I am not a literary giant

Chapter 108 Dawn is Coming

A red Audi sped along the G101 expressway, its wheels rolling over jerky speed bumps and climbing towering, crisscrossing overpasses. A flat alluvial plain came into view, and the azure sky, like an inverted bowl, enveloped this land, with flocks of white clouds floating at the bottom.

The navigation system had warned him of speeding several times, and the speedometer needle hovered around 120 km/h. Wang Zixu didn't like driving fast, but for some reason, he was extremely anxious today. Anxiety makes one crave high speeds, so he drove faster and faster.

He felt something black encroaching on his life, like dense black arms bursting from the ground, gradually closing in on him. Before being strangled by this dark force, his first priority was to drive towards the exit of this highway.

"Speaking of which, how did you end up on the path of literature? You're a science student, but now you try to relate everything you do to literature. Even what we're doing now is relying on your literary skills. You've even adopted a literary way of thinking."

Ye Lan, who was beside him, was worried that he was driving while fatigued, so she kept trying to find topics to chat with him. Wang Zixu was very grateful for her thoughtfulness.

However, it must be said that sometimes the questions she raises are so profound that they require serious consideration and can affect the coordination of the clutch and accelerator.

"If I had to give a reason, it would be that I have witnessed the power of words," Wang Zixu said.

He paused, then posed another equally thorny question to Ye Lan: "Do you believe in the power of words?"

Ye Lan looked troubled: "What exactly constitutes the power of words? I was so tired of memorizing 'The Memorial to the Throne' when I was in school, did that count as the power of words?"

Cheng Xing, sitting in the back seat, seemed interested in the topic and leaned forward to say, "Teacher, I believe in the power of words. The book I published in college earned me my first pot of gold, and after graduation, I rewarded myself with a carefree gap year. Since then, I haven't been able to find a job."

The poet said, "I also believe that after I earned a million yuan in royalties, I bought an off-plan property, which was abandoned, and I'm still stuck with it."

"The power of words is strong, the power of money is even stronger, but the power of capital is the strongest of all."

Wang Zixu shook his head: "The kind of power you're talking about is very strong, but it's not the fault of words. Who told you to buy off-plan properties? The kind of power I'm talking about is much more profound than making money through words."

Cheng Xing asked, "What kind of power is the teacher referring to?"

"When I was young, I witnessed firsthand how a letter of less than 500 words could destroy a man in an instant," Wang Zixu said.

It was less a letter and more a piece of paper. On the day my mother left home forever, that piece of paper was placed on the dining table where the soup bowl usually was, as if it were a substitute.

At that time, Prince Xu learned about the magical function of writing: it can tell you what a person wants to say when they are not around, even if you are thousands of miles apart or thousands of years apart.

Think about it carefully, isn't this just like magic?

There was a period in history when a hardworking worker in mainland China could only earn a single-digit amount of RMB after a long day's work, while a truck driver from any other region could come to the mainland and pull out a sum of money that was unimaginable to hardworking people, as if a celestial being had descended to earth.

Through long-term economic exchanges, this economic gap has been gradually bridged. Today's young people can hardly imagine the inferiority complex of people from the mainland back then, leaving only some lingering echoes of a sense of superiority that is hard to understand.

This chasm was overtly bridged over many years by a generation through trade surpluses and deficits, inflation, and the invisible hand of the market. But covertly, many people lost their wives in the process. Comrade Wang Jianguo was one of them.

Ultimately, the root cause of this tragedy is economics. But what truly destroyed a man was that letter of less than 500 words. It's not wrong to attribute life's failures to money, but what truly breaks a person's will and strangles their soul are things that can pierce the heart.

Prince Xu had been pondering this matter for many years. After years of reflection, it had become an unspeakable story, not to be told to outsiders. Of course, he wouldn't tell anyone what kind of power it was. In the end, he only said:

"Life has taught me how words can utterly destroy a person, but it hasn't taught me how to save them. But I still hope to write something that can save people."

