Chapter 393: Winning a Grammy, Vivian and the Three Others

Because this chorus awakened many people's memories of that summer, many Hong Kongers were still listening to Radio Hong Kong late into the night.

This song provided excellent comfort to many during their low points, and even half a year later, it still felt fresh with every listen.

But precisely because "Tomorrow Will Be Better" had sunk so deeply into people's hearts, many listeners began to complain bitterly: why hadn't this incredible song won an award?

Some rallied in defense of this song, and naturally others did the same for "Fondly Remembering You," "Melinda," "Only by Striving Will We Win," "Friend," and "True Man," especially the two young singers Chen Baiqiang and Zhang Guorong, who now had large fanbases.

Wei Ming's dozen or so songs were sung everywhere; even though four of them made the Top Ten Chinese Golden Songs, fans still felt it wasn't enough.

But insiders in Hong Kong's music industry thought this was going too far: taking four out of ten was already excessive, and last year had indeed been a year of explosive creativity for Wei Ming—his English songs alone included several globally renowned masterpieces.

But the problem was that the Golden Needle Award, the highest honor, had been given to him—it was simply too much. Wei Ming had written Cantonese songs for barely two years; yes, he'd produced some classics, but could he really be compared to those veteran elders? What contribution had he even made to Cantonese music?

Gu Jiahui, widely considered the favorite for this award, stayed silent out of embarrassment, but many friends of the two couldn't bear it—Ni Kuang, for instance, angrily picked up his pen to vent his fury.

But his article wouldn't be published so quickly; the next day's newspapers carried mostly news released by on-site media, and TVB and ATV both reported the incident in their morning entertainment segments.

TVB, however, summed it up in just one sentence before immediately shifting back to promoting the Top Ten Golden Songs in two weeks.

ATV, meanwhile, released more on-site photos and even interviewed several award-winning singers, including a close-up shot of Zhou Hui.

The teenage girl was tall, pale-skinned, with delicate features and an innocent aura—Zhou Hui instantly captured the hearts of countless adolescent boys.

When Zhou Hui went to school the next day, her friends immediately surrounded her, chattering excitedly.

"Congratulations, Amin! You actually won a Top Ten Chinese Golden Song!"

"Now you're a big star—don't forget us!"

"Amin, you're famous now!"

"Vivian's had a huge incident!"

Zhou Hui: "Huh?"

"Look!" One friend pulled out a dozen love letters from her desk drawer—normally she got one or two per day, but today's sudden surge was clearly a direct result of the Top Ten Chinese Golden Songs ceremony.

Zhou Hui glanced at the door: even students from other classes and grades were crowding at windows and doorways, gawking at the new singer Zhou Hui.

So childish and boring, she thought, shaking her head—but she was kind-hearted, and didn't throw the letters into the trash in front of everyone. Instead, she said seriously: "I only want to study and get into university. I'm not interested in dating, so please stop writing these things. Thank you."

I'll throw them away later, somewhere no one can see.

As she spoke, a boy rushed over waving a love letter, but his classmates chased him off.

Vivian says she doesn't want to date—that means we still have a chance! Any outsider who dares to bother Amin is asking for trouble!

By morning, her friends already had multiple newspapers featuring front-facing photos of Amin, including even elite publications like Ming Pao.

Although the articles mainly discussed Wei Ming's four out of ten wins and his first Golden Needle Award, the photo chosen was Zhou Hui smiling proudly while holding the Golden Needle trophy.

Within a single day, the mysterious singer Zhou Hui had become a sensation thanks to her beauty!

Previously, many young people had enjoyed her songs, but these fans were largely unorganized and didn't idolize her—they mostly just listened on the radio, and few even bought her records.

After Zhou Hui won last night's award and appeared officially on TV and in newspapers, a Zhou Hui craze erupted among teenagers: many boys and girls rushed to record stores at lunchtime to buy her albums with their lunch money.

While buying records, these boys and girls met each other, shared their admiration for Vivian Zhou Hui, and all insisted they'd loved her long before seeing her face—not just because of her looks.

"That's right, I feel the same—I love all three of her songs."

"Three songs? Obviously you're not a true fan—Vivian already has a fourth song out."

"You've heard 'A Pair' too? But I still prefer the Mandarin version, 'The Little Bug.'"

"I really hope Vivian releases an album soon."

"Who cares? Her singles are already amazing—I can listen to them endlessly. Albums usually aren't worth it—just piling up tracks means nothing."

"Of course they're endless listens—they're all specially written for her by Wei Ming. It's so lucky to have such a brilliant pen pal!"

At that moment, a boy asked: "Do you think they're already dating?"

The boy was immediately condemned by everyone present—no one, male or female, would allow him to say that about Vivian.

"She clearly looks like a good girl—how could she possibly be dating? She probably hasn't even held a boy's hand."

