Chapter 324

Wei Ming didn't expect to return to Hong Kong so soon; A Min was ecstatic.

But Lao Gong's point was valid: communication was inconvenient, messages took too long to circulate, and it was impossible to accurately grasp the thoughts of those Hong Kong singers.

So Wei Ming agreed, preparing for a second trip to Hong Kong.

Of course, Lao Gong would also send official letters to our forces in Hong Kong to coordinate—effectively, Wei Ming would arrive with the Imperial Sword, and everyone would do their utmost to assist him; Lao Gong hoped to launch this charity concert by August.

Wei Ming said: "Before I go, I want Guangzhou Pacific Audio Company to help me—I wrote a song for the disaster area, and I want Hong Kong singers to sing it together. Our own people shouldn't sit idle either; I hope Pacific Company can invite well-known domestic singers to join in chorus, to cheer on Sichuan, and donate all tape profits to the Sichuan disaster victims."

Given the current mainland's hunger for good music—and with such special significance—selling several million copies shouldn't be a problem; profits could reach tens of millions.

It's essentially redirecting money from the relatively wealthy in China to tens of millions of disaster victims.

"Oh, what song is it? Did you bring it?"

Wei Ming pulled out the lyrics: "I'll sing it for you directly."

He wasn't confident in other songs, but he'd sung this one countless times—even someone who couldn't sing could hit it close enough.

Of course, singing the whole thing would be tough; there were a few high notes. Wei Ming sang a section, and Lao Gong, reading the lyrics while listening to Wei Ming's sincere boyish voice, couldn't help but applaud.

"Great song, great song! I'll call someone to contact Pacific Company right away—I hope this song comes out soon, to give everyone a morale boost." He glanced at his secretary, who immediately went out to make the call.

The matter was settled: this would be a patriotic charity initiative, privately launched but officially supported, centered around Comrade Wei Ming.

Wei Ming was leaving the day after tomorrow; since he didn't know when he'd return, after telling his parents, he locked himself in his study.

First, he'd write the first chapter of the new fairy tale he'd promised to Xiao Yan's aunt, and deliver it together with the episode of "Black Cat Detective" where Yi Zhi was captured.

At Wei Anping's house, Wei Anping learned his nephew had gone straight to Lao Gong—and received his praise and support—and his face lit up with astonishment. This nephew of his was simply too powerful.

The Peking University president should be him; he'd be happy just being regent.

Then Wei Ming made an overseas call to Melinda, telling her to direct any messages to Wei Lingling—they had a contact method.

"You're going to Hong Kong again? Who's there for you?"

"Hong Kong singers are drooling over me," Wei Ming teased Melinda, then asked, "Any results on those two songs?"

Melinda: "Not yet. Still waiting."

During this time, Webber had recorded both songs and sent them to the royal family—one performed by Sarah Brightman, the other by Phil Collins of Genesis.

This Snow White's father, aged 31, had begun steering his rock band Genesis toward mainstream appeal; they also produced operas and rock operas, so he knew Webber and had been given this opportunity.

After describing the situation in Britain, Wei Ming explained his true purpose for going to Hong Kong.

"Oh, darling, you shine in my heart!" Melinda sincerely praised him, then asked, "Should I have Sarah go over to support you?"

Brightman was a newcomer, but one song had made her famous—she was a noble international star.

"Oh, would that be appropriate? Isn't 'Cats' still running?"

"But her role is small, and there's a standby. If her voice could ring out at the prince's wedding, I believe she'd be deeply grateful to you."

Wei Ming said: "Let's wait until after the wedding. So many people want to appear at that wedding—who knows if she'll even be chosen?"

That evening, Wei Ming quietly arrived at Tuanjie Lake, but at eight o'clock, he left under the excuse that he hadn't packed yet.

Satisfied, Zhu Lin slumped back up and immediately called the Sihe Courtyard—line connected.

Gong Ying: "Hello?"

Zhu Lin: "It's me."

"Oh," Gong Ying, wearing a cool Hong Kong-bought nightgown, said, "How did you know I was here?"

