Chapter 90: The Daughter King Says

Biaozi excitedly clung to Wei Ming’s bed: “Ming-ge, you finally noticed my strengths!”

Wei Ming: “Not as long as mine.”

Mei Wenhua: “Pfft!”

Biaozi added: “Ming-ge, tell me what to do—I’ll give you full support!”

Wei Ming suddenly sighed: “Forget it. I won’t write it after all.”

“What? How can you not write it!” Biaozi panicked; Xiao Mei laughed.

“You know—I don’t understand martial arts. To write this novel well, I’d have to visit Shichahai and learn firsthand. You’re from there, so you’d be perfect to take me in. But you don’t want me meeting your Yanzi. So forget it—I won’t go. I won’t write it.” Saying this, Wei Ming got up to head to the assembly hall.

“Oh, that’s all? You scared me! Just go ahead—I’ll treat Wu Coach to dinner and have him explain everything. He knows real kung fu.”

Wei Ming smiled: “Oh, so you’re not worried anymore?”

Biaozi grinned: “Why worry? Yanzi’s in Hangzhou for the competition.”

Wei Ming: Damn!

He immediately asked: “So did all the top students go?”

“Not many—mostly Li Lianjie’s cohort, one year below us.”

Wei Ming: Biao, I think you should be more worried~

“Ming-ge, what’s the title of your wuxia novel?” he asked.

Wei Ming: “Heroes Emerge in Youth.”

Biaozi immediately cheered: “Great! Perfect title—it’s literally my life story!”

In 1983, Miss Xia Meng’s Green Bird Film Company co-produced with Sichuan Film Studio a wuxia film featuring almost entirely child actors: Heroes Emerge in Youth.

Upon release, it outperformed Li Lianjie’s Shaolin Kids, Xie Jin’s Flowers on the Mountain, and Our Cow Bai Sui, becoming the 1984 film with the highest attendance and most screenings, earning Sichuan Studio 2.3 million yuan!

It was later rebroadcast multiple times on film channels; the characters Little Wife and Big Husband became household names, and it was later adapted into a TV series, starring Wu Lei.

Wei Ming conceived this idea after meeting Xia Meng—not only to connect with left-leaning filmmakers but also to earn royalties from Story Magazine. He was already mentally drafting the story.

At the assembly hall, Wei Ming first went to the film crew side, hoping to get recognized—if Er Niu and The Two Donkeys could catch the eye of major studios and reach the big screen, that’d be ideal.

A screenplay pays far more than magazine publication; if partnered with Hong Kong, the price would be even higher.

At this stage, there were no royalties; expecting to buy a car or house through writing was unrealistic. Determined to advance, Wei Ming decided to test the waters of cinema.

The first person he saw was Director Song Chong from Shanghai Film Studio—Xue-jie’s benefactor; Song had directed Gong Ying’s masterpieces Good Things Take Time and The Happy Bachelor, and later became head of Beijing Film Studio.

Song Chong’s film Thunderbolt Baby was nearly universally known.

Years after Xue-jie retired, her only comeback role was in Song’s film.

Since Wei Ming already knew Sun Daolin, he introduced Wei Ming to many at Shanghai Film Studio.

Too bad he didn’t see Director Xie Jin; in the 1980s, as the Fifth Generation emerged, a Third Generation director kept creating cinematic classics that still held up decades later—truly admirable.

Wei Ming also saw Old Master Yu Shizhi from the People’s Art Theatre; in his past life, when he joined the theatre, Old Master had mostly stepped back but never left the stage.

Too bad he didn’t see the other pillar, Old Master Lan Tianye—Wei Ming had deep ties with him.

In the 1990s, Wei Ming returned to Beijing because of the old man’s mentorship.

Since Wei Ming and Old Master Lan were from the same hometown, after The Investiture of the Gods aired, the old man returned home.

Wei Ming wrote an essay titled The Old Man Returns Home, catching the old man’s attention and earning a meeting. Coincidentally, the old man knew Wei Ming’s grandfather Wei Senhao and brought him into the People’s Art Theatre.

The Cultural Congress was now on its second-to-last day; no serious issues remained to be discussed. People chatted in small groups about daily life and upcoming work.

But he knew no one here. Though introduced to the Shanghai Film Studio crew, they spoke Shanghainese—he couldn’t understand, so he couldn’t join in. If Xue-jie were here, he could’ve joined easily.

As Wei Ming prepared to move on, he spotted a young man in military uniform, about his age, standing awkwardly in a corner, out of place.

Wei Ming immediately went over to introduce himself.

“Comrade, may I ask your relationship to Master Hou Baolin?”

The young man replied: “That’s my old man. I’m Hou’s third son. Don’t we look alike?”

Wei Ming: “Very much so. Pleased to meet you.”

Inner thought: Not as much as Hou Yaoming.

