Chapter 372

In fact, that night, exhausted from constant travel—flying and taking the Shinkansen—Wei Ming fell asleep the moment his body touched the tatami, sleeping soundly.

In contrast, Amin, thinking of her lover in the opposite room, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Zhou Ma had already fallen asleep, but upon hearing her daughter stir, she opened her eyes: "Aren't you sleeping yet? What are you daydreaming about at such a young age?"

Amin blushed: "Mom, how did you and Dad get together?"

Since she could remember, this posthumous child had rarely mentioned her father in front of her mother, so she knew almost nothing about her parents' history.

Zhou Ma turned onto her side, gazing at her daughter, who was now taller than herself, and after a long silence said: "It's time I told you about our family. Your grandfather was a wealthy merchant from Zhongshan, Guangdong, but during the war, our whole family fled to Hong Kong for safety—and lost his concubine and younger son along the way."

"Whose concubine?"

"Your grandfather's. Your father was the son of his first wife."

"Grandfather had two wives?"

"What's strange about that? How many wealthy merchants today don't have multiple wives? The law can't control the rich, and back then, it didn't even try," Zhou Ma continued. "To restore the family's honor, your grandfather went abroad to do business—and vanished. He's probably dead."

Zhou Huimin understood: she had another grandfather and an uncle, but given the chaos of those times, their chances of survival were slim.

Zhou Ma: "As for our side, your maternal grandfather fled Shanghai with everyone to escape the civil war. Both families were ruined, lived close by, and got introduced through someone. Back then, your grandmother was raising your father, and their situation was worse than ours. I mainly married your father because he was good-looking."

Zhou Huimin laughed: "All Dad's photos at home are blurry. He didn't look that great."

"The photos are all from when he was forty, long past his prime—back when he was young, he was stunning, could hold his own against Xie Xian," Zhou Ma lavished praise on her late husband, "but he was poor and reckless with money—everyone who asked him for a loan got help, yet his own household was a mess. I scolded him countless times, and he'd just reply: 'Women's hair is long, their wisdom short.' Still, he earned good will—he had neighbors lining up to see him off when he passed."

Amin heard from her mother's tone that she still loved her father deep down, but years of raising her alone had numbed her heart.

Amin quickly got up and crawled into her mother's bed, gently hugging her, and only then, in her mother's arms, did Amin fall into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, Satoda Masashi saw Wei Ming's "girlfriend" for the first time—truly a beautiful girl, full of the vitality of a middle school student, surely a sensation in Japan's entertainment circle, the kind people today would call: the successor to Yamaguchi Momoe.

Since Yamaguchi Momoe retired, successors have sprung up everywhere: Matsuda Seiko wants to take her place, and Warner Pioneer signed a young girl named Nakamori Akina who also wants to succeed her.

Wei Ming introduced her: "She's the original singer of 'First Love'—already somewhat famous in Hong Kong."

Satoda Masashi quickly expressed his pleasure and wanted to invite her to his concert, but unfortunately she was leaving today.

Zhou Huimin told Wei Ming: "When I go back, I'll record 'A Girl's Prayer'—then I won't just be slightly famous."

Wei Ming smiled: "Good, good, good. Next time we meet, I'll give you another song."

Watching Wei Ming laugh and chat with his daughter, Zhou's mother felt powerless—but then again, Wei Ming's conditions were far superior to Amin's father's; even in looks, they were evenly matched.

The only drawback was that he was from the mainland, too far from Hong Kong—she couldn't bear to let her daughter marry far away.

Oh dear, Amin's only fifteen—how did we jump to marriage?

After breakfast, the six of them went to the Osaka Stadium to watch the match; China vs. the U. . was the first game of the morning.

Wei Ming didn't use his status as a cultural figure to force an introduction to the Chinese women's volleyball team—he remembered how brutal the final two matches were, how hard-won the victories, and how any small variable could change the outcome.

He didn't want to disappoint the hundreds of millions watching back home.

At the time, the Chinese population in Japan wasn't large—just over fifty thousand—with many more immigrants from Taiwan and Hong Kong; Chinese and Japanese looked nearly identical to the untrained eye, so Wei Ming had no idea how many compatriots were in the crowd.

But since this wasn't a Japanese match, the audience was sparse—less than half full—with some Western-looking spectators, likely Americans supporting their team, a few even in military uniforms.

When China scored the first point, Wei Ming realized there were Chinese people all around him; after the first set ended 15: for China, the crowd erupted in cheers, and "Niu bi!" rang out constantly—he knew there were at least several hundred Chinese spectators.

Beijing, North Zoo.

Old Wei didn't take the day off, but the unit had a TV—he let Gangdan roam freely, then huddled with his wife, a few colleagues, and several cubs inside to watch the sixth match of the women's volleyball team.

The team's performance had already secured them a top-three finish, and CCTV had obtained live broadcast rights.

The U. . women's team was still strong—they won the second set 13: 5, marking China's first loss of the tournament.

Seeing their team lose, Old Wei smacked his thigh hard; the cub he'd hit whimpered pitifully.

It was a little Northeastern tiger, thinking: I'm not a jaguar—why are you hitting me?!

But the tiger was too small to protest—he just stayed curled in his lap, staring at the glowing little box ahead, while the other cubs had wandered off.

In the third set, China bounced back, winning 15: 1; the overall score was now 2: . Old Wei happily picked up the cub and kissed it.

He loved his job at the zoo—back home he'd only dealt with cows, horses, donkeys, and sheep; coming to North Zoo was his first real glimpse of the world—wolves, leopards, tigers, and bears, elephants and rhinos, nothing extraordinary anymore.

But working as a caretaker in his son's novel Jurassic Park was even more thrilling.

