I heard from Uncle Wei you'd already finished the manuscript, right?"

"I finished it."

"I also heard you lent the original draft to Mr. Mao Dun?"

"That's true."

"Has the old master finished reading it?" Li Chengru finally revealed his intent—though he felt it was abrupt, he thought they had enough connection.

Wei Ming shook his head: "How could I dare ask or pressure such a great man? He hasn't contacted me to retrieve the draft yet—I'll just wait."

"Oh, that's true. Well, I won't disturb you further." Li Chengru stepped back, disappointed.

Wei Ming shook his clothes: "See you."

Then he quickly locked the door again.

"Who was that?" Zhu Lin asked.

Wei Ming: "Your classmate, Li Chengru—he came asking to read your manuscript early."

"Did you lend it? My dad wants to read it too."

Wei Ming pulled the warm body into the quilt: "Because of you, I was going to lend it—but unfortunately, Mr. Mao Dun borrowed it first. Once he returns it, your dad can read it first."

"Ah, Mr. Mao Dun!" Zhu Lin was stunned—her little man had such prestige?

Meanwhile, at Wei Ming's Overseas Apartment, the phone rang again—still no one answered.

On the other side, Wei Tao hung up the phone and returned to the hospital room, shaking his head at his father, Mao Dun…

(End of Chapter)