At this point, he suddenly realized that the force that had loomed over Comrade Wang Jianguo back then, threatening to destroy his life, was exactly the same as the darkness he was facing now. But strangely, Comrade Wang Jianguo back then was completely unaware. He didn't even have time to buy a fake gun with a counterfeit bill to protect his life.

In reality, many people, like Comrade Wang Jianguo, didn't even have time to spot the enemy before the building collapsed. It's like a sinkhole suddenly appearing on a familiar road, and you accidentally step into it. World War II is over, and there are no longer any fascist organizations with such a clear-cut evil. It's actually a fortunate thing to be able to find the jackals and wolves surrounding us.

Prince Xu pressed the accelerator hard and drove toward the highway exit.

……

Ning Chunyan and Chen Qingluo leaned against the wall by the office door, looking like two delinquent students.

"Qingluo, I'm not criticizing you, but don't you think you were a little reckless just now?"

Chen Qingluo glanced at Ning Chunyan: "Isn't this criticism?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant. What I meant was, you could have used a much more tactful way to make Professor Zhong understand you..."

Chen Qingluo said matter-of-factly, "If you keep going in such a roundabout way, his teacher's wife will call him home for dinner. Are you going to sit at his dinner table and pester him to keep selling that guy's novel?"

Ning Chunyan rubbed his forehead: "But he seems angry..."

Just 20 minutes ago, Ning Chunyan was arguing with Professor Zhong Junmin. According to her plan, she would try to steer the conversation from The Little Prince to serious literature, and then introduce the rising literary star Wang Zixu to leave a good first impression on Professor Zhong. After that, she would gradually bring out Wang Zixu's manuscript and ask him to make corrections.

As a result, Chen Qingluo suddenly pulled out the manuscript and shoved it in Zhong Junmin's face, showing it to him aggressively. Everyone present was stunned. Chen Qingluo's attitude was not like that of a scholar, but rather like that of a literary bandit.

Professor Zhong is no ordinary teacher. He was only invited out primarily because of Ning Bingru, and only secondarily because of the "Twin Jewels of Xihe." It would be extremely impolite to simply pull out a manuscript from some unknown person and ask him to read it.

If this person were a student at Nanjing University, it would be understandable, but this person is not only not from Nanjing University, but not even a student. Instead, he is an unknown clerk in an unknown unit in a suburban city. Chen Qingluo's recklessness is outrageous. The fact that the two of them were only kicked out shows that Professor Zhong is very learned.

Chen Qingluo placed her hand on Ning Chunyan's shoulder: "Do you believe in the power of words?"

"Don't think you can fool me with this kind of pyramid scheme-like motivational rhetoric. Besides, you can't fool me; you have to fool Professor Chung."

Chen Qingluo solemnly stated, "I firmly believe this. Since we are all involved in literature, we must all be attracted and inspired by it."

Ning Chunyan pulled her hand off her shoulder: "It's hot, don't touch it. Qingluo, I believe in the power of words, but the power of words also depends on the context. If Professor Zhong sees it in this chaotic situation, he may not necessarily agree with the power of words."

"At least he read it. If anyone knew that their manuscript had been seen by so many people, they could rest in peace even if they ended up with nothing."

"Your bottom-line thinking is way too bottom-line."

Just then, the door next to them opened, and Zhao Peilin came out and said, "Professor Zhong invites you in."

Ning Chunyan felt her stomach growing heavier and heavier. It was time to face judgment. On the bright side, at least Professor Zhong used the word "please," which was much better than when he had chased them out earlier.

Chen Qingluo went in first, followed by Ning Chunyan. The room was exactly as it had been when they left, except that Professor Zhong had a stack of Wang Zixu's manuscripts in front of him. He was also wearing glasses.

The perceptive Ning Chunyan noticed that his eyes behind his glasses were slightly red, as if he had just been crying.

"I've finished reading the manuscript," Professor Zhong said, his voice slightly nasal. "I can somewhat understand how you feel."

Ning Chunyan and Chen Qingluo exchanged a glance, then Chen Qingluo, deliberately bringing up the most awkward question, asked, "Professor Zhong, were you crying?"

