I am not a literary giant

Chapter 198 Creed (6000 words)

"What is this? A prank? Whatever it is, let me say this first: it has nothing to do with me."

Shi Shuqiu placed the note back on the table and shrugged. His tone was decisive and certain.

Shi Shuqiu's expression seemed to say, "While I'm glad you've encountered this situation, I'm sorry, it truly has nothing to do with me. If you've come to me because of this, I'm afraid I can't help you."

Wang Zixu said, "You've misunderstood. I'm not saying this matter concerns you, nor am I here to complain."

"May I ask what brings you here?"

"Shuqiu, don't be so impulsive. You have no manners at all. Let the guest finish speaking." Shi Tonghe frowned.

Shi Shuqiu turned his head away, remaining silent like a refrigerator that had suddenly lost power.

Wang Zixu said, "I'm not here to complain, but it seems that Mr. Shi and I have had a misunderstanding since that dinner."

Shi Tonghe sipped his tea: "There's no misunderstanding that can't be resolved. I've wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but I haven't found the right opportunity. By the way, I've read your 'Fire in Stone,' it's very well written."

Shi Tonghe's attitude changed somewhat abruptly, which surprised Wang Zixu.

"You're too kind."

"No flattery, I read it carefully, it's really good," Shi Tonghe pointed at him, as if he could see right through him, and smiled gently, appearing somewhat amiable, "You want to write a Chinese version of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'."

This time, Prince Xu had truly read the letter.

"Actually, I had this idea when I was young. Our country has such a long history, such great changes, and such rapid transformations, it would definitely be interesting to write a book about it."

"When I first started writing, it was like playing with mud. The soil wasn't good enough, so I couldn't mold it into any shape. I didn't write any long novels, but I did write quite a few short stories."

"Later, when I was middle-aged, Gabriel García Márquez's 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' became a global phenomenon, so I went to buy it. Buying books back then was different from now. You couldn't just search for it and find it. You had to ride your bicycle more than 20 kilometers to the bookstore in the city. There was only one bookstore that had it. By the time you went there and back, it was already dark, and you were covered in yellow dust."

"Before reading 'One Hundred Years of Solitude,' I had only read some classic and classical works of Western literature, such as Flaubert and Balzac. I had read mostly revolutionary literature. Reading 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' was the second major shock I experienced."

Shi Tonghe seemed to have completely forgotten the purpose of the two men's visit. He took a sip of tea, a faint smile on his face, and spoke with great relish.

An old man recounting the past inevitably sounds somewhat melancholic, but Wang Zixu listened patiently, sitting quietly. Shi Tonghe continued his story.

"The first shock was Les Misérables. When I was young, I only read revolutionary literature and thought that all novels in the world were like that. When I first read Les Misérables, I realized that novels could be written in this way, and that they could be written in these ways."

"Back then, people's minds had just opened up a bit. Although books were available in bookstores, you still had to read them secretly. When I read 'One Hundred Years of Solitude,' I had already read many Western classics, but this book still opened my eyes. I realized that novels could be written in this way. This was the second shock. Both shocks changed my understanding of novels."

Wang Zixu asked, "Your book uses a rather classical narrative technique, why didn't you imitate 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'?"

"What?" Shi Tonghe was hard of hearing and didn't hear clearly.

Wang Zixu repeated it again, and Shi Shuqiu glared at him and sat up straight, her eyes fiercely criticizing his rudeness—Who are you to judge my father?

Shi Tonghe, however, said dismissively, "When I saw 'One Hundred Years of Solitude,' it was too late; the style had already been established. As I said, I later tried to imitate it and wrote some, but they didn't come together; they were all very fragmented."

"My dream is to write a novel that is substantial enough to truly establish my position in literature. Doing just this one thing well in my life would be enough. But as people get older, looking back now, if I collect all the things I've written and put them together in a collection, it would be like a Chinese version of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' Of course, this is just a way to comfort myself."

