[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-506":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Rising in 1979",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2261214,4412,"Chapter 506: Final Shot Wrapped, New Home, Guests Arrive","rising-in-1979-chapter-506",506,"\u003Cp>“Young man, you’re lucky—the last box of ‘Mo Mo Mo’ is yours!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, boss.” Wu Qilong accepted the cassette with both hands, a hint of relief flashing across his stoic face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had never paid much attention to Zhou Hui before, but after hearing this album played by his teammates at training, he was instantly hooked—how could anyone have such a soft, crystal-clear voice?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Taiwan, many teenagers like Wu Qilong were encountering Zhou Hui for the first time—some drawn by the music, others purely by her looks, and the latter group was far from small.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The most influential event was the MV for “Yue Man Xi Lou” airing on Taiwan’s CTV, instantly winning countless hearts with its dynamic portrayal of bride Zhou Hui.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The song and the album’s influence spread rapidly, fueled by the MV’s popularity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, some noticed the male lead in the MV—those familiar with mainland conditions were stunned to realize it wasn’t anyone else but mainland’s most famous young writer, Wei Ming!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When did mainland celebrities start appearing so openly on Taiwan’s three major TV networks?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some who harbored hostility toward the mainland began filing complaints, hoping to have the MV pulled—but their complaints vanished into thin air; not only did nothing happen, but the other two major networks, ATV and TTV, began airing the MV even more frequently than Hong Kong’s TVB and ATV.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, Zhou Hui’s posters were sold across Taiwan’s major cities, and sales of “Mo Mo Mo” soared steadily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many marveled at how PolyGram, the label behind this album, seemed to have connections everywhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Taiwan’s local music circles began taking notice of this Hong Kong-originated Chinese-style trend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this time, Chang Ai-chia had already broken up with Lo Ta-yu but remained friends; she had joined Xinyicheng and was in charge of its Taiwan operations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This year, she spearheaded the production of a film called “Taking a Ride,” which was a box office success, but even more remarkable was its soundtrack, sung by Su Rui, which sold out in Taiwan—its influence second only to Lo Ta-yu’s “Zhi Hu Zhe Ye” from last year, and even outsold it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The main creators of this soundtrack included Lo Ta-yu and Hou Dejian, among others—Lo Ta-yu wrote the lyrics for “Jiu Gan Tang Mai Wu” and “Yi Yang De Yue Guang,” and composed and wrote the lyrics for “Shi Fou.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This year—more precisely, next month—Lo Ta-yu was set to release his second solo album, “The Master of the Future,” and at this moment, Chang Ai-chia brought him “Mo Mo Mo.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Whose is this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s Zhou Hui’s Mandarin album from Hong Kong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lo Ta-yu took it and said: “Then it’s Wei Ming’s work—I really like his ‘Dongfang Zhi Zhu,’ oh, and ‘Tomorrow Will Be Better,’ but I think it’s too gentle. Tomorrow isn’t necessarily better.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two sat down to listen. The first song, “Yue Man Xi Lou,” made Lo Ta-yu glance at the composer listed on the cover: “This is just the Deng Lijun style—didn’t expect Wei Ming would go retro. Not cool at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Just keep listening,” Chang Ai-chia brushed her hand along Lo Ta-yu’s leg.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lo Ta-yu awkwardly tugged at his mouth—he knew Chang Ai-chia was divorced, but their relationship was beyond repair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a few songs, when they reached “Zhi Fu Zhi Fu,” Lo Ta-yu nodded: “No surprise—it’s Wei Ming. The melody here is fresh, clearly crafted with great effort, and has strong guidance for pop music. But I’m not interested in this kind of subject matter anymore—I believe music can be a sharper weapon than a knife, cutting open society’s dark underbelly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet most ordinary people listened to music only for entertainment, for relaxation—those who treated music as literature were always a minority, which is why Lo Ta-yu’s music, though widely discussed and highly influential, never reached top-tier sales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>News quickly reached Hong Kong: all 100,000 copies of the album in Taiwan had sold out—demand urgent shipments!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Hong Kong’s local sales stood at 80,000, surpassing platinum status.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Hui had proven with her second full album that she was no fleeting pop girl—“Mo Mo Mo” demonstrated her strength in singing and composition, and her future potential.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And her fan appeal—this was a Mandarin album, yet it sold this fast; no one in Hong Kong today could match it, not even last year’s “Dan Dan You Qing,” which still fell short. Zhou Hui’s local sales in Hong Kong were rock-solid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides accelerating album production, Minglong Media’s “Yes!” also entered Taiwan, and its first issue, featuring Zhou Hui on the cover and in photo spreads, was snapped up by fans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Also, Niannüjiao Milk Tea shops became wildly popular in Taiwan because the interview mentioned Zhou Hui as the original inventor of bubble tea, later refined by her mother into its final form.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fans directly channeled their affection for Zhou Hui into this chain of milk tea shops—drinking milk tea became one of the signature behaviors of Vivian fans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perhaps due to Taiwan’s love for food, Niannüjiao expanded more smoothly than Holiland fast food; during this time, Zhou Ma even moved to Taiwan to oversee branch construction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a result, Amin became even more unrestrained—she had moved into Wei Ming’s home in Tung Lo Wan and now found Hong Jie somewhat annoying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Hong Jie still brought in money—she might be a light bulb, but she glowed with golden light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All Wei Ming and Amin could do was come home late, and do what they couldn’t do at home, outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today they came home very late because Tan Yonglin treated them, inviting the rising star Amin to join their concert.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t his own concert—it was the reunion concert of the Wynners, scheduled for early September at the Hong Kong Coliseum, the second major concert series after Xu Guanjie’s at the Coliseum. Tan Yonglin worried he couldn’t afford it alone, so he pulled in his bandmates.