I am not a literary giant

Chapter 201 I Use My Mutilated Hand

"Put it there, push it against the corner again, okay, right here, that's fine."

Shi Tonghe directed the workers to place the printer in the corner, and finally said a few words to them as they left: "Take the trash with you when you leave."

The study is large, and the furniture is all original from the interior design company, making excellent use of the space. The house has been owned for many years, and the layout has never been moved. Now, a corporate-grade printer has been brought in out of nowhere, making it feel a bit cramped.

The all-gray-white machine, which combines printing and copying, spews out hot air when it's turned on, which doesn't quite match the mahogany furniture throughout the house.

Shi Tonghe returned to his desk and sat down with a smile on his face:

"This will make things much easier. My eyes just can't keep up with the screen. Xiao Liang, print it out first, then I'll look at it and make the changes."

The woman sitting at the computer on the other side of the room nodded: "Mm."

"Let me revise this part first. Please wait a little longer."

Xiao Liang sat in the chair and nodded nervously: "It's alright, Teacher Shi, you don't need to worry, just call me when you're done."

Shi Tonghe rubbed his hands together, picked up his pen, filled it with ink, wrote a few characters, and then his phone rang again.

He frowned, sighed, picked up his phone, glanced at it, then relaxed and answered the call.

"Hello, is this Xiao Xiao?"

On the other end of the phone, Xiao Mengyin said, "It's me, Teacher Shi. Has Wang Zixu already visited you?"

"Oh, he's been here."

"Hmm... what's his purpose in contacting you?"

Shi Tonghe said with a wry smile, "His manuscript was rejected by 'Ancient City,' and he came to me to demand an explanation!"

"Huh? Why is he like this? He didn't say he wanted to cause trouble when he contacted me! I really didn't know... Did things turn out badly?"

Xiao Mengyin's tone was full of regret and remorse; just by listening to her tone, one could imagine her heartbreak at that moment.

"It's alright, I don't blame him," Shi Tonghe said.

"I apologize to you on his behalf," Xiao Mengyin said solemnly. "He is a bit simple-minded and straightforward. To put it nicely, he only thinks about literature and doesn't care about anything else; to put it bluntly, he's a bit obsessed. But he really doesn't have any bad intentions. He didn't say anything particularly offensive to you, did he?"

"Nothing particularly outrageous. He just wanted me to apologize to him."

"Uh..." Xiao Mengyin slapped her face, "How dare he!"

"It's alright, Xiao Xiao, I don't blame him," Shi Tonghe repeated, changing the subject, "Thank you for helping Shu Qiu polish 'Yesterday's Star'. I read it again today, and some parts are really well written. When I asked him, he said it was all you who helped him revise it."

"Of course, of course, he's very quick to understand..."

"Just recently, he suddenly had another idea. He felt that 'Yesterday's Star' wasn't enough to express all his thoughts, so he wanted to write a sequel to the book."

"Yeah?"

"If I'm writing a sequel, I'd like to ask if it's possible to continue it and submit it as part of the same work as 'Yesterday's Star'?"

Xiao Mengyin was surprised: "You mean, although 'Yesterday's Star' has already been shortlisted for the Fei Shi nomination, he'll write a sequel, and then submit both the sequel and the novel together as a single work to Fei Shi?"

"Yes, that's the idea. You have a very good understanding," Shi Tonghe said. "He wants to write a trilogy."

Xiao Mengyin thought for a moment and said, "This is really... unprecedented, I'm not quite sure either. I think if you go and talk to them, they shouldn't disagree... However, you should pay attention to their submission deadline."

"How long until the submission deadline?"

"There are less than two weeks left. If we miss the deadline, this might become a bit difficult."

Shi Tonghe said, "That's fine. As long as he finishes writing it before the deadline, that's fine, isn't it? He's already completed part of it."

"Well, if I were to polish it further, without enough time, perhaps..."