Shi Tonghe's tone was slow but firm. Although Wang Zixu couldn't fully grasp his experience, he could empathize with him. Writers often share similar thoughts. He had initially intended to be firm, but after hearing what he said, his heart softened.

Regardless of the circumstances, Shi Tonghe's literary achievements are indelible, standing firm like a towering pagoda.

Shi Tonghe sighed: "That's why I envy your generation. You have such good conditions, being able to read a vast amount of works and easily realize your dreams. These are things I never dared to dream of back then."

Chen Qingluo said, "Every generation has its own challenges. We used to envy the creative freedom of the past, when every work we wrote was like pioneering uncharted territory. But now, everything we want to write has already been written, and it's incredibly difficult to stand out."

Shi Tonghe nodded slowly and said, "Mm."

"Wang Zixu did not write this 'Fire in the Stone' easily; on the contrary, it was extremely difficult. The work he created at such a great cost is of extraordinary significance. I believe that, although writers may be jealous of each other, they will at most be stingy with praise, but will not maliciously obstruct or block his way."

Chen Qingluo's bluntness was frightening. Shi Shuqiu straightened up, looking like she wanted to say something, but Shi Tonghe waved his hand: "Shuqiu, you go out. I'll talk to them."

"But……"

"Get out."

Shi Shuqiu got up and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

"He's really having some issues with his personality lately, he's becoming more and more rebellious. I talked to him about it last time, but I probably overreacted, because now he won't listen to me anymore." Shi Tonghe's tone became somewhat impatient.

He turned to Wang Zixu and said, "I only learned about your reputation at Nanjing University when the 'Yesterday's Star' seminar was held earlier. It was affected because of his friend, so I ignored him for three days. Later, he said he had made up for his mistakes, so I forgave him."

Shi Tonghe adjusted his posture, leaned back on the sofa armrest, and said, "Although he is a bit impulsive and impetuous, he is still a fairly upright and rational person. He said this matter has nothing to do with him, and I believe it definitely has nothing to do with him."

"I'm also willing to believe it has nothing to do with him," Wang Zixu said softly. "What about the matter of 'The Ancient City'?"

Shi Tonghe's expression froze.

"You introduced me to the editor of 'Ancient City'. In order to submit my work to 'Ancient City', I didn't submit to 'Yangtze River,' which I had a better relationship with, because of your recommendation. But that editor disappointed me a lot."

Shi Tonghe smiled and said, "Every editor has their own opinions, and I can't interfere with that. Besides, you see, it was precisely because of this process that 'Get' magazine eventually accepted you, didn't it? Every cloud has a silver lining."

"That's because I made it through," Wang Zixu said. "If I hadn't made it through, there would be no Chinese version of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude,' nothing at all. My manuscript would probably only end up being published in some second-rate magazine."

Shi Tonghe remained silent.

After a long silence, he finally said, "What do you mean by telling me all this?"

"What I want to know is, did you know beforehand that *Ancient City* would reject my manuscript?"

Prince Xu stared straight at him, and Shi Tonghe felt the gaze burning, so he turned his face away.

"Sigh." He sighed deeply.

"Don't misunderstand," Wang Zixu said. "I'm a straightforward person. I just want to know an answer, nothing more. I want to know if I'm a rough gem or not, because this is very important for my future creations."

Wang Zixu was speaking from the heart.

Given his current status, he wouldn't have a way to seek revenge, let alone put pressure on Shi Tonghe. Even if he found out, what could he do?

He just wanted an answer.

"Chen Cai Nu," Shi Tonghe suddenly looked at Chen Qingluo, "would you mind if I spoke with him alone?"

Chen Qingluo stood up decisively.

"No, no, you can sit down. I'll go upstairs with him to talk."

Wang Zixu and Chen Qingluo exchanged a glance, then followed Shi Tonghe upstairs and into his study.

Shi Tonghe's study is very large and luxuriously decorated, with a structure similar to the White House presidential office. There is an expensive sandalwood table in the middle, and a computer desk in the distance that looks rarely used.

