Chapter 292: Dinosaurs Spark a Craze, Hundred Flowers Simmer Golden Chicken (Requesting Subscription!)

Although Wei Ming's "Black Cat Police Chief" series is more famous, Liu Cixin always felt Wei Ming's talents extended beyond children's fairy tales.

Although Xiao Liu was eighteen, he occasionally read the school-ordered magazine "Youth Literature," and was familiar with Wei Ming's works like "The Game of the Brave" and "The Lion King."

So he wasn't surprised that Wei Ming could write a science fiction novel—"The Game of the Brave" had already shown astonishing imagination.

He eagerly opened the magazine, checked the page count—wow, about fifty to sixty thousand words, not a short story, but a novella.

He checked the time—it was already late; he'd read half today and half tomorrow.

The smooth, fluent writing style made Liu Cixin read effortlessly; he often read foreign sci-fi, and though the scientific concepts were brilliant, the translated stories always carried a stiff, awkward translation flavor.

The story opened with a suspense: Had Charlotte and her investment team really created dinosaurs?

Before this suspense was resolved, Liu Cixin couldn't sleep—but his bedroom was always under his mother's surveillance.

"Knock knock knock~" His mother knocked and said, "Xin, don't stay up too late; if you haven't finished your homework, do it tomorrow. Enough sleep makes you more efficient."

"Okay, Mom, I know."

The room light went off; the flashlight under the quilt turned on again.

When he reached the point where Jurassic Park completely lost control, he checked the page count—it was about halfway; fine, just two more pages.

Then, oh no, he hit a critical moment—just a few more pages, get through this plot point.

Wow, this was amazing—the illustrations were perfect; I'll sleep at two.

At two, hey, only a few pages left; might as well finish it, then I won't think about it tomorrow.

At four, Liu Cixin finally fell asleep, satisfied—so tired he forgot to turn off the flashlight, which drained completely.

At seven, when his mother saw he hadn't gotten up, she started knocking and urging him.

Liu Cixin jolted upright—he'd dreamed that tens of millions of years ago, dinosaurs hadn't gone extinct; they kept evolving, developed intelligence and technology, became Earth's rulers, even began space exploration; later, humans appeared on Earth, and when the dinosaurs returned from space, humans immediately became their slaves or food.

Luckily his mother woke him in time; otherwise he'd have become breakfast for a dinosaur—what a terrifying predator.

"Mom, what's for breakfast?" Liu Cixin asked, dark circles under his eyes.

Mom: "Dinosaur meat."

Hearing "dinosaur meat," Liu Cixin shuddered, his mind sharpened—but the dream grew hazy.

That day he brought "Science Fiction World" to class and recommended the story to classmates who, like him, loved sci-fi and reading.

He also decided to continue subscribing to "Science Fiction World"—it hadn't completely declined; there was still hope.

When he got a job and had time, he'd try writing down those absurd dreams from his dream and submit them to "Science Fiction World."

"Jurassic Park" did boost "Science Fiction World"'s sales, but honestly, it barely sold out its 20, 00 copies—yet they wanted more; sales only doubled, which wasn't Wei Ming's level.

But without the internet and underdeveloped media, spreading news was extremely hard; they didn't even know how to make the whole nation know that the famous Fairy Tale Prince had written a dinosaur story for "Science Fiction World."

Word-of-mouth spread slowly; only major media or platforms could accelerate it.

One week after "Science Fiction World" published it, Shanghai children's literature writer Ji Hong wrote about "Jurassic Park" in "Wen Hui Bao."

Two years earlier, he'd co-authored a children's book, "Sea Dinosaurs," with his daughter; he considered himself somewhat knowledgeable about dinosaurs and had helped children learn about them.

Now, seeing Wei Ming's "Jurassic Park," written by another children's author, he found it more professional, more rigorous in approach, suitable for children yet not childish for adults.