Zhao Peilin, expressionless, explained from the side, "Professor Zhong was very engrossed in watching. As we all know, when people are deeply involved, they are often easily moved..."

"Don't speak."

"oh."

After reprimanding his student, Professor Zhong turned to his student and said, "I am actually quite ashamed to admit that I don't know much about modern and contemporary literature. I have always believed that only writing that can withstand the test of time and remain fresh and relevant is truly profound. Writing that gives people a strong impact in a short period of time is inevitably influenced by many factors such as the era, culture, and trends of thought, making it difficult for people to judge its value."

After delivering his long speech in one breath, he added, "But some works do have value and significance. For example, the one you showed me, I was deeply moved. Of course, I haven't read much modern and contemporary literature, so what I say isn't exactly authoritative."

Professor Zhong was being modest; when he said "not many," he was referring to a comparison with scholars who specialize in modern and contemporary literature. To truly believe that he is inadequate in this area is the arrogance of a fool.

However, Chen Qingluo spoke without any politeness: "It's alright, Professor. I've read enough. If this work didn't reach the golden line of literature, we wouldn't dare bring it to you."

Zhong Junmin opened the manuscript and sighed: "Actually, I didn't pay much attention to the Xihe Literary Society before. I'm very grateful that you brought this article for me to see. It's a case of recommending someone without favoritism. After reading this article, I believe what Xiao Ning just said. It's true that we have a responsibility to revitalize serious literature. But this is what's making things difficult for me."

Chen Qingluo pressed further, "How is it difficult?"

"Although the regulations do not specify the number of invited articles, based on the tacit understanding between us and Xihe over the years, we will only submit one invited article. Because of Nanjing University's reputation, they will definitely keep the articles we submit for the final round, regardless of whether they will win a prize. There is no reason to add another one this year. If we did, they would call to inquire about the situation."

Ning Chunyan asked, "Has the selection of articles for this year been finalized?"

"It's settled. It just hasn't been sent yet. You came just in time; I'll send the selected manuscripts over tomorrow."

"Could you tell me which article it is?"

Zhao Peilin pushed up his glasses and said, "It is indeed I, a humble person."

"..."

Zhong Junmin thought for a moment, then said, "Then let's just remove Xiao Zhao's manuscript and replace it with this one."

"Professor Zhong!" Zhao Peilin called out from the side, his voice filled with sorrow.

Zhong Junmin took a sip of tea and said, "...If we really change it, then the manuscript we selected this year will be from someone from another school. I don't care, but if someone with ulterior motives finds out, I'm afraid it won't have a good impact."

Ning Chunyan could understand his dilemma.

The people in this room may be upright and honest, but such things inevitably attract some narrow-minded people.

For example, if a manuscript by Wang Zixu were actually submitted this year, some people would think, "The preference for submissions from outside the school over those from within—does this mean there's nothing worth reading from within the school this year?" Even if no one within the school thinks this way, some outside will. With such fanning of rumors, it's easy for an incident to occur.

The Department of Literature at Nanyang University also has a long-standing tradition of causing trouble. Although this group of people are engaged in literature, it should not be forgotten that they are all young people in their early twenties, carrying hormone bombs in their bodies. Once they explode, who knows what kind of trouble they will cause.

Thinking of this, Ning Chunyan was also in a dilemma. She was really embarrassed to persuade Professor Zhong again, after all, he was the one who bore the responsibility and was the one who was taking the risk.

Chen Qingluo suddenly said, "Although this person is not a student of Nanjing University now, he will become a student of Nanjing University in the future."

Professor Zhong looked up at her: "Oh?"

Chen Qingluo said solemnly, "He has always longed to attend Nanjing University. The reason he didn't apply to Nanjing University for his undergraduate studies was simply because his score was not high enough, and he regretfully missed the opportunity to attend our university. However, he has been planning to take the entrance exam for our university's graduate program to make up for his past regret."

Professor Zhong thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded: "His intentions are commendable. How old is he?"

"I'm 30."

"It's already that big?"

Chen Qinglu waved her hand: "It's never too late to mend the fence after the sheep are lost!"

