I am not a literary giant

Chapter 101 White Deer Plain

Wang Zixu sat on the hospital bed, the sky outside the window changing from azure to deep purple. "The Insect World" was also gradually coming to an end.

"...They teased each other tenderly with their tails, then moved on. The male scorpion gripped the female scorpion's corresponding two fingers firmly with each pincer, trying to squeeze tighter. Unless it released its grip, the female scorpion could not break free. The female scorpion became a captive, and the seducer put handcuffs on her..."

Good heavens, after watching how Scorpios date, he felt deeply inferior. He could actually be depressed for a whole hour because of a name that came out of nowhere. He wasn't even as carefree as a Scorpio.

He picked up his phone and replied in Ning Chunyan's chat window:

"I don't know him."

In general, Wang Zixu was a very honest person. Or perhaps he considered himself to be very honest. Every word he spoke was the truth he genuinely believed at the time.

He wasn't actually lying when he said he didn't know Chen Qingluo. He just wasn't telling the whole truth. If he had been more honest, he would have told Ning Chunyan, "I used to know Chen Qingluo."

The Chen Qingluo that Wang Zixu once knew always wore a ponytail. When she was angry, she would deliberately shake her head and flick the ends of her hair at his face. She could ask for directions in fluent English and would skip PE class without anyone noticing. During basketball games, she would sit under the shade of a tree, prop her cheeks up, and count the rebounds for him.

The Chen Qingluo that Prince Xu later met had a completely different appearance.

In "Face to Face," she appeared aloof and arrogant, as if betrayed by the entire world; in magazines, she wore a backless dress, revealing her flawless back; hidden on the title page behind a book cover, she was faintly visible in the photo, ethereal and otherworldly, leaving endless room for imagination.

This Chen Qingluo is the same Chen Qingluo. But this Chen Qingluo is not like that Chen Qingluo. Whenever he sees that Chen Qingluo, he tries to combine the two images, but it's like broken porcelain that has been separated for too long, unable to be put back together.

It was then that he realized with dismay that perhaps he had never actually known Chen Qingluo.

Chen Qingluo is destined to be from another world, and they may never meet again in this life. Rather than distinguishing between "knowing" and "having known each other before," Wang Zixu is more concerned with some practical issues.

Wang Zixu sent Ning Chunyan a message: "I've finished reading 'The Insect World'."

Ning Chunyan glanced up at Zhong, then lay back down on the yoga mat and replied to his message: "You read it so fast."

Wang Zixu said, "There are too many books to read, so I have to be quick. Putting that aside, do you have any works by domestic authors with a particularly distinctive writing style at home?"

Ning Chunyan said, "The language of the works in my home is very distinctive."

Wang Zixu said, "If you come over tomorrow, pick out a few books that are quite different from my writing style. I always feel that I lack the ability to draw inferences from one instance to another."

After reading it, Ning Chunyan straightened up and replied, "Who said I was coming tomorrow!"

"Oh? Aren't you going to take 'The Insect World' back with you?"

"No, no more!"

"It costs 79 yuan."

"Don't push your luck! I was just delivering the book to you today; it doesn't mean I'll come again tomorrow!"

Prince Xu didn't reply. Ning Chunyan gave a smug snort.

He must have realized his mistake; even the Xihe Writers Association wouldn't dare order me to deliver books! How dare Wang Zixu be so shameless!

But after a while, when Wang Zixu still hadn't replied, she started to feel sorry for him. Ning Chunyan typed on her phone:

"Never mind, I'm going to the editorial office tomorrow to supervise the review process, so I'll just bring you one on my way. You can take whichever one I bring; no picking and choosing!"

Prince Xu replied instantly, "Thank you, you're such a good person."

"..."

Ning Chunyan suspected that he felt no remorse at all. He was just using her as a tool to deliver books.

But having already promised, she had no choice but to keep her word. She got up and went back to her room. Chen Qingluo was staring blankly at the computer.

She circled around Chen Qingluo, picking through the books on the bookshelf, which finally provoked the other's displeasure: "Don't be like a fly."

Ning Chunyan roared, "You're the one who's like a fly! What kind of nonsense are you spouting, sitting so brazenly in someone else's bedroom and talking to the homeowner?!"

"What are you doing?"

Ning Chunyan looked up at the bookshelf: "That guy asked me to bring him some books to read."

"Is that guy the one you went to the hospital to see today? The one... what was his name again?"

"Prince Xu".

"Oh," Chen Qingluo said expressionlessly, "You're quite considerate."

Ning Chunyan put her hands on her hips: "That's right. My main principle is to uphold justice."

After saying that, she looked down at the book again: "He said he wanted something with a writing style quite different from his. By the way, what exactly is his writing style?"