So he couldn't resist writing an article praising Wei Ming and "Jurassic Park," publishing it in his daughter's newspaper, "Wen Hui Bao," as a senior's encouragement to a junior.

Ji Hong's masterpiece, "The Snow Child," had been animated by Meiyingchang last year and received an excellent response—bigger than Wei Ming's two shorts—and elevated Ji Hong's fame.

His article, combined with "Wen Hui Bao"'s circulation, instantly made "Jurassic Park" famous and introduced "Science Fiction World" to readers beyond Sichuan.

To get this magazine, unavailable in bookstores or newsstands, they had to order it by mail.

Soon after, "China Youth Daily" followed up; reporter Zhu Wei hadn't expected Wei Ming to quietly publish a sci-fi story—sci-fi had recently been criticized by various authorities and had a bad reputation.

So he tracked down Wei Ming for an interview, asking why he wrote "Jurassic Park."

Wei Ming first explained the story's inspiration and said this novel was deliberately prepared for the overseas market; even the setting and characters were foreign, because overseas dinosaur fever was extremely high, and China was also a major dinosaur fossil country.

"Sichuan's Zigong, Yunnan's Lufeng, Shandong's Zhucheng, and Heilongjiang's Nenjiang—all have yielded massive dinosaur fossils. I hope they'll be remembered; someday they might even attract overseas tourists."

Zhu Wei: "So China's dinosaur fossil resources are this rich?"

"After all, our land is vast and rich. So in my novel, I deliberately included several dinosaurs named after Chinese places—Xu's Lufengosaurus, Zhuchengtitan—and even the chief scientist who brings dinosaurs back to life is Chinese-American, the smartest character in the book, and the one who runs through the whole story. I think this is also a kind of promotion."

Wei Ming understood perfectly what Chinese people wanted to see; with this line of reasoning, not only would science popularizers not attack him, the state would stand by him.

Good, write it this way—make the world know that Chinese people are intelligent, a fact that objectively exists!

Excited, reporter Zhu Wei asked: "Has this novel been confirmed for overseas publication?"

Wei Ming: "I just mailed it; it probably hasn't reached Britain yet. Also, this novel isn't complete—I'm still developing the sequel. Some Chinese dinosaurs who only appeared briefly in the first part may get more screen time."

Zhu Wei knew exactly how to write it; soon, "China Youth Daily" published its exclusive interview with Wei Ming, titled "Wei Ming's Little Wish: Make Chinese Dinosaurs Famous Worldwide!"

Instantly, "dinosaur" became a hot topic among students; even Ji Hong and his daughter's "Sea Dinosaurs" sold out everywhere, the best sales since its two-year release.

In Chengdu's "Science Fiction World" editorial office, watching subscription requests flood in from across the country, the editor-in-chief said only one thing: "Print more—add fifty thousand copies!"

That's seventy thousand total—far exceeding the peak circulation of "Science Fiction World" and its predecessor magazines.

"Science Fiction World" was showing signs of revival!

The editor immediately told Lao Wan to commission a sequel from Wei Ming—readers would surely want to know what happened next in "Jurassic Park."

"Don't write letters—it's too slow. Make a long-distance call!"

Lao Wan's long-distance call was answered by his grandmother; hearing her dialect, she felt especially warm and pulled him into a chat.

Lao Wan's heart bled—Grandma, do you know how much a long-distance minute costs?!

After chatting a few minutes with Grandma, Lao Wan explained his purpose, asked her to pass on the message, then hung up quickly, paid the long-distance fee from his own pocket, kept the receipt, and rushed back to get reimbursed.

At this point, after preliminary research and visits—even touring the kindergarten and courtyard where Xiao Mei had lived as a child—Wei Ming finally began writing.

The novel's title was set as "Sunny Days"—"Beastly Youth" had already been used by his first collection.

After writing over an hour, the door opened; this was the Tuanjiehu apartment, Wei Ming had arrived first, Zhu Lin had just finished class and came over.

She hugged his neck from behind, cooing.

