Chapter 291: The Overseas Copyright Development of

"Let me introduce you—this is Sarah Brightman, the singer of 'MoonlightShadow.' She's only 21, a gifted singer and musical theater actress."

"I admit your song is written beautifully, but paired with Sarah's perfect voice, it's a perfect match—that's what gave this song its explosive energy, landing it in the Billboard Top 100 in the U. . and cracking the top ten in the UK. Of course, Lennon's contribution was also indispensable; people still miss him."

She then told Wei Ming: "Sarah is very interested in you. Because of MrWhy's fame in children's literature, she reached out to me through the publishing house. When she learned you were my former lover, she praised my taste and expressed regret over our breakup. After two cups of Starbucks, we became friends."

Wei Ming could only think he'd made the right friend in Melinda—no more worries about selling songs. And Sarah had made the right friend too; it was a three-way win.

But Melinda later told him it was a four-way win.

The fourth person was Andrew Lloyd Webber.

This man was incredibly talented—he was only 33 this year, a musical theater composer who had founded his own company before turning thirty and was now one of London's largest theater operators.

At this moment, his company was rehearsing a musical he had personally adapted from British poet T. . Eliot's children's poetry collection, 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats'—the musical 'Cats.'

Even people uninterested in musical theater had likely heard of this one—it held the record for the most performances on Broadway, and American pop sensation Taylor Swift once starred in the film adaptation.

Later, that record was surpassed by the even more famous musical 'The Phantom of the Opera,' which was also composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

In musical theater circles, there was a so-called 'Big Four': 'Cats,' 'The Phantom of the Opera,' 'Les Misérables,' and 'Miss Saigon.' Andrew Lloyd Webber held two of the four spots.

At this time, the up-and-coming young singer Sarah Brightman was rehearsing for 'Cats,' and a few years later she would become the female lead in 'The Phantom of the Opera.'

Crucially, she would also become Andrew Lloyd Webber's second wife a few years down the line—whether counted forward or backward, she was the second.

As for how far Sarah and the married Andrew had gone by now, Wei Ming didn't know.

But Melinda wrote in her letter: "Sarah also loves the story of 'The Lion King.' She recommended this fairy tale to the musical theater composer Andrew Lloyd Webber—he's the founder of Genuine Group, a company dedicated to developing musicals."

"Andrew is very interested in this work. How about it? Would you be interested in letting this story debut on the musical stage first? I've also sent you a copyright licensing agreement. If you're interested, I can handle the arrangements for you—I only want twenty percent. Don't think it's too high; I'll need to hire a professional lawyer. You have no idea how expensive lawyers are."

Wei Ming couldn't help but smile. Even twenty percent was nothing to him—he'd always been generous with women, and Melinda had helped him immensely. Still, he needed to clarify a few things upfront.

Of course he could grant the license—after all, 'The Lion King' would indeed become a musical, and its influence would rival the Big Four, achieving tremendous success.

But the musical version must not bypass him to license other derivative works—like films or animations. This must be written into the contract.

You can't make one version of the musical and then claim the IP as your own, letting Hollywood directly license the film rights from you—that wouldn't do.

Besides discussing the copyright development of 'The Lion King,' Melinda also mentioned the translation progress of 'The Magic Cube? Anyone Can Play.' It should be finished this month.

"The Magic Cube is selling extremely well in Europe. We're working overtime, translating and illustrating simultaneously, afraid some similar book will beat us to publication. Our advantage is your name on the author line—MrWhy."

The implication was clear: Wei Ming had become a highly marketable brand—even as a co-author.

Wei Ming took out a sheet of paper to write his thoughts to Melinda, and also planned to send her 'Jurassic Park,' asking her to try translating it. But this novel wasn't suitable as a picture book—it should be published as a novel directly.

He had also received a letter from Old Wan of 'Science Fiction World.' Although the over fifty thousand words he'd completed formed a fairly complete story, the tale of Jurassic Park was far from over.

So he would continue writing 'Jurassic Park 2' and '3,' carrying it all the way to the point where a new consortium prepares to take over and rebrand the park as 'Jurassic World.'