"This one."

Chen Qingluo stood up, took a copy of "White Deer Plain" from the bookshelf, and handed it to Ning Chunyan.

Ning Chunyan frowned: "There's no way he hasn't read this book, is there?"

"This book is very different from his writing style." Chen Qingluo casually fiddled with her sideburns.

"Don't you say you don't know him?"

"I'm sorry," Chen Qingluo pointed to the computer, "I read the new draft he sent you again."

Ning Chunyan asked, "How's it going?"

"It's alright."

Ning Chunyan looked at her with suspicion. She sensed that Chen Qingluo's expression was somewhat arrogant. Chen Qingluo looked down on everyone equally, and she never said anyone was alright.

If she says someone is "okay," then that person's actual skill level is often many times higher than "okay."

"How good is 'good'?"

"He's special."

Ning Chunyan looked at her. She sensed that Chen Qingluo's expression was exceptionally serious when she said those words.

"Are you saying Wang Zixu is special, or that Wang Zixu's works are special?" Ning Chunyan asked.

"See for yourself."

"I think so. I'll go see what's so special about him tomorrow. Or, why don't you come with me to meet him tomorrow?"

Chen Qingluo shoved the book "White Deer Plain" into Ning Chunyan's arms: "Take the book with you. Don't bother me."

……

Ning Chunyan threw "White Deer Plain" onto Wang Zixu's small table.

"Someone said that this book's writing style is very different from yours. So I brought it. Besides that, I also brought a copy of Wang Shuo's 'Fierce Animals,' which is also very different from your writing style."

"Thanks."

Having just received "White Deer Plain," Wang Zixu immediately buried himself in the book, much like a diver plunging headfirst into a swimming pool.

He was unaware that the spot where his fingers were pinching had once held the warmth of Chen Qingluo's fingers.

"You really haven't read 'White Deer Plain'?" Ning Chunyan stared at him in surprise.

What surprised her was that it was "White Deer Plain"! How could Wang Zixu not have read it?

But Prince Xu hadn't actually seen it. He was also a little embarrassed.

"No. There are too many books; I don't have time to read them all. I admit my reading is somewhat unbalanced."

Ning Chunyan, recalling his famous "reciting the menu," said, "You have blind spots too."

Wang Zixu bluntly stated, "Yes. So I'm trying to catch up now, but there are too many books, and I can't possibly catch up."

He sighed, like a fisherman seeing the ocean for the first time, gazing at it with awe and wonder. The sea of ​​knowledge is boundless; the more one reads, the more one gains.

Ning Chunyan, with his hands behind his back, said, "By the way, after I received your manuscript, 'The Road Ahead Is Safe,' I couldn't resist printing it out and reading it."

"How is it?"

Ning Chunyan smiled slightly: "I'm a judge, so I won't offer my opinion beforehand. But I can tell you that my parents, and someone else, all think your piece is excellent, and even shows great improvement."

Wang Zixu finally noticed the blind spot in her words: "Who is 'someone'?"

I won't tell you.

Ning Chunyan did not reveal the whole truth.

In fact, based on the Ning family's and Chen Qingluo's assessment, Wang Zixu's article would easily secure a ranking. Getting first place might require some luck, but a top-five finish would be a certainty.

But she didn't want Prince Xu to have too high expectations too early; she just wanted him to keep a calm mind. Besides, she was now in an official capacity, and some things carried a different weight when she spoke them.

Wang Zixu devoured Chen Zhongshi's words for a while, and he keenly realized that this book was very suitable for him, especially for him at this moment. These words were like small puzzle pieces that could fit perfectly into the parts he was missing.

"If only I could read this book before the call for submissions," Prince Xu thought greedily.

After reading for a while, he suddenly came to his senses, looked at Ning Chunyan, and found that she was staring at him with a smile. He realized that he had neglected her, and asked with a slight apology:

"How's the preparation for your magazine going?"

Ning Chunyan said in the tone of someone calling a dog to eat, "Don't pretend to care about my magazine, just look at it, look at it."

"I really care."

"You could say that everything is fine except for money." Ning Chunyan stuffed "The Insect World" into her bag.

"So how do you plan to solve the money problem?" Prince Xu asked.

Ning Chunyan sighed but did not answer.

This question doesn't need an answer. Money will always be the ultimate question in the world.

"I'm going to the Writers' Association."

"May your future be bright," Prince Xu said softly from behind.

Ning Chunyan turned around: "Being unharmed is not enough."

"Then I wish your magazine all the best."

……

Ning Chunyan hung her bag on the back of her chair. A long table was set up, and a green cloth was spread out on it. On the sign in front of her seat, the words "Ning Chunyan" were neatly written in regular script.