"Exactly—I have a cousin who goes to the same school as Vivian. She says Vivian's famous at school for being an excellent student. When her family was poor, she even taught kids to play piano—she's already passed Grade 10!"

"Wait, her family was poor? But isn't she the 'Good Luck Princess'? That shop has multiple branches—it crushed McDonald's!"

"Good Luck's only been around a short while. She's from a single-parent family—her mom used to sell street snacks, and only later built things up. My cousin told me…"

Thus, Zhou Hui became, in their eyes, a sympathetic, inspiring role model.

Previously, when Zhou Hui ate lunch at school, people might just glance at her—but now, crowds gathered to stare.

Luckily, vacation's coming soon—I hope everyone returns to normal after the break, or else how will I survive the next few years?

Wei Ming didn't yet know about Amin's troubles—he was lying at home, still recovering from last night's celebration for Uncle Anping's promotion. He'd drunk a bit more than usual, and felt his tolerance was finally improving.

Xiao Hong and Xiao Ming were both on holiday; it felt awkward—they'd just returned to work and now were off again.

Early that morning, Xiao Hong lovingly prepared breakfast for her brother, taking on the role of mother in the household.

But it was winter, so there wasn't much variety—bok choy remained the main dish. Though communes around Beijing like Sijiqing had greenhouse farms, yields were limited, and only a few vegetables reached ordinary tables.

Fortunately, Wei Ming had connections, so after breakfast he rode his motorcycle with the girl to Sijiqing Commune to buy vegetables from Uncle Bu Dachun—also enjoying the unique pleasure of picking them himself.

Years later, you'd have to pay to work the land—something unimaginable in this era.

"Uncle Dachun, won't Brother Bu Yun-Suan come home for the New Year?" Xiao Hong asked, carrying a basket.

Bu Dachun beamed with pride: "He wrote saying he won't come—the tickets are too expensive, and working with his professor on a project earns him money. He even sent me cash—foreign exchange! This kid is so easy to raise. If I'd known he could earn money himself, I never would've sold the motorcycle."

Wei Ming: "Since he sent you money, hurry up and buy a sihe courtyard. It'd be great for retirement in the city—like those old men who carry birdcages and stroll around."

Bu Dachun chuckled: "Little Wei, come by later—I'll show you my new motorcycle."

Wei Ming nearly swore: "Uncle, you used your son's foreign exchange to buy another motorcycle?!"

Bu Dachun: "Yes! And that money couldn't even buy a house anyway. I figured, better to get a bike first—it's more convenient for traveling."

Seeing her brother's stunned expression, Xiao Hong chimed in: "Brother, didn't you buy your bike before your house too?"

Wei Ming: "That's different! Back then, buying a house was hard, and I was sure I'd get one before prices rose—so I bought the bike for convenience. Uncle, you…"

Old Bu shrugged: "Honestly, I can't stand living in the city. When I'm old, tending vegetables on my own land feels perfect. If I moved to the city, who'd you all ask for vegetables in winter?"

He'd already bought it—what could you say? They went to admire his new bike. It looked nice. Wei Ming seriously suspected he was looking for a new wife.

In the afternoon, Wei Ming went back to school. He felt embarrassed taking his salary after so many absences, but he still collected his benefits: several dried ribbonfish and a bucket of oil.

He ran into Brother Feng and gave him the oil—his parents had sent so much peanut oil they couldn't finish it, especially now that their parents were away and the siblings could fry dough sticks at home.

Back home, Xiao Hong made braised ribbonfish. After eating, she said: "Brother, we can't keep living like this. I haven't done a single productive thing today."

Wei Ming: "So what do you want to do?"

Xiao Hong: "Brother, I'm really interested in that stock market you mentioned. Can we try investing a little?"

"No way. There's no such thing as a stock market in China yet."

"I know. But what if we send money to Mom and Dad, have them open accounts, and let them trade first? Then we write letters to discuss price changes—I just want to feel what it's like to ride the stock market."

Wei Ming laughed: "Remote stock trading? What's the point? No real-time market analysis—just pure luck. Whether you make or lose money aside, it won't improve your skills. Since you're so bored, why not go work at Xintiandi and buy clothes?"

In fact, Wei Ming had already done this—he'd bought stocks in companies owned by Li Jiacheng and Bao Yugang, and he believed in them.

Xiao Hong pouted: "Fine. But I can't just sit around—people rot if they do."

"I'm not sitting around. While you cooked, I wrote several pages of a script—and I'm going to write a novel later." He'd barely finished defending himself when the home phone rang—it was a comrade from the Hong Kong Office, delivering a piece of good news that wouldn't be widely publicized in China.

"Oh, okay, understood. Thank you."

Wei Ming hung up. Xiao Hong asked curiously: "What was that about?"

"Yesterday, Hong Kong's biggest music awards—the Top Ten Chinese Golden Songs—were held. Four of my songs won Golden Song awards, and I also received the highest honor: the Golden Needle Award."