Chapter 94: The Fiery Prelude to

What the hell is this? No beginning, no end.

Wei Ming guessed it was some faculty member’s kid writing to him, probably after reading the serialized “The Book of Heaven.”

But not many people know Wei Ming is Wei something, right?

Lu Xiaoyan: Plenty, plenty! I’ve notified every parent with kids!

Wei Ming took the letter down to change clothes for work; Biaozi had already changed and looked at Wei Ming with a sweet smile: “Seeing you and Sister Mei so affectionate, I feel like I’m seeing my future with Yanzi.”

Wei Ming pulled out the “Children’s Literature” given to him by Aunt Xiao Yan: “Melinda will return home after this semester ends, while I’ll root myself in this land—that’s our future.”

“Ah, you two are breaking up?!” Mei Wenhua exclaimed in delight.

“We never got together—don’t be fooled by appearances.”

Qiao Feng, lying in bed, rolled her eyes: You two idiots only think of Melinda, but you don’t even know about Zhu Lin!

Yesterday he went with Mu Rong to create humans again; afterward, Mu Rong mentioned Wei Ming gave Zhu Lin a music cassette—this wasn’t music at all, it was a clarion call to dig under the wall!

Mu Rong also said the day before, Zhu Lin’s date came to see her; they spoke a few words at the door and parted ways, didn’t walk together—looks like it won’t last.

His wife’s words made Qiao Feng start to waver—could Xiao Ming really like women older than him?

But if they do end up together, what happens to me? He calls me Brother Feng, my wife calls him Sister Lin’s husband, and I call him Sister Lin’s brother-in-law?

It wasn’t fully dark yet, so Wei Ming didn’t rush into Shao Garden—he first patrolled with Biaozi.

Peking University’s North and South Pavilions and the Russian Language Building form a “pin”-shaped architectural group.

When they reached the South Pavilion, they heard someone singing upstairs from the arts troupe: “Fine wine wafts fragrance, flowers burst in bloom, songs fly from my chest…”

Biaozi asked: “What song is this? Sounds familiar.”

“‘Praise Song.’”

“Right, right—who sings it?”

Wei Ming: “Hu Songhua—I showed you my photo with him just a few days ago.”

Hu Songhua also attended the Cultural Congress; he has a nephew named Hu Jun.

When they arrived at the North Pavilion, they saw a slender little boy sitting outside, head down, playing with ants.

Wei Ming leaned in and asked: “Are you Pu Shu from Apartment 13, Weixiu Garden?”

He was the neighbor’s child of Ping’an Uncle; Wei Ming had seen him during a movie before—he was two years older than Xile, and a future famous musician, stage name Pu Shu.

Pu Shu looked up, saw Wei Ming, and beamed: “You saw my letter!”

Wei Ming: “Letter? Oh, so you wrote that one—what’s your deal, pushing for an update?”

Pu Shu didn’t know what “pushing for an update” meant—he just knew he was agonizing over where “The Book of Heaven” had ended.

“Tell me if Dan Sheng learns the magic from the Book of Heaven, okay~” He even tugged at Wei Ming’s sleeve.

Wei Ming had ended the first part with Dan Sheng enduring countless hardships and under Yuan Gong’s guidance, finally copying the Heaven’s Scripture carved in the cave—only to turn around and find the paper blank.

Then came the line: “To find out what happens next, see the middle volume.”

Wei Ming first asked him: “Tell me first, why are you hanging out here?”

He glanced at the North Pavilion: “My mom’s working overtime, no one’s home to cook, so I came to find her.”

Pu Shu’s parents both worked at Peking University; his father studied magnetospheric geospace physics and was currently studying in the U.S., so only his mother raised him and his older brother.

His mother was China’s first-generation female computer engineer, working inside the computer room.

“Oh, I see. Alright, then I’ll tell you.”

Wei Ming told Biaozi to go ahead, then sat beside Pu Shu: “Did you read the story yourself?”

“No, my brother told it to me—I don’t know some of the characters.”

“Alright, continuing from last time…”

By the time Pu Shu’s mother and several colleagues came out, it was dark—Wei Ming had just finished telling the middle volume of “The Book of Heaven.”

Wei Ming stood up, brushed his pants, and said: “Alright, you can go home with your mom now.”

Pu Shu was heartbroken—you might as well not have told me at all if you’re going to stop here.

At this moment, the words “Chapter-Breaking Dog” had taken concrete form in his mind.

Wei Ming circled back and arrived at Shao Garden; this time he first went to the men’s dormitory to return Li Aiguo’s coat.

This coat was amazing—it fit him like a second skin, enhancing his already handsome appearance with extra elegance, and it was sold at the Friendship Store, though it was expensive.

Li Aiguo: “Oh, Ming, you’re probably heading to Melinda’s—could you take these old magazines to her?”

Wei Ming took them; some magazines were fine—Hollywood entertainment ones—but this “Playboy”?

“You guys can keep this one—would a girl even read it?”

