Chapter 88: A Young Man Arrives at the Cultural Congress (1010 Requests First Subscription!)

Hearing Chen Jiangong’s words, Mei Wenhua completely gave up and simply perked up his ears to eavesdrop.

Wei Ming was also puzzled: the Cultural Congress was nearly over—why suddenly think of me?

Chen Jiangong: “Let me tell you slowly…”

It turned out that tonight the Poetry Magazine Society was hosting a poetry recital and singing evening to celebrate the successful convening of the Cultural Congress.

The famous actor and director from Shanghai Film Studio, Sun Daolin, had prepared a recitation of “Ideal.”

After learning of this, Wu Zuxiang suggested they invite the original author.

As a result, Mr. Mao Dun personally approved it, and Wei Ming caught the last train to the Cultural Congress—he could attend the final three days of events.

Tonight’s recital evening was mandatory; Poetry Magazine specifically invited him, and the editor wanted to chat with him about whether poems like “Far and Near” could be submitted directly to the magazine.

Wei Ming: “So does that mean I don’t have to go to work these three days without it counting as absenteeism?”

Chen Jiangong: “Of course! I haven’t attended class for half a month already, and it doesn’t count as truancy—plus, they even provide meals!”

Mei Wenhua drooled two streams of saliva in envy.

Originally Wei Ming was going to find Mei Linda to pick up the tapes, but now he got up immediately, changed clothes, and prepared to head to the Great Hall!

The key was to bring his camera—he even taught Chen Jiangong how to use it on the way, in case he met any admired seniors and needed him to take photos with him.

However, today’s daytime activities were rather dull—just elections.

After Guo Moruo’s death, the Writers’ Association had no official chairman; previously, Mr. Mao Dun had shouldered the burden, and today marked a transition of power.

Mr. Mao Dun was already 83 years old and had long been in poor health; this time he finally stepped down, retaining only the title of “Honorary Chairman.”

Since Wei Ming was not yet a formal member of the Writers’ Association, he had no voting rights and could only sit quietly, smiling.

Only during the mid-session break, when free movement was allowed, could he take a few photos—and he was bold enough to approach Old Ba, whom he already knew, and through him met Old Cao and Mr. Mao Dun.

“Old Chen, make sure you shoot well—don’t shake your hand!”

Thanks to Wei Ming’s boldness, he secured a group photo and managed to gather “Mao, Ba, and Cao” all at once—too bad the other three had already passed away; the legendary “Lu, Guo, Mao, Ba, Cao, Wei” would never reunite.

When returning the camera to Wei Ming, Chen Jiangong wiped his brow: “You’re really brave!”

“The brave enjoy the world first” had become the most fitting description of Wei Ming among those who knew him; afterward, Old Ba even told two old friends about Wei Ming’s audacity.

“He adores Mr. Lu Xun and Mr. Lao She the most, yet he sweet-talked me into giving him a signed book—hahaha!” The old man didn’t mind at all and treated it as a delightful anecdote.

At lunch, several familiar people gathered at one table; everyone beside Wei Ming was from Peking University—Wu Zuxiang, Chen Jiangong, and others.

His presence here stood out sharply because he was so young.

Everyone attending this congress, even if not an elderly artist, had achieved some recognition in the cultural field.

Before Wei Ming arrived, the youngest person was probably Li Xiuming from Beijing Film Studio—she was 26, one year younger than Snow Sister, and Snow Sister’s lifelong rival; Snow Sister had lost several auditions to her.

Li Xiuming hadn’t yet reached the peak of her acting career, but she had already collaborated with three great directors: Xie Jin, Xie Tian, and Xie Tieli.

Even Liu Xiaoqing was avoiding her sharp edge; only Chen Chong could match her—but this one had firmly decided to study abroad, meaning Shanghai Film Studio had wasted its investment.

Because of his youth, many people were asking who this young man was; mention “Duck First to Know,” “Ideal,” or “Er Niu,” and at least one person would have heard of them, followed by exclamations of “He’s so young!”

The morning was elections; the afternoon was a literary seminar—Wei Ming still had no chance to speak and sat quietly all day, finally enduring until evening when he could watch the performances.

Meanwhile, on the Peking University campus, though Wei Ming was absent, his presence felt even stronger than when he was there.

Mei Linda waited all day without Wei Ming coming to collect the tapes; she assumed he was trying to dodge payment, so she decided to take the initiative.

She first went to the western gate of Shao Yuan, where two guards were stationed.

“Excuse me, do you know where Wei Ming lives?” Mei Linda asked directly.

Under the guards’ mixed expressions of gossiping curiosity and envy, she was directed to the south gate.

At six p.m., the south gate was packed with people; Mei Linda stood right outside the guard booth and asked: “Where’s Wei Ming? Is he hiding from me?”

The name Wei Ming was known to nearly everyone at Peking University.

And this girl before them—she was unmistakably a foreign student, tall and striking.

These two clearly had a story!

People who wanted to leave stopped leaving; those wanting to enter rushed in to claim good viewing spots.

The on-duty guard was utterly baffled, nervous facing this confident foreign woman, his limited English vocabulary now scrambled and unusable.

