Chapter Seventy-One: Cabbage and Pork Dumplings

There has never been love without reason in history, nor has there been hatred without cause. Yet for most people, a first impression often forms the very foundation of knowing someone, and no matter how much that person may change, that initial sense will remain deeply rooted in the mind. Perhaps it was the first time she held the infant Wang Lei and got drenched in baby urine, or maybe it was when seven- or eight-year-old Wang Lei led four-year-old Ma Dongmei to spy on her while she bathed; or perhaps it was when Wang Lei, already somewhat famous at fifteen or sixteen, was caught red-handed by her sneaking a cigarette. In any case, Li Weihong's first impression of Wang Lei was far from favorable. She always felt that this child was unreliable.

However, when Li Weihong saw the tall Wang Lei supporting Li Pingyi on stage, singing that song to the accompaniment of Old Zhang on the piano, she was genuinely surprised. She was astonished to realize that she had never truly understood this young man, and equally amazed by her daughter's discerning eye. No matter what else could be said, anyone who could perform a song so brimming with emotion and with such a unique charm could only be of unquestionable talent and character.

“Lei is so handsome!”

Hearing her own daughter’s lovestruck murmurs, Li Weihong knew that all her previous efforts had been in vain.

“Is this what you accomplished two nights ago?”

Li Weihong asked her husband while watching television, but received no answer; Ma Pingdong was completely lost in his memories, unable to extricate himself.

Wang Lei had become a sensation, truly and utterly famous. Many began to dig into his background, especially since, during the broadcast, Li Pingyi had introduced Wang Lei as his eldest grandson, leading many to genuinely believe he was.

Yet in this age of rapid information, it was easy enough to find someone’s details. Barely two hours after the New Year’s Gala ended, posts about Wang Lei’s identity had already appeared online.

Several popular gossip accounts on Xunbo updated Wang Lei’s profile by four in the morning on New Year’s Day, detailing everything from his parents to his trip to the U.S. for training, the tragedy that befell his family, and even rumors of Wang Lei’s attempted suicide—though the source for this was dubious and likely the result of some blogger’s wild imagination.

Reading the first half of Wang Lei’s story, people felt sympathy for this unfortunate young man, but the latter half inspired respect for his resilience and talent.

It turned out that the once-viral online play “Charlotte’s Troubles” was also Wang Lei’s creation, as were two songs that made the top hundred on the best-seller charts.

At first, some doubted whether such a remarkable song performed at the Gala could really have been created by someone so young, but now most had abandoned their skepticism. What was there to doubt? He seemed utterly indifferent to fame—otherwise, he would have debuted in the entertainment industry long ago. Instead, he had gone off to a remote region to be a basketball coach, which showed he was a young man who cared little for empty renown but still pursued his dreams.

On Xunbo, Ma Dongmei also received a flood of apologies on New Year’s Day. Many of her fans had previously accused Wang Lei of being a freeloader, but after hearing his song on the Gala, most now praised their idol’s excellent judgment.

After the Gala, Wang Lei and Old Zhang accompanied Teacher Li Pingyi home. The elderly man, still riding high on excitement, insisted that they stay for dumplings. Only after he had fallen asleep did the two finally leave.

Despite the revelry that lasted all night, Wang Lei was not particularly tired. The experience on stage had left him with an inexplicable exhilaration. As mentioned earlier, elite athletes often possess a desire to perform. Wang Lei’s career as an athlete was over, but his urge to perform remained—though it had been buried so deep that even he had not realized it until now.

Wang Lei and Old Zhang went on to down more than a case of beer together in Old Zhang’s studio; both men were still riding a wave of excitement.

Old Zhang was thrilled that such a song had spread so widely—something he had never felt before. Most of his previous works had been controversial: some loved them, but the mainstream circles always treated his music with prejudice and disdain.

Riding the wave of alcohol, Old Zhang repeatedly urged Wang Lei to quit coaching and join him in music. In Old Zhang’s eyes, it was a waste for someone of Wang Lei’s talent to be a coach; at his age, it would take years to make a name for himself in that field.

But Wang Lei was resolute. Even though Old Zhang had mapped out a future for him that would have put him on the fast track to stardom, Wang Lei was not tempted. For all the glamour of fame, there were sacrifices to be made behind the scenes. Neither version of Wang Lei—neither from this world nor the other—had ever lived such a life, nor understood it in detail, but he had already made up his mind and would not be swayed by Old Zhang’s persuasion.

Wang Lei’s determination nearly drove Old Zhang to apoplexy. Anyone else would kill for Old Zhang as a producer, but faced with Wang Lei’s indifference, it felt like a slap in the face and left him thoroughly disgruntled.

Irritated, Old Zhang showed Wang Lei no courtesy and kicked him out at the crack of dawn on New Year’s Day.

The morning was as tranquil as a wilderness. Wang Lei waited a long time before he finally flagged down an unlicensed cab.

The driver demanded a hundred right off the bat—much more than the usual fare—but Wang Lei didn’t haggle. Anyone out driving on New Year’s morning was likely to have family troubles or misfortune; either way, it was pitiable. A hundred yuan meant little to Wang Lei, and there was no need to make things difficult.

Yet when Wang Lei got out and tried to pay, the driver recognized him and flatly refused the money. Wang Lei was a bit embarrassed. Even when he had been a middling basketball star, he had never received such treatment.

In the end, he quietly slipped the money into the car door before leaving.

Wang Lei tried to keep his footsteps light as he climbed the stairs—after all, it was New Year’s morning and most of the neighbors were still asleep. But his prosthetic leg was cumbersome, and he couldn’t help but make a steady, rhythmic sound as he went up.

His family’s old apartment was on the third floor, thankfully not too high. Just as he was about to unlock the door, the one across the hall opened.

He hadn’t expected to see Ma Dongmei’s mother, Li Weihong, at the door so early in the morning.

“The song was good,” she said.

“Thank you, Auntie. You’re up early,” Wang Lei replied.

With a brief exchange, Wang Lei prepared to enter his own home for a well-deserved rest—he was finally feeling tired. But just then, Li Weihong hesitated for a moment, then suddenly called out to him, “We’ve cooked dumplings—cabbage and pork. Come have some before you rest.”