Chapter 281: Mr. Mao Dun Personally Wrote the Preface

It burned for a long time, but the sihe courtyard's temperature still couldn't match that of the overseas Chinese apartment; yet the vigorous exercise left both of them drenched in sweat, as if they were inside a sauna.

Watching the fluttering red quilt, feeling its silken texture, Zhu Lin felt as if she were in the bridal chamber on her wedding night—if she never got the chance to enter one, today would at least be a preemptive fulfillment of her dream.

Too bad there were no candles.

He'd originally planned to go home for the night, but just as he was about to get up, he felt the chill in the room and snuggled back under the covers, frantically rubbing against Xiao Wei to generate warmth.

This rubbing sparked another battle.

Then came the third.

Finally, checking the time—he saw it was past eleven. By the time he got home, it'd be past midnight. Screw it, he wouldn't leave today.

Zhu Lin, flustered and annoyed, bumped her head against Xiao Wei's chest: "It's all your fault~"

Wei Ming laughed heartily, then got up, threw on his clothes, poured hot water, and helped his big sister clean up—his service was thorough.

"Put on more clothes, don't catch a chill," Zhu Lin called from under the covers, concerned for her little man.

Catch a chill? Wei Ming grew even more smug, yanked off his shirt, and revealed his sculpted 108-pack abs.

After tidying up and adding more coal, Wei Ming crawled back into bed, hugged his sister tightly, and shivered—making her burst into laughter, so hard she showed her tonsils.

Meanwhile, a middle-aged couple at Yanjing Institute of Industry lay awake, tossing and turning.

Yesterday he hadn't come home, claiming he'd stayed overnight at a female classmate's place to rehearse lines—it was too late, the roads were unsafe.

Today couldn't possibly be another night at some female classmate's place—could female classmates really be that easy to "handle"? Didn't their families mind?

"Could it be a male classmate?" Zhu's mother nudged her husband, worried.

"Impossible! The daughter I raised may not be the top student, but she knows basic propriety and shame. What do you think of our daughter?"

Zhu's mother sighed: "She's twenty-nine already, almost thirty. Sometimes I think—even if it were a male classmate, as long as he's decent, I wouldn't say a word. She needs someone to spend her life with."

Zhu's father snorted: "A man who keeps a girl overnight can't be decent! Pfft, lowlife!"

Zhu's mother didn't reply, but thought: I hope your mouth stays this hard after she turns thirty.

The next morning, Wei Ming woke early, wrapped around his beauty, sensing the room had grown chilly. He jumped up to check the stove—thankfully, the fire hadn't gone out. He opened the stove, added more coal, and saw the shiny-haired Chief Black Cat walking over on four white clouds. Wei Ming cracked the door open a sliver; the cat naturally slipped inside.

Wei Ming followed him in, shut the door, and the cat realized it couldn't get out—it began scratching at the door and meowing frantically.

Zhu Lin opened her sleepy eyes, delighted: "Ah ha ha, Chief Black Cat!"

Wei Ming joined in singing: "Ah ha ha, Chief Black Cat! Forest citizens salute you, salute you, salute you!"

Zhu Lin instantly perked up: "Did you write this song for Chief Black Cat?"

"A somewhat immature little melody," Wei Ming said, shedding his outerwear and crawling back into bed. He watched as Chief Black Cat gradually calmed down, then stared fixedly at the pair under the covers.

Thanks to the long-haired gene of the lion cat, Chief Black Cat, with his black-and-white coloring, had acquired a sweetness uncommon in a male kitten—quite charming indeed.

The room warmed up. Zhu Lin stretched out a pale, bare arm and beckoned: "Suck-suck-suck~"

Just tilting his head was enough to make her happy for a long time.

Only when Chief Black Cat actually drew near did Zhu Lin, with her strong sense of hygiene, worryingly ask: "Does he have fleas?"

Wei Ming: "Definitely didn't before—he lives in an apartment, clean as can be. Now? Hard to say. Who knows if he's been chasing mice since he moved here?"

Zhu Lin quickly pulled her arm back under the covers. Chief Black Cat meowed twice in indignation: You lured me in, now you reject me? You kill but won't bury?

Hearing that soft, sticky meow, Zhu Lin immediately reached out and stroked his head twice—his fur was smooth and silky, the best texture she'd ever felt on a cat.

"Uncle really knows how to raise animals!" Zhu Lin marveled.

"Of course. My mom handles our family meals; my dad only takes care of the cat and dog."

Zhu Lin: "Is he hungry?"

"No problem. Let him wait a bit—we'll nap a little longer," Wei Ming said, already moving his hands.

Zhu Lin feared it might turn into yesterday morning's scene and struggled to get up to cook for the cat.

At that moment, the dog, Ginkgo, also barked—as if at the front gate.

Wei Ming sighed: "Someone's here again. Stay in bed, I'll be right back."

Zhu Lin couldn't possibly stay put—what if Uncle and Aunt had returned early from the countryside?