He wasn't sure if Melinda herself had the ability to translate such a science fiction and horror-laden novel filled with technical terms. If she didn't, Wei Ming trusted she'd find a more suitable translator for him.

Aside from being eager to prove herself in bed, Melinda always knew her limits.

Wei Ming had barely begun his letter when he heard a knock at the door—he knew it was Lin-jie. He hurried to open it, pulled her in, and pinned her against the wall with a deep kiss.

After a long moment of oxygen deprivation, Zhu Lin pushed Wei Ming away; she was completely limp.

"I came here to listen to music. Where's the song?"

Wei Ming started playing the record, then sat on the sofa with Zhu Lin in his arms—he sat on the sofa, she sat on him.

"Oh, don't be handsy—you're defiling art!"

Wei Ming: "I only want to defile you. Of course, in my heart, you are a work of art."

Zhu Lin adored Wei Ming's sweet talk, but she patiently listened to the entire song.

"Did you really write this? And the lyrics too?"

"Of course. Do you think I've been wasting my time sneaking into English classes at Peking University? Most Spanish majors have worse English than I do."

Zhu Lin thought it was probably because he had an ex-girlfriend to practice with. She always believed language depended heavily on environment—like herself, since her grandmother spoke Shandong dialect and her father occasionally did too, she naturally picked up the accent and felt right at home filming in Shandong.

Wei Ming looked at his fingers and smiled faintly. Lin-jie blushed: "Carry me inside."

This time, Wei Ming simply hoisted her onto his shoulders like a mountain bandit kidnapping his bride.

But as Zhu Lin's vision flipped, she suddenly spotted a package's outer wrapping—she'd seen it before. It was the unmistakable look of an overseas parcel. Damn it—the foreign woman was at it again, seducing men from halfway across the globe.

I wonder if Gong Yu even knows—you're in Beijing, you've got to guard your home!

Over an hour later, Zhu Lin and Wei Ming lay on the bed, both exhausted from a fierce battle. Wei Ming even worried the neighbors, Wu Lao and his wife, might have heard.

But the feeling was truly wonderful. When they'd rested enough, Wei Ming pulled Lin-jie up: "Let's go get lunch. It's already past one."

Zhu Lin nodded. The intense exertion had drained her completely.

But just as they finished dressing and were about to leave, the front door opened, revealing a sprightly little old woman.

"Oh, Grandma!"

Wei Ming jumped in shock. Grandma, why do you always ambush your grandson like this? Last time with Gong Yu, it was the same.

Zhu Lin instantly hid behind Wei Ming and whispered nervously, "Grandma, hello." They'd met at Yunyun's wedding.

But back then, Grandma hadn't seen things as clearly as Old Wei and his wife had.

Today, however, she saw clearly: her grandson was a capable man, and this girl was simply too beautiful.

"Oh, hello, hello—you're… Xiao Zhu, right?" She remembered there was also a Xiao Gong. "I—I just came back to pick up something. I'm leaving now."

Before they could react, Grandma dashed off, glancing back as she ran.

Zhu Lin lightly punched Wei Ming: "It's all your fault. Why did we have to come here to listen to music at Tuanjie Lake? If we'd just stayed there, Grandma wouldn't have jumped to wild conclusions."

"How can you call it wild thinking? We really did act wildly, didn't we? If we're going to act wildly, we can't complain if others think wildly," Wei Ming hugged Lin-jie and kissed her nose, looking perfectly justified. "Alright, no problem. Let's go eat."

But there really was a problem. That evening, during the family dinner, Grandma announced she wanted to return to her hometown.

His parents asked if she wasn't happy staying here.

Grandma said there were too many quails at home now, and her eldest sister-in-law's legs were in poor condition—she wanted to go back and help her eldest brother shoulder the burden.

Wei Ming knew it was just an excuse. Grandma was afraid she was getting in the way of her grandson's affairs, so he urged: "Grandma, the rainy season's coming in two months. Your rheumatism finally improved—going back, I'm afraid it'll flare up again."

