Chapter Thirteen: The "Enthusiastic" Capital

“Idiot, fool, blockhead.” These were the thoughts running through Lin Na’s mind as she left the apartment where Ma Dongmei and Wang Lei lived. As captain of the Yangtze River Women’s Volleyball Team, Lin Na considered their impulsive investment in a second-rate little theater nothing short of careless squandering. Even if Ma Dongmei and Wang Lei knew the details of the theater, Lin Na didn’t think it was a sound investment—nowadays, with everything available on the internet, who would bother going to an unimpressive small venue to watch a show?

Still, Lin Na felt it wasn’t her place to comment on their rash behavior. All she could do was call the higher-ups to inform them, which was, after all, her main responsibility. It might feel like she was betraying Ma Dongmei, but Lin Na was a sensible person: if she kept silent, she’d only offend both sides.

Zhang San and “Li Si,” the two “ordinary men,” left with Lin Na as well, but they were in high spirits. After all, Wang Lei had clearly expressed his intent to invest—regardless of how the shares would be divided in the end, the theater was at least secured for the future.

Ma Dongmei took Wang Lei’s first outing in two years quite seriously. With her limited life experience, she began making preparations for his trip; most importantly, she needed to inform her father, Ma Pingdong, known as “Central Ma.” Meanwhile, Wang Lei began preparing for the days ahead, searching online for hospitals in the capital where he could order and be fitted for a prosthetic limb. He couldn’t rely on crutches forever—it was inconvenient, and with the right prosthesis, he could at least take care of himself.

The capital remained “blazing with heat” in early August, and even long-time residents found the weather hard to bear. Clad in a loose, linen-colored Chinese-style T-shirt, handmade Neiliansheng cloth shoes with layered soles, a silk folding fan from Wang Xingji, and small round black sunglasses from Wan Shifang, Ma Pingdong looked somewhat out of place at the airport.

Ma Pingdong hadn’t dressed this way to be conspicuous—he just followed his own creed of comfort. The four characters inscribed on his folding fan, “Rare is the one who remains muddle-headed,” summed up his philosophy. Open-minded and easygoing, he cared little for others’ opinions as long as he felt comfortable in his clothes.

Many people couldn’t fathom how the irascible Ma Zhanshan could have a son as mild-mannered as Ma Pingdong. Ma Dongmei’s grandfather, Ma Zhanshan, was a veteran soldier who had fought in nearly every foreign war since the founding of the Republic. He had made significant contributions to the nation’s internal and external stability, to the point where this old soldier, known for daring to slap his hand on the leader’s desk, was famous throughout the upper echelons of the Republic for his temper. The capital’s old cadres all knew: stay out of Ma Zhanshan’s way—he was, in a word, a rogue.

Yet this was the man who fathered a son devoted to traditional Chinese music. Now in his fifties, Ma Pingdong was a master of ancient wind instruments, renowned enough to have earned the nickname “Ma the Bodhisattva.” The nickname alone revealed his temperament.

Ma Pingdong had always supported his daughter Ma Dongmei’s choices. Whatever decisions she made, he would do his utmost to help her. Though Li Weihong, his wife, didn’t particularly like Wang Lei, she hadn’t treated him harshly—largely thanks to Ma Pingdong’s counsel.

This time, when his daughter said she wanted to bring Wang Lei home and asked him to look after Wang Lei for a while, Ma Pingdong agreed gladly. To him, nothing was more joyful than having the family together. Even if his wife Li Weihong was unhappy, he would go along with his daughter’s wishes—no matter what, Ma Pingdong still saw his daughter as the little girl who used to ride on his back, even though now he had to look up to her.

Ma Dongmei was due to leave for Zhejiang East on August fifteenth to join the national team’s training camp for the first time. Before that, she took early leave to return home—to make arrangements for Wang Lei, and because she missed her father.

She hadn’t been home in two years since falling out with her mother, Li Weihong. Over that time, she had devoted herself to caring for Wang Lei. Now that Wang Lei had suggested she go home, she was overjoyed; her happiness would be incomplete without her parents’ blessing.

Wang Lei, for his part, had gained new perspective. He recognized both Ma Dongmei’s feelings for him and his own for her. While gratitude played a role, he couldn’t deny that if someone was willing to stand by you, unwavering, for two years, you should never let them go—such a person might never appear again in your lifetime.

Given a second chance at life, Wang Lei knew he shouldn’t go around picking fights with everyone, ending up alone and embattled. Talent and ability were important, but true strength lay in knowing when to yield and when to stand firm—being unbending all the time was just being a fanatic.

Meeting “Ma the Bodhisattva” again, Wang Lei couldn’t help but admire the man’s philosophy. In an ever-faster, more complicated city, to live as Ma Pingdong did was no small feat.

“Uncle, it’s been a while. Meimei and I have both missed you.”

Seeing Wang Lei and his daughter again, the first thing to strike Ma Pingdong wasn’t how much his daughter had grown, but the change in Wang Lei. After the family tragedy, Wang Lei seemed to have emerged anew. This comforted and moved him, especially since the boy was all that remained of his old neighbors’ family—finally, he looked like himself again.

“Dad, I’ve missed you so much.”

Before Ma Pingdong could respond to Wang Lei, his tall “little girl” swept him into a hug. Holding his daughter’s waist, Ma Pingdong felt as delighted as if he’d just drunk vintage Maotai from 1983.

“Good, I’m glad you’re home. Let’s go—you two are in for a treat today. Dad’s made all your favorite dishes, including your beloved noodles with fried bean sauce.”

“Xiao Lei, after two years, it’s wonderful to see you moving forward. The departed are gone; you must look ahead. Your parents wouldn’t want to see you the way you were two years ago. Come on, don’t worry about your aunt—I’ll handle her.”

With his daughter home and the neighbor’s son showing new promise, Ma Pingdong felt as if even the blazing sun had softened. Yes, he thought, from now on he’d be more enthusiastic toward this young man—and try to keep his daughter in the capital, which, truth be told, was his real intention at this moment.