[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-rising-in-1979":3,"chapter-rising-in-1979-rising-in-1979-chapter-6":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},2260714,4412,"Chapter 6: Southern Gong Ying, Northern Zhu Lin (Requesting Monthly Votes!)","rising-in-1979-chapter-6",6,"\u003Cp>Wei Ming wanted to submit a manuscript — this was something Lu Xiaoyan never expected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When chatting with her husband yesterday, she learned Wei Ming’s college entrance exam score was from a 211 school, and assumed the kid had no academic talent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Could he have a gift for writing?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Xiaoyan still took it, but she made her position clear: “Even though we’re relatives, our magazine has its own submission standards and procedures — even if I approve it, if the editor-in-chief rejects it, it’s useless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I understand — three rounds of review and three rounds of editing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Xiaoyan was surprised; the kid knew quite a bit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What genre did you write? Poetry or fiction?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s a fairy tale, about five thousand words.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Xiaoyan was even more astonished — a high school student, at an age where writing an 800-word essay is a struggle, had written a five-thousand-word fairy tale?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wait! He found out yesterday that I work at Children’s Literature, and today he shows up with a fairy tale? Could it be…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How long did it take you to write this fairy tale?” she asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I stayed up all night writing it,” he answered honestly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So it really was written just now!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And five thousand words in one night? That’s utterly unbelievable! Can it even be read?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lu Xiaoyan really wanted to say: Are you mocking me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But seeing Wei Ming’s sincere eyes, she put the envelope into her bag right in front of him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Back at the editorial office, Lu Xiaoyan opened the envelope immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The title was “The Toothless Tiger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After reading just the opening paragraph, she dropped her condescension; a look of delight appeared on her face — this little Ming had something to him!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At Beijing Railway Station’s waiting hall, Wei Ming and Wei Jiefang were saying their final goodbyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t overwork yourselves when you’re on the job. I’m not worried about you, but my mother is too hardworking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang’s face turned red: “You mean I don’t work hard, then!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did have a habit of slacking off, but since he knew how to treat livestock, his laziness was justified — no one could blame him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after the household contract responsibility system was introduced, Old Wei pushed himself hard — not only did he work his own farmland, he also took a job at the county lime factory, and early on damaged his lungs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming added: “And Xiao Hong — don’t make her work. Those labor points aren’t worth much. If she gets into university, everything will be fine. She’s even better suited than me to go to college.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his past life, despite all the hardship, his sister Wei Hong had still gotten into Beijing Normal University — she was the county’s top scorer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I know, I know!” Wei Jiefang replied impatiently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His hand had been clenched in his pocket all along, and his son’s rapid-fire instructions had given him no chance to pull it out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming continued: “I’ll write to you. Have Xiao Hong write to me when she has time. If you can, send me a jar of Mom’s spicy sauce.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Wei Anping walked over and pointed at his watch: “Jiefang, the train’s about to depart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Jiefang grunted, shoved the item in his hand into Wei Ming’s pocket, grabbed his bag, and barked two words: “I’m off!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming felt inside — two crumpled ten-yuan notes. This was probably one of the family’s few savings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wanted to give them back, but Wei Jiefang gave him no chance — he had already vanished into the crowd, like a raindrop falling into a lake, impossible to tell which bent, hunched Chinese father’s back belonged to Old Wei.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the train, Wei Jiefang squatted with a group of standing passengers between two carriages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hugged his bag tightly — the most important thing inside was the fried duck bones he’d saved for his wife and daughter; even through the bag, the aroma could be smelled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time he got home, it’d be cold — he wondered if the scent would fade too. Hmph, lucky for the people around him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking this, he took a deep, greedy breath — as if inhaling more meant others would get less.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other side, Wei Anping took Wei Ming and his two children by bus back to Peking University to check out of the dorm and complete employment formalities; training began tomorrow, and they’d start work officially in a few days.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today was September 1st — perfect for receiving a full month’s salary.