Chapter 284: First National First Prize

After mutually introducing themselves, Yu Chenghui, whose hair and beard had not yet turned white, was just over forty, having been hired as a coach by the Ningxia Wushu Team two years ago; his self-created double-sword technique was extremely famous in the martial arts circle.

According to Coach Wu Bin, Coach Yu had just finished filming "Shaolin Temple," returned to his hometown in Yantai, and was preparing to transfer through Beijing before heading back to Ningxia.

Since he was already in Beijing, he took the opportunity to visit the martial arts elder Zhang Wenguang, and coincidentally Wu Bin was there too, so the host naturally offered to treat everyone.

Because Master Zhang Wenguang was Hui, they specifically chose Hongbinlou.

Wei Ming said: "I know 'Shaolin Temple'—it's been filming for over half a year, right? Has it finished?"

Yu Chenghui: "Only I've finished; my old partner Yu Hai is still filming. As for your Beijing Wushu Team's little Li, he won't be back until even later."

Wei Ming nodded—this meant "Heroes Emerged in Youth" would definitely get first pick.

Biaozi then introduced the famous writer Wei Ming, but Grandpa Zhang and Master Yu reacted with no recognition—who was this guy? Not familiar at all.

Biaozi: "It's him who wrote the movie 'Heroes Emerged in Youth' that me and Yanzi made."

"Oh, the Crazy Wei!"

"I heard this story on the radio—great story!"

Now they finally understood; Coach Wu Bin chuckled: "Little Wei is truly both literary and martial—his long arms and legs? Perfect for Tongbei Quan."

These martial arts coaches spoke with professional insight; Zhang Wenguang and Yu Chenghui studied Wei Ming and nodded in enthusiastic discussion, but they knew only a little about Tongbei.

Biaozi invited the three masters to join them for dinner, but Grandpa Zhang waved him off—elders shouldn't force themselves among the young; the young would feel awkward. Still, he gripped Biaozi's broad shoulder and told him to visit whenever he had time.

Biaozi's eyes lit up; once they left, Yanzi nudged him—he finally snapped to and rushed to tell the manager that the bill for the three masters' table was on him.

When he returned, Wei Ming smiled: "Biaozi, you still haven't answered my question—how's your actual fighting?"

Xiao Mei laughed: "We don't know about his strength, but his courage is definitely lacking."

"That's just respect for my master," Biaozi said, glancing behind him, then answered seriously: "Take Feng Ge, for example…"

He still preferred using familiar examples: "Feng Ge isn't bad-looking, right? And he's a military expert—he won first place in the Beijing Military Combat Competition. When we first entered Peking University, we were evenly matched. But before he resigned, we had another private sparring match—and by then I'd already gained muscle and weight."

He didn't state the final result, but the implication was clear: even a military expert like Feng Ge wasn't his match.

Wei Ming: "So you could take on ten people like Xiao Mei without trouble?"

Mei Wenhua was about to protest, but Biaozi said: "People like Xiao Mei? Bring as many as you want—I'll wipe them all out, no limit."

Yunyun didn't like hearing that: "Our Wenhua is a cultured person—he doesn't care to brawl with you."

Mei Wenhua grinned at his wife, then countered: "Then how many people like my brother-in-law could you take on?"

Biaozi actually began thinking seriously, while Wei Ming rolled up his sleeves to reveal his toned, pale muscles.

"Three," Biaozi guessed.

Wei Ming smiled: "You're being generous. Fine—if you're here, Li Long and I won't have to worry about safety in Hong Kong."

Yanzi pouted: "So you're turning our Biaozi into a bodyguard now?"

Gong Ying chuckled: "After all, his name has 'Biao' in it—Brother Biao, when you get to Hong Kong, please take good care of Long."

Biaozi waved his hand: "No problem, no problem."

Watching the other three each had a wife looking after them, while his own Xiao Hong just kept eating.

Sigh—I miss my Lin-jie and Xue-jie.

When Wu Bin and the others finished eating and went to pay, they learned their bill had already been settled by the guest in the private room.

"Was it that guy who looked like a young bull?"

"What young bull? It was an ox," the manager laughed.

Zhang Wenguang told Wu Bin: "It's inappropriate to let the kid pay—this meal wasn't cheap."

Wu Bin waved it off: "Teacher, you don't know? The most profitable private business on Xidan Street, Oriental New World, was co-founded by Biaozi and his friends—that kid earns in one month what we earn in a year."

"Ah!"

Not just Zhang Wenguang—even Yu Chenghui was stunned. Yu's salary was fine, but Master Zhang was a master's supervisor, ninth-dan martial artist—his salary was enormous. One month's earnings equaling a year's? That's a tycoon!

Wu Bin added: "It's rare for this kid to have such filial devotion—let's accept it. But Teacher, you must teach him a few more moves."

