I am not a literary giant

Chapter 194 Oh Captain! My Captain!

The wind blew across Qingshan Square and silently crept to the orange cake shop at the corner of the road.

"I still don't quite understand," the believer said, "why didn't the Little Prince allow everyone to reveal his identity?"

"Are you willing to let people know you're a verbal therapist, a useless believer?"

Because it's a popular online store, the queue was incredibly long. The three of them weren't there for any limited-time collaboration; they were just there for fun, strolling around. After getting tired, they each grabbed a dessert and rested under a parasol outside.

The blazing sun did nothing to cleanse the poet's mouth; the lost believer became a useless believer in her words, and even though he wasn't from a top-tier university, he felt indignant.

"Of course I wouldn't want to, but who am I? Who is the Little Prince? If I were the Little Prince, I'd want to print 'I am the Little Prince' on my shirt. I could change girlfriends eight times a day and be happy forever."

"What a good-for-nothing," Du Kezhu rolled her eyes at him, finding him utterly useless.

The believer said, "That's right. Look at what's happening online now. A bunch of women are shouting that they want to have the Little Prince's babies. I really want to uproot their monkey bread trees."

"You know, the Little Prince himself isn't exactly ugly. He's not bald, he doesn't have body odor, and he's quite good-looking. If he revealed his identity, wouldn't all those women jump up and pounce on him?"

The poet initially intended to mock him, but upon further reflection, he realized he was right. That's indeed how the world is now.

Just like the popular online store in front of us, the queue has now stretched eight times, with the end of the line extending across the sidewalk, as if everyone in Donghai wants to come and see what's going on.

The Little Prince is unique. The madness that will ensue after his identity is revealed will only intensify.

Cheng Xing said, "It can only be said that everyone's pursuits are different. The Little Prince pursues something on a higher level, and the identity of the Little Prince cannot bring him what he wants."

The believer said, "Perhaps I'm at a lower level; I don't know what higher-level pursuits are."

Cheng Xing said, "That's not what I meant. I meant that he probably wants to pursue a serious creative path."

What is serious creative work?

"Serious creation means placing more emphasis on the ideological and aesthetic value of a work than its entertainment value, and pursuing originality and progressiveness. Of course, the distinction between serious and popular literature is not so clear-cut now, but the scripts I post online are definitely not serious in the eyes of the literary world."

After saying that, Cheng Xing took a sip of milk tea and continued, "So, after I posted 'The Little Prince's Love Letters' online, I was severely criticized by the seniors in the literary world. They said things like I was degrading myself and trying to attract attention, which made people tremble with fear."

The poet, with a straw in his mouth, said, "You've worked hard too. Doing these thankless things without asking for anything in return."

"Who told me I was destined to be his benefactor?" Cheng Xing smiled brightly. "I even feel quite honored."

The believer asked, "Did you used to be involved in serious creative work?"

I guess so.

"Just because a post on the internet went viral, you got criticized?"

"Um."

"No," the believer said indignantly, "Are people not allowed to create freely? What's wrong with writing something entertaining when you're tired of being serious? I think they're just jealous."

Cheng Xing said, "I don't rule out the possibility that some of those who criticize me are jealous. I'm not judging others by my own standards; I know the character of two or three of them."

"But there are also people like Professor Chung Chun-min. They simply dislike this frivolous and flamboyant creative attitude. They themselves have a very rigorous attitude towards scholarship and creation, and I respect them very much."

"It's normal to have different voices in the literary world. What I'm trying to say is that if they criticize even me so harshly, they would be even less accepting of the Little Prince himself. If he had revealed his identity, he might never have had the chance to enter the realm of serious literature again."

The believer opened his mouth: "Are their opinions so important? Why not just write your own thing? Why care what others say?"

Cheng Xing smiled wryly: "After all, we're still counting on them to give out the awards, so other people's opinions are of course important."

"What award?"

"The Fei Shi Literature Prize, the Outstanding Novel Prize, the Chinese Writers Prize... even the Mao Dun Literature Prize."

"The Little Prince might want to win the Mao Dun Literature Prize," Du Kezhu suddenly said.

"No writer doesn't want to take it."

"Many writers are famous for a time, but few are remembered in history. What he wanted was to be remembered in history."

"That's why I say he's pursuing something on a higher level," Cheng Xing said.

After listening, the believer sat there in a daze, and suddenly began to feel a sense of lingering fear.

He finally realized that he had almost made a huge mistake.

I'll have to wear a helmet when I see the Little Prince another day.

……

Even the most devoted and ardent admirers of the Little Prince could not fathom his astonishingly grand and arrogant goals.

The most ambitious goal they could think of was the Mao Dun Literature Prize. If they were to glimpse Wang Zixu's true thoughts, they would be astonished by his audacity.

That's why he never tells others his thoughts. He's been called "out of touch" so many times that he's never short of material for ridicule.

His father was the one who mocked him the most since he was a child. When he mentioned that he wanted to study literature, his father said, "No one in your family, within five generations, has ever been involved in literature. You want to study literature? Do you even have the gene?"