Besides her, several other renowned authors, all influential figures in the Xihe literary scene, were also seated at the long table; in addition to the literary community, leaders from the Publicity Department, the Bureau of Culture and Tourism, and the Writers Association were also present. Television cameras were brought in, and flashes went off intermittently.

Ning Chunyan stood upright, her chin tucked in, trying her best to appear dignified. She always appeared in prominent positions in photos; she didn't want to leave behind any embarrassing memories.

Directly opposite her, across from the sign that read "Shen Qingfeng," a slick-haired man greeted her with a broad smile.

"Ning Cai Nu, do you remember what I told you that day?" Shen Qingfeng said, "The promise remains valid and is guaranteed for life."

Ning Chunyan crossed her arms and said elegantly, "Thank you for the warranty, but we don't have any intention to purchase here at the moment."

"It's only 'temporary.' You'll use it eventually, and you'll love my product."

Li Tingfang entered the room and tapped on the table: "Quiet."

Ning Chunyan breathed a sigh of relief. "Teacher Li Tingfang is amazing! Her oil-removing effect is top-notch!"

Li Tingfang sat down in the main seat, her silver hair swaying in the air. After adjusting the microphone, her voice resounded throughout the venue:

"Distinguished leaders and fellow writers, the Xihe Literary Society has a long history. I have hosted five sessions in total, and this year may be the last one I host..."

Everyone sat upright, but Ning Chunyan's eyelids couldn't help but droop.

She had only one thought in her mind:

I guess I'm just not cut out for meetings...

"Click."

A sudden white light flashed before her eyes, followed by a slight sound. She quickly sat up, her gaze passing over Shen Qingfeng's shoulder to see a dark camera lens pointing directly at her in the distance.

Ning Chunyan gently covered her mouth with her hand, her dark eyes widening slightly.

Shen Qingfeng was playing with a Schneider fountain pen when he saw her pitiful expression. He lost his grip and the pen fell to the table with a "clatter".

Ning Chunyan, however, was preoccupied with the thought: This candid photo I just took shouldn't be published in the newspaper, right?

……

As I ran my finger over the photo in the newspaper, Ning Chunyan, with her eyes slightly lowered, looked quite adorable in the black-and-white picture.

Diao Yiwen thought to herself: In the field of literature, truly great beauties are rare; Ning Chunyan could be considered one. She wondered if she could be considered one after this literary gathering?

She gracefully picked up the teacup and respectfully placed it beside the man opposite her on the mahogany tea table. The man appeared to be around forty-five years old, wearing a loose, off-white Chinese-style jacket, with thick, black hair, though Diao Yiwen suspected it was a wig.

The tea room was bright and clean, with a humidifier emitting swirling steam. Diao Yiwen sat on a tea table made of some kind of tree root, having just demonstrated her tea-making skills, earning unanimous praise. Opposite the tea table was a mahogany square table, where her father and a man sat leisurely in armchairs. A waitress with long legs, dressed in a red cheongsam, stood by.

Her gaze was fixed on the face of the man beside her father, her eyes filled with undisguised admiration. This man was Yan Zishan, a name whose prestige was such that, in the entire literary world of Xihe, no one except Li Tingfang was qualified to comment on it.

There's even a saying that Yanzishan's only shortcoming compared to Li Tingfang is his age.

Diao Yiwen's father slapped his thigh and said, "After all, this is Li Tingfang's last one, so the scale is impressive. They even invited Teacher Yanzishan, which shows how important it is. With Teacher Yanzishan here, all the other guests at the literary gathering will pale in comparison!"

Yan Zishan lowered his head and sipped his tea, his eyelids slightly drooping. He offered no comment on this blatant flattery, nor did he feign modesty; he simply said:

"Don't underestimate Shen Jianqiu's connections. I only came here because of his relationship. If he were willing to lower himself a little more, even more terrifying figures might be invited over."

Mr. Diao was taken aback: "Shen Jianqiu has such wide connections? Then why hasn't he been promoted yet?"

Yan Zishan said, "I'm not a government official. But as far as I know, he didn't want to be promoted. Maybe there weren't any better positions available. Besides, he also had some ideals."

Diao's father said in a low voice, "He's been in Xihe for quite a while now, so he's definitely developed feelings for it. But staying in any place for too long carries a lot of risk."

Yan Zishan said, "There are risks. But during his years in Xihe, he revitalized the economy by focusing on culture and tourism. Now is the sprint period for Xihe's cultural industry. If you ask him to give it up and go somewhere else, he definitely won't be willing to do it. Someone else might not be as good as him."

Father Diao nodded and sighed, "This is something that can't be helped."