Zhang Wenguang laughed: "At my age, what's left to hide? I'll teach him everything I know."

Peking University West Gate.

Zheng Yuanjie looked at the ancient-style gate and the students coming and going, and even he, who disdained exam-oriented education, showed a hint of envy.

Although Editor Lü had repeatedly warned him not to disturb Wei anything, after finishing the latest three episodes of "Black Cat Detective," Zheng Yuanjie, as a screenwriter, still had a question he wanted to ask in person.

So he came.

Rather than barge into his home, better to go to his workplace—Zheng Yuanjie knew Wei Ming worked at Peking University's library.

Upon arriving at the library, he approached the staff on the first floor: "Comrade, excuse me, where does Teacher Wei Ming work? I need to see him."

For someone like Zheng Yuanjie—a fanatical reader—Teacher Lin had seen too many; they'd even block people at their workplace.

Normally he might have to make up an excuse to send them away, but today he didn't need to—Wei Ming really wasn't in.

"Oh, he's out. Not in the library."

"Then I'll wait here for him—I can read some books too," Zheng Yuanjie said calmly, unhurried.

"He might come back in the afternoon, or he might just go home after work," Teacher Lin asked, "What do you need him for?"

"Oh, I'm Zheng Yuanjie, the new editor for 'Children's Literature' replacing Editor Lü—I need to discuss work matters with him."

"Oh, so you're an editor," Teacher Lin then pointed: "Go check the cafeteria—the Rubik's Cube Club is holding an event; their president invited Teacher Wei."

"Rubik's Cube Club?" Zheng Yuanjie frowned—what's a Rubik's Cube?

"I believe the Rubik's Cube is an extreme sport—a physical and mental extreme sport…"

When the Rubik's Cube Club members surrounded Wei Ming and asked him to say a few words, as the likely first person to bring the sport to mainland China, Wei Ming said this—and then had to explain to these clear-eyed college students what "extreme sport" meant.

After hearing his explanation, everyone nodded in agreement—they played this to chase ultimate speed; fast was awesome.

Though some thought it meaningless—solving it wouldn't solve math problems—pushing anything to its limit was meaningful to mathematicians anyway; otherwise, why would so many enjoy Sudoku? It has no practical use either.

Today the Rubik's Cube Club held a unique speed competition in the cafeteria; Wei Hong didn't compete, but members from five schools participated—the winner was a Yang student from Tsinghua's Math Department.

If Wei Shezhang had competed, the contest would've had no suspense.

Next, Wei Hong announced good news: "Teacher Wei has decided to sponsor our club with twenty Rubik's Cubes—now every branch can have one. Everyone, applaud!"

Wei Ming, who had just received foreign exchange, said it was nothing—before, the club only had five cubes; students from other schools had to come to Peking University to practice, which was very inconvenient.

Zheng Yuanjie had followed the applause and recognized the man in the center as Wei Ming.

When the crowd dispersed and only Wei Hong remained beside Wei Ming, Zheng Yuanjie immediately approached: "Teacher Wei, hello—I'm Zheng Yuanjie, the new editor for 'Children's Literature,' replacing Editor Lü."

Wei Ming studied him—Old Zheng still had hair and wasn't wearing glasses.

"Oh, Zheng Yuanjie? The one who wrote 'Heihei on Honest Island'?" Wei Ming asked, feigning ignorance.

Zheng Yuanjie was pleasantly surprised: "You know me?"

Wei Ming: "The first time I published in 'Children's Literature,' you published 'Heihei on Honest Island' too."

"Yes, yes—that was my first fairy tale. After that, I focused solely on fairy tales, but my works never reached your influence," he admitted frankly.

"I recently read your 'Pipilu's Adventures'—very interesting, your imagination is incredibly rich," Wei Ming complimented.

Imagination was Zheng Yuanjie's most precious asset—perhaps because he never went to school, his imagination was wilder, more lawless, unbound by rules, while many educated people had lost such treasures through indoctrination.

Hearing Wei Ming praise him, the awkward Zheng Yuanjie returned a few compliments: "I can't compare to you—you write both fairy tales and serious literature; the range is too vast."

Wei Ming smiled: "You didn't come here just to flatter me, did you?"

"Oh, it's like this," Zheng Yuanjie said: "You left Editor Lü three episodes of 'Black Cat Detective'—all three feature One-Ear, but he's still not caught. So is the main plot about capturing One-Ear? Will the series end once he's caught?"

Wei Ming shook his head: "Capturing One-Ear isn't the main plot—it's a fairy tale with a weak storyline, focused on science education. At some point, One-Ear might be caught, but from reader letters, I see they feel both affection and resentment toward him—so maybe he'll suffer, escape, and keep opposing the detective. Without a persistent villain, the detective will be lonely."