In the fourth set, both teams were fired up—the score spiraled upward, back and forth, impossible to predict the winner until the final second.

The 15-point set had reached 14: 4; now, a team needed to lead by two points to win.

The U. . scored first: 14: 5. Zhou Huimin secretly gripped Amin's hand—she was tense for the players, but Wei Ming wasn't nervous at all.

He wasn't nervous—he was here to enjoy victory. Even if China lost another point and dropped the fourth set, he still wasn't nervous.

Because in the fifth set, China's women's volleyball team crushed them 15: , securing their sixth win—only Japan stood between them and the World Cup title!

Hundreds of Chinese spectators stood and cheered wildly; Wei Ming and Amin hugged tightly, excited.

But under Zhou's mother's death glare, he hugged Amin, then hugged his little aunt, then tried to hug Grandma Hou—only Lin Ni made a "no" gesture.

Now both Japan and the U. . had each lost one match; tomorrow, if China beats Japan, they win the World Cup—even if they lose, as long as it's not a crushing defeat, they might still win on points.

Victory was already in sight.

At the zoo, Old Wei joyfully lifted the cub over his head, like a baboon.

But Xu Shufen stared blankly at the fleeting audience shot on screen, then asked her colleague: "It'll be rebroadcast tonight, right?"

"Yes, tonight and tomorrow morning—beat those Americans, so energizing!"

Xu Shufen planned to watch again—she thought she'd spotted her son in the audience. Not surprising—he came to Japan to watch the match—but he was surrounded on both sides, and not by Xiao Xue or Xiao Lin!

Zhu Lin had just arrived in Beijing—she'd missed the match because of a flight.

After landing, she went straight to Tuanjie Lake, and on the living room coffee table found a new note left by Wei Ming.

"Not sure who'll return first—whether either of you'll come back while I'm abroad. Leave a message if you do. I've accepted Satoda Masashi's invitation to attend a concert in Japan and will support the volleyball team—back in a few days, don't worry."

Below it was the date—written the day before yesterday.

Zhu Lin slumped onto the sofa, frustrated—she was in her ovulation period, the time she most needed him.

She tilted her head and happened to see the wall calendar.

"Huh?" She stepped closer—it was a 1982 calendar, twelve photos all of Gong Yu in different fashionable outfits.

Zhu Lin admired them, reaching the same conclusion as Wei Ming—this would sell incredibly well.

She even wanted to make a set herself, hang it right here for the little rascal to see—and it had to be even more beautiful, more alluring than Xiao Xue's.

Since she hadn't seen Wei Ming, Zhu Lin decided to visit her parents—just then she met Mei Wenhua. "Xiao Mei, congratulations! You've had a big, fat boy."

"Haha, Zhu Lin, long time no see! Come in, have a seat—meet Mei Changsu, named by Ming Ge."

Zhu Lin gladly accepted. Yunyun was Wei Ming's cousin—this quiet little boy never cried or fussed, occasionally flashed a sly smile—clearly a prodigy.

Since she was up, after seeing Yunyun, she visited Huang Jiaoyan and Zhao Zifeng.

Yanzi was recovering well—she was raising her child at home while practicing Snake Fist; the chubby baby lay on a mat on the floor, occasionally lifting his head—adorable.

Thinking of Mei Changsu, watching Zhao Zifeng, Zhu Lin couldn't help but touch her own belly—but no baby without sex.

Back at her parents' house, Zhu's mother told her about Gong Yu's visit to deliver German sausages.

"I know—I met her in Shanghai, stayed overnight at her place."

"That's such a bother to her."

"No problem—she lives alone in a huge Western-style mansion." Zhu Lin bit into an apple, legs crossed on the sofa.

Zhu's mother gasped: "What's Xiao Xue made of? She's got houses in Beijing and Shanghai—big Western mansions too!"

Zhu Lin felt guilty—she was about the same as me—got it by eating tender grass.

"Ah, people from Shanghai—lots have overseas connections. Heard her ancestors were rich too; her maternal grandfather was even a returned student," Zhu Lin changed the subject. "Mom, I can't stay long—I'll rest a week, then head to Shanghai to film 'Midlife,' and try to come back for the New Year."

Zhu's mother sighed: "Come back if you can—so long as you don't marry, this will always be your home."

Last time she saw Gong Yu and learned she was single too, Zhu's mother felt more at ease—same age, similar resumes; Xiao Xue wasn't in a rush, neither was her own Xiao Lin—and besides, her daughter lived in Beijing, which was far better than Xiao Xue's faraway life.

Wei Ming never imagined Gong Yu visiting Zhu Lin's parents would have such a miraculous effect.

Osaka.

After watching the volleyball match, Wei Ming and Amin wandered around Osaka, took photos, and ate a famous local dish—Osaka okonomiyaki, essentially a Japanese pancake.

Wei Ming's appetite wasn't satisfied—he ordered a bowl of tonkotsu ramen.

As departure neared, Zhou Huimin gave Wei Ming her beloved Walkman, still stuck with Doraemon cartoon stickers.

"Now you can listen to my songs anytime, anywhere."

Reciprocity demanded Wei Ming give her one too—Amin thought so too; she wasn't trying to trade up, just wanted to exchange something with Amin—either saliva or a player.

Unfortunately, after visiting two stores, they couldn't find any. Wei Ming sighed: "These sell out fast. I'll buy one in Tokyo and mail it to you."

Zhou Huimin softly hugged Wei Ming, her small hand unconsciously touching her own Walkman.

Wei Ming stepped back: "Once given, it's yours—Amin, behave yourself."

"I didn't say I wanted it back—I just wanted to touch it," Zhou Huimin pouted.