Chapter 354: Wei Ming: The Wei Family

Melinda was warm and proactive, and Wei Ming had slept for several hours on the plane specifically to avoid disappointing her now.

Overcome by passion, the two engaged in some rather unsafe activities.

Finally, Melinda, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, said hoarsely, "My mom's right upstairs—I wonder if she heard."

Wei Ming: "Usually, the chances are higher that someone downstairs heard."

Melinda: "But it doesn't matter anyway—she rarely interferes in my life."

"I didn't know your mom works for Penguin Press."

"My grandmother edits for Oxford University Press—I guess I'm from a publishing family," Melinda teased.

Good grief—Oxford University Press, Penguin Press, Macmillan—all top-tier publishers in Britain.

The two held each other tightly; tomorrow was busy, Melinda had already put her panties back on, so today was over—but neither could sleep yet, savoring the afterglow.

"When did you arrive?" Wei Ming asked.

"I got here yesterday—I wanted to tell you about this year's book fair," Melinda said. "You know they've been setting a theme for the Frankfurt Book Fair every year since the 70s?"

Wei Ming shook his head—he knew little about Germany, and the book he'd read was over a decade old.

Melinda said: "In '76, the first theme was Latin American literature. García Márquez and One Hundred Years of Solitude were already hugely successful, with countless fans in literary circles, but their popularity in Europe lagged far behind the Americas—ordinary readers weren't keen. After that year's Frankfurt Book Fair, One Hundred Years of Solitude finally broke through in Europe, sales doubled, climbed a new level every year, and now total sales should be over twenty million copies, with calls for García Márquez to win the Nobel Prize in Literature growing louder in recent years."

Hearing "over twenty million copies," Wei Ming was genuinely envious—a creator reaching this level was truly worth it.

The key was that sales and popularity had remained strong for over a decade and would likely continue for decades, keeping it at the forefront of Latin American literature; once the Chinese edition officially launched, regardless of how many pirated copies had been sold, it would still easily surpass ten million sales.

Melinda continued: "Too bad we missed the 'Children and Books' theme three years ago—we don't know when they'll next focus on children's literature."

Every time the fair sets a theme, support for related books is significantly increased.

"So what's this year's theme?" Wei Ming asked.

Melinda smiled: "It's good for you—this year's theme is 'Black African Culture.'"

Wei Ming understood: "You want The Lion King to ride this theme."

Melinda nuzzled Wei Ming: "How's that 'riding'? Doesn't The Lion King tell a story set on the African continent? We naturally belong to this theme."

Both Melinda and Macmillan had boundless confidence in The Lion King's prospects; Melinda then told Wei Ming some good news.

"The total sales of The Lion King's hardcover and paperback English editions have officially surpassed two million!"

"What? Two million already? When did it hit one million?" Wei Ming remembered Brave Game had only just crossed one million this year—English plus a few other languages—and Melinda had told him at the charity concert that The Lion King hadn't even hit one million then.

"Last month—we launched simultaneously in Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, Singapore, and other English markets, so we hit one million last month and two million this month."

Wei Ming leaned close to Melinda's face: "But why does my royalty payment feel so low?"

Melinda kissed him: "I was just about to tell you—I talked it over with Wei Lingling, and we decided to split your income into three parts: sixty percent stays with the company as startup capital for future growth, twenty percent goes to Hong Kong, and the last twenty percent is sent to the mainland."

Because communication with Wei Ming was difficult, Melinda had dealt directly with Wei Lingling, who agreed.

"So that's how it is," Wei Ming roughly calculated his mainland account's income, then worked backward, suddenly exclaiming, "Then the company account must already have nearly a million dollars!"

"It's already over a million," she said proudly. "Before leaving Britain, I finalized the advance payments for Jurassic Park and The Rubik's Cube. The company account now has $1. 5 million—enough to buy a small publishing house. If we sell some rights this time, we'll bring in even more."

Wei Ming immediately praised Melinda for being so capable; she said: "Don't flatter me—I was just about to say something, and you interrupted me. Oh right—I want to ask, how many copies of The Lion King have sold in China?"

Wei Ming said: "We printed 1. million single-volume copies—they're almost sold out."

Originally, The Lion King wasn't very popular on the mainland—it didn't match Black Cat Detective—but as overseas hype grew, Chinese readers began buying it to show support.

Melinda's eyes gleamed: "Two million plus 1. million—perfect. Tomorrow we'll announce The Lion King's global sales have surpassed five million—among children's books this year, that's practically the best result possible!"

Wei Ming exclaimed: "That's such a huge exaggeration!"

