Chapter 312: Mr. Why Wei Ming?! One Million Is a Modest Figure

When Wei Ming and his aunt boarded the flight back to Hong Kong, it was already July.

In early July, a storm named "The Joyful Gate" swept across major cities nationwide; this comedy depicting rural family life touched nearly all audiences and became widely beloved, even overshadowing the year's earlier blockbuster, the Shanghai Film Studio's special effects drama "The Legend of the White Snake."

Even in Shanghai, a metropolis steeped in bourgeois tastes, each screening reportedly drew fifty laughs.

In the north, the film's popularity ran even higher: audiences in Jinan laughed eighty times, and in Yantai, where it was filmed, laughter reached a hundred times.

The director and screenwriter once took a print to the rural filming location to screen it for locals; the rural audience response was even more fervent, with laughter continuing almost nonstop throughout.

Reports on "The Joyful Gate" grew increasingly frequent; because it explored mother-in-law and daughter-in-law conflicts and elder care, the media even called it "a film that transforms social mores," with many viewers seeing reflections of themselves in its characters.

As the embodiment of the perfect daughter-in-law and perfect sister-in-law, the female lead "Shuilian" naturally drew intense attention, and many newborn girls were named "Shuilian" by their parents.

Zhu Lin, the actress who achieved late success, appeared frequently in newspapers and magazines; the public only then realized a pearl had lain hidden until now.

Given the film's excellence and the special relationship between its lead actress Zhu Lin and her son, Xu Shufen decided to watch it for the third time.

The first time, she had just finished work, passed a cinema, spotted the poster with Zhu Lin's name, and watched alone.

The second time, she dragged Wei Jiefang along; after the film, the two stayed up late at the Sihe Academy.

This third time, she planned a family viewing, inviting Xiao Hong and her grandmother—mainly waiting for Xiao Hong, who had just finished her second-semester final exams—so the whole family headed straight to the Da Guan Lou Cinema in Dashilan.

Four people, tickets costing one yuan and twenty fen; Xu Shufen felt no reluctance—the tickets were already prepared, as Old Wei now had a good relationship with Wang Qiankun, the cinema attendant, and could buy tickets freely.

Little Wang often showed Old Wei a finger ring or snuff bottle; getting even one "Da Kaimen" comment from him filled him with joy.

Even after half a month, every screening of "The Joyful Gate" still drew packed houses, with audience enthusiasm undiminished, while "The Soul Mate," starring Zhang Yu and released earlier, now drew almost no viewers in big cities.

This time, family drama triumphed over heroic romance.

The grandmother and Wei Hong watched the film intently, bursting into laughter at intervals.

From "Shuilian," the grandmother saw the fine qualities of Wei Ming's mother-in-law; though the woman was disabled, the grandmother was glad her son had found such a daughter-in-law—having a virtuous wife meant smooth sailing at home.

In her own home, the opposite of what happened in the film—the eldest daughter-in-law hiding dumplings from the elders—was true: the daughter-in-law would lie and say she'd already eaten, urging the elders to eat more.

Thinking of her hometown in Sichuan, the old woman decided she would return there once her grandson came back.

Wei Hong identified more with the younger sister Renfang, recalling how the eldest sister had sabotaged her while the second sister had gone out of her way to help; she realized that in a family, the virtue of the sister-in-law directly affected the younger sister's happiness.

No way—when her brother chose a wife, she must strictly vet him; she needed a sister-in-law as virtuous and beautiful as "Shuilian."

Then she thought of Zhu Lin, the actress who played Shuilian; Zhu Lin was quite good, but too much older than her brother—what a pity.

Zhu Lin: Little sister, you simply don't understand how wonderful an older sister can be!

After leaving the cinema, Old Wei immediately decided: "This film is excellent, full of educational value; when the students come to town, we can make watching it a project."

With final exams over, Gouzitun Village Primary School entered its annual scholarship award ceremony; Old Wei was about to return to the village.