Li Kui was also there: “She reads it—she never misses an issue.”

“Oh?”

At the women’s dormitory, Xiao Cha was in the study room; only Melinda, in pajamas with wet hair, was in the room.

When Wei Ming mentioned “Playboy,” she took the magazines and smiled: “I treat it as a fashion magazine—I think American fashion is now better than British, and I’ve copied many of my outfits from it.”

This thing mainly teaches underwear styling, no wonder I never thought her taste was great—I was looking in the wrong place. “Alright,” Wei Ming then opened “Children’s Literature” and handed it to her: “This is what I wrote—read it first, we can discuss it tomorrow if there’s a chance.”

“Wait—is this serialized?”

Wei Ming: “I don’t have the original manuscript anymore—if you’re interested after reading this part, I can try to get the full original for you.”

“Alright, goodbye, Leonardo.”

She lay down on the bed, legs propped up, flipping through the magazine.

Wei Ming watched her posture and wanted to smack her ass.

Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the suspicious dorm supervisor; she turned around quickly when she saw him, nearly falling over.

Damn, so she came up to spy on me.

Sometimes I just don’t get it—if I really slept with a foreign woman, what’s the big deal? Would the sky fall?

The next day, Wei Ming was busy writing the script and didn’t move much; after lunch, on the way, he saw Liu Zhenyun and Guo Jianmei—these two were now openly seen together.

!

Peking University’s atmosphere was still fairly open—even behind closed doors, they held hands.

“Old Wei,” Liu Zhenyun grinned, “Want to come to class with us?”

“You’re in Chinese Literature, she’s in Law—one second year, one first year—what class are you taking?”

Guo Jianmei said: “Master Hou Baolin is giving a public lecture on the history and development of xiangsheng.”

Wei Ming suddenly remembered Master Hou had said they’d meet again soon—he’d been hired as a visiting professor at Peking University.

Wei Ming grinned: “We’ve got to go—let’s go!”

Entering the classroom, they saw Liang Zuo sitting neatly in the center of the front row; he now had two great passions: xiangsheng and “Dream of the Red Chamber.”

Hou Baolin was currently the most officially endorsed xiangsheng master, entrusted with the task of reforming xiangsheng—it wasn’t surprising to see him in a Peking University classroom.

But the old master might have taken this lecture too seriously—he spoke rigidly and earnestly, and the students started dozing off; even Liang Zuo, a die-hard xiangsheng fan, was distracted—this wasn’t the xiangsheng class they wanted.

During the Q&A session, Wei Ming quickly slipped him a note: Stop talking dryly—perform!

Hou Baolin glanced at the note, then scanned the class and spotted Wei Ming waving.

He hesitated slightly, then pulled a handful of sand from his bag.

“In old times, when xiangsheng performers set up stalls, competition was fierce—how did you draw audiences to your front? Well, one elder came up with an idea—he took this fine sand, sang while writing characters…”

Hou Baolin began now, demonstrating his superb “liuhuo” skills, shaking his palm—immediately, a stroke and a hook appeared on the podium.

The sand characters were neat and beautiful; for him, they were written backward, but for the audience, they were correct.

This instantly captured the students’ attention; those in the back stood up, some even rushed to the front, nearly surrounding the podium.

Liang Zuo whispered in protest: “Don’t block me!”

With the classroom atmosphere revived by the sand-writing trick, Hou Baolin grew more relaxed, weaving xiangsheng jokes into his lecture; the audience occasionally cheered and applauded.

After class, Hou Baolin immediately called Wei Ming forward to walk down the stairs together.

“To be honest, I was a bit nervous at first—this was my first time facing such a cold crowd since becoming famous, haha.”

“You brought sand already—looks like you had a plan.”

“I meant to save it for the end—glad you reminded me, or I’d have only gotten one final flourish.”

Hearing Wei Ming understood xiangsheng well, the old man grew more and more animated talking with him.

Wei Ming: No, I can’t keep this up—I’ll end up being called “uncle” again.

After Wei Ming saw off Master Hou downstairs, a short, chubby boy dashed over.

“Big Brother Ming, you know Master Hou?!” Liang Zuo asked.

Fine, “big brother” it is—I’m not afraid of being called old.

Wei Ming nodded: “We’re friends.” Photo evidence available.

Liang Zuo was envious—this guy was incredible, knew everyone from all walks of life, got along great with international students, even heard he’d slept with some.

No wonder the rumor spread—when Wei Ming returned to the South Gate guard post, he happened to meet Melinda coming with the magazines to discuss “The Book of Heaven”; many people saw it.

Even Peking University students didn’t get this close to foreign students.

Wei Ming quickly pulled her to a quiet spot.

“Tell me—what do you think after reading it? Would it sell overseas?”

At the same time, Lu Xiaoyan, picking up her child today, arrived at the South Gate with Xile, asking the guard where Wei Ming was.

“I’m his aunt.”

“Wei Director’s family, right?” The guard immediately pointed: “There—he’s over there… keep it quiet…”

(End of Chapter)