"I've agreed to Tian Zhuangzhuang and the others."

"Oh, you've read the script?"

"Not yet, but I met Wang Anyi—she's writing it. She said I'm perfect for Sang Sang. With the original author's approval, I was so happy I said yes right away."

Wei Ming: "Oh, Wang Anyi came to Beijing? Where's she staying? I must treat her to dinner."

"Do you know her?" Zhu Lin grew wary; Wang Anyi was a few years younger than her and quite pretty.

"We're colleagues, after all."

Zhu Lin asked: "So what will you treat her to?"

Wei Ming: "She treated me to coffee—bitter as hell. So I'll treat her to soybean juice. That's cosmic justice, karma returning."

"Pfft!" Zhu Lin burst out laughing. "You're so mean. Remember to make her dip it in fried dough rings—it'll be a bit easier."

Huh, Lin Jiejie was only slightly kinder than me—looks like she needs some discipline. Today I'll properly teach her a lesson.

Before leaving Beijing, Wei Ming took Wang Anyi to dinner at Baoguo Temple; she truly couldn't handle soybean juice, but she enjoyed other snacks and sincerely thanked Wei Ming for introducing her to this northern specialty.

The next day, May 22, Wei Ming boarded a flight to Hangzhou.

He'd originally planned to take the train with people from Beiyingchang, to have company—even a two-day journey wouldn't be boring—but this year, few from Beiyingchang were going to Hangzhou.

This year Beiyingchang had a rough time; only a handful of films and actors were nominated, just "The Prisoner with Handcuffs" received a Hundred Flowers Best Picture nomination.

Also, Xie Tieli's film for Bayi Chang, "Tonight the Stars Are Brilliant," received a Golden Rooster Best Director nomination, and Li Xiuming was nominated for her role—but Wei Ming didn't know them.

So Wei Ming went alone, bought an expensive plane ticket, and arrived at Hangzhou Jianqiao Airport by noon.

It was an old military-civilian airport; two years ago it was expanded to receive Nixon, but mixed use was inconvenient, so later Xiaoshan International Airport was built.

Next, Wei Ming asked around, took a bus to the Second Provincial Guesthouse on the south shore of West Lake—its environment was excellent, once a private estate, later renamed Xizi Hotel.

Next to it was the Leifeng Pagoda ruins; the pagoda had long collapsed.

Mr. Liang Sicheng had long urged rebuilding the Leifeng Pagoda as it originally was, but approval never came; only when tourism boomed, possibly influenced by "The New Legend of the White Snake," was a new tower erected in 2000, one of the few paid attractions by West Lake.

This year's 4th Hundred Flowers Awards was the first held outside the capital, and the first Golden Rooster Awards ever—later becoming a tradition: Hundred Flowers and Golden Rooster held together, each time in a new city.

It was both a duty and an honor, and a great chance to promote the host city—so Hangzhou gave them this beautiful hotel.

After check-in, staff gave him a key and room number—but he wasn't qualified for a single room.

"Teacher Wei, you're here? I just arrived too."

Opening the door, he saw thick eyebrows and big eyes; since Wei Ming was from "The Herdsman" crew, he shared a room with Zhu Shimao—Lao Mao was now with Bayi Chang.

Because of the butterfly's gentle flap, Lao Mao was nominated for both Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers Best Actor, and had only one rival for Golden Rooster.

Wei Ming: "Did you come by train?"

"Where else?"

"From Beijing?"

"Yes," Lao Mao laughed. "Tang Guoqiang, Li Xiuming, Tian Hua, Tian Lao, Yu Yang, Yu Lao—we all came together."

Wei Ming groaned: "I should've taken the train with you."

"You didn't take the train?"

"I flew."

"Ah, a plane!"

Lao Mao clicked his tongue; they'd wanted to fly too, but the studio wouldn't reimburse them. He felt this Wei Ming looked like he had a billionaire father abroad—so willing to spend money.

