[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981":3,"chapter-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-145":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","That Year, the Flowers Bloomed in 1981",{"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},2294563,4489,"Chapter 145: Suppressed for Too Long","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-145",145,"\u003Cp>“Hey, Mr. Tao? When are you sending in your manuscript? This issue’s magazine is about to go to print. Who said I’m going bankrupt?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Boss Tong, how could you tell an author I’m going bankrupt? I won’t shortchange you—I’ll pay you before the 15th. What? Tomorrow? Don’t mess with me~~~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah Miu, it’s been ages since we had a meal together. Tonight I’m not here to borrow money.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong skipped lunch and immediately began coordinating the next issue’s printing, but the situation was grim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Friends who once greeted him warmly had suddenly turned cold and cruel, driven purely by self-interest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Long-term contributors were quitting, the print shop demanded overdue payments, and longtime friends avoided him entirely—it drove Pei Wencong to frantic despair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was like playing cards: you’d drawn a perfect hand, but had no money to bet, forced to fold and surrender under pressure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong made countless calls, but gained nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flipped through his address book twice, then finally let his trembling hand drop the phone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong pulled open the window to breathe, but after drawing back the curtain, the cramped building wall ten meters away crushed his spirit further.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A winding crack in the cement wall stretched like a gaping mouth, sneering at Pei Wencong, this failed man.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong stared at the crack for a long while, then gave a bitter laugh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Once, he’d dreamed that one day, when he opened his window, he’d see an endless ocean view.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind him, his beautiful wife and adorable children would be waiting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after thirty years of hard work, he felt as if he’d returned to square one—back to childhood, huddled with his mother and sister in that shabby shack, owning nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong was brilliant—a poor boy who got into HKU proved his IQ surpassed ordinary people.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment, he believed his intelligence and effort could make him a second Li Ka-shing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But after graduating and entering society, he realized Hong Kong’s upward mobility had vanished—a pack of big sharks had filled the pond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every fish in the pond was just bait for the sharks; with a flick of their claws or tails, they could crush all the fish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Someone like Pei Wencong—a tiny shrimp—could either submit and feed the sharks, or rot slowly in the mud at the bottom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After years of struggle, Pei Wencong still couldn’t accept defeat—he mortgaged his family’s only house, staked everything, and opened this magazine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No matter how hard or bitter, he’d swallow his teeth with blood, just to give his family a better life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His sister was now in private high school, excelling in her studies; when his mother met old friends, she proudly said, “My Ah Cong has a car, a building—he’s a boss.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But today,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He realized how fragile his polished facade truly was.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was the point of holding on?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fine—bankruptcy, then sell myself to the sharks for life!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong exhaled a long, suppressed breath, straightened his posture, and clenched his fists.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah Qiang, Ah Qiang, call Brother Nan—sell my Corolla! Be polite, don’t let him lowball you, Ah Qiang, Ah Qiang.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong called several times, but his editor and reporter Ah Qiang didn’t respond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He walked over, pried open Ah Qiang’s arms, wondering if he was sketching another risqué erotic comic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such comics had a market, but Ah Qiang’s taste clashed with the public—he thought his “seductive” scenes were hot, but Pei Wencong found them painfully ugly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this time, Ah Qiang wasn’t drawing—he was furiously writing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t I tell Ah Min to translate the simplified characters? Why aren’t you laying out the next issue? What are you writing here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang snapped back to awareness and blurted: “I’m going to write a history book.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned excitedly to Pei Wencong: “I just realized our ancestors were so powerful—they could crush Japan at will and make the foreigners work for them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang rambled on incoherently, but with fierce excitement and sincerity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The opening of \"The Wind Blows North\" depicts a foreign legion under the Tang Dynasty’s Anxi Protectorate—the Xiliang Corps—whose leader was the Tang man Li Tianlang, and whose ranks included not only Tang core members but many loyal \"barbarians.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The opening also casually describes how Japan, mobilizing its entire nation, was defeated by a single elite Tang detachment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just a few thousand words painted the image of a mighty empire vividly on the page.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just a few thousand characters of description made the image of a mighty empire leap off the page.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong listened patiently to Ah Qiang’s rambling, then patted his shoulder: “Japan is strong now. Those people aren’t foreigners—they’re the Soviet Union’s allied republics.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang replied firmly: “A win is a win. Are Soviet people not foreigners?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong fell silent—he understood Ah Qiang’s mood perfectly, because he’d once been just as obsessed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too long suppressed. The lower classes had been suppressed too long.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many hated being born with black hair instead of blond.