“Uh, that, um, this, I mean…”

Finally, Qiao Feng returned and told her: “Wei Ming isn’t here—what do you want with him?”

“When will he be back?”

“He should be back soon,” Qiao Feng knew Wei Ming had gone to the Cultural Congress.

Mei Linda wasn’t foolish—she didn’t mention their deal: “If he returns, please find me immediately—I’m in a hurry.”

Qiao Feng nodded; Mei Linda flipped her long hair and walked away.

The onlookers groaned in disappointment: “That’s it? Just a few words—this scene was too short!”

But short scenes leave more room for reinterpretation and creative freedom!

“Did you hear? Wei Ming, the writer, is dating a foreign student!”

“Heard? Wei Ming’s dating a foreign girl! Gorgeous and elegant—she’s making all of us Chinese proud!”

“Wow, that foreigner’s so tall—if they have kids, they’ll be perfect for basketball! Wei Ming is my god—he got a foreign girl pregnant! Yes, yes, the red-haired one!”

“Heard? Wei Ming’s getting married—his bride’s a foreigner…”

Eventually, this bizarre rumor even reached Wei Anping’s ears.

He was picking up Xile up from school when some employee’s mother-in-law congratulated him: “Director Wei, congratulations! Now you have overseas connections!”

“What?”

“You don’t know? Your nephew’s going to emigrate with his girlfriend—to England!”

Wei Anping: “???”

…

At the poetry recital and singing evening, Sun Daolin was chatting with Wei Ming.

He was now a Shanghai resident, formerly from Yanjing, and an alumnus of Yenching University; he joked with Wei Ming that since he worked at Peking University, they were alumni.

!

He then went on to discuss the poem “Ideal” with Wei Ming.

On stage, actor Wang Tiecheng was performing a scene from his role in “The Great River Flows.”

But Wei Ming’s attention remained fixed on Ms. Xia Meng and the woman beside her, Deng Nainai.

He was wondering who he could ask to take his photo—his photography partner Chen Jiangong had returned to campus after the afternoon seminar.

Though there were some twists, Wei Ming ultimately obtained this precious photo—taken by Old Sun, who had recited Wei Ming’s poem and thus owed him a favor.

The two ladies, seeing Wei Ming as just a boy, were very cooperative and encouraged him to write more good works.

Ms. Xia Meng had actually retired from the entertainment industry many years ago; she had lived in Canada and recently returned to Hong Kong to run a clothing store with her husband.

But after being invited to the Cultural Congress and encouraged by several leaders, she returned to filmmaking; back in Hong Kong, she secured investment from the Ho family and founded Qingniao Film Company.

The company’s films were all masterpieces, but too few, released too slowly, and not very profitable.

Holding his camera, Wei Ming sighed: What a truly rewarding day!

On the way back, campus bus staff drove him home; by the time he arrived, he was nearly asleep.

But seeing Uncle Anping and Brother Qiao Feng squatting by the guard booth, and hit by the night breeze, he instantly snapped awake.

“What’s going on?”

Uncle Anping: “You’ve become famous today!”

Wei Ming: “Did people find out I went to the Cultural Congress?”

Brother Qiao: “Bigger than that.”

“Impossible—what could possibly be bigger?”

Brother Qiao: “That red-haired foreign girl came looking for you—told you to find her immediately after returning. The campus is buzzing—everyone says you’re going to emigrate with her.”

“What?!”

Seeing his reaction, Wei Anping sighed in relief: “So you’re not planning to emigrate.”

Wei Ming: “I’m not even close to her!”

Uncle Anping: “So you’re not dating?”

“No!”

Uncle Anping smiled: “Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter—our country doesn’t ban international marriages.”

In 1977, French student Odile Piercan married Chinese student Tian Li in Shanghai, pioneering the trend; in 1978, Shanghai recorded 148 international marriages—this year even more, as Shanghai has always been the frontline for such unions.

Wei Ming: “You’re overthinking this—I just bought some things from her, and I haven’t paid yet.”

“Huh?”

At first Wei Anping had worried, but hearing the truth, he felt oddly disappointed—his nephew was so outstanding, shouldn’t he attract foreign girls?

Wei Ming added: “Has this caused bad publicity? Should I issue a public statement?”

He’d always been poor at sensing sensitivity—his mindset still lingered in 2025.

Wei Anping shook his head: “You’re not faculty—only faculty face moral issues like student-teacher relationships. You’re support staff, so no need. But people are overly sensitive about anything involving foreigners—next time, you go see her, don’t let her come looking for you.”

Wei Ming nodded: “I’ll go see her now—wait, isn’t it too late at night?”

Wei Anping laughed helplessly: “Just go now, or she’ll show up again tomorrow.”

This time, Xiao Cha came down from the foreign student dormitory and told Wei Ming: “I’ve already spoken to Mei Linda—she knows she caused you trouble.”

Wei Ming shook his head: “It’s no big deal.”

Zha Jianying: “But you’ve landed in trouble—she recorded twelve tapes for you and’s waiting for payment.”

Wei Ming’s blood pressure and voice shot up simultaneously: “What?!”

(Done for today—total of thirty thousand characters! Whether I can add more updates today depends on you, dear readers~)

(End of chapter)