Chapter 415

On the second day back in Yanjing, Zhu Lin brought his luggage home to his parents' place and said he wouldn't be leaving for a while—he'd stay to keep his parents company.

But that evening, when mealtime came, he ran off again, saying he wanted to celebrate Xiao Xue's birthday and would sleep over there.

Only now was homosexuality still uncommon; otherwise, Zhu's father and mother would surely have whispered: Could their long-awaited son-in-law be Gong Yu? Or perhaps their daughter-in-law?

Today, Wei Ming went early to the Friendship Store to order a birthday cake—not too large, but enough for three people.

But they soon found it wasn't quite enough: the cream cake on the plate tasted fine, but eating too much grew cloying—until you changed the vessel, and everything became different.

For instance, when cream was smeared onto both sisters' faces, Wei Ming ate with particular gusto.

Later, to avoid staining their clothes, the three stripped down and ate the cake—not just on their faces anymore—and their imaginations instantly exploded.

By the end, not a drop of cream remained; only the cake base was left, and the eaters were thoroughly exhausted.

At that point, all three were sticky; they helped each other into the shower, then collapsed onto the bed, still shaken—Gong Yu, meanwhile, worried about the stained floor, but was too weak to get up.

After two straight days of indulgence, Gong Yu and Zhu Lin both felt this couldn't continue: even if Wei Ming's body could take it, they couldn't. So after Xiao Xue's birthday, they moved apart.

The main thing was to separate Wei Ming—he returned to the Overseas Chinese Apartment—while Gong Yu and Zhu Lin continued living together, each taking turns being Wei Ming's spouse: you on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays; I on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays.

As for Sundays—if everyone was free, they'd spend it as a trio. Every Sunday, Wei Ming would excitedly howl like a young calf.

Actually, this worked well: Wei Ming lived alone in the Overseas Chinese Apartment, resumed his normal routine—work, writing, off-work, writing—and his writing efficiency improved greatly.

Finally, after a week, he completed his first English novella.

Writing it wasn't easy—it took over four months; normally, for a novel of similar length, if his Chinese writing flowed smoothly, he could finish it in half a month.

Of course, those four months were also a learning process: through writing this English novella, Wei Ming felt his English composition skills had noticeably improved—he could now translate something like The Lion King himself.

Still, there remained a gap from native-level creation; the work needed an editor's revisions before publication, so Wei Ming made a photocopy and immediately mailed it to Melinda in Britain.

The manuscript was too long to fax—it would cost over a thousand dollars. Wei Ming could afford it, but there was no need; he wasn't in a rush.

If it were one or two pages, faxing for efficiency was fine—but a novella, dozens of pages? Better to save the money.

Next, Wei Ming began translating the novella into Chinese; he'd also send a copy to Ming Pao later.

This task was simpler—he estimated he could finish it in about ten days.

During this time, Lin Jie grew bored and wanted to return to work; she had already officially resigned from her former unit, so Wei Ming accompanied her to the Beijing People's Art Theatre.

He took her straight to Director Cao Lao's office. For Zhu Lin, a nationally famous film star, the theatre's reception was complicated.

They worried whether her film acting could match the theatre's intensity, whether she'd drag them down—but also hoped she'd boost their box office.

Zhu Lin was then taken to complete her employment formalities; Wei Ming stayed behind to chat with Cao Lao and Yu Shizhi.

Wei Ming asked about the release date of the film version of Tea House—he was still looking forward to it. The cast was nearly identical to the stage version; few nationwide audiences could see the theatre's plays, but the film would reach far wider.

"We originally planned to release it during the New Year," Yu Shizhi chuckled, "but thank goodness we didn't—otherwise, who'd come see us?"

Wei Ming: "The Shaolin Temple really was too popular—it's been nearly two months, and cinemas are still showing Shaolin Temple."

Yu Shizhi: "So after discussing with Beijing Film Studio, we've decided to release it next month."

Next month, Wei Ming thought—next month Du Shiniang will also be released; that's no easy competitor.

Yu Shizhi added: "Our top priority now is cultivating young actors. Your Double Donkey Story is mostly being rehearsed by young performers—we expect to start selling tickets soon. We're all confident in its box office potential; it's lively and entertaining."

Wei Ming knew this: the male lead was Yang Lixin; Liang Guanhua played the childhood friend; Song Dandan played the village beauty; and Teacher Jin Yaqin portrayed the female production team leader.

Although the People's Art Theatre offered lifetime security and didn't rely on box office for survival, Beijing had other theatre troupes—if their work drew no audience and lost to competitors, it would tarnish the Beijing People's Art Theatre's golden reputation.

To boost box office and make their golden reputation shine brighter, the theatre was highly proactive in launching new plays: besides promoting young actors and catering to Wei Ming's fanbase with Double Donkey Story, Cao Lao had recently traveled to the U. . to visit Arthur Miller with Yin Ruocheng.

Arthur Miller was a giant of American theatre; his ex-wife was Marilyn Monroe; his later son-in-law was Daniel Day-Lewis.

This time, Cao Lao, representing the theatre, reached an agreement with Miller: to bring Miller's classic play Death of a Salesman to China, with Miller himself coming to direct.

Wei Ming remembered that the male lead in this version was Yin Ruocheng, and the female lead was the veteran actress Zhu Lin—perhaps one day Zhu Lin would even take over Zhu Lin's role.