On the sandalwood table lay several manuscripts, next to a fountain pen, ink, and a copy of the magazine "Get". Two drops of ink were on the table, still wet.

Wang Zixu's gaze swept over, but before he could see the contents of the manuscript, Shi Tonghe walked over and covered it with the magazine "Get".

Prince Xu looked up at him.

"Xiao Wang, you want the answer? I'll give it to you. I really didn't take the recommendation of 'The Ancient City' seriously. Fortunately, it turned out well."

Did you know beforehand, or not?

"I can only say that I really didn't take it seriously," Shi Tonghe said. "You understand?"

After listening, Wang Zixu pondered the matter for a long time, and finally looked at Shi Tonghe, slowly shaking his head.

"If it were just this sentence, there would have been no need to drag me upstairs to say it."

Has anyone ever told you that you're too sharp or aggressive?

"Back in my workplace, everyone treated me like an easy target."

Shi Tonghe sighed and sat down in the leather chair. "I called you here to discuss something else. You're the vice chairman of the Xihe Writers Association now, right? Have you joined the provincial writers association? Or the national writers association?"

Prince Xu shook his head.

Shi Tonghe said, "I have a spot available. I can recommend you to the Provincial Writers Association, and I can also recommend you to the National Writers Association."

Wang Zixu remained silent, unsure of what Shi Tonghe intended to do.

"Then, aren't you planning to hold a seminar on your book 'Fire in the Stone'? I can go and preside over it. I'll even give a speech myself; my son hasn't even had that privilege."

"The publishing industry is currently working on cultural export projects, and I happen to be an advisor for one. I can promote your work. I can guarantee that your 'Fire in the Stone' will cause a sensation in the global literary world, and may even have a chance to compete for next year's Mao Dun Literature Prize."

Prince Xu's mouth moved, but he didn't say anything.

The conditions are very attractive.

But in all his years of life experience, Wang Zixu had never encountered such a simple and wonderful thing. Shi Tonghe's words were so tempting that they made him wary.

"Then what should I do?"

"You don't have to do anything; consider it my compensation for what happened."

"I see."

Shi Tonghe played with his pen for a while, keeping his eyes on him. Wang Zixu stood like a flagpole, staring back at him without giving an inch.

"And then, you haven't submitted your work for this year's Fei Shi Literary Award yet, have you?" Shi Tonghe said. "You can wait a year and submit your work next year."

Why?

Shi Tonghe continued to play with his fountain pen: "Let me tell you something from the bottom of my heart. Listen carefully, you're very likely not to win an award this year. Because it's a serialized story, by the time you finish it, it will be next year. You can participate again next year, and the competition organizers won't be able to find fault with you."

"Is it because there's a national collection list this year?"

Shi Tonghe was taken aback, threw down his pen, and said, "Whether you win or not, you're very likely to miss out on the award this year. It's better for everyone if you don't participate. Have I made myself clear?"

If this were a deal, it would be a very favorable one. Of course, Shi Tonghe would never admit that it was a deal.

Shi Tonghe tried to sound patient: "Wang Zixu, do you know why I was telling you about my youth?"

"have no idea."

"I think you're somewhat like me," Shi Tonghe said. "Grassroots, stubborn, and with nothing but literature."

Prince Xu remained silent.

"You must have suffered a lot on your literary journey, right?" Shi Tonghe suddenly asked.

"Um."

"That's nothing. No pain, no gain. I've heard this saying since I was a child, so many times it's become tiresome. Chinese people are meant to endure hardship. Once you've suffered enough, the sweetness will come after all the suffering."

"Shi Shuqiu doesn't seem to have suffered much," Prince Xu said quietly.

Shi Tonghe didn't show any anger at being exposed; he simply said calmly, "You'll get old too."

Shi Tonghe added, "You think you can write, that you can just bury your head in writing and ignore everything else. But you will get old."

"Your hormone levels will drop, your metabolism will slow down, your desires will diminish, your interests will shift, you will change. You won't always be suited for writing."