Speaking of the rainy season, Wei Ming remembered that this summer Sichuan would flood, and Ya'an was in the flood zone—he was even less willing to let Grandma return.

"Besides, we won't let you travel alone by train or plane. If you insist on leaving now, I'll have to take leave and go with you."

"No, no, oh, I'll stay a bit longer," Grandma relented. In truth, she didn't want to leave her daughter either—after twenty years apart, she longed to make up for lost time.

After discussing Grandma's matter, Xiao Hong added: "Brother, I signed up for high jump, long jump, and table tennis at tomorrow's student sports meet. You've got to cheer for me."

Wei Ming: "I won't just cheer—I'll be the referee too, for the women's table tennis. But how good are you at table tennis?"

"I'm undefeated in my dorm," Xiao Hong boasted.

Wei Ming: "Then get to school early tomorrow—we'll have a match."

The next day, under the supervision of referees Liu Zhenyun and Liang Zuo, Wei Ming defeated Wei Hong 0–11.

Liang Zuo exclaimed: "Brother Ming, you're amazing at table tennis! You must be national team level!"

Liu Zhenyun shook his head: "Even the national team might not beat you. Look at how weird his serves are—Xiao Hong always gets caught by them."

Wei Ming listened without blushing. Table tennis techniques had been evolving continuously. Some of the serving methods Wei Ming used now would be banned in the future—anything banned must be especially effective, like Liu Fat's hidden serve.

Plus, he had decades of park table tennis experience—rich and varied. But now it was the small-ball era, and he felt slightly out of sync.

Wei Hong was disheartened, but Wei Ming wore the demeanor of a master: "Want to learn? I'll teach you."

Xiao Hong nodded eagerly: "I want to learn that move where you catch the ball behind your back—it's so cool!"

Wei Ming frowned: "Those are just showy tricks—useless. Table tennis boils down to three words: receive, neutralize, serve. But receiving and neutralizing require long-term, constant practice—you can't master them quickly. I'll teach you serving."

After an hour of intensive training, Xiao Hong's skill skyrocketed. In the afternoon's women's table tennis match, she won the championship outright—though she didn't make the finals in high jump or long jump.

From then on, Xiao Hong developed a strong interest in table tennis, convinced she had exceptional talent and could one day become a champion like Tong Ling or Cao Yanhua.

Just days ago, the 36th World Table Tennis Championships had ended in Novi Sad, Yugoslavia. The Chinese team swept all seven titles: men's team, women's team, men's singles (Guo Yuehua), women's singles (Tong Ling), men's doubles, women's doubles, and mixed doubles—marking China's undisputed dominance in world table tennis. At this time, Brazilian players couldn't even reach the finals.

So table tennis was extremely popular now—newspapers were full of reports on Guo Yuehua, Cai Zhenhua, and others. Two days later, Beijing would hold a grand rally to welcome the table tennis team's triumphant return.

To satisfy Xiao Hong's passion for table tennis—and the whole family's newfound love for it—Wei Ming and Old Wei cleared out a room in the Sihe Academy and bought a standard wooden table tennis table. His parents, with nothing better to do, could now play at home for exercise, and Grandma occasionally joined in.

That night, dark and windy, Wei Ming brought Gong Yu to the Sihe Academy on his motorcycle.

Her scenes at the Beijing Film Studio were finished; next, she'd head to Subei to shoot the final parts.

Since they were about to part, she didn't want Xiao Wei to miss out. Besides, yesterday she'd slept with Zhu Lin and heard how Zhu Lin had been caught red-handed with Wei Ming by Grandma in the overseas apartment.

Gong Yu, unwilling to be outdone, told him about how she and Wei Ming had been caught by Grandma in the bedroom: "We were still together then."

The speaker blushed; the listener panted heavily. Indeed, sex was always more thrilling when it broke the rules.

Two once-pure, beautiful girls had both been corrupted by Xiao Wei.

Today, Wei Ming brought Gong Yu to the Sihe Academy first to show her the table tennis room; they played two games.

When playing with Xue-jie, Wei Ming automatically lowered his skill level to match hers—otherwise, one always scored and the other always lost, and it wouldn't be fun.