Zhu Lin snorted: "That dog just left me—he must've gone to you. He invited you too, didn't he?"

Gong Ying felt embarrassed: "Did he bathe at your place?"

"No—he left carrying my scent." Zhu Lin was both angry and amused; if not for his efforts for the disaster victims, she'd never tolerate him.

Gong Ying: "Then I'll prepare hot water for him to wash up."

"Oh, little Snow, you're so virtuous."

Gong Ying also snorted: "I'm not virtuous—I'm disgusted."

Zhu Lin laughed: "You're disgusted with me now?"

"I'm disgusted with him, okay?"

Zhu Lin: "Then don't open the door for him."

Gong Ying glanced outside: "If I don't open, he'll climb the wall."

Zhu Lin burst out laughing: "That's exactly the kind of thing he'd do."

They chatted on the phone until the dog outside started barking; Gong Ying said: "He's here. I'm hanging up."

"Wait," Zhu Lin hesitated, "Don't hang up—just leave the line open. I'll listen."

"Beep… beep… beep…"

Gong Ying hung up without hesitation, blushing, regretting she'd hung up too fast—she should've called him an old shameless.

Wei Ming entered, embracing Snow Sister immediately: "I'm leaving again."

As at Tuanjie Lake, Wei Ming explained his purpose for Hong Kong; Gong Ying gave full support: "This is a great good deed—I'm proud of you. Do your best over there."

At that moment, the slight discomfort she'd felt about sharing her boyfriend vanished—Little Wei was a man of great virtue; his minor flaws like lust and flirtation seemed trivial.

It was her own fault for not being outstanding enough to overshadow Lin Jie and make him choose between two women.

"Don't worry—I've already got it all figured out." Wei Ming's mind was already set; Snow Sister was adorable.

"Little Wei, don't you want to take a shower first?"

Wei Ming snapped: "No time."

Gong Ying kept thinking about Zhu Lin's words—"Didn't wash"—though she rejected the idea, the feeling was strange; her body didn't seem to resist as much as her mind…

The next day, the Sihe Courtyard gate was knocked on; Wei Ming told the lovely sister in his arms: "I'm off to serve my country and people."

The sister struggled to rise: "I'll see you off."

Wei Ming pressed her back down: "Biaozi and the others are coming to see me off."

He'd left his luggage here the day before going to Tuanjie Lake—he could just grab it and leave.

"No need to invite you in. Go, go, go."

Wei Ming had Xiao Mei carry the luggage, Biaozi carried him; two motorcycles headed straight for the airport.

Biaozi complained: "If I'd known you were doing something this big, I'd have gone with you—even as your bodyguard."

Xiao Mei said: "This isn't about bodyguards—it's about accountants. Besides, you've been to Hong Kong already; it's my turn."

Wei Ming smiled: "If it were personal, I'd take you both. But this is official business—travel and lodging are arranged by the state; bringing you would be inappropriate."

Once there, the Hong Kong Xinhua News Agency would receive him directly, and he could use any vehicle as needed.

The two brothers sighed—Brother Ming was too outstanding; the gap kept widening.

This time, Wei Ming flew directly to Hong Kong, no need to transfer through Guangzhou.

Liao Mingzu, general manager of Guangzhou Pacific Audio, had hoped Wei Ming would personally visit the company to guide operations.

When he received the news, he was both nervous and excited—nervous because this was a task assigned by a top leader, one that had to be completed well; excited because he could finally gather China's finest singers together to sing one song.

Seeing Wei Ming's new composition, he grew even more excited—the lyrics, the mood, the melody—perfect for this occasion.

He quickly compiled a list: first, Gu Jianfen—not to sing, but to produce; she understood music and Wei Ming, and with her, nothing would go wrong.

She was currently in Guangzhou, having just participated in recording "Mother in the Candlelight"; Liao Mingzu had already called her over.

Perfect—the female singer from the Avant-Garde Song and Dance Troupe who sang "Candlelight" hadn't left yet; she could be included too.

Li Gu and Zhu Fengbo were definite must-invites; who else? Jiang Dawei, Wang Jieshi, Xie Lishi…

As Liao Mingzu was listing names, Gu Jianfen arrived; her first words were: "Give me the song."