Wei Ming had even thought of making One-Ear pull off a "Shawshank Redemption"—an Andy-style prison break, ahead of its time.

Zheng Yuanjie asked: "Then how long will 'Black Cat Detective' run? Won't it get too long? Don't readers need an ending?"

Wei Ming: You're one to talk—"Pipilu's Total Mobilization" is hundreds of thousands of words; "Shuke and Beta" is over a million.

Unlike the animated version, the later stories of the two mice were very adult—Shuke married twice, Beta had a one-night stand, later became a monk, and inevitably touched on alien civilizations—the tone shifted drastically.

But Wei Ming had clear creative intent: science education—and the overall style followed this principle.

"It will end—when readers get tired, and I get tired, that's when the curtain falls. But I haven't figured out the grand finale yet—probably the Black Cat Detective retires."

Zheng Yuanjie pondered—would this become his motivation to continue developing the Pipilu series?

Afterward, Zheng Yuanjie became interested in the Rubik's Cube in Wei Hong's hand.

Wei Ming took it and showed him, explaining the rules: "You're a writer—being an editor shouldn't stop your creativity. Can you write a story from this little thing?"

Zheng Yuanjie twisted the cube: "What story could you write from this?"

Wei Ming hinted: "Besides the central axis, the cube has twenty-six small blocks—each small block can be considered its own world, each with different rules and customs."

Zheng Yuanjie: "Like 'Gulliver's Travels' and 'Jing Hua Yuan'!"

The structure of "The Rubik's Tower" indeed resembled these two Eastern and Western classics, but reflected contemporary reality more deeply, with profound meaning—even many children felt chilled after reading it.

Wei Ming only gave him an idea—whether he could write this story two years early was up to him; Wei Ming himself had no time to write it.

"Teacher Wei, are you free tomorrow? I'd like to discuss this Rubik's Cube story in depth."

"Oh, tomorrow's no good—I have to go to the Writers' Association."

At this time, Zheng Yuanjie still longed to join the Writers' Association: "Going for a meeting?"

Wei Ming shook his head: "To receive an award—the National Excellent Novella Prize."

The National Excellent Short Story Prize had been held several times already; Wei Ming had written only one short story, "Spring River Water Warms First the Ducks," and won once.

But this was the first time the National Excellent Novella Prize was being awarded, covering novellas written between 1977 and 1980—all of Wei Ming's works fell within the eligibility period.

These two awards were usually judged jointly by the Writers' Association and "People's Literature," later evolving into the Lu Xun Literary Award—the highest honor for Chinese short and novella fiction.

But Wei Ming didn't know which story had won or what prize level.

Because Mr. Mao Dun was nearing the end of his life, this award ceremony was led by Old Ba—he had arrived in Beijing days ago and received a special article from Mao Dun's son, Wei Tao.

"Sister Chen!" Wei Ming spotted an acquaintance at the scene—Sister Chen Rong was there too.

Also present were Aunt Zong Pu, Jiang Zilong, Wang Meng, and other acquaintances.

Wei Ming could chat with Sister Chen Rong about her son Liang Zuo's performance at school, and with Aunt Zong Pu about their respective household cats.

They also introduced Wei Ming to other literary figures present, such as Feng Jicai, Liu Shaotang, Zhang Kangkang, Lu Yanzhou, and a man who never let go of his cigarette and spoke with a Shaanbei accent named Lu Yao.

Truly, a gathering of talents—all rising stars of today's literary scene; Wei Ming's camera finally had its purpose.

At barely twenty, Wei Ming was unquestionably the youngest among them, yet no one dared underestimate him—not for anything but one-third of "The Righteous Path Is Vast and Deep."

Writing a long novel is too hard, especially a massive work of hundreds of thousands of characters—it consumes one's very life force; some people in their thirties or forties still haven't written a single long novel.

Moreover, "The Righteous Path Is Vast and Deep" is grand and majestic; even one-third of it already reveals its excellence, and everyone chatting with Wei Ming eagerly anticipated the second part appearing in the March issue of "Harvest" in just a few days.

After some conversation and photo-taking, the award ceremony officially began, with Ba Jin, the First Vice Chairman of the Writers Association, and other vice chairmen Liu Baiyu and Chen Huangmei all present.

This year, fifteen writers received awards: five first prizes and ten second prizes.

First came the first prizes; Elder Ba directly read out the title, author's name, and publication.

The first was "When One Reaches Middle Age," by Chen Rong, published in the first issue of "Harvest" in 1980.

The audience spontaneously applauded; Sister Chen Rong had achieved greatness late in life—she didn't debut until forty, and every work since then received tremendous acclaim. For a long time, Liang Zuo was known as "Chen Rong's son who went to Peking University," while Liang Tian was "Chen Rong's only child who didn't go to Peking University."