“What’s your name?” Hou Yaowen didn’t dare underestimate anyone who made it here.

“Wei Ming. I write novels. Don’t know how I ended up in this room.”

“I follow my father in quyi. He insisted I come meet film industry uncles and elders—but he didn’t come himself. How am I supposed to meet them?”

A nobody and a half-nobody started chatting. Now they were buddies; maybe someday they’d be uncle and nephew.

Though his father was a titan, Hou San hadn’t inherited all his skills. He was now in the Railway Art Troupe. Though he’d performed with Qian’er’s master, his influence remained modest.

Tonight’s performances featured quyi: Peking Opera, Yue Opera, Jingyun Drum, Henan Zhuizi, Yanjing Qinshu, Shanghai Tanci, comedy sketches, and xiangsheng. Over time, audience preference left only xiangsheng still active. Hou San and Wei Ming sat together as spectators, but Wei Ming sensed his longing for the stage.

Too bad the xiangsheng representative today was his father’s grand-disciple Kun Kun.

Watching Jiang Kun, two years younger, perform The Photo and other routines with such ease, Hou San envied his relaxed confidence.

After Jiang Kun finished, Guan Xiaotong’s grandfather took the stage—he was the master of Yanjing Qinshu, performing Yang Bajie Tours the Spring. His voice was far more pleasant than Guan Xiaotong’s.

Wei Ming scanned the crowd—too bad he didn’t see the representative of Jingxi Drum. Otherwise, he might’ve seen Liu Shishi’s grandfather.

The evening closed with Old Master Ma Sanli’s Ten O’Clock Starts. Only he could command a stage of this caliber.

Too bad he hadn’t seen him before the event; after, Ma Sanli left quickly. Wei Ming didn’t get to take a photo with Ma Lao and Hou Dashih—but he did get one with Hou Dashih, taken by Hou San.

Hearing Wei Ming was from Peking University, Hou Dashih chuckled: “We’ll meet again.”

Wei Ming wondered: What? Are you opening a special event at Peking University?

The next day, Wei Ming and Chen Jiangong rode in Master Liu’s car to the assembly hall for the closing ceremony of the Fourth Cultural Congress, which had lasted eighteen days and left a profound impact.

Wei Ming had gained a great deal—he had used up all his film rolls; now he would spend hours just developing photos.

!

“Master Liu, you guys go ahead. I’ll walk around the city.” Wei Ming didn’t plan to return to Peking University with them.

Master Liu said: “Where to? I’ll drop you off—just a quick drive.”

Chen Jiangong added: “Yeah, I’m not in a hurry.”

So Wei Ming asked Master Liu to drop him at the Health Research Institute.

“Why there? Are you unclean?” Master Liu’s mouth.

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“You already have a foreign friend,” Old Liu smirked. “Xiao Wei, be honest—was it real or just rumor?”

Wei Ming: “Which one? Pregnancy or going abroad?”

Even the mild-mannered Chen Jiangong couldn’t help eavesdropping. This was intense!

“You two actually did it?!” Old Liu startled, nearly rear-ending the tricycle ahead.

Wei Ming: “Impossible. We’ve met three times—just ordinary friends. All rumors.”

“Then who’s this friend at the Health Institute?”

“An ordinary friend with some business ties.” Wei Ming spoke solemnly.

Today he came to deliver tapes to Zhu Lin—arriving unannounced, he gave her a huge surprise.

“What songs are these?”

“Let me sing you a bit.”

“You can sing English songs?”

Wei Ming started singing: “When I was young I’d listen to the radio / waiting for my favorite songs...”

The song was beautiful and not too hard to sing. Though not about love, the melody instantly struck Zhu Lin.

Her eyes sparkled with little stars—how could such an outstanding boy exist? She wanted to raise one!

After singing, Wei Ming explained the Chinese meaning—the title “Yesterday Once More” summed it up well.

“Who sings this? Is it famous abroad?”

“Yes, very famous. The Carpenters—a brother-sister duo. The sister sings, the brother plays. This tape has mostly their songs from a few years ago. If you want more, I can find them for you.”

“Yes, I want them!”

Wei Ming: “Five yuan per tape.”

One sentence extinguished the little stars in Zhu Lin’s eyes.

Actually, Wei Ming was already generous—he didn’t mark up the price as a middleman and even delivered them personally.

Next time he wouldn’t deliver, so he told Zhu Lin: “I probably won’t come to the city soon. You can come to Peking University to find me.”

“Okay, good. I haven’t been to the Summer Palace in a long time.”

Wei Ming waved: “Bye~”

He took the bus back to Peking University and saw Liu Rulong slumped at the south gate, looking deeply troubled.

“What’s wrong, Ah Long?”

Liu Rulong: “Ah Ming, my dad might be in trouble!”

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(End of chapter)