After reading it, Teacher Gu nodded repeatedly: "Little Wei has progressed rapidly—lyrics and melody are top-tier. He's no longer the boy he used to be. Boss Liao, I have an idea."

After finishing, Teacher Gu nodded repeatedly: "Little Wei has made astonishing progress—lyrics and melody both embody the highest quality; you're no longer the Little Wei of old, Manager Liao, I have an idea."

"I think the first line should be sung by a child's voice."

Liao Mingzu laughed: "You mean Le Le, right?"

"Exactly. Her ability to sing the opening is no problem."

Liao Mingzu: "We can consider it. Help me think of more people to invite."

Gu Jianfen: "This song is meant to sell and donate profits to disaster victims—it needs influential singers. Even if each sings just one line, we need over twenty people. It's still not enough."

Gu Jianmei: "This song is meant to raise money for disaster areas, so we need someone with influence—even if each person sings just one line, we'd still need over twenty, and it's still a bit short."

Gu Jianfen thought a moment: "Hey, what if we invite some non-professional singers?"

"Non-professional singers?"

"The most popular actors right now—like Tang Guoqiang, Zhang Yu. Just one line, even half a line."

Liao Mingzu paced back and forth—it might actually work. Since this was charity, bringing in film stars would amplify the impact!

Liao Mingzu paced back and forth, thinking it might actually work: since this was for charity, bringing in film people would amplify the impact!

Beijing Film Studio.

Gong Ying was summoned to the actor troupe; seeing Chen Qiang's villainous face, she felt delighted, thinking she'd finally get a role.

Gong Ying was called to the actor troupe, and seeing Master Chen Qiang's villainous face, she felt delighted, thinking she might finally get a role.

"What? You want me to sing?"

"Not just you—Liu Xiaoqing too. This is an assignment—for the disaster victims in Sichuan."

Hearing that, Gong Ying had no hesitation: "I'll go."

Liu Xiaoqing had even less reason to refuse—she was from Chongqing, still culturally Sichuanese.

Following the principle of inviting the most popular actors, soon Gong Ying, Liu Xiaoqing, and Zhu Lin boarded a train to Guangzhou.

Liu Xiaoqing glanced at Gong Ying and Zhu Lin, pretending not to know each other, thinking how thrilling this was. She added fuel to the fire: "You know, the song we're singing was written by Wei Ming—and all China's top singers and actors are going to sing it."

Liu Xiaoqing glanced at Gong Ying and Zhu Lin, who pretended not to know her, and thought how thrilling it was. She, always eager to stir up trouble, added more fuel: "Did you know? The song we're singing this time was written by Wei Ming, and top singers and actors from across the country will be performing it."

Zhu Lin: "I've known for a long time."

Gong Ying: "I can sing a couple lines too."

Zhu Lin: "Then sing."

Gong Ying: "I won't sing—it's confidential."

The scent of gunpowder was already in the air! Liu Xiaoqing, seated in the middle, was thrilled. If a fight broke out, should he side with Gong Ying or stay neutral?

In Hong Kong, Wei Ming was met upon landing.

"Professor Wei, it's an honor, truly. My name is Song Wuduan, I work at Xinhua News Agency—you can call me Xiao Song."

"Xiao Song Teacher." Wei Ming recognized the man's Shandong accent. Calling him "Xiao Song Teacher" sent Song Wuduan soaring—he was ecstatic. How could summer be this delightful?

Xiao Song Teacher then provided excellent service: he first took Wei Ming to a hotel. Though not a five-star luxury establishment, the accommodations were quite decent—no need to crash at his aunt's place anymore.

He also left his unit's car for Wei Ming's use. Originally, he intended to be Wei Ming's driver, but Wei Ming said he could drive himself and needed the car at any time—he didn't want to trouble others.

Mostly because he had too many secrets; he couldn't afford to have unfamiliar people around him.

After checking in, Wei Ming called his aunt and told her that if Melinda tried to find him, she should call this number.

"What's going on? You're enjoying yourself so much you've forgotten home."