Next was "On a River Without Navigation Marks," by Ye Weilin, published in the third issue of "Furong" in 1980.

"Furong" was a literary journal from Hunan, and Ye Weilin primarily operated in Hunan; later, this novel was adapted into a film by Wu Tianming.

The third name called was "The Legend of Tianyun Mountain," by Lu Yanzhou; Xie Jin was currently filming this movie.

Later, Lu Yanzhou's daughter-in-law Wang Liping wrote the TV series "The Good Times," starring Hu Que; his granddaughter, deemed unattractive, became famous after being arranged by her mother to film a kissing scene with a young heartthrob.

The fourth was "The Butterfly," by Wang Meng, published in "October"—a somewhat stream-of-consciousness work with high artistic merit.

The fifth was next; the authors below stared expectantly at the paper in Elder Ba's hand. Everyone would get an award, but a first prize sounded far better than a second.

"'The Children of the Sheepfold,' by Wei Ming, published in the second issue of 'People's Literature' in 1980."

Upon hearing his name, Wei Ming immediately went on stage, standing beside Wang Meng and alongside Chen Rong and others to receive the honor.

Last year, when the award for outstanding short stories was given, Wei Ming had been absent from Yanjing and missed it; this was his first time personally receiving a major literary prize.

He still felt dazed, yet he could see a hint of envy in the eyes of his peers applauding below.

At only twenty, he had risen above countless outstanding writers and works nationwide, winning the National Outstanding Medium- and Short-Story Prize twice within two years.

There simply wasn't a national award for outstanding long novels—if there had been, he might well have won that too.

Wei Ming and four others won first prizes; next, ten second prizes went to Feng Jicai's "Ah!," Liu Shaotang's "The Village of the Reed and Willow," Zhang Kangkang's "A Faint Morning Mist," Jiang Zilong's "The Pioneer," Zong Pu's "Three Lives Stone," Lu Yao's "A Heart-Stopping Scene," and others.

Each writer could win at most one award—even though Wei Ming's "The Herdsman" had immense influence too, only one work per author was eligible.

Notably, of these fifteen works, "Harvest" led with six, and "October" followed closely with five—both exceptionally strong.

Meanwhile, "Furong," one of the "Four Great Divas," won no awards, possibly because it was based far away in Guangzhou, too distant to compete effectively.

Moreover, most of these fifteen works related to that decade; even Wei Ming's "The Children of the Sheepfold" was set in that era—echoing the notion that "when the state suffers, poets prosper." That period was a vast treasure trove of material, though its access was time-limited.

The award results would be published in the April issue of "People's Literature"; the next National Outstanding Medium-Story Prize selection would cover 1981–1982, held every two years.

As they left the Writers Association, Sister Chen Rong asked Wei Ming what his next creative plans were.

Wei Ming thought for a moment: Xiyingchang's Wu planned to adapt "The Ancient Terracotta Warriors' Love Story," but nothing had happened since; so he'd likely write the dinosaur sci-fi novel he'd promised to "Science Fiction World."

But this novel probably wouldn't be published under the pen name "Wei Ming"; as for what "Wei Ming" would write next, he genuinely had no idea yet.

"The Righteous Path Is Vast and Deep" had drained him of too much energy—so many characters, so many stories, so many deaths; even the writing had numbed him. He'd probably write some lighter, playful pieces to refresh his mind next.

Oh, he was going to Hong Kong—should he try writing two screenplays or some songs first?

He still had over two months; he could take his time.

He had lunch outside, then slowly returned to Peking University in the afternoon and wrote "Jurassic Park" on his workstation.

Extracting dinosaur genes from mosquitoes trapped in amber to revive dinosaurs wasn't a new idea—both domestic and foreign writers had explored it.

For example, Chinese sci-fi writer Zheng Wenguang wrote a sci-fi story in 1980 called "The Prehistoric World" about reviving ancient life; he'd also written a dinosaur-related novel called "Jurassic."

Actually, the most original element of "Jurassic Park" was the word "Park."

Zoos were becoming increasingly common in China's major and medium-sized cities; abroad, even more so. A typical zoo might have lions, tigers, and giraffes—having a giant panda alone could ignite visitors' desire to visit.

But what if this zoo contained extinct prehistoric giants—dinosaurs?

And what if this zoo was located on an island, entirely populated by all kinds of dinosaurs? Beyond novelty, it would inevitably carry another element—danger.

To some extent, "Jurassic Park" could also be viewed as a horror novel, where the protagonists constantly faced mortal threats from giant beasts.

Wei Ming had already read many books on dinosaurs—from Peking University, from Yanjing Library, and from foreign journals sent by Melinda; he'd filled nearly half a notebook with data and habits of various dinosaurs.

This accumulation let him begin immediately, without a single moment of hesitation.

(End of Chapter)