Chapter 491

Mai Jia, upon realizing the situation, gathered all the company’s top executives to criticize Huang Baiming, but Huang Baiming merely spread his hands and cited the contract.

“I’ve already agreed to the credit as associate director, and I’ve signed a contract with them—breaching it would cost me one million, one million! Is the company willing to pay that for me?”

Xu Ke and Teddy Robin, both in the know, struggled to hold back their laughter; that million was your director’s fee.

Although Mai Jia and Shi Tian scolded Huang Baiming, they couldn’t pay his breach penalty for him, so they made him promise in front of everyone that he wouldn’t delay the company’s script development.

Zeng Zhiwei, lurking in the corner, saw that one of the bosses, Huang Baiming, had already started filming for Wei Ming, and while admiring Wei Ming’s skill, he immediately called someone as soon as he got home.

“Hello, is this Mr. Xiang from Yongsheng? I’ve thought about your offer to film for you—I’m fine with it. Great, great, let’s meet tomorrow.”

Zeng Zhiwei put down the phone, rubbing his hands together; this was a new company, but as Hong Kong’s highest-grossing director who’d also be starring, asking for one million wasn’t unreasonable.

After the MV for “Moon Over the Western Tower” was completed, it was scheduled to be released alongside Zhou Hui’s debut Mandarin album, making it Hong Kong’s first narrative MV—with groundbreaking significance.

As for this new album, these past two days Wei Ming had sent Xiao Hong to the stock exchange, and he and Amin had spent nearly all day at home discussing the songs for the album.

Wei Ming had never realized that during his absence, Amin had written so many songs herself—mostly composing, then using classical lyrics as-is or making slight revisions.

The one adapted from Lu You’s “Chai Tou Feng: Red Delicate Hands” was the highest quality, leaving Wei Ming utterly amazed, and from its melody he sensed Amin’s complex, despondent mood at the time.

This song was slated as the album’s lead single and had already been recorded.

Another adaptation, from Li Qingzhao’s “Sheng Sheng Man,” was also excellent—that line: “Seeking, seeking, cold, clear, sorrowful, miserable.”

There was also the adaptation of Yan Shu’s “Huan Xi Sha”—that one: “Helplessly, flowers fall; swallows return, as if familiar.” Since the original lyrics were too short, Amin expanded them herself, but wasn’t satisfied, so Wei Ming added a few lines—and suddenly the whole song came alive.

Among Amin’s original compositions, the one with the most substantial lyrical changes was “Nian Nu Jiao,” written to promote the Nian Nu Jiao milk tea shop, adapted from Huang Tingjian’s “Nian Nu Jiao: After the Rainbow Clears.”

The songs Wei Ming wrote for her involved major revisions to the original lyrics—some retained only the classical spirit, with entirely new words.

The one Amin liked best, with the freshest musical style, was “Zhi Fu Zhi Fu”—half original lyrics, half adapted, and it was also a duet, Amin’s first time attempting a duet.

After trying to sing it herself, Amin felt it didn’t match the stunning intensity of “Iron Blood and a True Heart,” but with the right partner, it could still be very effective.

“Aming, who do you think would be a good duet partner for me?” Amin asked Wei Ming’s opinion.

Wei Ming thought for a moment: “Zhang Guorong. Alen’s Mandarin is terrible; Zhang Guorong is stronger, and his aura is more classical.”

“I thought the same—Rong or Danny, but Danny’s still studying abroad.”

Wei Ming: “After finishing this film, I’m going to study in San Francisco too.”

“What? Aren’t you just going as a companion?”

Wei Ming half-truthfully replied: “Lately I’ve been writing in English, but I deeply feel it’s not my native tongue—I can’t wield it as smoothly, so I want to use my time as a companion to study Western literature in America.”

Amin nodded; Amin always said learning has no end, and he lived by that saying—and if he was in America, it would be easier for her to visit him, since Hong Kong residents could get to America far more easily than to the mainland.

They discussed Wei Ming’s other songs—“Qing Ping Diao,” “Pi Pa Xing,” “You Lan Cao,” etc.—among them, “Qing Ping Diao” was an unpublished posthumous work by Deng Lijun years later, later performed by Wang Fei.

A standard album usually contains twelve songs; together they’d written eleven, one short.

So they opened their copy of “Three Hundred Tang and Song Ci Poems,” singing, playing, and humming nonstop, and before Wei Ming left, they created one more: “Que Qiao Xian.”

This centuries-old most famous poem about the Qixi Festival became, through their collaboration, a sweet, warm duet.

As Amin was fretting over who to pick for the duet, Wei Ming asked: “Have you decided on the album title yet?”

Amin nodded; originally she’d wanted to take three characters from “Chai Tou Feng”—“Cuo Cuo Cuo”—because she and Wei Ming had been quarreling then.

But now she’d thought it through: “The album title will be ‘Mo Mo Mo.’”

Also from “Chai Tou Feng,” “Mo Mo Mo” means “let it be”—it sounds passive, but actually reflects her state of acceptance.

Let it be—he and Melinda’s lingering ties are his to keep; after all, they were first loves.

Let it be—if he has other lovers on the mainland, it doesn’t matter; after all, I wasn’t there to accompany him then.