The two were talking about areas that Diao Yiwen couldn't touch, and she tried hard to steer the conversation back to things that were personally relevant to her:

"Teacher Yan, what is Ning Chunyan's writing style like? What style does he prefer?"

Yan Zishan raised his hand: "Don't worry about it. Whether it's Ning Chunyan or Chen Qingluo, there can be many judges, but in the end, only Li Tingfang decides the ranking of the articles. I know her style very well. She's a one-woman show, domineering, and only has limited democracy. You may see that there are many judges, but in the end, only she decides the ranking of the articles."

Diao Yiwen said, "Then my article..."

Mr. Diao interjected, "Yiwen, you don't need to worry. With Teacher Yan correcting your work, what are you afraid of?"

Yan Zishan shook his head and said, "I only made some modifications based on her existing foundation. I didn't say she would definitely get a ranking. As I said before, it would be good if she could get into the top 5 this time. If she can get into the top 5, Shen Jianqiu will see and pay attention to her."

Diao's father said, "Yes, as long as he can see it, the goal has already been achieved."

Yanzishan held up his finger: "The competition has three rounds: preliminary selection, selection, and ranking. In the third round, only 10 manuscripts will be selected, and 5 out of 10 will be chosen. I can say that yours is definitely among them."

After saying that, he suddenly stood up and left the room.

Fortunately, after spending time with him several times over the past two days, Diao Yiwen had gotten used to his style. He was always like this: leaving without saying goodbye, abruptly, leaving behind an unfinished sentence. When he returned, he would change the subject.

Mr. Diao walked over, took Diao Yiwen's hand, and said, "Yiwen, although Teacher Yanzishan spoke rather cryptically, he never takes any article that passes through his hands lightly. He said that only because people of his caliber don't speak too confidently."

Diao Yiwen shook her head: "I'm not worried about the ranking of my article."

"So what are you worried about? The rules? Daughter, let me tell you something: rules are made by the strong for the weak. Don't always look at the weak. Your opponents will always be the strong, who, like you, have their own set of rules."

After finishing his sentence, Mr. Diao gave a cold laugh and added, "Do you really think Li Tingfang and Shen Qingfeng will follow the rules properly?"

Diao Yiwen shook her head. She wasn't really worried about that. In fact, she herself wasn't even sure what she was worried about.

Finally, she said softly, "The shortlist results will be released tomorrow."

"Don't worry," said Mr. Diao. "With Teacher Yanzishan here, the first two rounds have nothing to do with you. You only need to worry about the third round."

……

Bai Jiaxuan later took great pride in the fact that he had married seven women in his lifetime.

On the white bed sheet, Prince Xu pondered the sentence repeatedly, growing more and more jealous with each thought.

He was jealous of Chen Zhongshi's talent, and also jealous of Chen Zhongshi's intuition, the intuition of a writer.

The story of "White Deer Plain" is vast, and White Deer Plain itself is also very large, perhaps as large as Macondo.

One Hundred Years of Solitude begins its story with a piece of ice, while White Deer Plain begins with a poisoned hook.

This hook took away Bai Jiaxuan's women, and also unveiled the curtain of an era, ushering in a period of dramatic change for this land.

This hook is truly magnificent, spewing venom, firmly anchored to the plains of Bailuyuan.

This is a writer's intuition. A writer should be keenly aware of the best time to begin, using the simplest and most direct paragraphs to maximize the audience's interest.

After reading half of "White Deer Plain", Wang Zixu went back to study his own script and found that there were still many areas where he could improve.

Or rather, it's not that he can improve himself, but that he can make the speech therapists improve.

He'd been thinking about something lately: Qingyan had also used his script, but hadn't seen the expected growth. Ye Lan thought it was lucky, but he sensed a crisis.

This shows that his script still has a hurdle to overcome for everyone. He doesn't know where that hurdle is right now, but once this technical problem is solved, the speech therapists' skills will improve by leaps and bounds.

He believed that once he finished reading "White Deer Plain," he would gain some new inspiration.

He will create more thick, dense, juicy, and bursting libido.

He felt a surge of power within him. He had always been an insecure person, or rather, someone who dared not be confident. Immersed in *White Deer Plain*, he suddenly felt as if he were on a vast, boundless plain, and he saw a range of mountain peaks—the pioneers who had shone brightly in the long river of literary history. Coming back to his senses, he realized he himself had become a mountain peak.

"bite."

The phone rang, and Wang Zixu woke it up, notifying him that he had received a new text message.

He suddenly remembered that today was the day the preliminary results of the essay contest would be announced.

The text message read:

Thank you for your participation. The preliminary selection for the Xihe Literary Society's "Dream Essay Contest" has ended. Your submission was not shortlisted. Please try again next time.

(End of this chapter)