As they played, Xue-jie seized an opportunity and delivered a powerful smash.

The ball didn't land on the table—it hit Wei Ming's crotch directly.

Wei Ming groaned in pain. Xue-jie dropped her paddle and rushed over to check on him—her concern made her fall for the trap.

Soon, under the table tennis room's lights, two figures began writhing on the table, with Doggy howling at the moon as accompaniment.

Of course, the writhing figures weren't confined to the table tennis room—the bedroom was the main battlefield. Gong Yu loved the red bed and red quilts, like a real bridal chamber.

Gong Yu left. Zhu Lin entered the acting advanced class at the Film Academy, starred in three films, two as the lead, and officially began systematic training in acting alongside newcomers like Li Chengru, Zhang Guangbei, and Zhao Baogang.

Her arrival stunned the acting class; even students from other departments at the Film Academy learned of her existence. Many male and female students from the Class of '78 acting and directing departments came specifically to see her. Zhu Lin always behaved with grace and poise.

Until one day, the directing students Tian Zhuangzhuang and Xie Xiaojing stopped her, asking her to star in their film.

Xie Xiaojing told her: "This is our graduation project, adapted from Wang Anyi's novel 'The Little Courtyard Locked Record.' We'd like you to play the female lead."

Tian Zhuangzhuang added: "We'll only use our free time."

Zhu Lin instinctively asked: "What works do you have?"

Tian Zhuangzhuang blushed: "This is our first work. After we finish this, we'll have a work."

Cui Xiaoqin added: "We don't have any works yet, but our cinematographer does. Zhang Yimou was involved in 'Cow and Cow Two'—that film's been very popular lately."

It wasn't wildly popular, just moderately above average, but it received excellent reviews in film circles; renowned film critic Zhong Dianfei even wrote a special article praising it, and Wei Ming had also taken Zhu Lin to see it once.

"Hey, isn't that Zhang Yimou? Old Zhang, come over here." Xie Xiaojing pulled Zhang Yimou over—he, like a peasant farmer—and with the success of "The Cow and Niu Er," Zhang Yimou, now listed in the credits, had one foot already in the film industry and was the classmate with the most film experience.

For this year's directing department graduation short film, Zhang Yimou was the first confirmed cinematographer; the other two were Lü Yue and Hou Yong.

Coincidentally, Zhang Yimou remembered Zhu Lin—he'd photographed a wedding where, on either side of the bride, stood two women more beautiful than she was: one was the famous actress Gong Ying, the other was this very Zhu Lin.

Hearing they wanted Zhu Lin as the female lead, Zhang Yimou immediately endorsed her: "That face is perfect for the camera—it can withstand any angle."

Flattered by their praise, Zhu Lin didn't get carried away; she asked: "Do you have a script? I'd like to read it first."

Tian Zhuangzhuang told her: "We've commissioned Wang Anyi to write the screenplay; we'll send it to you as soon as possible."

"Alright," Zhu Lin thought she'd decide after reading the script.

That day she stayed at Tuanjiehu and told Xiao Wei about it.

Unexpectedly, Tian Zhuangzhuang and the others had still come to her, a student in this advanced class—he figured acting wouldn't hurt; Tian Zhuangzhuang and the rest were certainly inexperienced, and their film would barely be watchable, but these 1978 graduates in directing, cinematography, and art design would soon dominate much of the film industry's ecosystem; getting close to them would bring many advantages.

Of course, even without them, there was still himself—Wei Ming had been keeping tabs on new film releases from studios nationwide for her.

Besides, it was just a short film—it wouldn't take much time.

Wei Ming told her to decide for herself; he'd arranged to meet her today just to inform her he'd be going to Hangzhou next week.

"The Hundred Flowers Award and the newly launched Golden Rooster Award are both being held in Hangzhou this year. I've been invited as a nominee—I might be away for a week."

Zhu Lin regretted she hadn't been invited; "The Traitor" was also in the award period, but its quality was mediocre and it was completely ignored—sigh, Hangzhou's West Lake must be beautiful.