Professor Zhong took a sip of tea, thought for a long time, and said to her, "Then let him make it up quickly."

"What do you mean?"

"Xiao Zhao, you can stop submitting your manuscript now and replace it with this one," Professor Zhong said.

"Professor!" Zhao Peilin's eyes instantly filled with tears. "I was really hoping to make a name for myself in Xihe this time!"

"I'll take you there."

……

When Ning Chunyan and Chen Qingluo drove away from Nanjing University campus, the sun was still high in the sky. If they returned to Xihe now, they could still make it in time for dinner.

Sitting in the car, Ning Chunyan could hardly believe that things had gone so smoothly, and kept exclaiming "Holy crap!" to himself the whole way.

After calming down, Ning Chunyan asked, "By the way, how did you know Wang Zixu wanted to go to Nanjing University?"

Chen Qingluo said, "I made that up. I don't even know him."

Ning Chunyan's eyes widened: "Huh? You lie so carelessly! I believed you! Professor Zhong must have believed you too, what are we going to do now?"

Chen Qingluo said, "We'll talk about the future later."

Ning Chunyan rubbed her hair: "We'll talk about it later. We'll talk about it later if it's going to explode. The Xihe Literary Gathering is in a week. What are we going to do when people discover 'Wang Zixu, a specially invited author from Nanjing University and a graduate student on loan'?"

Chen Qingluo sighed, "Yeah. What can we do?"

After a while, she said again, "But it's not 'what will we do', remove the 'we'. I don't know him, it's none of my business."

"Aaaaaah! I'll kill you! ...Oh no, is it left or right when we leave the school? It's all your fault, you didn't hear the navigation! It's too late, I'm already on the right turn lane."

"Hmph, terrible with directions."

"People without a driver's license have no right to talk to me like that!"

Amidst the playful banter, the conspicuous Porsche made a right turn, traveling two kilometers in the wrong direction before finally turning back onto the right road.

As they were correcting their course, the red Audi slowly drove into the Nanjing University campus. If the Porsche hadn't made a mistake, the Audi and Porsche would have met face-to-face.

On the bus, the pink-haired poet chewed gum while giving directions:

"Turn left, turn left, turn left again, turn right. That's right, the interesting thing about Nanjing University is that none of the roads are straight. It's a wonder you didn't make a mistake on your first visit."

Wang Zixu stopped the car, applied the parking brake, and said, "I'm quite good at finding my way around."

"Who went upstairs with the poet to get the things?" Ye Lan asked.

Wang Zi loosened his seatbelt and said, "I'm going to have a smoke. It's not me anyway."

He's 30 years old, and he's still going to the girls' dormitory. He'll be kicked out.

He returned to his familiar campus life in an unexpected way, but he was long past the age of being excited about the opportunity to visit the girls' dormitory. It was more pleasant to sit on the curb and smoke a big bag of cigarettes.

Sitting on a roadside flowerbed, watching the layers of white clouds in the sky, sunlight streaming through the gaps, and hearing the sounds of people and birds from the distant playground, Wang Zi felt a mixture of familiarity and strangeness. Familiarity came from the atmosphere, but strangeness from the surroundings.

Looking back now, his score at the time was high enough to apply to certain majors at Nanjing University, but unfortunately, due to his father's stubbornness, he still applied to Beijing Institute of Technology.

If I had stuck to my own beliefs back then, would my fate be different now? At the very least, I would have had the chance to meet Chen Qingluo on this campus, right?

The past cannot be questioned. A past that never happened is an enigma forever shrouded in a black hole; poor three-dimensional humans are unable to cross to higher dimensions to understand possibilities that never existed.

The sky is like an inverted bowl, partially covering the prince sitting on the flowerbed smoking. The sky is high and the sun is warm, and the wind is gentle, making it easy for people to lose their vigilance and think that they are not toiling ants, powerless to fight against fate.

Li Bai said, "The great road is like the blue sky, yet I alone cannot pass through it."

Du Fu said, "You are now caught in a net; how can you have wings?"