Melinda replied firmly: "More than half is real sales—isn't that enough?"

Wei Ming had no rebuttal—let the professionals handle professional matters.

Next, Melinda told Wei Ming more about the Frankfurt Book Fair—she'd been once last year, so this was her second time, and she knew the details well.

"China's booth is in Hall Six, Macmillan's in Hall Five, and the African pavilion is in Hall Seven—all quite far apart. You'll be running back and forth."

Wei Ming: "So it's a physical workout—I should've saved my energy earlier."

Melinda said seriously: "No—you must give it your all every time. After all, I eat today's meal without knowing if I'll have tomorrow's."

Wei Ming laughed at the saying; he felt a spark of desire again, wanting her to feed him once more.

But Melinda saw it was past midnight and forced herself to say: "We have time—we'll sleep tonight."

"Yeah, alright."

As for the Chinese restaurant hotel where the Chinese delegation stayed, when Deputy Director Liu returned and learned Wei Ming hadn't come back, he waved his hand: "Forget it—don't leave the door open for him."

Wei Ming had planned to wake up early tomorrow, but he was woken by knocking at the door—he and Melinda had slept soundly, wrapped in each other's arms.

Wei Ming slipped on his robe, peeked out, then rushed back to shake Melinda awake: "Wake up! Your mom's here!"

Melinda opened her eyes, but remained calm: "So what? She's my mom—I'm an adult."

"Just a minute—I'm coming!" she called out.

Wei Ming hurried to get dressed—if his own mother-in-law, Snow or Lin, had shown up at his door like this, it would've been a disaster.

But here with Melinda, it was no big deal—she opened the door and let her mother, Charlotte, in.

She had the same fiery red hair, was equally beautiful, bore a resemblance to Melinda, but carried a more polished, efficient air.

Mrs. Charlotte brought over the clothes Melinda had left in her room the night before, calmly introduced herself to Wei Ming, and said she'd read his works.

Both mother and daughter were so calm that Wei Ming's tension eased greatly.

The three went downstairs together for breakfast and ran into Minford—four of them sat down for a meal.

Breakfast was buffet-style: various sausages and bread, plenty of sauerkraut—Germany was also a sauerkraut-producing country, served with sausage and pork knuckles.

There were also Black Forest cake, apple strudel, and other desserts. Since leaving China, Wei Ming had wanted to try things he'd never eaten before, so he'd definitely stay at this foreign hotel tonight—he'd find an excuse to move in.

Oh, he'd also booked a room for Xiao Hong—he couldn't enjoy himself without remembering his sister.

Over breakfast, Minford chatted with Wei Ming in Chinese about Dream of the Red Chamber—unexpectedly, Melinda joined in, speaking Chinese too.

She had begun reading Dream of the Red Chamber while studying Chinese in Britain, using the first volume translated by Minford's father-in-law Hawkes as a guide, and had since become fluent enough to read the original Chinese version.

Hearing them speak Chinese, Charlotte rolled her eyes—she couldn't join in at all; she understood Chinese culture slightly but lacked the language skills.

After breakfast, Charlotte drove them to the Frankfurt Exhibition Center, where the opening ceremony would be held.

A large number of German publishers had gathered here too.

After all, this was a book fair held in Germany—of this year's 3, 00 exhibitors, over 1, 00 were from Germany, including 52 from East Germany; nearly all West German publishers had shown up.

A country of sixty million people with over a thousand publishing houses—Germans truly loved reading.

According to Charlotte, the populations of Britain, America, Germany, Japan, and France made up just over 10% of the world's total, yet their book sales and copyright trade accounted for over 50% of the global total.

So besides the host nation, Federal Germany, Britain, America, Japan, and France had the most booths and displayed the most books.

At the opening ceremony, Frankfurt's mayor Walter Walman and the fair's chairperson Wei Haoshi gave speeches, highlighting guests from this year's theme: "Black Africa."

Africa may be poor, but it has publishing and literature—it's just rarely known to outsiders, and the quality is admittedly mediocre.

Wei Anping chuckled: "Hey, this chairperson's also a Wei—same surname as us."

Wei Ming froze: "You're here too!"

Along with Wei Anping were Wei Hong, Liu Gao, Ye Junjian, and others.

Wei Hong stared intently at her brother and the woman beside him, wondering: Where had he slept last night? How had he slept?

Melinda waved to Wei Hong across Wei Ming and whispered to her.

Then Wei Hong knew the answer.

"The company has booked you and Wei Ming rooms at the Bad Soden Hotel for five days, but we didn't expect you'd already have somewhere to stay—last night you talked late, so your brother stayed in his own room."