They all departed from Beijing; to avoid delays, they arrived early, while Shangyingchang's team arrived in the afternoon.

This year's Golden Rooster and Hundred Flowers belonged to Shangyingchang; "Romance on Lushan," "The Herdsman," and "Night Rain over Bashan" were the three top contenders, and Shangyingchang's Li Zhiyu, Zhang Yu, Guo Kaimin, Da Shichang, Li Rentang were main contenders for acting awards.

Fortunately, Gong Ying had recently officially joined Beiyingchang, giving Beiyingchang some face—she was nominated for both Best Actress awards, though she didn't come.

Wei Ming missed her; many asked Xie Jin director first: "Where's Gong Ying?" She was among the fastest-rising actresses last year.

That night, Wei Ming didn't eat at the guesthouse; he took Lao Mao and Tang Guoqiang—who came looking for Lao Mao—to Louwailou restaurant, and enjoyed the West Lake night view.

Tang Guoqiang said he felt awkward, but he'd already assumed Wei Ming was treating them—Wei Ming's hospitality was a global consensus.

Louwailou is a century-old restaurant founded during the Daoguang era, and many foreign tourists visiting Hangzhou choose it first.

I heard Jack Ma used to work as a tour guide by the West Lake, blocking foreigners to offer his services—he's fifteen now, and if he appears within a hundred meters of my sight, I'll definitely recognize him.

Unfortunately, he wasn't there.

Entering Louwailou, you must order West Lake Fish in Vinegar Sauce; though Wei Ming had once been fooled by this dish in his past life, he firmly believed that a famous dish surviving for centuries must have its reasons—and both Liang Shiqiu and Feng Zikai had once praised it highly.

So he boldly ordered it, and to ensure the restaurant took it seriously, he told the well-dressed female server: "This is Comrade Tang Guoqiang, who played in 'Little Flower'; this is Comrade Zhu Shimao, who played in 'The Herdsman.' You can't fool us—you must have your master cook this for us. If it tastes bad, you'll ruin your own reputation."

If Melinda were here now, the service would surely be top-tier.

The server glanced at the fair-skinned Tang Guoqiang, then at the broad-browed, big-eyed Zhu Shimao, and finally fixed her eyes on the handsomest man present: "And what roles have you played, comrade?"

Tang Guoqiang and Zhu Shimao burst into laughter, making the girl blush.

Zhu Shimao said: "You must be extra careful with him—he's a writer who frequently publishes articles praising some restaurants and exposing others as overhyped. He has millions of readers; if he writes even one bad word about Louwailou, it'll be disastrous."

"Oh!" The girl was startled.

Tang Guoqiang added: "His name is Wei Ming—he wrote 'The Herdsman.'"

The girl turned and hurried off to inform the kitchen—these guests were no ordinary customers.

Wei Ming: "Hey hey hey, we haven't finished ordering yet."

In the end, besides West Lake Fish in Vinegar Sauce, they ordered Dongpo Pork, Longjing Shrimp, two seasonal vegetables, and a small pot of Huadiao wine.

No surprise—he paid the bill. It was hard to bankrupt him with food.

Dongpo Pork and Longjing Shrimp were, of course, flawless; Wei Ming couldn't help comparing them to similar dishes he'd eaten elsewhere—they ranked at least among the top three.

But West Lake Fish in Vinegar Sauce couldn't be compared—it was only sold by the West Lake.

When the dish arrived, Wei Ming deliberately ate his Dongpo Pork slowly, letting the other two eat first.

Tang Guoqiang, who loved cream, took a bite and nodded repeatedly: "Good, good—no wonder it's the signature dish."

Wei Ming: Could he be tricking me into taking a bite?

So he watched Zhu Shimao take a bite too, confirmed it was edible, then took a bite himself, dipping the fish in the thick, glossy vinegar sauce.

"Mmm↑" Wei Ming's voice rose—before swallowing, the aroma matched his memory from his past life: a strong sour scent.