Later, he passed the civil service exam, which gave him some status with his father, and the ridicule decreased considerably. Instead, Zhang Qian started mocking him. When he said he wanted to earn money from writing, Zhang Qian laughed and said he was delusional: "You think you can earn money from writing? From kindergarten to university, what part of your education has anything to do with literature?"

The woman's disdain was disheartening, but Wang Zixu's own lack of ambition was even more frustrating—he didn't receive his first payment for his writing until many years after breaking up with Zhang Qian. If it weren't for the Xihe Literary Gathering incident, Zhang Qian might never have realized she was wrong until her death.

Prince Xu didn't care about the ridicule. He had toughened his skin and flesh over the past 30 years and cultivated the armor on his back. What he cared about was Chen Qingluo.

Amidst everyone's mockery, Chen Qingluo's mockery stood out as exceptionally gentle and moving, leaving a lasting impression.

"You've never heard of Joyce? You don't even know one of the four founders of stream of consciousness?"

"You haven't even read 'The Stranger'? Such a famous work, and you've never even heard of it? That's hilarious."

"What? You don't even know that Bailuyuan is in Xi'an? Even if you haven't read Chen Zhongshi's 'White Deer Plain,' you should know this basic fact, right?"

She always used her slender, white fingers to brush aside the hair near her ears and temples, her face expressionless but her eyes holding a mixture of smugness and mockery.

Wang Zixu always succumbed to her clear and innocent gaze, leaving her utterly speechless. But he didn't feel his pride was hurt; instead, he became more determined and eager to take on her next challenge.

"The 'Ba Shang' in 'Liu Bang's army was stationed at Ba Shang, but he was unable to meet Xiang Yu' refers to Bai Lu Yuan, do you know that?" Chen Qingluo whispered.

Wang Zixu looked down at the text "The Feast at Hongmen" in his textbook, then glanced at the book "White Deer Plain" in Chen Qingluo's desk drawer, and felt a wonderful connection—the classroom and the outside world were magically linked together.

"So Ba Shang is Bai Lu Yuan? Does that mean Liu Bang actually went to Bai Lu Yuan?"

Chen Qingluo remained silent. By the time Wang Zixu realized the reason, it was too late. The Chinese teacher's piercing gaze was fixed on his face, making his hair stand on end.

"Our classmates shouldn't be talking amongst themselves. How can you understand if you're not paying attention? Wang Zixu, stand up and translate this sentence."

"Liu Bang's army is stationed at Bailu Plain, and he hasn't met Xiang Yu yet..."

"What White Deer Plain? (Knocks on the podium)"

"Teacher, Ba Shang is the present-day Bailu Plain..."

"What nonsense are you talking about? Where did you see that? Take the books out of your desk!"

The students burst into laughter. Chen Qingluo turned her face away to look at the wall, her shoulders shrugging, while Wang Zixu cried out that he had been tricked.

Many years later, while organizing local historical records, Wang Zixu discovered that Ba Shang was indeed Bailuyuan.

He was now in that boring office at the government institution, sitting at that uninteresting desk, the desk drawer filled with endless reports. Suddenly recalling what had happened that day, he realized that Chen Qingluo hadn't intentionally set him up.

Whether there were no literary figures within three generations or they didn't study literature, these were things that Prince Xu was powerless to change.

But just knowing that "Ba Shang is Bai Lu Yuan" is enough to make him happy. If Chen Qingluo hadn't mentioned it to him when he was 17, he wouldn't have discovered this little-known fact until 10 years later in old documents.

Chen Qingluo always told him about unknown things, and this unknown knowledge shaped and changed him.

Ba Shang is located beside the Ba River, and there is a Ba Bridge over the Ba River, with willows growing beside the bridge. The ancients loved to break off willow branches as a farewell gesture. Unfortunately, when I parted from Chen Qingluo, it wasn't like the poems describe—holding hands, gazing at each other with tearful eyes, speechless and choked with emotion.

If given the chance, he would like to visit Bailuyuan.

He held his phone, the screen showing Chen Qingluo's contact information, his knuckles turning white from gripping it so tightly.

About thirty-three minutes and nine seconds later, he finally mustered his courage and dialed Chen Qingluo's number.

"Feed".

"I have some business at the Ningchun Banquet tomorrow, so it'll just be the two of us going... Do you have time tomorrow?"

The original text can be found at 6#9@book/bar!

"have."

"Then, shall we meet tomorrow morning?"

"it is good."

The other party simply hung up the phone, leaving Wang Zixu somewhat bewildered.

Chen Qingluo's straightforwardness made him question his existence. He would say one sentence, and Chen Qingluo would utter a single word. Before he could even finish speaking, Chen Qingluo would agree to everything.

This caused him to even forget to arrange a specific time to meet her.

He heard the door open. Ye Lan was back.

When Wang Zixu walked out the door, Ye Lan was sitting on the sofa clipping her toenails.

