Chapter 353

"Xiao Ming, is that over there?"

Wei Anping pointed to an old man and a young girl by the entrance.

Wei Ming's mouth dropped open—how did she get here too?

The Old Ghost stood still, his eyes glistening as he waved at Wei Anping, signaling: that's enough, I won't come over, and you don't need to come either.

For the child's future, to prevent the organization from suspecting him, the Old Ghost suppressed his urge to go over and embrace him.

But Zhou Huimin had none of that in her mind—tall and leggy, with slightly curled long hair and a vibrant school uniform, her running figure drew many passengers' gazes, including Wei Hong's.

She spotted Zhou Huimin immediately—this girl looked familiar.

Before she could even form a thought, she was already right before their eyes.

"Xiao Ming, why didn't you tell me you were coming to Hong Kong?" Zhou Huimin spoke to him in Cantonese; she realized now that the people beside Wei Ming were likely his associates, and she might have acted too impulsively.

"You're in school, and I'm just transiting—I'm flying out right away."

"Where to? London again?"

"This time it's Frankfurt, Germany," Wei Ming said. "There's a world-famous book fair, and Melinda, my editor, will be attending."

Zhou Huimin pouted—why did you have to be so honest? You could've just left that last part unsaid.

Then Wei Ming added: "Let me introduce you—this is my sister, Ah Hong. Ah Hong, this is Ah Min."

Wei Hong finally remembered—the little girl who led the singing, her brother's pen pal!

"Hello, Sister Ah Hong," Zhou Huimin awkwardly patted her pocket. "I came in a hurry and didn't bring a gift."

Wei Hong had initially liked this pen pal, but hearing her call her "Sister Ah Hong," she immediately crossed her arms: "Ah Min, I've heard my brother mention you—if I remember right, you're actually a year younger than me."

Zhou Huimin looked at Wei Ming, who nodded—though it clearly seemed the opposite.

"Oh, Sister Ah Hong," Zhou Huimin sweetly called out, as if to say, let's just go by what feels right.

Wei Hong was satisfied—the little sister was quite sensible.

The line for security screening had already begun; Wei Ming quickly explained to Zhou Huimin about the new store location, then waved goodbye. He turned and saw the older folks, including Ping An Shu, watching them curiously.

Oh no, I forgot to introduce them to everyone else.

Wei Anping wasn't really bothered by that—he just thought Xiao Ming already had too many ambiguous relationships with two senior actresses in Beijing, and now he'd met this beautiful young girl in Hong Kong too; if this kept up, he'd run into serious moral issues.

He still hoped his nephew would pursue a political career. With Xiao Ming's status in the literary world, with several top translators handling his English editions, enjoying the same treatment as greats like Lu Xun, if he kept this momentum, by his forties or fifties he might even land a deputy minister post in the Ministry of Culture.

Wei Ming then briefly explained his relationship with Zhou Huimin to everyone, calling her a pen pal. Everyone smiled but said nothing.

Especially the two comrades who understood Cantonese—they'd clearly sensed the tender, intimate tone in their earlier conversation; this was definitely more than just a pen pal relationship!

Once all the passengers had passed through and vanished from sight, the Old Ghost said to Zhou Huimin: "Stop staring. Let's go."

Zhou Huimin sighed: "It was too short—I didn't get to say half of what I wanted."

"What did you two just talk about?"

"Just got to know his sister. Oh, and one more thing!" Zhou Huimin remembered the main point. "Ah Ming said Hao Li Lai could consider opening a new store at the airport."

Hearing this, the Old Ghost immediately turned back and began inspecting Kai Tak Airport.

The passenger flow—dense, incredibly dense!

Anyone who flies has some financial means, and they're always in a hurry—this is perfect for Hao Li Lai!

Fast food and airports—a perfect match!

Wei Ming's group boarded a direct Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt. Before takeoff, Pan Yaoming from Hong Kong's Joint Publishing House introduced Wei Ming to an elderly man.

"This is Mr. Liu Yichang, traveling with us."

Pan Yaoming was about to elaborate on Liu Yichang, but he didn't expect Wei Ming already knew the old man.

"Hello," Wei Ming shook hands with the silver-haired elder. "I've read your books, The Drunkard and The Duet."

Liu Yichang laughed. "My books don't sell well, and they're not as smooth or relaxing as Jin Yong's novels. I didn't expect you'd actually enjoy reading them."

Wei Ming: "I wouldn't say I particularly like them."

Liu Yichang froze. So did Pan Yaoming beside him, who immediately opened his mouth to make amends.

Wei Ming continued: "My purpose is more pragmatic—I wanted to quickly understand Hong Kong, so I could write scripts and songs about it. For a while, I read a lot of Hong Kong literature. But Hong Kong doesn't really have any true literature—except Liu Yichang's."

This was a very high evaluation. Hong Kong was a cultural desert—true enough—and lacking depth, it thrived on popular literature, with Jin Yong as its representative.

Serious literature was far rarer. In Hong Kong's serious literary field, the only writer who could be mentioned alongside Jin Yong was probably Liu Yichang.

He was hailed as the "Godfather of Hong Kong Literature." His novel The Drunkard was called China's first stream-of-consciousness novel. Wong Kar-wai was a devoted fan, deeply influenced by his work.

Films like In the Mood for Love and 2046 were almost visual adaptations of Liu Yichang's stories.