In the mouth, the sour and sweet were perfectly balanced—the sweetness of sugar blended with the sourness of rice vinegar, creating a savory flavor reminiscent of crab meat. Though sour-sweet fish wasn't his preference, he had to admit—it was delicious.

Even the pickiest diner couldn't call it bad.

Seeing Wei Ming nod, the server watching secretly from the side finally sighed in relief.

Wei Ming said: "May I meet the chef who made this dish?"

"Please wait a moment."

The chef had already been waiting for some time; Wei Ming was not only renowned in literary circles but also famous in the culinary world. Dozens of his articles on Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Sichuan-Chongqing cuisine had made his name familiar to many chefs—he was a registered name in every major restaurant in Beijing.

"Teacher Wei, hello. I'm Wu Shunchu, head chef at Louwailou." The chef walked straight to Wei Ming.

Wu Shunchu looked under forty, but his mastery of Hangzhou cuisine was profound—he would one day become a grandmaster of this subgenre.

Wei Ming had come at the right time; Wu had just joined Louwailou this year, and his specialty was West Lake Fish in Vinegar Sauce.

When Wei Ming asked how the dish was made, Wu didn't withhold his secrets.

"I use the ancient method: starve the grass carp for three days to remove its muddy taste and firm up the flesh, then blanch it in boiling water for three minutes… The grass carp itself has no crab flavor, but through skillful blending of sugar, vinegar, and minced ginger, combined with the firm texture of the fish, we simulate the sweet umami of crab meat."

The key was still "skillful blending"—this precision was crucial. No wonder some versions were too muddy or too sour to swallow.

The menu had many other dishes; Wei Ming decided to return later to try them—he had three days of accommodation arranged by the committee anyway.

The next day was the official award ceremony, which moved quickly: people went up, names were read, and winners gave speeches. The longest part would be the speeches by officials.

Local Hangzhou officials would speak, leaders from 'Masses' Cinema would speak, and leaders from the Golden Rooster Award committee would speak.

After everyone finished speaking, the Hundred Flowers Awards began first.

The Hundred Flowers Awards previously had many categories, but this year, with the expert-judged Golden Rooster Awards in place, the Hundred Flowers Awards were simplified to only three awards: Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Story Film.

Best Actress was mainly between Zhang Yu, Gong Ying, and Jiang Lili. With nearly three million votes total, Zhang Yu won 1. million for 'Love in Lushan,' while Gong Ying came second with under one million.

Thus, after Chen Chong, the Shanghai Film Studio's leading lady once again won the Hundred Flowers Best Actress award.

The Best Actor competition was fierce too—Tang Guoqiang, Zhu Shimao, Da Shichang, and Guo Kaimin represented Shanghai Film Studio and August First Film Studio. In the end, Da Shichang won for 'The Swallow Returns'—the veteran heartthrob still had his prestige.

Three films were chosen for Best Picture: 'The Herdsman,' 'Love in Lushan,' and the opera film 'The Seventh-Rank Magistrate.'

The Hundred Flowers Awards ended there. With 'The Herdsman' winning an award, Wei Ming hadn't come in vain.

After the winners gave their speeches and took a short break, the Golden Rooster Awards continued.

The Golden Rooster Awards had many categories—over a dozen—but the first few were empty: Best Props, Best Makeup, Best Costume.

The categories existed, but no one was deemed worthy—so they remained vacant.

However, the Best Special Effects award went to the smash hit 'The Legend of the White Snake'—this opera film was indeed rare in China for using special effects.

Then came Best Editing for 'The Herdsman,' Best Music for 'Bashan Night Rain,' Best Cinematography for 'The Herdsman,' and Best Supporting Actor and Actress (joint award) for 'Bashan Night Rain.'

The Golden Rooster Awards had become almost a contest between these two films. Next came the Best Screenplay Award.

Only two nominees: Ye Nan for 'Bashan Night Rain,' and Wei Ming for 'The Herdsman.'

…

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(End of Chapter)