He had missed it last time; this time he absolutely wouldn't miss it, and again he planned to bring the students to Beijing—Li Guangfu's family was still waiting for these little rascals to leave.

Xu Shufen asked: "When are you leaving?"

"After my son returns. I've written to the village secretary to hold off announcing the results until I get back."

The grandmother sighed; she'd wait until her son-in-law returned from the countryside before leaving herself.

Wei Hong asked: "When will my brother come back? It's been nearly a month. He won't stay in Hong Kong, will he? I hear it's a world of glitter and decadence."

Xu Shufen poked her daughter's finger, scolding her for jinxing it.

Old Wei, however, thought it possible—after all, there was the old man there; who knew what luxuries his son was enjoying?

Zhu Lin wasn't worried about Hong Kong; she was more worried about Britain. She'd assumed the business trip would take one or two days, at most three or four—but how long had it been?

"Cut! Good, Zhu Lin, excellent performance. Take a break."

In a small courtyard on the outskirts of Beijing, the 1978 class of the Film Academy began shooting their graduation film, "The Courtyard," with three directors and three cinematographers.

Watching Zhu Lin quietly drink water, Tian Zhuangzhuang and the other two directors exchanged glances, delighted—this lead actress was perfect. When they chose her, she was unknown and took no pay; now, after "The Joyful Gate," she was famous nationwide, her career accelerated five years ahead of schedule.

Two days ago, Zhu Lin and Gong Ying went shopping in Dongcheng; passersby recognizing her now matched those recognizing Gong Ying.

Yet as Wei Ming remained absent, her anxiety grew daily, perfectly mirroring her character's emotional state in the film.

After wrapping, Zhu Lin went to the Beijing Film Studio to find Gong Ying; Gong Ying shyly came downstairs, thinking: what kind of situation is this? Her boyfriend doesn't take her shopping, but her boyfriend's girlfriend does.

And Zhu Lin was downright annoying: since becoming famous, she loved inviting Gong Ying to shop; recently, the number of fans recognizing them had become fifty-fifty, and now Zhu Lin was probably even more famous in Beijing.

Zhu Xiaolin, you're awfully pleased with yourself.

Today Zhu Lin not only wanted to go shopping with her, but also asked about her shooting plans at the Beijing Film Studio; Gong Ying only shook her head.

Though she'd joined the Beijing Film Studio, her roots were shallow; she lost again to Li Xiuming in the competition for the lead role in the mythological film "The Peacock Princess."

"I recently auditioned for Xiao Fuzi in 'Rickshaw Boy,' but was rejected—too old for the part."

Talking about it, Gong Ying felt depressed; she'd read the original novel and knew she was too mature to play Xiao Fuzi—she was suited for the version who'd been a prostitute for years, matching the age and experience.

Speaking of experience, hers was nearly zero—she hadn't had sex in ages.

Zhu Lin sighed: "After all, I'm approaching thirty—I'm taking roles like 'Midlife' now too."

She'd already bragged to Gong Ying about Wei Ming personally securing her the lead in "Midlife" from Chen Rong; Changchun Film Studio had already contacted her and was very satisfied.

Gong Ying shot her a sideways glance: "'Midlife' is a wildly popular novel—don't act modest now that you've won. Dinner's on you tonight."

"Fine, I'll treat you—but tonight you have to sleep with me," Zhu Lin demanded.

Gong Ying shrugged: "Fine, sleep together."

Zhu Lin felt lonely and afraid living alone in Tuanjiehu; having someone else gave her courage.

On their way back to Tuanjiehu, they saw two pregnant women, Xu Yunyun and Huang Jiaoyan, strolling together; Huang Jiaoyan's belly was large—her baby, Xiao Biaobiao, was due soon.

The four chatted briefly; though they'd long seen Zhu Lin and Gong Ying together, Huang Jiaoyan still found it strange—this harmony felt unnatural, too un-socialist.