Her socks were stuffed into her slippers, her heels resting on toilet paper, which was placed on the coffee table. A bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table. As Wang Zixu passed by, he noticed her heels were red, like unripe tomatoes.

Aren't you afraid your toenails will fly into your popcorn?

"Oh! I'm scared! Thank goodness you reminded me!"

Ye Lan reached out with difficulty, but because her legs were too long and her chest was too big, she ultimately failed to reach the popcorn. She turned to him and said, "Could you help me?"

Wang Zixu helped her move the popcorn further away and asked, "Why did you buy this?"

"Because today is Fast & Furious Day."

What is Vegetarian Day?

"It's a day dedicated to watching 'Fast & Furious'. Didn't you know 'Fast & Furious 10' is on streaming? Haven't you seen 'The Big Bang Theory'? Ugh, you're so boring."

The listless man shook his head, his expression showing that he still couldn't understand what Ye Lan was saying, which greatly disappointed her. However, she generously offered to share half of her popcorn with him and allow him to have a "Fast & Furious Day" together.

Wang Zixu politely declined. He said he didn't want to risk eating Ye Lan's toenails during the festival. However, he still sat down next to her and subtly inquired whether anything had happened at Wen Ai's company recently.

Ye Lan looked at him strangely: "What happened? A lot has happened, I'm busy to death every day, what happened?"

"It's the unusual kind."

"This is unusual." Ye Lan looked up and thought. "Weren't we hiring a few days ago? I went for an interview and there was a literature enthusiast who said he came to our company because he admired The Little Prince, but his performance was terrible. In the end, he jumped on the table and recited poetry, and we kicked him off."

Wang Zixu said, "Dead Poets Society?"

"What?"

"It's nothing. Did you hire that person?"

"Of course not. But we persuaded him for a long time, saying that even if he came to work, we wouldn't see you, before he finally agreed to leave."

Wang Zixu scratched his head: "I didn't mean that. Has Zuo Ziliang recently mentioned wanting to sell the company?"

"Huh?" Ye Lan's eyes widened. "He wants to run away? He wouldn't dare! Could he do that without the board's approval? Did he tell you?"

"No, no, I was just giving an example. He never said that," Prince Xu quickly waved his hand.

Ye Lan's expression didn't seem feigned (knowing her as he did, she wasn't the type to keep secrets). Because of this, Zuo Ziliang's intentions became even more unpredictable.

Why did he exclude them and communicate with Xunyi privately? Oh Captain! My Captain! What are you thinking?

Prince Xu wanted to find an opportunity to talk to him.

Sitting next to him, Ye Lan kicked his thigh with an unripe tomato: "Aren't you going to consider revealing your identity?"

It's amazing, I don't know why, but everyone is urging him to reveal his identity today.

Wang Zixu didn't want to answer the question. But a serious answer would diminish the appeal of "Fast & Furious" considerably.

Suddenly, he channeled his inner Little Prince, turned and looked deeply into her eyes, saying:

"You don't have sweaty feet, do you?"

"Huh?" Ye Lan's face flushed red instantly. "Who has sweaty feet? You're the one with sweaty feet! You have incredibly stinky feet!"

After saying that, she quickly sniffed the air and asked worriedly, "Does it smell bad?"

"No, I've heard that beautiful women usually have sweaty feet."

"Who told you that?"

Wang Zixu said, "Don't you think sweaty feet are a great attribute? I think sweaty feet are healthy, energetic, and very cute."

"Huh?" Ye Lan looked at him with the eyes of someone looking at a pervert, and subtly hid her feet behind her buttocks.

"Seriously, Quentin Tarantino is a foot fetishist, and so is Jiang Wen; they both love patting feet. From a libido economics perspective, perhaps this foot fetish triggers some kind of mechanism that allows them to use this motivation for creative reproduction."

"Imagine a pair of beautiful feet, wearing little white socks, lively and hopping around. You can't tell from the outside, but they're actually sweaty inside. When you take off the socks, they're damp; they leave a footprint on the smooth floor; slippery, soft, and fragrant. Don't you think they're adorable?"

"I think you're a pervert."

Ye Lan gave a concise summary, jumped off the sofa barefoot, went to the refrigerator to get a can of beer, and came back with her face flushed.

"Do you want it?"

"I'm not drinking, I still have to write a script later," Wang Zixu said. "By the way, why is the script called a 'foot' script? Does it mean that creative inspiration and foot fetishism have some kind of mysterious connection?"

"Ahhh! Stop talking!" Ye Lan covered her ears, feeling like she was about to be brainwashed.

"Next time there's a 'Quentin Tarantino Day' or a 'Jiang Wen Day,' invite me to watch it together. You'll agree with me sooner or later," Wang Zixu suggested.

Ye Lan hugged her legs, her toes wiggling nimbly in front of him: "Why do you need to watch foot fetish movies? Isn't this enough?"

"Yours won't do. I think Uma Thurman's and Zhou Yun's feet look more energetic."

……

(End of this chapter)