"Little Wei," after chatting a while about Double Donkey Story, Cao Lao and Yu Lao exchanged glances, then Cao Lao spoke: "That new script you promised us..."

To ensure the theatre happily accepted Lin Jie's employment, Wei Ming had promised to dedicate his debut play script to the theatre—he'd write an original play for them. He hadn't told Lin Jie yet, but she'd find out eventually—and be moved.

"Director Cao, rest assured—I've been thinking about it. I'm currently busy with a novel and adapting The Children of the Century. I'll deliver the script before the year ends."

Delivering before year-end meant staging next year—they could easily accept that, since this year already had Double Donkey Story and Death of a Salesman.

But Wei Ming's prompt agreement made the two elders imagine more about his relationship with Zhu Lin.

When Wei Ming stepped out, Lin Jie was chatting with Old Jin Yaqin, and beside them stood the fresh-faced Song Dandan.

After finishing Du Shiniang, Old Jin had joined the Double Donkey Story cast, mingling with the young actors. She'd always played supporting roles in major theatre productions—this time, she was finally the female lead.

Zhu Lin planned to stay at the theatre today; Wei Ming returned home, then that evening received a call from the Beijing Hotel.

"Ah Ming, I'm here—want to come over for dinner?"

It was Li Hanxiang, arriving on the last day of March.

Wei Ming: "Sure, I'll invite someone else."

He called up Zhao Debiao; Li Hanxiang wasn't alone either—he brought a middle-aged man and a young man.

The middle-aged man was cinematographer Yang Hao, his main crew for this mainland shoot; the young man was Liang Jiahui.

Wei Ming wasn't surprised to see him, but he was surprised Li Hanxiang hadn't told him he'd be cast as the male lead—Liang Jiahui still thought he'd come to the mainland for a vacation and to help his uncle.

"Wei Sheng, nice to meet you again," Liang Jiahui politely shook Wei Ming's hand.

"Just call me Ah Ming. This is Ah Biao."

Liang Jiahui: "I've seen your films—you remind me of a friend of mine, Xu Jin."

"Old Xu? We know him too," Zhao Debiao said cheerfully.

Liang Jiahui: "Oh? We were classmates in TVB's training class."

With a mutual acquaintance, Liang Jiahui quickly bonded with Zhao Debiao. He asked Li Hanxiang: "Uncle, can I go out tonight? Ah Biao says he'll show me around."

"Don't forget your documents," Li Hanxiang agreed.

Actually, there wasn't much to see in Yanjing at night—most shops were closed. Zhao Debiao planned to take him to Dongfang Xintiandi; it stayed open late.

Wei Ming discussed filming plans with Li Hanxiang: he'd spend a month preparing, with shooting set to begin in May—first the Beijing scenes, including the major sequence of burning Yuanmingyuan, then in June, move to the Summer Palace to film the emperor's northern hunt and Vanguard Commander's death.

"Perfect—I should be back in Yanjing by the time filming officially starts."

Zhao Debiao blinked: "Brother Ming, you're leaving again?"

"Yes, in a few days I'm joining the Journey to the West crew for location shooting," Wei Ming said. As chief consultant, he wanted to take on some responsibility. "Ah Biao, want to come with me? The Journey to the West crew needs a martial arts director. This is just a pilot episode—I'll bring someone from Hong Kong for the full shoot."

Zhao Debiao: "Where to?"

"Yangzhou."

"Then... I'll ask my wife," Zhao Debiao said.

Yanzi had no objections—she could manage alone, especially with her mother and mother-in-law as backup. She told Zhao Debiao to go with Wei Ming without worry.

The Journey to the West crew had initially filmed temple scenes at Jietai Temple in Yanjing; Wei Ming visited on opening day and saw the full-costumed Tang Sanzang and his disciples—looking just right—and took a group photo of them.

The day after Journey to the West's opening, Wei Ming set up a barbecue grill at the Beichi Zi Sihe Academy, inviting Hong Kong guest Liang Jiahui, plus Zhao Debiao and Xiao Mei as company—they'd been showing Liang Jiahui Yanjing's famous sights these past two days.

Liang Jiahui was delighted to be invited to Wei Ming's home—even happily cooked and cleaned himself, and made faces at Wei Ming's cat and dog.

Soon after, visitors arrived: Liu Zhenyun and Li Chengru.

Liu Zhenyun had been invited by Wei Ming—he was about to graduate, and they'd see each other less often. Wei Ming met him on campus after work and asked him to drop by Beichi Zi for dinner if he had time.

Li Chengru had just finished shooting, smelled the meat aroma wafting from Wei Ming's Sihe Academy, and followed the scent over—claiming he needed to report filming progress.

Wei Ming introduced them. When he heard Liu Zhenyun was a Peking University top student and provincial champion, Liang Jiahui immediately shook his hand, struggling through Mandarin.

"A Hong Kong friend? Brother Wei has truly lived up to the saying: all under heaven are brothers," Liu Zhenyun said, then turned to Li Chengru. "And this brother?"

Wei Ming replied: "Old Li and Ah Hui are similar—both trained in acting. You were at TVB; he was at the Beijing Film Academy—the highest institution for mainland film acting."

"My apologies, my apologies."

"I'm just from a short-term training class, but our class did produce a big star."