Upstairs, Gong Ying took out her pajamas to shower, but stopped short when the living room phone rang; she leaned out to eavesdrop on Zhu Lin's call.

Maybe it's Xiao Wei.

It was Chen Rong; she wanted to meet Zhu Lin tomorrow, but didn't say why.

Zhu Lin felt uneasy—could "Midlife" be changing? She'd just bragged to Xiao Xue about it.

After shooting "The Courtyard" the next afternoon, Zhu Lin didn't invite Gong Ying out; she met Chen Rong at the Beijing Library.

"Little Zhu, do you know Du Shiniang?" Chen Rong asked immediately.

"The one who sank the treasure chest in anger?"

"Exactly. Have you read the story?"

"Yes, I've read the novel."—from Wei Ming, of course.

Novels like "Three Words and Two Phrases" were hard to find then; Zhu Lin read them as romance novels, sometimes enjoying the sensual descriptions.

"Perfect," Chen Rong said. "Changchun Film Studio is preparing 'Du Shiniang.' With 'The Joyful Gate' sweeping the nation, the deputy studio head remembered you were the proposed lead for 'Midlife' and suggested to director Zhou Yu that you try out for Du Shiniang."

At the time, Zhu Lin had no historical costume image; they simply thought her beautiful, skilled in dance, and currently popular, so they contacted Chen Rong to arrange the meeting.

"But what about 'Midlife'?"

"Don't worry—I haven't finished the script yet; if we shoot next year, that's good. But 'Du Shiniang' must be shot this year," Chen Rong said.

Zhu Lin muttered: Chen Rong was so slow—Wei Ming always moved fast.

But Zhu Lin still worried: Du Shiniang was a prostitute—even if a courtesan, still a prostitute. A girl from a scholarly family, how could she play such a role? She couldn't reconcile it.

At that moment, she couldn't help admiring Xiao Xue; Xiao Fuzi was a role she dared to try, while Zhu Lin herself found the thought tragic, let alone acting it.

Zhu Lin voiced her concern; Chen Rong advised: "Changchun's team will arrive in Beijing soon. Others are scouting actresses in Shanghai and Chengdu. Just try it—see the script first; if you dislike it, don't take it."

Zhu Lin thought of Gong Ying, now without any roles; as an actress, having no work was truly miserable. She intended to be a professional actress—how could she retreat over a small hesitation?

"Then… alright, I'll meet them," Zhu Lin agreed for now, thinking Wei Ming should be back by then—she could discuss it with him.

"Ah, Hong Kong, I'm back!"

On the plane, Wei Ming first talked to Wei Lingling about the bright future of DreamWorks, then Wei Lingling pressed him for details about Transformers.

They chatted the whole way; now both were tired. Wei Ming supported his aunt: "Let's find a hotel and book a room." Other passengers overheard and glanced at Wei Ming with envy.

Wei Lingling: "Why stay at a hotel? Let's go home."

Wei Lingling's apartment in Kowloon Tong was near Kai Tak Airport, just a ten-minute drive.

She also wanted to catch Li Zhi off guard—to see if she behaved properly at home, if she'd brought any unsavory men back—and she needed Wei Ming along; if Li Zhi really had a man over, she'd be outnumbered.

"You think ahead, don't you? Fine, but where will I sleep? Your place only has two rooms."

Wei Lingling: "You can sleep with Li Zhi, or in the living room, or make her sleep in the living room—your choice."

She would never let her nephew sleep alone while she and Li Zhi shared a room.

Wei Ming, seeing the neighborhood for the first time, noted the pleasant environment—clearly high-income residents—and asked about prices.

Wei Lingling: "Sixty square meters, five hundred fifty thousand."

The area included common space; the price was in Hong Kong dollars. Common area was a Hong Kong invention, pioneered by the Ho family in the 1950s and expanded by Li Ka-shing and others in the 1960s.

Wei Ming calculated his savings—insufficient. Though his account held tens of thousands of U. . dollars, he needed to invest in the early operations of Maniac Comics.