Let it be—even if he and Lizi have something, I won’t care; after all, she’s older, and I’d even want to pat her head.

But the title of “senior wife” must be mine!

“Senior wife? I want it too.”

In the pool of the Sihe Academy on Nanshuogu Lane, Zhu Lin and Gong Yu were splashing and playing.

Just now Zhu Lin had asked Gong Yu about strange things in Hong Kong, and Gong Yu mentioned the Huo family she’d dined with—Qingniao Company had Huo family investment.

The conversation naturally turned to the legendary old Huo, then to his three wives.

Zhu Lin immediately perked up: Three? Even more than little Wei!

“Is that legal?” she asked.

“Of course it was legal,” Gong Yu said, seeing Zhu Lin’s eyes gleaming, and immediately doused her hopes, “but it’s been abolished now—no chance.”

“Pity. Tell me more Hong Kong tycoon stories,” Zhu Lin said, eager—she’d always preferred tycoon romance novels brought by Wei Ming.

Gong Yu splashed water: “Though these wives were legally recognized, the differences were obvious—children on stage were mostly from the senior wife; Hong Kong tabloids said the old man had already written his will, leaving most of his estate to the senior wife’s children, so even though they were half-siblings, their relationships didn’t seem warm.”

Here, Gong Yu felt some worry—she didn’t want her child and Zhu Lin’s child fighting over inheritance, yet little Wei truly had substantial wealth, and it would only grow—money stirs the heart.

Zhu Lin swam up to Gong Yu: “Xue, who do you think should be the senior wife between us?”

Gong Yu laughed: “I’ll take it without hesitation—I met little Wei first, even before Melinda.”

Zhu Lin countered: “You want to be senior wife? I want it too—I’m older than you, shouldn’t respect for elders come first?”

“Four months older—you’re not even embarrassed.”

“A little older is still older. But don’t worry—no matter whose child is born, I’ll treat them as my own. I won’t let them fight over money.”

Gong Yu smiled, not arguing further—this talk was pointless now; whoever got pregnant first would marry first.

Even if she became senior wife, she’d still treat Lin’s child as her own.

Having heard too many Hong Kong tycoon feuds over money, she didn’t want their family to become cold and soulless—and luckily, little Wei’s wealth paled beside Hong Kong’s tycoons.

The sun set; they wrapped themselves in towels and returned to their room to watch videotapes. Gong Yu had brought many new films again, which Lin loved—her window to the outside world.

“When are you going back to Hong Kong?” Zhu Lin asked, watching TV.

Gong Yu: “Wait for little Wei—he’ll go back to Hong Kong, and I’ll go with him.”

Zhu Lin: “I wonder when he’ll return—maybe he’s having too much fun in Hong Kong.”

With all twelve songs for the Mandarin classical album “Mo Mo Mo” ready, Wei Ming prepared to return to Beijing—he missed his two sisters at home, and Wei Hong wanted to say goodbye to her classmates.

After this semester, she’d be going abroad for graduate studies, while her classmates would remain to finish their senior year.

Before leaving, several matters were settled.

First, the key roles of father and mother in “Home Alone”—the mother had been successfully cast as Xiao Fangfang, who would sing “Only Mother Is Best” again for a nostalgic punch.

The father was self-recommended by Huang Baiming—he was the right age, one year older than Xiao Fangfang, and starring in “Home Alone” gave him a convenient excuse to direct the film, which Wei Ming was delighted by.

Also, Kuangren Comics officially changed its name to Minglong Media, and a youth entertainment magazine titled “Yes!” had been approved.

Minglong had acquired a printing factory and a small newspaper with over ten thousand copies in circulation, becoming a genuine media company.

Diversifying business operations was preparation for a future IPO—while the company currently had no cash shortage, if it ever wanted to produce animation or expand internationally, funding gaps would be large; an IPO was a good solution.

On the other side, Langning Company established a subsidiary, Bubugao Electronics, holding 90% equity, with the remaining 10% invested in cash by Minglong Media; both companies signed a strategic partnership agreement, granting Minglong Comics’ IPs priority collaboration with Langning Bubugao.

Langning Toys assigned claw machines, blind-box machines, and some remote-control toys to Bubugao Electronics, and established an electronic games division and game hardware division; Wei Lingling brought over several specialists from Taiwan to begin developing Zhonghua Fangkuai and No. 1 Handheld.

She’d also found a semiconductor supplier in Taiwan and had her uncle invest in the company—they’d become one family, no longer vulnerable to supply blockades.

Her aunt was now closely watching Nintendo and Atari, still hoping to buy Atari to shorten R&D time.

Wei Lingling said: “So my mood is complicated—I hope Nintendo succeeds, eats into Atari’s market share, and devalues Atari, but I also fear they’ll succeed too well, making it hard for us to wrest market share from Nintendo later.”

Wei Ming smiled: “So how’s Nintendo’s stock doing now?”

Wei Lingling: “The market is extremely bullish—your one million U.S. dollars is nearly turned into two million.”

Hearing this, Wei Hong froze: “Brother, you had a stock like this and didn’t tell me? You know how hard it is for me in the Hong Kong market—I barely found two promising stocks, and these past few days I’ve only made 15%.”