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now, seeing “The Wind Blows North,” Ah Qiang suddenly felt, “My ancestors were once great too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unlike wuxia novels, the true protagonist of this book isn’t a person—it’s a mighty, arrogant, dominant empire.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Tang Empire, which dared to stand firm against the powerful Abbasid Caliphate with just the Anxi Protectorate’s forces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could Ah Qiang, who’d seen the world’s great powers in Hong Kong, not revere such a glorious ancestor?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong felt the same, but he valued its commercial potential more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Boss, no one’s ever written this,” Ah Qiang said like a lottery holder clutching a winning ticket: “I can write too. When I become a writer like Jin Ni, I can—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Write after work. During work hours, you work,” Pei Wencong tapped Ah Qiang’s head. “Go call Brother Nan now—tell him I’m upgrading my car. Don’t say you need the money!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong didn’t crush Ah Qiang’s enthusiasm—just forbade him from slacking off on the job.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knew this kind of history was a fresh direction that could succeed in Hong Kong—but it was hard to write. Ah Qiang dropped out of junior high; he lacked most historical knowledge.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if he’d gone to high school or university, he might still never have learned this history—Hong Kong likely had no relevant materials. So let him be happy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Ah Qiang left with a pout, Pei Wencong personally arranged the next issue’s layout—“The Wind Blows North” would headline the cover, credited to “Senior Professor and Writer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After finishing all the trivial tasks, Pei Wencong prepared for his most important act.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He picked up the phone and asked the operator to connect a long-distance call to Neidi’s Daocheng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In 1982, calling from Hong Kong to mainland China meant endless transfers and endless waiting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While waiting, Pei Wencong calmed his emotions—so when the line finally connected, he was no longer a man on the brink of ruin, but a wealthy, confident “big businessman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, this is Tawang Literature Publishing House. We’d like to discuss the copyright for ‘The Wind Blows North’—payment in Hong Kong dollars, or U.S. dollars is fine too, hehe~~~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During the wait, Pei Wencong adjusted his emotions, so when the call connected, he was no longer a failure on the brink of failure, but a wealthy and powerful “big businessman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye sprinted lightly along the path beside Weiminghu. As he passed the martial arts club, he glanced sidelong at He Dazhuang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He Dazhuang had decent physical conditioning; lately, he’d trained hard. Whether his techniques were good didn’t matter yet—his verbal boasts were already polished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye ran lightly along the path beside Weiminghu, and as he passed the martial arts club, he couldn’t help casting extra glances at He Dazhuang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his past life, Li Ye had watched a girl practicing Nanquan—her energy was like a tiger, her shouts echoing for miles. Now, He Dazhuang had a hint of that same spirit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When He Dazhuang saw Li Ye running over, he roared even louder: “Hey! Ha!”—like a furious Tibetan mastiff ready to pounce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye sped up, eager to escape before he triggered a training mishap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Li Ye run off, He Dazhuang trained even harder, shouting “Hey! Ha!” with gleeful abandon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye quickly sped away, lest he provoke him and cause his cultivation to go awry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During free time, Li Ye was rapidly writing. Since Wen Leyu mentioned wanting to earn proofreading fees, Li Ye had accelerated his pace, preparing for his next major plan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other students either buried themselves in books or enthusiastically debated topics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Having moved from high school to Peking University’s World Economics program, they suddenly felt they’d glimpsed the world beyond campus, forming vague ideas about global trends.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Recent events like the Falklands War and the Fifth Middle East War were the hottest topics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But today, everyone was drawn to He Dazhuang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ve got a master now—our club’s Qiao Tiansheng is the authentic southern fist lineage heir from Fujian.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Once, on his way home, he saw upperclassmen bullying kids—he took them all on alone, unarmed, and knocked out eight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll tell you, I’ve finally found a master—our club’s Qiao Tiancheng is the legitimate heir of Hu Jian Southern Fist.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The classroom erupted in gasps—even Li Ye, focused on writing, was startled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye didn’t understand: why, as college students, did they lack basic judgment?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One man beat eight?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’d need a stick myself!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But then Li Ye remembered his own self at twenty—and understood his classmates’ reactions.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At twenty, boys still worshipped physical power; they dreamed of taking on ten men at once—even though it was impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the 1980s, information was so limited; this kind of thing was common.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the famous poet Hai Zi had once obsessed over qigong and kung fu, dreaming of one-punch supremacy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But in his past life, after entering society, Li Ye’s fantasy shifted to “winning the lottery” or “finding a rich, beautiful woman.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For example, the famous Hai Zi once obsessed over qigong and kung fu, dreaming of being a punch-that-surpasses-all hero.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These classmates were the same—they’d soon sneer at He Dazhuang’s stories in a few years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because their high intelligence would quickly teach them: before power and wealth, physical strength wasn’t worth shit—it was just a last-resort survival skill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even these classmates in the classroom would, within a few years at most, sneer at topics like He Dazhuang’s.