Chapter 459: Old Wei Has a New Identity

Just got off a train and now driving one, with a single locomotive pushing two carriages—this was a significant test of Wei Ming’s physical strength.

Fortunately, he hadn’t neglected physical training during filming; in fact, frequent climbing and hiking had improved his fitness beyond previous levels.

Besides, weren’t his sisters staying up all night just to enjoy a good meal? Wei Ming wouldn’t hold back his effort.

A month had passed since their last team-building outing; for women their age, it must have been incredibly hard to wait.

Wasn’t Wei Ming the same? They were all in their prime.

No one was getting any sleep tonight!

The next day, Wei Jiefang was about to go for a city walk when he received a call from Anping.

“Bro, Xiao Ming’s back. Come over for dinner tonight.”

“What? Xiao Ming’s back?” Old Wei froze.

“Yeah, you didn’t know? I picked Xi Zi up from the train station at dawn.”

“Oh, he probably didn’t want to wake us, so he slept at Beichi,” Wei Jiefang laughed. “Alright, we’ll all come over tonight.”

Wei Anping said: “I’ll notify Xiao Hong.”

After hanging up, Old Wei and Xu Shufen exchanged a glance: “No idea where he’s been wandering.”

Xu Shufen shoved him, forbidding him to speak ill of their son—sons must follow propriety, even when driven by emotion.

Yet thinking of the condoms found under Wei Ming’s bed, she realized she was fooling herself.

“I’ll buy groceries and head over to Anping’s place—they’re not good cooks,” Xu Shufen said.

Wei Jiefang nodded, mounted his bicycle, and left—the ground was too slippery for a motorcycle.

Wei Ming didn’t wake until near noon. He boiled some porridge, made a simple meal, then woke the two sisters and got them to eat something.

Both sisters glowed with health—clearly they’d absorbed plenty of yang energy.

“Are you still going to Beijing Film Studio today?” Gong Ying asked.

Wei Ming replied: “I’ve been working nonstop for half a year—I need a rest. I’ll go back in a couple days.”

The film’s post-production definitely couldn’t be finished before the New Year, but with four months until Cannes, time was ample.

He draped his arms over both sisters’ shoulders: “Let’s go to Tuanjiehu tonight—no need to cook ourselves. I’ll head home first.”

If he didn’t return soon, they’d suspect he was out fooling around.

But barely outside the Sihe Academy, Wei Ming spotted Wei Jiefang dressed in a tattered padded jacket—he recognized his father from the back alone.

“Dad? Why are you dressed like that?” Wei Ming jogged forward, confirming it was his real father.

“You don’t understand—this outfit helps me haggle better when collecting stuff,” Old Wei said. He hadn’t made a single sale today—he’d been deliberately loitering in this area hoping for a chance encounter.

Wei Ming guessed the truth but didn’t call him out: “Then let’s go home and talk?”

“Alright. Tonight, Uncle Anping’s hosting dinner at home.”

“Oh, probably wants to talk about donations.”

“Donations? What donations?”

Wei Ming: “It’s not exactly a donation—it’s a scholarship. I’m setting up the Wei Ming Scholarship at Peking University, donating one million yuan, using the interest to reward top-performing students.”

Hearing the figure of one million, Wei Jiefang’s mind went blank for an instant, then completely relaxed.

He’d been anxious over those 300,000 Hong Kong dollars in paintings and calligraphy—but compared to his son’s generosity, what was that? People shouldn’t cling to money; money was trash.

“By the way, pick out a few paintings and calligraphy pieces for me—I’ll give them to friends. Keep the rest,” Old Wei reminded. “I promised to deliver them before the New Year.”

“How many?” Wei Ming asked.

“Five elderly Hong Kong men—I met them at Happy Valley. Not close friends, but I’ve won plenty of money off them. Just pick a few average ones.”

Wei Ming: “I’ll look through them when I have time. Also, give me their names.”

“Why do you need their names?”

“Tailor the gift. If one’s surnamed Ma, give Xu Beihong’s Horse Painting. If one’s surnamed Niu, pick a painting of an ox.”

“That makes sense,” Old Wei thought—his son was thoughtful. Even gift-giving had its art. No wonder this kid had so many girlfriends—he must study gift-giving as thoroughly as I study livestock habits.

Back at the Overseas Chinese Apartment, he met his mother. Both were delighted—they hadn’t seen each other in half a year. Xu Shufen, like any mother, touched Wei Ming’s face: “You’ve lost weight.”

Maternal love is blind: last night, Zhu Lin and Gong Ying both insisted Wei Ming looked stronger. Wei Ming felt they knew better than he did.

He had to visit Uncle Anping in the afternoon, so his parents left first. Wei Ming called Tuanjiehu and said he’d come after dinner.

“Bro, I passed the TOEFL—highest score in the whole school!” Wei Hong, waiting downstairs, bragged to her older brother. “My teacher said if I study abroad, she can help me apply for the Pak Cheung Lung Scholarship.”

It was a one-million-dollar scholarship established by shipping magnate Pak Yu-kong, open to all mainland university students.

Wei Ming said: “Don’t apply. Leave this money for someone who needs it more.”

“I know. I’ve got enough of my own—I made a lot from the Hong Kong stock market last year. Too bad I didn’t trade personally—if I had, I’d have made way more. Such a shame. Such a terrible shame.”

Wei Ming smiled: “No need to regret. There’ll be plenty more chances to make money from the stock market.”

Later, Wei Ming had heard from veteran traders that Hong Kong’s stock market had just experienced a Hong Kong dollar crisis this year, forcing the HKD to peg directly to the USD—perfect timing for Xiao Hong to practice.

Uncle Anping hadn’t come home yet—Xiao Yan was already preparing food with the two kids.

Xi Zi was complaining: “When can I go visit Sister Xia Lin? We already promised each other on set.”

Lu Xiaoyan laughed helplessly: “She’s in middle school—you’re just a little kid. What do you even have in common? Wei Xi, you’re ridiculous.”

“I can bring Le Le! They both love music—then we’ll have something to do.”

Le Le’s face lit up—she clearly agreed. Lu Xiaoyan shook her head helplessly. Poor girl—her brother’s using her as a decoy.

Wei Ming also thought this kid was getting out of line—using his sister as a wingman.

“Auntie, it’s fine—let him go. Besides, Xia Lin—oh, she’s changed her name to Wang Fei now—she’s leaving for Hong Kong soon to reunite with her father and grandfather. She probably won’t be around anymore.”

“What?!”

Hearing this, Xi Zi’s face fell with the unmistakable look of heartbreak.

Wei Ming then turned to Lu Xiaoyan with serious business.

“Auntie, I just wrote an English novella for Melinda’s picture book. Want it? If you do, I’ll translate it for you.”

“Yes! What’s it about?”