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When they returned to the Peking University guesthouse to check out, someone was just checking in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“For now, stay here,” a middle-aged man said kindly to a young man with thick eyebrows. “Figure out what major you like, then we’ll talk to the department. Or if you don’t like Peking University, you can switch schools.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He spoke softly, but Wei Ming heard — and Wei Anping heard too, his face flushing red and pale in turns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thinking of his own words yesterday, he felt slapped — hard, stinging slaps across the face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You can pick any major, switch any university — who do you think you are?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So he stepped forward and asked the middle-aged man: “Comrade, which department are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man didn’t want to answer. Manager Wang quickly pulled Wei Anping aside and whispered a few words; Wei Anping then understood, and without another word, led Wei Ming and Xile away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside the guesthouse, he explained: “He’s from the United Front. Might involve confidentiality rules. That young man is probably from overseas — judging by his posture, he seems military-trained.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Overseas? And a veteran?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming suddenly recalled a name — if that man were a bit fatter, wore glasses, and held a basketball in his arms… swim, swim, swim~\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm, no wonder Peking University is so impressive — talent everywhere!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next, Uncle Anping took Wei Ming to the security department to complete his employment, received his work ID and labor protection gear — from now on, he was officially affiliated with an organization, even if only as a temporary worker.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His salary was 18.5 yuan per month, with a grain ration of 36 catties.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His monthly pay was less than a college student’s scholarship, but his grain ration was roughly the same as a student’s — rice, flour, and coarse grains listed separately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The grain ration didn’t mean “free meals” — it just meant you could eat up to that amount per month; you still had to pay for every meal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With 18.5 yuan, he could barely afford food — even braised tofu had to be eaten sparingly. Luckily, the school provided free dormitory housing; the biggest expense was just filling his stomach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Uncle Anping was ready to retire. He told Wei Ming: “I’m in office 404 upstairs. If you need anything, come to my office or my home. I won’t give you money, but here’s some extra nationwide grain coupons — keep them for yourself or trade them with colleagues for things you need.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, Uncle!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Anping gave one final warning: “Today you called me ‘Uncle’ — I’ll accept it. But tomorrow, when you’re on campus, how should you address me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming thought for a moment and asked: “Director Wei?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Anping burst out laughing and patted Wei Ming’s shoulder: “You’re a sharp kid!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Wei Anping left, Wei Ming filled out two more forms, waited a few minutes, then the head of the campus security team, Commander Qiao, came to fetch him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wei Ming? Come with me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The commander looked to be around thirty, with a square, rugged face. Wei Ming instantly knew his origin — he was slightly shorter than Wei Ming, maybe one meter eighty, but far more muscular; his presence suggested he could lift Wei Ming with one hand — a true Shandong giant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Commander Qiao, you’re from Shandong, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh? You picked that up?” Commander Qiao laughed. “Just call me Brother Feng.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming froze: “Which feng?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The ‘feng’ from the red leaves of Fragrant Hills. How’s that? Literary, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm, honestly, a bit cheesy — but paired with the surname, it’s better: Qiao Feng!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brother Feng, have you heard of ‘Northern Qiao Feng, Southern Murong’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qiao Feng suddenly tensed: “What? How do you know my girlfriend’s name?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Qiao Feng had never heard of “Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils,” but his girlfriend happened to be named Mu Rong — Mu being her surname, Rong her given name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wei Ming had to explain it came from a wuxia novel — pure coincidence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Northern Qiao Feng, Southern Murong~ Hah, interesting. Who came up with that?” Brother Feng chuckled to himself, as if recalling something sweet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were many similar northern-southern nicknames — like “Southern Mao, Northern Ma,” or “Southern Emperor, Northern Beggar.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And of course — Southern Gong Ying, Northern Zhu Lin…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(Already signed — please vote for monthly tickets and post more pictures!)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1510,"2026-06-19T16:30:57.111Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","21573943e7df294fcae5f901427abb9b3a5e917324f6a5744f4ccc6e2ba0cbec","rising-in-1979-chapter-7","rising-in-1979-chapter-5",509,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Frising-in-1979-cover.jpg"]