"This time, I really did come for the sake of Shu."

After a brief rest, Wei Ming drove the Mazda to find A Min—thankfully, no traffic jam.

He needed to contact Tan Yonglin through A Min to check how far along things had progressed.

When he arrived, Wei Ming first went upstairs to find Lao Gui. Now Liu Bin had rented an apartment with his wife, son, and future daughter-in-law, leaving Lao Gui alone again.

"How come you're back again?!" Lao Gui was surprised to see his grandson, glancing down the hallway—but he saw neither Gou Sheng nor Gou Dan.

After entering the room, Wei Ming said: "I've come this time with a mission."

"What mission?"

Wei Ming: "A charity concert."

He explained why he had returned to Hong Kong. Lao Gui listened, thrilled, and gripped his grandson's hand: "Good! You're a real man!"

"So how much do you think you can raise?" Lao Gui asked next.

Wei Ming: "That depends on the scale of the concert, ticket prices, and whether any wealthy patrons get involved."

Ordinary audience members pay only a little per ticket. But if wealthy patrons could be mobilized to donate, one person might match the contributions of ten thousand spectators—Wei Ming felt this angle needed exploring.

Lao Gui helped analyze: "I've been to the Lyric Theatre—it holds a thousand people. Good seats are 300, the bad ones 100."

That's barely two hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars. Wei Ming shook his head: "Too few spectators. We need a bigger venue, a grander scale."

Lao Gui wasn't professional enough on this—he needed someone who knew the industry. Wei Ming said: "Go get A Min for me. She's always been the one coordinating this for me."

Lao Gui's expression turned subtle, his lips pressed tight. These two had moved fast.

"A Min, come here!" Lao Gui shouted out the window. Soon, a short-haired girl in shorts walked over from the opposite building—youthful and radiant, holding a cassette tape.

"Uncle Gui, my song's been recorded—this cassette is for…" Zhou Hui pushed the door open and called out. This wasn't just a demo she'd recorded for fun—it was a proper studio production, albeit on a small scale.

Before she finished speaking, A Min froze in place.

Wei Ming smiled: "Then give me one too."

Zhou Hui burst into laughter: "Ah Ming, I—I'll go get you one. I've got extras at home."

Wei Ming followed her out, not returning to her home—instead, they walked out of the housing complex.

"The Beijing authorities are taking this charity concert seriously, so they've sent me personally to oversee it. I can't help but feel the weight on my shoulders," Wei Ming said as they walked.

A Min, concerned, said: "You've worked so hard—already owe so many songs, and now you have to compose them specially. When will you ever finish?"

Wei Ming asked: "Who's agreed to participate so far?"

"A Lun's friend B-Ge, Chen Baiqiang, and Zhang Guorong are all willing. They have huge appeal among young people. Oh, and Brother Zhang Mingmin got Zhang Yaorong, the owner of Haicheng Nightclub, to join—he's great at organizing concerts and's offering to help for free."

Wei Ming: "Perfect. I was just worried about the venue. I'll go see him tomorrow."

"I'll go with you," A Min said quickly. "I've got nothing to do this summer anyway—might as well lend a hand."

"Good."

After walking around, Wei Ming brought A Min back. When they parted, she handed him the cassette: "It's even got my handwritten signature."

Wei Ming noticed the signature was in both Chinese and English.

Back in the car, Wei Ming started playing it on loop. He was more familiar with Lin Zhimei's version, but A Min's had a sweeter, more youthful feel—perfect for a milk tea commercial.

The next day, Wei Ming drove early to meet A Min—but while waiting, someone knocked on his car window.

He saw Lao Gui, but the man stood far away. The one knocking was a middle-aged woman, roughly Lao Gui's age.

"Auntie, I'm Ah Ming."

The window rolled down; A Min's "First Love" still echoed inside.

Zhou Ma had seen this guy yesterday and interrogated her daughter. She'd been overwhelmed by the moral weight of charity and could only let her daughter become Wei Ming's assistant.

Zhou Ma said: "A Min's having breakfast. Want to come up and eat something?"