So as soon as Wei Ming and Chief Black Cat left, she hurriedly got dressed. Oh no, where was her underwear? Oh, there it was.

Looking at her plain underwear, Zhu Lin couldn't help thinking of the bikini photo she'd seen two days ago of Melinda.

Though she thought foreigners were too improper—those clothes only covered three points; how could you even take pictures? What's the difference from being naked!

But she was so beautiful. Probably all her underwear was like that—surely it drove men wild.

At the door, Wei Ming had already heard Biaozi's voice—he'd come to bring food for Ginkgo and Chief Black Cat. He hadn't expected the lock to be gone, and the door locked from inside. Worried about thieves, he pounded loudly.

Uncle Wei had said everything in this courtyard was his treasure—if there was no response, he'd punch the wooden door open.

"Coming, coming!" Wei Ming opened the door.

Biaozi exclaimed: "Big Brother Ming, when did you get back?"

"Just got back. I was just about to come find you—I brought some local specialties from home."

Biaozi laughed and moved to enter the courtyard, but Wei Ming blocked the doorway: "Just hand me the food. You're probably busy—go on."

"I'm not busy. Today we're installing a phone at home—I don't need to go to the shop."

Hearing this, Wei Ming became interested: "Are you and Xiao Mei installing yours together?"

"Yeah."

Wei Ming: "Perfect—I'll have Zhu Lin's apartment installed too. I'll go with her later."

"You and her?" Biaozi, the simpleton, suddenly glanced into the courtyard. Luckily, the screen wall blocked the view—otherwise he might've seen something.

"Alright," Biaozi grinned knowingly. "Then we'll install them together. But now there's an initial installation fee—several hundred yuan."

"Fine, no problem." Wei Ming thought about buying a color TV to upgrade the living experience at Tuanjiehu.

"What about this sihe courtyard?"

Wei Ming: "Install it too. Dad likes living here, and it's convenient for contact. Do Tuanjiehu first."

After seeing Biaozi off, Wei Ming shut the door and returned to the bedroom—Big Sister was gone.

Searching further, he found her in the study, sitting at his desk—a vintage piece, exquisitely crafted.

"What are you looking at?"

Zhu Lin waved the cover of Playboy.

Wei Ming froze slightly, then feigned calm: "I hid this because I was afraid Mom and Dad would see it. How did you find it?"

"I found it while flipping through books. You didn't hide it very well."

"But my parents never touch my books," Wei Ming stepped closer, wanting to see what she was looking at.

Zhu Lin pointed to the page: "How would I look in this?"

It was a set of lingerie model photos—American lingerie, utterly heretical for Chinese women at the time. Not only was the fabric minimal, it was deliberately squeezed inward to create visual impact.

Wei Ming hugged Zhu Lin: "You'd mesmerize me no matter what you wore. Come on, let's eat."

Zhu Lin stood up: "Who was just at the door?"

"Biaozi. Came to bring food for Ginkgo and Chief Black Cat."

Zhu Lin blinked: "And we eat too?"

Wei Ming laughed: "I already fed them. We're going out to eat—and then come with me to Friendship Store."

"What for?"

"To buy a color TV."

Originally, Wei Ming intended to buy the TV for the Tuanjiehu apartment. But when he saw the lingerie section, he nudged Zhu Lin: "You can go pick out a set."

Zhu Lin stared at the dazzling array of imported lingerie—her cheeks flushed briefly. Fine, I'll buy it!

While she shopped, Wei Ming bought some food and essentials.

Total cost: under two thousand foreign exchange coupons. They returned to Tuanjiehu; the TV delivery and installation arrived shortly after, and the phone installation followed right behind—both done together.

During this time, Biaozi and Yanzi came to visit.

Huang Jiaoyan wasn't very familiar with Gong Ying or Zhu Lin, but Zhu Lin was from Yanjing and had trained at the Shichahai Sports School as a child—technically, they were from the same school, so she naturally felt closer to Zhu Lin.

Zhu Lin actively tried to win over Wei Ming's brother's wife, hoping to turn her into a Zhu Party member.

"I'll call you Yanzi too," Zhu Lin smiled, opening the foreign snacks Wei Ming bought at Friendship Store, then asked Wei Ming: "Can a pregnant woman eat this?"

"No. Puffed snacks aren't healthy."

Yanzi's smile vanished instantly.

Zhu Lin: "What about this?"

Wei Ming: "That's a macadamia nut. You can eat it."

Then she and Huang Jiaoyan ate one by one. Huang Jiaoyan learned Zhu Lin was leaving for Shandong to film tomorrow and felt deeply envious.

Because this unexpected pregnancy, she'd missed several major competitions. She didn't understand the clothing business well either—now she was bored out of her mind.

She'd finally found someone to chat with—a woman like Zhu Lin—but after the TV and phone were installed, she hadn't even looked at the imported TV before Biaozi dragged her away.

"The ribs are still stewing. Come on, let's go!"