That's also why Wei Ming didn't claim to particularly like them—they were genuinely hard to understand.

Wei Ming spoke candidly, and Liu Yichang wasn't offended—he shared his own views on Wei Ming's work.

"My favorite is your latest book, Those Years with Brilliant Sunshine. It's dreamlike and real, just like youth." This novel had been reprinted by the Wen Hui Bao shortly after its release in Shi Yue, and it was available in Hong Kong too.

Just then, the plane took off. Pan Yaoming, wanting to facilitate conversation between the two literary elders from mainland and Hong Kong, switched seats to sit them together.

Pan Yaoming, the business director of Joint Publishing, later joined the Ming Pao and became editor-in-chief of Ming Pao Monthly, a major force in Hong Kong literature.

Liu Yichang was from Shanghai, the same hometown as Xue Jie. He began writing before 1949, but remained obscure until he came to Hong Kong, where he finally achieved greatness.

His works incorporated many Western literary techniques, greatly helping Wei Ming understand Western authors' scope. Wei Ming would also tell him about emerging new writers on the mainland, and the old man and the young writer chatted happily the whole flight.

Since it was a German airline, Wei Ming got to taste German sausage and drink German beer in advance.

Germany was the land of sausages, with countless varieties and preparation methods. They ate the classic grilled sausage with bread, topped with mustard.

The sausage was beef—no gaminess, packed with meat. Wei Ming, who couldn't live without meat, enjoyed it immensely and even thought about bringing some back.

Due to the time difference, they departed at noon, flew for twelve hours, and arrived in West Germany's Frankfurt just as dusk fell.

Frankfurt Airport was enormous—reportedly Europe's third-largest, after London Heathrow and Paris Charles de Gaulle—and also Germany's biggest passenger and cargo hub.

Before landing, Wei Ming's group saw a dense sea of aircraft on the tarmac. Wei Hong gasped—it was breathtaking. Everyone longed for their homeland to one day have an airport this large, with so many planes.

In this unfamiliar place, everyone felt both excited and uneasy. Wei Ming told Xiao Hong to stick close to him.

The airport was packed—more crowded than at any time of year—with many publishers and cultural figures attending the book fair.

After landing, Deputy Director Liu led the group to exchange some West German Marks. Wei Ming quickly followed suit—he hadn't planned to spend state funds, so he exchanged some himself.

To his embarrassment, Deputy Director Liu discovered that Wei Ming alone had exchanged more Marks than the entire team combined—this kid was rich!

At the time, one U. . dollar was roughly 2. Marks. Wei Ming exchanged ten thousand Marks and kept some dollars for emergencies.

As they exited, a cultural attaché from the embassy held up a sign to meet them—China and West Germany had established diplomatic relations in the 1970s.

"Comrade Mike, hello," Deputy Director Liu Gao shook hands with the embassy officer—he clearly knew him already. This wasn't a foreign name; his surname was Mai and given name was Ke, his English name Mike.

Mike greeted everyone, and he was especially excited to meet Wei Ming. Hearing about a compatriot's brilliant achievements abroad was deeply inspiring.

Mike had bought two singles by Sarah Brightman and owned English-language picture books of The Game of the Brave and The Lion King.

When he learned Wei Ming's sister had come too, he looked surprised.

Wei Ming explained: "My sister and I co-wrote a book about the Rubik's Cube, published by Macmillan. It will be unveiled here."

Mike marveled—truly a scholarly family, a whole clan of cultured people. That Wei Anping from Peking University? He was your uncle too?

Wei Ming asked: "Mike, do you know where Macmillan's people are staying?"

Mike replied: "Macmillan is a major British publisher—they'll probably stay at the Frankfurt Hotel or the Bad Soden Hotel."

Wei Hong quickly asked: "What about us?"

Mike's face flickered with embarrassment. "Follow me, everyone."

Wei Ming's group bid farewell to Liu Yichang and the other Hong Kong publishing colleagues—they'd all arranged their accommodations in advance.

During the Frankfurt Book Fair, hotels in Frankfurt became extremely scarce—not only did prices rise 30% to 50%, but without advance booking, rooms were nearly impossible to find; some even took next year's reservations this year.

Mike had arranged a minibus that carried their group of over ten people into the city.

Though it was night, the streets glowed brightly, radiating a modern urban feel that left everyone awestruck.

There were still many historic buildings here—European cities preserved their old architecture well—but when it came to skyscrapers and modernity, Hong Kong, New York, and future Shanghai were unmatched.

Crossing the Main River, passing St. Paul's Church, they arrived at a street in the Bornheim district in under half an hour—and were pleasantly surprised to find a Chinese restaurant.

Frankfurt had a small population, and the Chinese community was even smaller—there was no dedicated Chinatown. This area was one of the few with a noticeable Chinese presence, featuring two Chinese restaurants. One of them, on the second floor, also operated as a guesthouse—dumplings downstairs, sleep upstairs.

Two to a room: Wei Ming shared a room with Ping An Shu; Wei Hong shared one with Su Auntie from Zhonghua Book Company.

"Hot dumplings are served! Everyone eat while they're warm!" A Northeastern woman who had grown up in Germany brought them the dumplings.

They were delicious—classic pork and scallion filling. Though the auntie had never been to China, her cooking and accent were passed down from her parents.

But Wei Ming could eat dumplings at home—why eat them abroad? Wasn't that a waste of going overseas?