Chapter 438

Amin, just give it to me, I—I can’t wait anymore!

Wei Ming felt Amin’s words were all his own—perhaps because she didn’t much care for Mandarin songs like “Pink Memories.”

When this song first came out, it was a massive hit across the mainland, a phenomenon—its initial release easily surpassed one million copies, and Li Lingyu’s cover version also sold at least a million.

According to official statistics from Guangzhou Audiovisual Publishing House, between 1987 and 1997, this album accumulated sales exceeding twenty million copies.

Whether true or not, this song truly accompanied Chen Sicheng’s childhood—he adored it.

When the little girl had a request, Wei Ming would do his utmost to fulfill it.

“Alright, wait for me.”

Zhou Hui Min didn’t rush him, but she hoped he could finish it quickly—she didn’t want it delayed.

Early the next morning, Wei Ming knocked on Zhou Hui Min’s door.

Amin rubbed her eyes and saw Wei Ming handing her a piece of paper.

“Huh?”

Wei Ming: “It’s done—here’s the song I wrote for you.”

Amin remembered—Wei Ming had written her several songs before, and over the past two years he’d given them to her one by one; now only “Burning Heart with Fire” remained.

But when she took it, the song’s title was “Hard to Find a True Lover.”

“Isn’t it ‘Burning Heart with Fire’?”

Wei Ming: “That’s a Mandarin song, and it’s technically demanding—I’m afraid you can’t handle it yet, so I stayed up all night writing a new one. I’ll give you ‘Burning Heart with Fire’ when you’re older.”

Hearing this, Zhou Hui Min lowered her head in shame, feeling childish—Wei Ming worked hard filming all day, then stayed up late writing songs for her; he must have burned out countless brain cells.

She glanced at her home—her mother hadn’t woken yet—then pulled Wei Ming into the stairwell, hugged him tightly, and said: “I won’t go with you to the set today; Xiao Li is there anyway.”

Wei Ming smiled: “What? Jealous? She’s just the producer—you’re my little joy.”

“I’m not jealous—I trust you completely, I know you wouldn’t do anything reckless.”

“Don’t flatter me—I’m no saint,” Wei Ming rejected the “good person card.”

“Anyway, I won’t be accompanying you these two days—I’ll stick with Hong Jie.”

“Fine. Next we’re shooting at a nightclub—I don’t want you going to places like that,” Wei Ming nodded, holding her small hand. “Go on back now—your mom’s probably waking up.”

Zhou Hui Min held the lyric sheet: “I haven’t sung it for you yet.”

Wei Ming: “Alright, sing it—I’ll give you some pointers.”

A few minutes later, Amin’s voice echoed through the stairwell.

“Like early spring awakening, urging my heart, no more waiting. Those tender years, waiting to bloom, left my heart empty—yet deeply moving...”

This song, Kwan Shuk Yi’s “Hard to Find a True Lover,” suited Amin’s style perfectly—it was Kwan’s signature hit, written with deep affection by renowned lyricist Cheung Sze Wai.

“Sweetly racing with your lover through the wind, shouting joyfully that you’re true-hearted—life isn’t wasted. One ‘I do,’ one ‘I will’—this earth-shaking love leaves no regret.”

As she reached the chorus, Zhou Hui Min gazed at Wei Ming with tender eyes, as if veiled in mist.

Wei Ming now had a clearer sense of Amin’s vocal ability—she was nearly at the level of her mature future self, and her breath control was already long and steady; later, to prepare for university, she pushed herself too hard and contracted tuberculosis, which did affect her singing.

“The moon shines through mist, illuminating lovers, deepening intimacy, adding sensuality to every pair. Some love turns to hate, but more love stories move us, etching delicate beauty.”

After finishing the song, Amin suddenly tiptoed up, kissed him, then dashed back to her home.

Wei Ming chuckled and headed downstairs.

Amin loved this song—it was tailor-made for her, perfectly matching her style and their feelings.

But “adding sensuality to every pair”—thinking of that line, she pulled down her collar in front of the full-length mirror in her room—yeah, it looked quite good.

After her mother woke up, Zhou Hui Min told her, then went upstairs to find Hong Jie.

Zhou’s mother frowned: “Aren’t you going to the set today?”

“I wouldn’t help anyway—I’d rather hang out with Hong Jie.”

Zhou’s mother thought: This girl isn’t foolish—she understands the eternal dilemma of mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, or sister-in-law tensions. Shu Fen is a gentle girl; if she can win over Wei Hong, the Wei family won’t be hard to manage.

Zhou Hui Min went upstairs, ate breakfast at the Wei home, then left with Wei Hong.

Wei Hong originally planned to go to Far East Securities, but Zhou Hui Min said: “We can go to the trading floor right before closing—there’s no point staring all day. Why not come with me to TVB?”

“TVB? The one that made ‘Magic City Beach’?”

“Yes!”

After explaining her idea, Wei Hong said: “Let’s go to the trading hall first, check the opening prices, then check the closing prices in the afternoon—that should give us enough time.”

