Chapter 427: Wei Ming

Inside the Southbank Cinema of the British Film Institute, there is a famous coffee gallery, a well-known gathering spot for London’s film and literary circles.

Actors, directors, film enthusiasts, and cultural workers frequently congregate here, earning it the nickname “fuel station” for intellectuals.

Andrew Lloyd Webber had just watched a new Spielberg film, *E.T.*, with Sarah Brightman—a children’s sci-fi story, deeply moving and profoundly astonishing.

After the screening, the two sat quietly at the coffee gallery, discussing the plot and characters; Webber didn’t want to part from Sarah, wishing he could see her every moment.

Though he was still married, he promised Sarah he was working toward divorce, but as a successful man with considerable assets, divorce wasn’t something he could accomplish with just words.

“Don’t worry, before *The Lion King* premieres, I’ll definitely be divorced.” That way, *The Lion King* wouldn’t count as marital property.

Sarah didn’t want to talk about marriage or divorce—it made their relationship seem immoral, and she was merely watching a movie and having coffee with him, not checking into a hotel.

So she changed the subject: “How’s *The Lion King* coming along?”

“Going well—I’ve written several key songs; we might start rehearsals next year.”

But due to plot constraints, while he could cast Sarah as the female lead, her role would be minor; the musical could have only one central protagonist—Simba—with all core songs focused on him.

After chatting about *The Lion King*, a couple entered the café, each holding a book with an alien spacecraft on the cover.

Only then did Sarah realize others in the café were already reading *District 9* over coffee; after just over a week on shelves, *District 9* had surged to the top of Britain’s bestseller list.

Sarah thus shifted the topic to Wei Ming and *District 9*, and to human attitudes toward the alien shrimp versus E.T.

Seeing Sarah’s animated expression, Webber shrugged: “Alright, I guess I should buy a copy of *District 9*—otherwise I’ll fall behind the times. I’m not usually into sci-fi, but after *E.T.*, I’m intrigued.”

“You must try it—I’ve already read it. I was left deeply unsettled, and filled with profound sympathy for the people of South Africa,” Sarah said. Melinda had given her a copy a week earlier.

As they finished their coffee and headed home, Sarah saw a protest march demanding justice for Mandela; she wanted to join, but as a public figure, she settled for silently cheering from inside the car.

It’s unclear when the British began paying attention to Mandela, but the surge in interest clearly started with Wei Ming’s article last year; since then, numerous reporters had risked traveling to South Africa to interview Mandela, gathering firsthand material that enriched his image as an anti-apartheid fighter.

These protests only emerged after *District 9* was published; compassionate Londoners hoped the great British Empire would do something for the suffering people of South Africa.

Wei Ming certainly didn’t believe the British government had played no role in stoking this.

For now, the two most famous aliens in Britain were the ugly-cute E.T. and the grotesque shrimp.

Spielberg hadn’t yet heard of *District 9*, but he’d recently heard the name of its author.

Since its release, *E.T.* had achieved spectacular critical and box-office success—who could have imagined a sci-fi film centered on just one alien, with a tender core, would earn box-office returns rivaling *Star Wars*?

It became Spielberg’s next major box-office milestone after *Jaws* and *Raiders of the Lost Ark*.

He now began seeking ideas for his next projects, starting with a sequel to *Raiders of the Lost Ark*, in collaboration with his old friend Lucas.

He also wanted to make a dinosaur-themed effects-driven film, hoping to bring dinosaurs back to life on the big screen—realistic, lifelike dinosaurs, not the old rubber-suit versions.

He’d discussed it with Lucas; current computer effects technology could achieve this.

At this time, Spielberg’s frequent screenwriter recommended *Jurassic Park*—the English edition had already reached its second volume.

Spielberg read it and immediately praised it—he felt this was exactly what he wanted: a dinosaur story packed with thriller and blockbuster elements; crucially, as the story described, the dinosaurs appeared only briefly, greatly reducing filming difficulty—a perfect script foundation!

But after sending someone to investigate, Spielberg learned the novel’s option rights had already been acquired by MGM—what a waste! MGM would never dare produce such a high-budget effects epic!

Wei Ming didn’t know about this; even if he did, it wouldn’t help. Old Spielberg could only wait, hoping MGM would muster the courage to launch the project in three years.

On the day he received Melinda’s package, he first went to work at the library; with the librarian’s permission, he placed two English-language hardcover copies of *District 9* into the library’s English collection.

Supposedly, the first person to borrow the book was Yu Minhong, a student from the 1980 Spanish class, who saw the characters on the spine, didn’t care what they meant, and checked it out immediately.

He never returned it for a long time—by the time he finished reading, another student had already borrowed it; this terrified Yu Minhong: “You’re the ones reading it, but if it gets lost, I’m the one who has to pay!”

Moreover, he’d borrowed the deluxe edition with numerous beautiful illustrations—the price tag on the back made the son of a peasant gasp.

At the library, Wei Ming also met Uncle Anping, who was currently working on a TOEFL teaching project and came to the library to research materials.

Wei Ming’s bag carried two Transformers, but he didn’t hand them over immediately—he’d save the gift for a proper face-to-face presentation, so he arranged to have dinner at Uncle Anping’s house that evening.

“Great, bring Xiao Hong too—have your aunt cook a couple extra dishes.”

Uncle Anping and his wife now earned good salaries; though they couldn’t match their nephew’s income, they could afford to eat well.

When Wei Ming appeared beneath the girls’ dormitory, he was immediately surrounded by female students who idolized him—and demands for new work began.

In their eyes, Wei Ming’s last literary work was still last year’s *The Days of Sunshine*.

Wei Ming immediately revealed he’d soon publish a collection of essays, and that *Huacheng* would release a novella.

When Wei Hong came down, Wei Ming quickly pulled her away from the crowd of girls.

Upon learning there was a gift, Xi Zi happily performed a somersault for his cousin and uncle; Le Le didn’t let his brother have all the fun—he played a short piece on his harmonica for Wei Ming.

But as Le Le played, Xi Zi couldn’t wait: “Big brother, what did you bring me? Are they Dabaitu candies?!”

Seeing Xi Zi start rummaging through Wei Ming’s bag, Le Le panicked: “Can’t you wait for me?”

Wei Ming pointed at Le Le: “Appreciate first. Appreciate.”

Xi Zi couldn’t possibly appreciate—he was pacing, scratching his head in agitation.

After Le Le finished his piece, Wei Ming and Wei Hong immediately applauded, then pulled out two exquisitely wrapped boxes.

Wei Hong was curious too: “Brother, what’s the gift?”

Wei Ming: “Toys—the Transformers I told you about.”

Wei Hong’s eyes lit up: “These are fun—I’m sure they’re fun!”

She’d played with them before; back then, the performance was still poor.

Wei Anping also knew about Transformers; upon hearing the word, he came out from the kitchen to look.

“So these are the toys? They must be expensive.”

Wei Ming waved his hand: “Not much money—these two together cost about what you and your wife earn in a month.”

Wei Ming wasn’t showing off; he mentioned the price only to prevent Xi Zi from giving them to classmates like Xiao Mei, Xiao Li, or Xiao Fang—he’d done this too often before.

“What? So expensive!” Lu Xiaoyan came out carrying dishes, startled: “Are these toys made of gold or jade?”

Wei Ming smiled: “These are made specifically to earn American dollars—Auntie plans to conquer the U.S. market first.”

Dinner was forgotten—the couple immediately urged the kids to open them, and there they saw a beautifully crafted red truck and a yellow sedan.