[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-29":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2260737,4412,"Chapter 29: The Bet on Wei Ming (Requesting Monthly Tickets!)","rising-in-1979-chapter-29",29,"\u003Cp>Wei Ming asked with concern: “Has the little girl gotten home yet?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The police officer exclaimed indignantly: “She’s already been taken back by her biological parents—she’s from a military family, her father’s a pilot. This human trafficker is audacious beyond belief!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming and Gong Ying both exhaled in relief; hearts are made of flesh, and kind people can’t bear the pain of families torn apart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The matter had finally reached a satisfactory resolution; the three police officers saluted and left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the train left Suzhou, only the final leg remained, and parting had entered its countdown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The train came from the west, passing through Kunshan and Jiading.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back in her familiar city, Gong Ying enthusiastically pointed out to Wei Ming what each place along the railway was.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even Shanghai in this era was dilapidated; only faint traces of the old \"Ten Miles of Foreignness\" remained when they entered Putuo, but it was still not particularly prosperous—Shanghai truly earned its name only in the 1990s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look, that river is the Suzhou River!” Gong Ying pointed out the window; every time she saw the Suzhou River, it meant they were about to arrive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded; seeing the Suzhou River, he first thought of Xun Ge, oh, the Xun Ge who was surnamed Zhou.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old master spent his later years in Shanghai and passed away there; the descendants of Run Tu also found work at Xun Ge’s memorial hall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, the train stopped at Shanghai Station in Zhabei District, over an hour late—this was normal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming and Gong Ying said their goodbyes in the carriage; he went to Carriage No. 1 to pick up Professor Qu, then the two took Bus No. 104 to No. 675 Julu Road, the home of the Shanghai Writers Association.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The editorial offices of 《Shouhuo》, 《Shanghai Literature》, and the yet-to-be-revived 《Mengya》 were all here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for 《Gushihui》’s headquarters, it was at No. 74 Shaoxing Road, alongside the Shanghai Literary and Art Publishing House—not far, a half-hour walk away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once inside, they split up; their luggage was left downstairs, and Wei Ming went upstairs to the 《Shouhuo》 editorial office.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, I’m Wei Ming. I’m here to revise my manuscript.” Wei Ming said to the editor nearest the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wei Ming? The Wei Ming who wrote 《Lu Wu Lu Liu》? The Peking University prodigy Wei Ming!” This editor had heard of Wei Ming’s name—apparently, the story had gained some reputation within the office.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming nodded in confirmation: “But I’m no prodigy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The editor, Mr. Guo, then brought Wei Ming to Li Xiaolin; she had graduated from the Shanghai Theatre Academy, was in her early thirties, of average height and appearance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You really are a college student,” Li Xiaolin smiled and reached out to an older editor across from her. “Lao Kong, I won.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The older editor stared at Wei Ming in surprise but still pulled out a yuan to hand to Li Xiaolin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming quickly stopped him: “Wait a minute—are you two betting on me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Xiaolin: “Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What were you betting on?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The older editor, Mr. Kong, said: “I guessed the author was a Peking University professor, because the writing was so polished—clearly the work of an experienced hand. But Xiaolin thought the language was lively and bold, with no trace of staleness, so she believed it was written by a student.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Xiaolin laughed: “The key is, I never heard of any Peking University professor named Wei Ming.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming also smiled: “But if neither of you guessed right, who gets the bet?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two editors exchanged glances and looked at Wei Ming again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The editor who had brought Wei Ming over chuckled: “It should go to you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two editors had no objections, so Wei Ming revealed his identity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m neither a Peking University professor nor a student—I’m just a temporary worker at Peking University,” he said formally. “Let me reintroduce myself: Gatekeeper at the South Gate of Peking University, Wei Ming.” All the editors present froze. This outcome wasn’t entirely unconsidered—some had speculated he might be a non-teaching staff member, since no department was listed, but the possibility had been dismissed as too unlikely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yet you really are!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And you’re a temporary gatekeeper!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Li Xiaolin didn’t mention manuscript revisions right away; instead, she asked about Wei Ming’s writing background—what had led a gatekeeper to write such a stunning piece? Was it idealism? Ambition?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: Poverty!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Xiaolin: “You didn’t suddenly acquire such excellent writing skills, did you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’d only ever written compositions before. After failing the college entrance exam, I stopped writing essays altogether—this is actually my first novel.” Wei Ming said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You started with a novella—and wrote it this well! What kind of books do you usually read?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Whatever books I can get my hands on—I don’t pick and choose, and I have no conditions to be choosy. Any piece of paper with printed words, I want to glance at.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Haha, then which authors do you like?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming: “I especially like Lu Xun and Lao She.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Xiaolin wasn’t offended that Wei Ming hadn’t mentioned his father; she nodded: “Your work clearly carries Lu Xun’s sharp satire and Lao She’s Beijing-style humor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So, Editor Li, can we now talk about revising the manuscript?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not yet—it’s already past one. You’ve been on the train for a full day and night—you must be exhausted. First, check into the Writers Association guesthouse; if you wait too long, they won’t serve dinner. If you can’t eat the food, go out—there’s a two-yuan daily allowance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing such a generous allowance, Wei Ming perked up: “Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry. I’ll take my leave then.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait,” Li Xiaolin pulled out a yuan and placed it in Wei Ming’s hand. “Lao Kong lost, and I didn’t win—this is my share.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming smiled broadly—he’d made two yuan on his first day, a good omen!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Shanghai’s atmosphere really is open—editors in the capital wouldn’t dare bet real money even if they gambled; at most, they’d wager sunflower seeds or peanuts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After meeting the 《Shouhuo》 editors, Wei Ming went straight downstairs; immediately, the editorial office erupted into discussion about him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The staff downstairs told Wei Ming: “Professor Qu has been invited to dinner by the editor-in-chief of 《Gushihui》. You can check into our guesthouse first and have a meal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huh, that old Qu—someone invited him to dinner and didn’t even invite me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had no choice but to carry all his luggage to the guesthouse himself; his room and Professor Qu’s were next to each other, both on the second floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After putting down his luggage, he hurried to dinner; sure enough, few people remained—he saw only one middle-aged woman with good bearing eating.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He got his meal and joined her table: “Sister, hello—are you here to revise your manuscript too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mm,” the woman said. “Are you too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t that she looked down on Wei Ming—just that he looked far too young, even younger than her youngest son.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes!” Wei Ming laughed cheerfully. “I’m Wei Ming. What’s your name?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Chen Rong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oh my, so she’s Chen Rong!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the manuscript she’s revising is almost certainly the one that helped Pan Hong win her first Golden Rooster Award for 《Midlife》.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1217,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","0d96d67af8a52d29d3c9137b2fe6f35a7f90733993af473bf6e48ee725db19f5","rising-in-1979-chapter-30","rising-in-1979-chapter-28",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]