Wei Ming got out of the car: "No thanks, I've already eaten. I'll just wait here for her."

Zhou Ma thought: He's considerate. She nodded: "Then let's have a meal another day."

With that, she left with Lao Gui for work.

As soon as she was gone, Wei Ming went upstairs and drank half a bowl of A Min's porridge, ate one egg white: "You keep the yolk."

Zhou Hui: "Ah?"

Haicheng Nightclub was located in the New World Centre, Tsim Sha Tsui. Opened in 1979, it was now at its peak.

But during the day, there were few people. When Wei Ming and A Min arrived, Tan Yonglin was already there—he'd spoken to A Min on the phone.

"Ah Ming, finally met you. Just call me Ah Lun."

"Ah Lun, thank you so much for helping the disaster victims. The people of the mainland will never forget you."

Tan Yonglin waved his hand: "I haven't done much yet, but I've already convinced my friends to join this concert."

Wei Ming: "I've already written the songs for you. I've heard Chen Baiqiang's work—I've got one that suits him. I'll study B-Ge and Zhang Guorong's styles later."

Hearing Wei Ming had already written the songs, Tan Yonglin felt deeply relieved—his risk had been worth it.

He suppressed the urge to look at the lyrics and instead introduced Wei Ming to Uncle Zhang.

"Uncle Zhang, thank you so much," Wei Ming sincerely thanked everyone willing to help.

Zhang Yaorong chuckled: "Young Master Wei, you're truly a prodigy. No wonder even Golden Sword Master praised you as equal to the Four Great Talents."

After pleasantries, Zhang Yaorong asked: "What do you think of Haicheng's venue?"

Wei Ming replied honestly: "Too small."

He asked: "What about the Elizabeth Stadium? It holds over three thousand."

Wei Ming shook his head—still too small.

"Pity—the Hung Hom Stadium won't be finished until next month, and even then, it won't open right away," Zhang Yaorong said. He had his eyes fixed on Hung Hom—it could hold over ten thousand.

He suggested: "Then we'll have to go with the Government Stadium. It's big enough for twenty thousand, but it's open-air."

An open-air venue isn't ideal for concerts—the acoustics can't match an indoor hall, and noise complaints are likely.

In 1978, Xu Guanjie held a concert there, but few have done so since.

Wei Ming asked: "If we choose that, do we need to negotiate with the British colonial government?"

"You don't need to worry about that—I'll handle it," Zhang Yaorong said. "Your priority now is to set a concert date and start promotion immediately. Otherwise, if the audience is sparse, you'll lose a lot of donations."

Wei Ming asked: "Is half a month enough?"

Zhang Yaorong replied: "Stage setup won't be a problem. Promotion is tight but doable. What about the singers?"

Wei Ming looked at Tan Yonglin: "Ah Lun, can you learn two new songs in half a month?"

"Two new songs?"

"One solo, one group duet—each singer sings one line."

"No problem," Tan Yonglin agreed immediately, then asked, "Can I see the difficulty level first?"

Wei Ming smiled slightly, pulled a stack of papers from his bag—each covered in writing—and flipped one out to hand him.

Tan Yonglin swallowed hard. Could this whole stack be new songs?

How many had he written?

"Just two," answered Andrew Lloyd Webber, replying to Prince Charles's question.

He'd noticed Diana loved two songs from the same composer and asked.

"But I wrote them in one night," Webber added.

Princess Diana exclaimed: "He's a genius! I adore him—his music will make my wedding unforgettable."

"Darling, the world remembers this wedding because your fiancé is Prince Charles III," said the 33-year-old prince to the 20-year-old princess.

Diana gave an almost imperceptible eye roll.

Charles continued: "And I don't recommend placing the first song at the entrance—it's too solemn. The lyrics don't suit our wedding atmosphere. The second one's better."

"The second is good too, but the first one touched my soul. I really want to hear it as I walk in."

Charles sighed and nodded—he'd already let Diana have her way on so many things. One more concession wouldn't hurt.

Diana turned to Webber: "Also, could you invite him? I'd love for him to attend my wedding."

…

(First chapter of the day!)

(End of chapter)