“Yes, plenty!”

Zhou Hui Min said she wanted to enter TVB’s New Talent Singing Competition. Though unclear why she’d join, as a good friend, Xiao Hong would fully support her.

In mainland China, singers were a respected, prestigious profession—even Le Le from Ping An’s family dreamed of becoming a singer one day, and his family never opposed it.

But in Hong Kong, it was entirely different: singers earned well, but they were still entertainers—unless you reached the cultural-icon status of someone like Cheng Long.

So Zhou Hui Min figured her mother wouldn’t support her; she’d have to sneak in, and once she reached the semifinals, she’d sing for Wei Ming on stage and then quit—this would be one of the few things her young self could do for him.

Luckily, the new song he’d written for her, “Hard to Find a True Lover,” was perfect to sing for him—and she had to sing it well. So she planned to find music friends after signing up to discuss arrangements.

But problems arose during registration.

“Sorry, registration closed yesterday—we start auditions tomorrow. You’re too late.”

Clearly, the staff hadn’t recognized her as Zhou Hui Min, the singer of “First Love.”

Amin didn’t want to reveal her identity, nor did she want to use backdoor connections through Li Xiaotian, so she said: “The competition’s tomorrow—can’t you just add me today? I sing really well—I’m the one who sang ‘First Love.’”

“First Love? Why didn’t you say you’re Zhou Hui Min?”

Zhou Hui Min immediately handed over her ID: “Hello, I’m Zhou Hui Min.”

Staff member: “...”

Quickly, the staff summoned someone with authority—her name was Chen Shufen, also called Shu Fen, which gave Wei Hong and Zhou Hui Min an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

“Just call me Mrs. Chen,” Chen Shufen looked at Zhou Hui Min with delight, as if seeing a precious treasure.

She’d been organizing Teresa Teng’s concerts for ten years; now with Capital Records, she was Zhang Guorong’s agent—her eyes were sharp, and the still-teenage Zhou Hui Min struck her as a rare gem.

Not just because of her own talent, but because she stood behind Wei Ming.

“Amin, you already have so many hits, with fans across Hong Kong and Taiwan—why enter a newcomer contest? Are you aiming to reach the next level? Choosing us is the right move—Capital Records...”

“Mrs. Chen,” Zhou Hui Min interrupted, “I’m still in school—I don’t care about my career, and I won’t sign any management contract. I’m just bored on summer break and want to have fun.”

“Oh, I see~” Chen Shufen understood—after all, she was the daughter of Haoli Lai’s owner; rumors said the fast-food chain was growing fast, squeezing out Hong Kong’s McDonald’s.

“No problem—have fun! You sing this well, you’ll definitely place. Here’s your registration form.” Chen Shufen handled Zhou Hui Min’s registration, telling her she could come for recording anytime over the next three days.

“Then Sunday—I’ll practice more.”

“Practice more? Is it a new song?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Written by Wei Ming?”

“Secret,” Zhou Hui Min held back.

After Zhou Hui Min left, Chen Shufen immediately reported the incident upward—soon even Fang Yihua knew. She thought: Heaven truly helps me—Zhou Hui Min, the student idol, making her debut performance, and singing alongside Wei Ming.

So she gave orders: “Make sure she reaches the semifinals at all costs!”

The auditions would select 30 singers for the semifinals, then halve them to 15 for the finals, where gold, silver, and bronze would be awarded.

Fang Yihua had Chen Shufen monitor registration to find hidden gems—and she had: earlier, she’d spotted the cool girl Mei Yanfang; today, she’d found the highly talkative Zhou Hui Min.

But these were all potential stars—Chen Shufen’s top priority right now was Zhang Guorong.

Wei Ming’s “Melinda” had catapulted Zhang Guorong into superstar status, rivaling Tan Yonglin, even surpassing Chen Baiqiang slightly; recently, he’d starred in Tam Kar-ming’s new film “Feverish Youth,” co-starring with the first Golden Horse Best Actress, Ye Tong, in explicit love scenes.

Chen Shufen knew Wei Ming had come to Hong Kong and would appear as a guest—she arranged for Zhang Guorong to meet him early, to build rapport.

Zhang Guorong: “I really like Amin—do you think I’ve done nothing? My master told me where he was filming—I went, but he’d already moved locations. I came up empty.”

At this moment, the “Witness” crew had left Happy Post Street and arrived at Chungking Mansions.

Not just Zhang Guorong—Tan Yonglin, Chen Baiqiang, and Joey Yung—all these Hong Kong musicians wanted to extend hospitality.

While Amin approached Tan Yonglin to discuss arrangements for “Hard to Find a True Lover,” Ah Lun also inquired about Wei Ming’s whereabouts.

Amin couldn’t let Wei Ming be distracted—she only said: “I’ll pass on your message—he’ll be free after filming.”

At this moment, Wei Ming was working on the third actor’s mindset.

The third actor was the manager of the female lead’s nightclub—a burly cross-dresser.