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin crept quietly beside Li Ye and nudged him anxiously.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye stopped writing. “What’s up, little brother?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin was the only student in class younger than Li Ye, so Li Ye always called him “little brother”—that’s how they spoke back home.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin said nervously: “He Dazhuang found a master—why aren’t you worried?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye frowned. “Why should I be worried? Him finding a master has nothing to do with me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin’s face twisted. “Didn’t you hear what he meant? He’s training to come after you for revenge!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye said strangely, “Why would I be in a hurry? What does his becoming a disciple have to do with me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin’s expression twisted slightly and he said, “Didn’t you catch his meaning? He’s planning to come back and seek revenge once he’s mastered it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh~~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye smiled but said nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for martial arts, it truly demands hard work; even three or two months won’t do—without a master to break through the window paper, you might not achieve anything even after three or two years.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If He Dazhuang had first trained in martial arts, built a solid foundation, then switched to sanshou, and spent time honing his skills in real combat, he might have become quite formidable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After all, martial arts is an excellent form of physical training, and He Dazhuang’s size alone gives him a certain natural advantage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But China’s sanshou program wasn’t officially launched until 1979; it’s still in its exploratory and refining phase, so He Dazhuang is unlikely to get many opportunities for real combat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My master said I have great talent—I’ll be able to enter the inner chamber in no more than a year.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He Dazhuang spoke with full confidence, glancing at Li Ye—but Li Ye’s indifference made him deeply uncomfortable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d been training for several weeks and felt he’d learned many fighting techniques; if only Li Ye would provoke him now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Clang~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The classroom door opened, but who entered wasn’t the instructor—it was the homeroom teacher, Mu Yunning.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone turned to look at Mu Yunning, except Li Ye, who kept his head down writing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each character was worth several cents! Unless they called his name, he wouldn’t look up—no one should interrupt my earnings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Li Ye, prepare this afternoon for your Youth League induction ceremony.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mu Yunning’s announcement shocked many in the classroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye paused slightly, guessing the likely reason.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But others had no clue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For instance, He Dazhuang and others: though Li Ye could chat amiably with many classmates, his overall behavior clearly marked him as a backward element.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Class monitor Zhen Rongrong was also puzzled; she’d been compiling Li Ye’s “strengths” over the past few days, planning to recommend him for Youth League membership after the sports meet by reporting his “excellent conduct.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After speaking, Mu Yunning walked over to Li Ye’s side, her face cold: “What are you standing there for? Don’t you have a Youth League application to write?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, oh~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye quickly packed away his manuscript, pulled out a sheet of letter paper, and began writing his application.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone around him froze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The induction ceremony is this afternoon—and you haven’t even written your application yet!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Is that acceptable?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye wrote hundreds of characters in rapid succession, finishing without a single pause—Mu Yunning was extremely satisfied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She assumed Li Ye had mentally drafted it countless times before; in truth, he had simply copied his previous life’s Youth League application from his biological hard drive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mu Yunning glanced over it, then picked up Li Ye’s fountain pen and signed her name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You need a recommender—who do you choose?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye turned and looked at Sun Xianjin, who immediately nodded in agreement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The two shared a dormitory in the Mathematics Department and were the closest pair of brothers in the class.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Zhen Rongrong, not far away, felt a sense of loss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After resolving the recommender issue, Mu Yunning went to coordinate with the class Youth League committee. Once all matters were settled, she noticed He Dazhuang’s gloomy expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She then pulled out a notice and handed it to Zhen Rongrong and others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pass it around the class—don’t make a big fuss.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhen Rongrong took it and stared—her mouth fell open in shock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a notice for “Bravery and Justice,” clearly stating that Li Ye, along with two righteous citizens, fearlessly confronted a gang of twenty-seven and rescued three citizens of Beijing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With just this notice, Li Ye qualified for emergency induction into the Youth League.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Mu Yunning left, Zhen Rongrong and the others remained stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One class committee member couldn’t help asking: “So who’s stronger—Li Ye or that Southern Fist heir?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sun Xianjin replied immediately: “Obviously! Three times nine is twenty-seven—one man takes nine, which is one more than eight!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",2531,"2026-06-20T05:04:59.129Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ef460274807c8a574eb0bd75130c2fd90319000814f727ee5def2c3a3ad1df16","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-146","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-144",884,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthat-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-cover.jpg"]