It wasn't that Biaozi was so perceptive—he'd been getting frantic eye signals from Wei Ming.

Wei Ming didn't mind the couple being noisy—he just had special circumstances today. He couldn't wait to see what new clothes Zhu Lin had bought.

If he didn't see them now, tomorrow she'd be gone—and lingerie without a live model had no soul.

Plus, Wei Ming wanted to help her put it on—and then take it off.

Because of this ritual, their mood was perfect—but Zhu Lin was adamant: she was leaving tomorrow, so she had to stay home tonight.

Wei Ming didn't press. He sent her back before dark and wouldn't accompany her tomorrow.

After parting with Zhu Lin, Wei Ming immediately plunged into the script for "The Empress Dowager." He thought back on the dozen or so times over the past three days—women really did slow down his writing.

When he grew tired, he'd go to the sihe courtyard to feed Ginkgo and Chief Black Cat. Over the past few days, his bond with the cat and dog had deepened. If only this place weren't so cold in winter and the toilet so inconvenient—he'd move in with them.

In the solitude of creation, small animals make a decent distraction.

Wei Ming held back the ginkgo tree, watching the chief of police finish the last shrimp, then released the dog so it could lick the plate.

"That's enough for today. Dog, keep watch. Mimi, guard our antiques—keep the rats away. Let's go."

When he returned to the Overseas Chinese Apartment, the gatekeeper, Old Sun, told him: "Someone's here looking for you. I thought he seemed refined, so I let him wait inside."

"How old is he?"

"Must be around sixty, but he looks younger than me."

Wei Ming nodded but couldn't think who it might be. Upstairs, when he saw the visitor, he still felt unfamiliar.

"You must be Comrade Wei Ming. I'm Wei Tao."

"Oh, hello, Comrade Wei Tao." Wei Ming shook hands with the son of Mao Dun. He was a cultured officer in the military, holding a rank, now retired, mainly helping his father organize his memoirs.

Wei Tao was his pen name, deliberately chosen to hide his connection to Shen Yanbing.

Wei Ming opened the door and invited him in. His spacious living room didn't impress the visitor much—after all, as the foremost living writer and a high-ranking official, the man's own sihe courtyard was no less grand.

Wei Tao kept an apologetic expression. As soon as he entered, he apologized: "Comrade Wei Ming, I'm truly sorry. There was something I wanted to tell you and get your permission for, but I couldn't reach you by phone. Today I happened to pass by, so I thought I'd try my luck and explain in person."

"Oh? Did you lose the manuscript?" Wei Ming voiced the worst possibility calmly. "Even if it's lost, it's no big deal—I have a backup."

"No, not lost," Wei Tao explained. "My father finished reading it a few days ago, but it was the New Year, and we didn't have time to return it. Then, Comrade Xia Yan from the Ministry of Culture came to visit my father. Coincidentally, he'd just finished reading the first part of 'Shouhuo' and saw there was a sequel. He couldn't resist and asked to borrow it. The manuscript isn't mine—it should've required your permission—but seeing Comrade Xia was already in his eighties, and unable to reach you, I couldn't refuse."

The act was against protocol but understandable. Wei Ming waved it off: "Comrade Xia is a literary elder I deeply respect. I studied his essays as a child. Let him read it—even if he keeps it after reading, what does it matter?"

Wei Tao looked embarrassed. "Comrade Xia actually has that idea."

"Hmm?"

"Today I first visited Comrade Xia to ask if he'd finished. He'd only read half, and asked if I could lend him the first part—someone found out he has the original manuscript and is watching him."

Anyone who associates with the Deputy Minister of Culture is no ordinary person—perhaps even the real-life prototype mentioned in the novel. As the original author, this feeling of being watched was both uneasy and proud.

Although Comrade Xia hadn't lent the manuscript out yet, he was already harassed. Wei Ming granted Wei Tao full authority: "Tell Comrade Xia not to worry. Anyone he trusts may read it. Let any elder who wishes to read the rest do so freely. It's an honor for me, Wei Ming."

Hearing Wei Ming's generosity—and sensing it was genuine—Wei Tao finally relaxed. At least now he could report something to his ailing father.

Some writers treasure their original manuscripts deeply. If the writer will hold historical significance—like my father—those manuscripts may even become cultural relics of immense value.

Given the quality of "The Right Path of Humanity Is Vast Change," Wei Tao believed this manuscript's value would be no less.

He rose and thanked Wei Ming repeatedly. Wei Ming invited him to stay for a simple meal.

"No, no—I have to go to the hospital tonight."

Thinking of Mao Dun's final days, Wei Ming sincerely said: "Please convey my regards to him. I hope he recovers soon and picks up his pen again."

It was sincere—but also helpless.

Wei Tao promised to deliver the message.

When he reached the hospital and told his father he'd met Wei Ming and relayed his response, Mao Dun murmured the four words: "pick up his pen again."

After a long silence, he told his son: "Bring me pen and paper. I want to write a preface."

……

(End of Chapter)