Before the revamped comic magazine launched, it would be pure loss—tens of thousands a month in wages; losses should lessen after publication.

The price was also beyond Wei Lingling's means; though her jewelry might total millions in value, it was inherited and couldn't be liquidated.

From now on, the toy factory would pay her a monthly salary over ten thousand, but buying a home remained distant—she planned to buy independently in the U. .

So she was tempted by Wei Ming's proposal to build a media empire together; preserving wealth was harder than creating it, but creating it was far more thrilling.

Upstairs, Wei Lingling shushed him, quietly turned the doorknob; the door opened to reveal Li Zhi sitting on the sofa in pajamas, her figure still alluring, watching TVB, sketching on a notepad.

The show featured a foreigner, Chen Baiqiang, and Zhang Guorong—all speaking English, since Chen and Zhang had studied in America and Britain respectively.

"Miss Wei! Mr. Wei Ming, hello!" Li Zhi sat up straight, nervous, surprised to see Wei Ming.

Mr. Wei? Wei Ming paused—what a capitalist term.

Wei Lingling surveyed the room; compared to the mess she'd left, it was now tidy and clean, rearranged for comfort, with added elegant greenery.

In the week they'd been away, Li Zhi had clearly worked hard on the home.

"What are you writing?" Wei Lingling asked, eyeing Li Zhi's notebook.

Li Zhi: "I'm learning English from the foreigner on TV."

The notebook was indeed filled with nothing but English words; she wrote down only those she recognized upon hearing them, all the simplest ones.

Wei Ming put down his luggage, and Wei Lingling asked: "So do you know what they're saying?"

"If you just listen, you won't understand, but luckily there are subtitles," she glanced at Wei Ming, "they're talking about Ming Shao."

Wei Ming felt the title "Ming Shao" settle on him, sprawling across the sofa: "Xiao Li, what are they saying about me?"

Li Zhi said: "This foreigner is probably a well-known singer from abroad."

Wei Lingling cut in directly: "Elton John."

Wei Ming sat up straight: "So he's Elton John!"

Li Zhi looked at both their expressions: "Is he that famous?"

Of course he is. Though this "Queen of the Music Scene" has been somewhat down lately, her past achievements were dazzling, and she will shine again.

Just name a few: in the future film version of The Lion King, he sang "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," "Circle of Life," and "Hakuna Matata," and won the Oscar for Best Original Song that year.

And when his friend Princess Diana passed away, he was invited to perform "Candle in the Wind 1997," specially rewritten for her at the funeral; this song stayed at number one on the Billboard charts for fourteen weeks, sold over thirty-three million copies worldwide, and remains the best-selling single of all time!

Compared to him, "Moonlight Shadow" at this point, with sales barely breaking a million, looks utterly insignificant.

These are all Elton John's achievements in the 1990s; he was equally brilliant in the 1970s, with nearly ten Billboard number-one singles, and is Britain's second-greatest musical treasure after The Beatles.

John Lennon also showed great mentorship toward Elton John—even the "John" in Elton John's stage name came from John Lennon.

Thanks to his global tour, Elton John came to Hong Kong and accepted an invitation to record a program on TVB, where he invited two overseas-educated musicians, Chen Baiqiang and Zhang Guorong, for a conversation.

At this time, Chen Baiqiang already had many signature works, while Zhang Guorong still had a long way to go.

Because of the "John" connection, the conversation naturally turned to John Lennon, who had passed away half a year earlier, leading to "Moonlight Shadow," the recently global hit song commemorating John Lennon; the program confirmed that last week, the single's worldwide sales had surpassed one million, reaching platinum status.

Elton John said he had met the singer Sarah Brightman in Britain and seen her musicals, and he lavished praise on this young vocalist.

"It's a pity I never met the man who wrote this song—he's a gentle musical genius."

Chen Baiqiang and Zhang Guorong immediately agreed, heaping praise on this musician's talent.

