Chapter 29

Wei Ming asked with concern: "Has the little girl arrived home now?"

The police said indignantly: "She has been picked up by her biological parents. This is a military family, the father is a pilot. This human trafficker is really bold!"

Wei Ming and Gong Xue breathed a sigh of relief together. Human hearts are made of flesh, and kind people can't bear the pain of bone and flesh separation.

This matter finally had a satisfactory result. The three policemen saluted and left.

When the train left Suzhou, there was only the last leg of the journey left, and the separation also entered the countdown.

The train came from the west, passing through Kunshan and Jiading.

Returning to the city she was familiar with, Gong Xue began to enthusiastically introduce to Wei Ming where was where on both sides of the railway.

Shanghai in this era is also dilapidated. It wasn't until entering Putuo that one could vaguely see a shadow of the "Ten Miles of Foreign Fields" of the past, but it still couldn't be called very prosperous. Shanghai truly deserves this title only in the 90s.

"Look, that river is called Suzhouhe!" Gong Xue pointed out the window. Every time she saw Suzhouhe, it meant she was about to arrive.

Wei Ming nodded. Seeing Suzhouhe, he first thought of Xun Ge. Oh, it's the Xun Ge surnamed Zhou.

The old man lived in Shanghai in his later years and finally passed away in Shanghai. The descendants of Runtu also got a job in Xun Ge's memorial hall.

Finally, the train stopped at Shanghai Station in Zhabei District, more than an hour late, which is normal.

Wei Ming and Gong Xue said goodbye in the carriage. He went to the No. 1 carriage to pick up Professor Qu, and then the two took the No. 104 bus to No. 675 Julu Road, the location of the Shanghai Writers Association.

The editorial department of *Harvest*, the editorial department of *Shanghai Literature*, and the editorial department of *Sprout*, which had not yet resumed publication, were all here.

As for the base camp of *Storytelling*, it was at No. 74 Shaoxing Road, together with the Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House, not far away, and it took less than half an hour to walk.

After the two went in, they had to act separately. The luggage was placed downstairs, and then Wei Ming went upstairs to the editorial department of *Harvest*.

"Hello, my name is Wei Ming, I'm here to revise the manuscript." Wei Ming said to an editor closest to the door.

"Wei Ming? Wei Ming, the author of *Donkey Five Donkey Six*? That Peking University genius Wei Ming!" This editor had also heard of Wei Ming's name. It seems that this novel was quite famous in the editorial department.

Wei Ming nodded and admitted: "But I can't be called a genius."

Immediately, this Editor Guo brought Wei Ming to Li Xiaolin. She graduated from the Shanghai Theatre Academy, was about thirty years old, of medium height and medium appearance.

"It really is a college student," Li Xiaolin smiled and reached out to an old editor opposite her, "Old Kong, I won."

The old editor opposite looked at Wei Ming in surprise, but still took out a yuan to hand to Li Xiaolin.

Wei Ming called a stop in time: "Wait a minute, did you two make a bet because of me?"

Li Xiaolin: "Yes."

"What was the bet?"

The old editor surnamed Kong said: "I guessed that the author of this article was a teacher at Peking University because the writing style is very seasoned, and it looks like an old hand at a glance. But Xiaolin felt that the text was lively and bold, without any twilight, and should be written by a student."

Li Xiaolin smiled: "The key is that I haven't heard that there is a teacher named Wei Ming at Peking University."

Wei Ming also smiled: "But if neither of you guessed right, then who should the bet belong to?"

The two editors looked at each other and sized up Wei Ming again.

Editor Guo, who brought Wei Ming over, smiled: "Then it should be given to you."

The two editors had no opinion, so Wei Ming revealed his identity.

"I am neither a teacher at Peking University nor a student at Peking University. I am just a temporary worker at Peking University," he said formally, "Let's re-acquaint ourselves: Wei Ming, security guard at the South Gate of Peking University." The editors present were all stunned. This result was not something no one had thought of. Some people guessed whether it would just be a non-teaching staff member of Peking University, after all, no department was written, but it was denied because the possibility was too low.

As a result, you really are!

And you are a temporary worker guarding the gate!

So next, Li Xiaolin didn't talk about the revision of the manuscript, but first asked about Wei Ming's writing experience. What made a security guard write such an amazing article? Is it ideals? Is it ambition?

Wei Ming: It's poverty!

Li Xiaolin: "You definitely didn't have such good writing skills all of a sudden."

"I only wrote compositions before. Later, I failed the college entrance examination, and I had no compositions to write. Actually, this is my debut novel." Wei Ming said.

"You wrote a medium-length novel as soon as you came up, and you wrote it so well! Then what books do you like to read usually?"

"I read whatever books I have. I'm not picky, and I don't have the conditions to be picky. As long as it's paper with words printed on it, I want to take a look."

"Haha, then what about your favorite authors."

Wei Ming: "I prefer Lu Xun and Lao She."

!

Li Xiaolin was not angry because Wei Ming didn't mention his father. She nodded: "Your work is indeed full of Lu Xun's sharpness and ridicule and Lao She's Beijing-style humor."

"Then, Editor Li, can we talk about the revision of the manuscript now?"

"Don't rush. It's already past one o'clock. You must be very tired after sitting on the train for a day and a night. You should stay in the Writers Association guesthouse first. If you go later, there will be no food in the guesthouse. If you are not used to it, you can eat outside. There will be a two-yuan subsidy every day."

Hearing such a high subsidy, Wei Ming felt refreshed: "Since you said so, I am indeed a bit hungry, then I will take my leave first."

"Wait a minute," Li Xiaolin took out a yuan and put it in Wei Ming's hand, "Old Kong lost, and I didn't win either. This is my share."

Wei Ming smiled particularly brightly. He earned two yuan as soon as he arrived. It's a good omen!

And the atmosphere in Shanghai is indeed open. Even if the editors in the capital make a bet, they probably wouldn't dare to use real money, at most melon seeds and peanuts.

Wei Ming, who had met the editors of *Harvest*, went downstairs directly, and the editorial department immediately started discussing him.

The Writers Association staff downstairs told Wei Ming: "Professor Qu has been invited to dinner by the editor-in-chief of *Storytelling*. You can settle down in our Writers Association guesthouse first and have a meal by the way."

Hey, this Old Qu, she didn't call him even when someone was treating.

Wei Ming had to take all his luggage to the guesthouse. He and Professor Qu's rooms were adjacent, both on the second floor.

After putting down his luggage, he hurried to eat. Sure enough, there were not many people left. He only saw a middle-aged woman with a good temperament eating.

After taking the meal, Wei Ming leaned over to share a table with her: "Hello, big sister, are you also here to revise the manuscript?"

"Hmm," the woman said, "Are you?"

It's not that she looked down on Wei Ming, it's just that he looked too young, younger than her youngest son.

"Yes!" Wei Ming smiled brightly, "My name is Wei Ming, what should I call you."

"Chen Rong."

Oh my, so she is Chen Rong!

Then the manuscript she is revising now should probably be *Middle Age*, which helped Pan Hong win her first Golden Rooster Best Actress award.

(End of chapter)