"But you're still a useless person who can't do anything except write. What will you do then?"

The lid was placed on the teacup, fitting perfectly with a crisp sound.

Shi Tonghe sat down in the chair, finally saying what he wanted to say, and his expression relaxed.

People grow old and die. So when people get old, they place a part of their hopes on their offspring, not on living for themselves, but on living for their descendants.

This is something that people without children find hard to understand. But Shi Tonghe knew that Wang Zixu could understand it. If he didn't understand it, he couldn't write a Chinese version of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*. Even if he could, he wouldn't write it well.

That's just how things are in China. The mysteries of thousands of years cannot be explained in a few words, but everyone can see through them. The affairs of emperors throughout the ages are nothing more than this.

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

Wang Zixu lowered his head in thought, and after a long while, he finally raised his head under Shi Tonghe's expectant gaze.

"Then, I would like to ask you to grant me a request."

"What is it? I don't like people who take advantage of others." Shi Tonghe frowned.

"I have no other requests, I just want you to apologize to me," Wang Zixu said.

"Why?" Shi Tonghe asked, looking utterly bewildered.

"Because of the 'Ancient City' incident," Wang Zixu tried to sound humble, "I want to apologize to you."

Shi Tonghe couldn't help but raise his voice, spreading his hands: "Haven't I been sincere enough? Am I not tolerant enough? You two young people want to see me, so I let you see me? Go ask around, who do I only open this door for? Am I not cultured enough?"

"Yes, yes, very much so. But I still want you to apologize."

Although Prince Xu's words sounded arrogant, his demeanor was remarkably humble. His hands were clenched tightly, and his tone was cautious, making him seem like a pushover as he told Yang Zhi he wanted to test his sword.

Shi Tonghe's face was ashen, and he asked again, "Why?"

"Because, first of all, we should be kind, and secondly, we should be honest," Wang Zixu said. "I am willing to believe that you are kind and honest, and if you apologize to me, I will believe you even more. I hope that everything I do is out of the most sincere motives, so that it will leave beautiful memories for the future."

Because a good memory remains in our hearts, and perhaps at some moment, it can become a means of saving us.

We may inevitably become bad people, but as long as we have a sense of self, this memory will surface and prevent us from doing the worst things.

If a person can bring such beautiful and sacred memories into their life, they will be saved for life.

"Please apologize to me." Prince Xu forced a smile. "If you ask why, it's my life motto."

"Get out," Shi Tonghe said.

Prince Xu turned and left.

Before leaving, Shi Tonghe called him back again. But not to apologize.

"Remember this, once you step out of this door, you won't be treated the same way," Shi Tonghe said with a terrifying expression. "I'm telling you the truth. You really won't win an award this year."

Wang Zixu turned and left. Before closing the door, he heard Shi Tonghe's last words:

You'll regret it.

He went outside, found Chen Qingluo, and left with her before the nanny could come and tell them to leave.

Watching the two figures disappear around the bend in the bushes, Shi Shuqiu took three quick steps upstairs and knocked on the study door.

After receiving permission, he pushed open the door and went in. He saw Shi Tonghe slumped in a chair, looking tired and helpless, with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

It was as if he had just escaped from the rogue Niu Er.

"Damn it, how did I run into such a new character?"

Shi Shuqiu selectively ignored her father's grumbling and asked in a low voice, "Dad, you're not really going to recommend him for the National Writers Association, are you?"

Shi Tonghe remained silent, and a long silence echoed in the room. Finally, he nodded, "Yes. That was originally the plan."

Shi Shuqiu exclaimed anxiously, "Why? Why bother with this person? Really, I've heard everything you said, and I won't provoke him, but now he's the one provoking my family. Why are you being so... so... appeasing towards him?"

After thinking for a long time, Shi Shuqiu came up with a very good word: appeasement. It was very fitting.