Wang Zixu knew he couldn't fall into the same trap as Comrade Wang Jianguo. He had to protect his life, using literature as a "fake gun." This was the only firepower he had left in his life.

"From this day forward, no one shall be allowed to arbitrarily control an individual's destiny." As the smoke rose, Prince Xu looked at the clear blue sky and thought, "People should be independent of each other and equal, coexisting with free and equal souls."

"I am not above anyone, nor can anyone be above me; I will not harm others for my own benefit, nor can anyone harm me for the benefit of others. I will defend my life with any weapon of my own, crush anyone who tries to trample on me, and fight until victory."

Looking at the azure sky, he suddenly noticed it was turning somewhat dark. But he wasn't afraid. Once a person has their own weapon, they shouldn't be afraid anymore, and his weapon was his confidence in words. The dust of the times would either become a mountain pressing down on him for another five hundred years, or it would forge him into an unyielding tough guy. Whether it was the darkness of the last century or the darkness before him, it would never catch up with him again.

Because dawn is approaching.

……

May 4th is Youth Day.

This is the Bingchen month and Renwu day according to the lunar calendar. The almanac says that the dragon is inauspicious in the north, and the God of Wealth is in the east. It is auspicious for offering sacrifices and cleaning, but inauspicious for weddings.

The Xihe Literary Gathering opened on this day.

Three coins are tossed, the hexagram is recorded, then tossed again, and the hexagram is recorded again... This is repeated six times until the hexagram Qian is obtained.

The ninth line of the fifth hexagram of the Qian hexagram reads: "The flying dragon is in the sky; it is advantageous to see a great man." At this moment, one should soar into the sky, like a dragon roaming freely, without any restraint, to become the supreme ruler.

Red flags fluttered in People's Square.

Guo Ranran shaded her eyes with her hand, looked at the flowers and plants being baked by the sun, and said, "Wang Zixu is still on leave?"

"Why are you so concerned about him?" Song Yinglian asked.

"Wouldn't it be a waste to miss such a lively occasion if he didn't come? In the past few days, we've had three meetings, including a public reprimand and intensive study sessions, and twice he was used as a typical example of wrongdoing. How can he not come to receive education?" Guo Ranran said, counting on her fingers.

Song Yinglian said, "He should be coming, right? He didn't come when we went to Qingfengju the other day, it would be really unacceptable for him not to come for such a big occasion today. To welcome our guests, all the staff in our unit have pitched in this time. Look, even Old Zhang has come."

Zhang Cangnian fiddled with the water dispenser for a long time under the shade of the shed, and finally got it working. He had obviously heard the conversation of the young people behind him, and he straightened up and chuckled.

After laughing, he squinted and looked into the distance with a hint of worry.

This year's Xihe Cultural Festival was definitely the largest ever. All 107 municipal and public institutions in the city organized teams of thousands of people to provide services at the festival site. However, when they were scattered across the square, they were like water disappearing into the sea, completely invisible.

Simply because there were too many people.

The square was filled with stalls selling various snacks, as well as low-priced beer and free stage performances. Several second-tier celebrities were invited. On the riverbank at the other end of the square, there were dragon and lion dances, lantern riddles, couplet writing, and iron flower performances. Not only residents of the city came, but also many tourists from surrounding cities, including Donghai.

Of course, the highlight of the literary gathering was still the "literature" itself. The largest stage in the center of the square was reserved for the rising stars of the Xihe literary scene. At this moment, the stage was empty, but the bright red and green seats were already lined up in a row.

It is said that the guest lineup this time is incredibly strong. Li Tingfang goes without saying, as well as the two beauties of Xihe, Shen Qingfeng, who is walking hormones, will also be there, and even the renowned Yanzishan has been invited.

Being able to appear on stage in such an occasion is more than just showing one's face; it's making a huge splash.

Of course, losing face is also losing face big time.

"Xiao Wang, you'd better not come," Zhang Cangnian murmured.

"Little Diao!"

Song Yinglian waved from the side, and everyone looked over, just in time to see Diao Yiwen, dressed in her finest attire, walking gracefully towards them. Everyone's eyes lit up.

(End of this chapter)