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Hui readily agreed—she believed only big stages could truly train a singer; she didn’t want to be a studio-only vocalist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aside from dating, she never skipped daily vocal training during the summer break.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Aming, I wonder if you have time...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m going to study in the U.S.—why didn’t you hold this concert earlier?” Wei Ming smiled, spreading his hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know. I mean, write me a song.” Tan Yonglin rubbed his hands—he knew Mei Yanfang and Zhang Guorong had both received new songs from Wei Ming, so he couldn’t hold back any longer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although PolyGram’s global catalog gave him access to plenty of Japanese compositions he could cover, and though he was now learning to write his own music, he still wanted to collaborate with the legendary musician Wei Ming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming treated his Hong Kong music circle friends fairly: “Sure, I’ll write you one before I leave. Any requests?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm, preferably Cantonese, and... I’d like to try singing and dancing too.” Tan Yonglin twisted his body, trying to prove he could sing and dance—even though he was already 33.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Singing and dancing? That meant competing with Zhang Guorong for that market—Wei Ming already had a rough idea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few days later, he delivered “Storm Goddess Lorelei,” a song from his future album of the same name, originally composed by Japanese musician Serizawa Hiroaki and also the theme song for “Dragon Brother Tiger Brother”—though “Dragon Brother Tiger Brother” hadn’t even been conceived yet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tan Yonglin was thrilled with this energetic track and planned to make it the lead single and title of his next album.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Cheng Tung-han specially invited Wei Ming to dinner—to thank him for writing the song for Tan Yonglin, and also for letting his son Zhongji appear in “Home Alone.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Wei Ming needed PolyGram’s global distribution channels—he planned to invite Satoda Masashi next year to produce a Japanese album for Amin, expanding her influence across Asia.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could you call yourself an Asian diva if you hadn’t conquered Japan?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hong Kong’s music scene had long coveted Japan’s market—sales often reached millions, and concert spending was enormous. Yet only Deng Lijun and Ouyang Fei-fei, that’s Ouyang Nana’s aunt, could make any headway in Japan, even with Hong Kong and Taiwan combined.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In half a month, “Mo Mo Mo” sold 200,000 copies in Taiwan and 150,000 in Hong Kong. PolyGram decided to launch sales across Southeast Asia—Singapore and Malaysia had strong demand for Mandarin songs, and Korea was worth a shot too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Amin’s influence in the music scene began seeping into film.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Final shot wrapped!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On this day, “Home Alone” finished filming. Huang Baiming once again approached Wei Ming, asking to buy the rights to “Happy Ghost” for Xinyicheng to adapt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And we’re willing to offer a sky-high fee to invite Vivian as the lead.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How sky-high?” Wei Ming smiled. “Shaw Brothers and Golden Harvest both wanted to invite Amin to act—I turned them all down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huang Baiming gritted his teeth: “One million—how’s that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He and his apprentice Gao Zhisen together earned only one million in fees—yet now he was willing to spend a million on a teenage girl because he knew no one would pay to see a movie just for Huang Baiming, but countless people would pay to see Zhou Hui’s silver screen debut—certainly at least several hundred thousand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Although one million was an unprecedented fee for a female actress in Hong Kong, this investment would surely pay for itself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Wei Ming shook his head: “We can collaborate on ‘Happy Ghost,’ but not Amin.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t opposed to Amin acting—in fact, the more famous she became, the more excited he was; the same went for the two sisters. Perhaps this was some male quirk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But singing alone wouldn’t make her a superstar in Hong Kong—at least not in the 80s and 90s. To gain sufficient influence in the mainland, she needed film and TV representative works; her image had to be known through screen appearances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Happy Ghost” was an ensemble piece—a male ghost entangled with three or four girls. Even if Amin got more screen time, Wei Ming still felt it didn’t match her current status.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, Amin had only average acting talent, so if she were to act, Wei Ming would have to carefully select and tailor the role—how could he waste her on a mere million to make someone else’s film?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In fact, after appearing in the MV and making a cameo, Amin had developed a real interest in acting; whenever they were alone, they often acted out scenes for fun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing Wei Ming agreed only partially, Huang Baiming was disappointed—but at least he had “Happy Ghost,” which was enough to satisfy Mai Jia and Xinyicheng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Wei Ming added: “But I won’t sell the rights to ‘Happy Ghost.’ If Xinyicheng wants to make it, they must agree to co-invest with Hong Kong Dream Factory.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If Wei Ming hadn’t been too busy to manage Hong Kong Dream Factory, and if Li Zhi hadn’t been leaving for the U.S., they could have developed “Happy Ghost” themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah, this~” Huang Baiming hesitated—movie profits were slim, and Xinyicheng already had many shareholders; co-investing would dilute profits further. Would Baldy even agree?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming patted Huang Baiming’s shoulder: “Talk it over with Mai Jia. Golden Harvest has already agreed to co-invest in ‘The Five Lucky Stars’ Part Two with Minglong and Dream Factory—it’s about sharing risk. Now, let’s eat.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Minglong and Dream Factory would each hold only ten percent, with Golden Harvest still leading—but for “Happy Ghost,” Wei Ming hoped for a 50-50 split, which put pressure on Huang Baiming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wrap party was well-attended; right after the final scene, everyone went straight to the restaurant. The scene showed Mother Xiao Fangfang returning home on Amin’s private jet, reuniting with her son, while the father and the other four older siblings arrived on the delayed flight—seven family members reunited on the day after Christmas.\u003C\u002Fp>",1973,"2026-06-19T16:30:59.356Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","8e70d7794f62b00d19e2d4e722f2bc1e57174c9c46e9a401d7d4e174a00fe34f","rising-in-1979-chapter-507","rising-in-1979-chapter-505",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]