Then Elton John asked: "You're both Chinese—don't you know him?"

"What?!"

Both were stunned—was this musician Chinese?

"Yes, I learned from a friend who works in musical theater that his main job is writing fairy tales; he writes songs only when moved by inspiration. His fairy tales are hugely popular in Britain, called The Lion King," he paused, recalling, "Oh, I remember—his Chinese name is something like Weiming."

"Weiming? Wei Ming!" Zhang Guorong's voice shot up sharply.

In front of the TV, Zhou Hui felt as if she'd just enjoyed a steam bath.

Perfect! Finally someone has cleared Wei Ming's name—he really is this amazing!

Amin declared that from now on, he would be Elton John's fan, and tomorrow he'd go buy several of his records—even if he was gay, he didn't care.

Zhou Ma watched Amin's uncontrolled expression, and her unease grew stronger—this Wei Ming really had Amin completely obsessed.

TVB dominates more than half of Hong Kong's television market; at this moment, conservative estimates suggest over a million viewers across the territory saw this program and this scene.

Earlier, a small tabloid had sparked the fire, then major right-wing newspapers jumped in to denigrate the mainland writer Wei Ming with exaggerated claims, severely damaging his image.

But Wei Ming completely ignored it; the left-wing press wanted to retaliate but couldn't find the target—Wei Ming had already gone to Britain, and they could only seethe in silence.

During this time, only Zhang Mingmin had spoken up for Wei Ming through the media, but his voice was too faint to be noticed.

Then, over a week later, a globally renowned superstar publicly cleared Wei Ming's name on TVB!

Yes—the global smash hit "Moonlight Shadow," which sold a number of records Hong Kong's music scene could never dream of, was written by Wei Ming.

One million sales—do you think a single song could earn one million Hong Kong dollars?!

At Wei Lingling's home, the program had ended; she and Wei Ming had only learned what happened on it through Li Zhi's recounting.

Li Zhi had also read that article; though she was Wei Ming's friend, she secretly suspected he might have exaggerated—perhaps a million meant nothing to his family, but how could one song possibly be worth a million?

After all, one million Hong Kong dollars, even at official exchange rates, was over three hundred thousand RMB; at this time, ten-thousand-yuan households in mainland China were rare, let alone "hundreds-of-thousands" households.

That sum could buy a whole apartment in Hong Kong—it was simply beyond Li Zhi's imagination.

"Ming Shao, really? One song really earns you a million?" she asked, eyes wide with awe.

Wei Lingling chuckled: "Even just the royalty from album sales exceeds a million."

Wei Ming smiled: "Right now it's just over a million; in the future, several millions are definitely coming."

More importantly, this song had successfully launched Wei Ming into the European and American music scene—even a giant like Elton John had taken notice of him.

At this moment, Li Zhi's gaze toward Wei Ming had turned dreamy; they were both from the mainland, yet why was he so terrifyingly strong?

Wei Lingling patted her nephew on the shoulder: "I bet tomorrow's newspapers will be full of stories about you. Go to sleep early, Mr. Big Star."

Wei Ming glanced at the living room sofa; Wei Lingling teased: "Xiao Li, are you planning to make Ming Shao sleep on the sofa—or your bed?"

Li Zhi immediately acquiesced: "Ming Shao sleeps on the bed, I'll take the sofa."

In truth, she very much wanted to sleep in the same bed as Wei Ming, but with elders present, she understood you couldn't rush hot tofu.

Wei Ming protested a few times, but Li Zhi was adamant—the sheets were saturated with her scent; it was practically sharing a bed anyway.

"Then thank you, Xiao Li."

Honestly, Li Zhi's bedding smelled nice—not like perfume, but fresh, since she was only twenty.

Before dawn, Wei Ming got up to use the restroom; there was no bathroom in the bedroom, so he went to the living room and saw Li Zhi on the sofa.

Is her pajama collar really that big!!!

(End of Chapter)