Gong Ying's "Good Things Come to Those Who Wait" had some presence, and "The Herdsman" was a strong contender for awards; Gong Ying had been invited by the organizing committee, but because filming "Mom, Please Love Me Again" had reached its most critical stage, she firmly declined, wanting only to focus on finishing these final scenes.

"The Hundred Flowers Award~" Zhu Lin's tone was full of envy—she had no chance herself; she could only hope Xiao Xue might win. She'd already mailed in her voting slips from "Mass Cinema," voting for Wei Ming, Gong Ying, and "The Herdsman."

Before Wei Ming departed for Hangzhou, this issue of "Science Fiction World" was released; its circulation now hovered around ten thousand copies—barely covering costs, it survived entirely on state funding.

To boost sales, the editor-in-chief boldly printed "Wei Shenme's New Work: Jurassic Park" in large letters on the cover.

And in an era when book and magazine covers still favored simplicity, they placed Liu Rulong's illustration of a T-Rex gaping with a bloodied maw on the front cover to attract readers.

Considering the quality of Wei Shenme's novel, the first print run of this issue of "Science Fiction World" reached twenty thousand copies.

Although many adults didn't read Wei Shenme's novels much, nearly everyone had heard his name—his reputation for dominating the Western children's book market was too strong, and his "The Toothless Tiger" and "If I Were Wu Song" had both been broadcast on TV and in cinemas.

Zhang Guoli, 26, was an actor and announcer with the Chengdu Railway Art Troupe; his wife Luo Xiuchun was a stage actress with the Sichuan People's Art Theatre.

Though he'd lived in Chengdu for years, his life experiences were far broader than just Chengdu—he was born in Tianjin, raised in Yanjing, then worked as a railway laborer in Guizhou; because his Mandarin was standard, he was selected by the railway art troupe as an announcer.

But he wasn't content to remain just an announcer, so he desperately armed himself with knowledge, always reading books, watching films, and making friends.

Today he wandered into the Xinhua Bookstore and saw a magazine with a dinosaur on the cover—he normally wouldn't touch such magazines, but recent reports about dinosaur fossils discovered in Zigong had been everywhere.

Currently, Sichuan had two major trends: one was dinosaur fever, the other was paranormal ability fever—the first child discovered and widely publicized for paranormal abilities was also from Sichuan.

So Zhang Guoli picked it up casually, and only then noticed the author's name: "Wei Shenme."

"Isn't this guy the one who writes fairy tales? How's he writing sci-fi now?"

Driven by curiosity, Zhang Guoli flipped through the magazine—and was instantly hooked.

Well written, incredibly smooth—he was truly a world-renowned writer whose influence reached abroad; even the scientific knowledge was never obscure, explained clearly and accessibly, with skillful analogies that made it understandable even to someone with little education.

And to him, the idea of resurrecting dinosaurs—something seasoned sci-fi readers found unremarkable—was utterly astonishing; this man had an incredible imagination, even creating an entire park.

"If such a park existed, I'd definitely visit—just as long as it's not too expensive," Zhang Guoli said happily.

"Comrade, hello! I'll take this magazine!"

Initially, "Science Fiction World" was distributed mainly in Sichuan and Chongqing; people outside the region could only subscribe via post office.

Yiqi No. 1 High School, 18-year-old senior student Liu Cixin had just passed his college entrance exam pre-test and was now frantically preparing for the July college entrance exam; his mother was an elementary school Chinese teacher who placed great emphasis on education.

But today he received a package from the post office—sent by the editorial office of Sichuan's "Science Fiction Literature."

Liu Cixin exclaimed, "Oh no! I forgot to cancel it!"

He'd subscribed to six months of "Science Fiction World," but the magazine had grown increasingly dull, and with the college entrance exam approaching, he figured he wouldn't renew it after the exam.

Whatever, since it's here, I'll take a look.

That evening, after finishing his homework, he tore open the package—and saw the cover: "Wei Shenme" and a giant dinosaur…

(Requesting double monthly votes! Another big chapter tonight!)

(End of chapter)