Shi Tonghe didn't need to make such concessions to that person. Given Shi Tonghe's status, wouldn't his actions appear to others as if he were afraid of that Prince Xu? This was utterly disgraceful.

"You know nothing!" Shi Tonghe finally couldn't hold back and cursed, impatiently filling his pen with ink.

"I don't believe that just because there are more words, I can definitely win an award!" Shi Shuqiu said defiantly. "The judges and the competition organizers are all on such good terms with me, why should I be afraid of them?"

Shi Tonghe kept shaking his head while diligently writing on the manuscript paper.

Seeing his father's actions, Shi Shuqiu panicked and said, "Please stop writing!"

"Get out," Shi Tonghe said.

After saying that, he felt much better. His works from his youth were known for their vulgarity, including all sorts of insults. He hadn't used them in a long time and was a bit rusty, but today he found some of the feeling from his younger days.

Shi Shuqiu felt somewhat aggrieved. He was rarely scolded, and had never even heard the word "get lost."

Shi Tonghe shook his head and said, "You don't know what kind of work 'Fire in the Stone' is. You haven't read it. Even if you had, you wouldn't understand it. You can't understand it."

He sighed, feeling both worried and loving towards this child who had come into his life late in life, and said:

"Even the big editors and celebrities probably don't know. Only I know. Only I know how well 'Fire in the Stone' is written."

His manuscripts were piled one on top of another.

The manuscript printed next to it was titled "Yesterday's Stars," a work by Shi Shuqiu.

The titles of the works he had pressed under his arm were still faintly visible: one was "Today's Moon," and the other was "Next Year's Flowers." Both were only in the beginning and not yet finished.

……

Prince Xu and Chen Qingluo stood once again in the small shrub maze of Yunchi Mountain Villa.

The difference is that the sun is setting in the west, the light is dimmer, and the air is cooler.

The two walked side by side for a distance before Chen Qingluo finally asked:

"What does he want?"

"He told me not to participate in the Fei Shi Literary Prize."

"Then they must have set conditions."

"Excellent conditions."

"Have you accepted it?"

"I also made some demands, but he refused."

"What conditions did you propose?"

Wang Zixu suddenly felt like laughing, stopped in his tracks, and said, "I'll make him apologize to me."

Chen Qingluo also stopped, blinked her bright eyes, and looked at his profile: "He's unwilling to apologize."

"He doesn't want to."

After saying that, the two resumed their pace and walked outside again.

Chen Qingluo said, "Scholars are the most arrogant. The more famous a scholar is, the more arrogant he is."

Wang Zixu shook his head: "Yes. But there's nothing I can do about it, I'm a little proud too."

After saying that, he turned to look at her: "The funny thing here is that even though I'm penniless and not on the same level as Shi Tonghe at all, I still dare to say I'm proud in front of him."

Chen Qingluo said, "You are not penniless."

"Actually, I was a little scared at the time."

"Don't be afraid."

"In the end, he said I would regret it. Maybe I really will regret it in the future."

"Don't regret it."

"Perhaps my refusal was wrong, but perhaps it was right."

"Maybe you're perfectly fine."

"Maybe I'll get old, but maybe I won't change. Maybe I can keep writing and keep writing better and better."

"Perhaps you are at least no worse than Shi Tonghe."

"Perhaps I can win the Nobel Prize in Literature."

After speaking, Prince Xu glanced at the sky, which appeared narrow through the bushes.

"I suddenly feel a little nervous."

"take it easy."

"My nervousness before coming here was because I was going to meet important people; my nervousness now is because I will be confronting important people in the future."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Perhaps it's not just about confronting powerful figures; it might also involve confronting systemic problems, systemic problems that haven't been solved for thousands of years."

"This is what writers should do."

"I'm still a little nervous."

At that moment, he felt a cool, soft touch on his hand. The sensation was so unreal that Prince Xu almost thought he was dreaming.

"Don't be nervous," Chen Qingluo's voice came. "I'm with you."

The two walked along the winding path, emerging from this corner of the East China Sea.

(End of this chapter)