"I won't trouble you this time; I can't keep bothering you. Alright, I just wanted to know about this. Now that you've brought it up, I understand."

After hanging up the phone, Shi Tonghe turned to him with a friendly expression: "Xiao Liang, we might be a little pressed for time, so we'll have to trouble you to stay a little longer. We'll have to stay up for a few nights, so we'll have to make things difficult for you."

Xiao Liang added, "It's alright, Teacher Shi. You always take such good care of me. I'd love to find a chance to help you out. I'd be honored to be able to assist you with your creative work."

Shi Tonghe picked up a pen and began to revise the manuscript, laughing as he said, "It's been many years since I've written anything with a pen. If my son hadn't insisted that I help him revise it... Come to think of it, my current skill level might not even be better than his."

Xiao Liang laughed and said, "You are still as vigorous as ever. Your return to the literary world will surely shock everyone."

Shi Tonghe glanced at her and said, "I won't go down the mountain. I'll just help my son revise his essays."

After he finished speaking, his expression turned serious. Without saying a word, he quickly wrote several lines on the manuscript paper.

Xiao Liang secretly took out her phone, turned on the screen, turned the volume down to the lowest setting, and started replying to her boyfriend's messages.

The room was so quiet that the only sound was the scratching of the pen tip on the paper.

Half an hour later, Shi Tonghe finally put down his pen, rubbed his aching fingers, and called out, "Xiao Liang."

Xiao Liang got up and took the manuscript paper. Shi Tonghe said, "Type out a paragraph first, and I'll continue revising the rest."

Xiao Liang nodded, took the manuscript, went to the computer, rubbed his hands, and began typing.

A series of clicks filled the room as Xiao Liang typed a few lines and said sincerely, "Teacher Shi, you write so well!"

"Really? Is that a compliment or the truth?"

"Honestly," Xiao Liang said enthusiastically, "Just from the beginning, I knew this was going to be a great work. The writing is so high-quality."

"Then I thank you on behalf of Shuqiu."

Shi Tonghe picked up the manuscript and began to read the previous text from the beginning. As he read, his vision began to blur.

He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.

As I get older, this frail body is not as easy to use as it used to be.

His cloudy eyes were always filled with tiny, gray, cotton-like flies that would flutter around his eyes at the slightest movement, making him read the words in disjointed pairs. He had to write the words in extra large characters just to be able to see them clearly.

Not only my eyes, but my brain isn't working well either. Writing requires a different kind of mental effort, and after not using it for years, it's become sluggish. Now it's like a rusted machine, running with severe jerks, clanging and rattling, and emitting black smoke. I get sleepy after writing just a couple of lines.

Even the calluses on his fingers had softened. He had once handwritten millions of words, developing thick, hard calluses that made his fingers seem born to hold a pen. Now, they were so delicate that his hands no longer felt like his own.

Shi Tonghe looked up at the ceiling, but his vision blurred again. This time, it wasn't his eyes that were failing him; it was his tears that were causing the problem.

At your age, still staying up late to write. How many times in my youth, with a solitary lamp and a pot of tea, did I swear I'd never write again after achieving fame?

I never imagined that at my age, I would still have to struggle to meet deadlines, reminisce about the old days, and I can't even say that I wrote it for myself.

His son was also unfilial, unable to bear sitting with him in silence, otherwise he would ask Shi Shuqiu to help him transcribe the manuscript. Now he had to ask the young people in the Writers' Association for help. Fortunately, they were his students, reliable and tight-lipped, but he still had to keep it a secret.

...A few minutes later, Shi Tonghe returned to his desk and continued writing.

He has no right to complain; it was all his own choice.

Picking up the pen was my own choice, expanding it into a trilogy was also my own choice, and now that I'm this old, I suddenly want to write a Chinese version of "One Hundred Years of Solitude," which was also my own choice.

He's gained fame and fortune, but now he's fighting against younger players, which is incredibly embarrassing.

But he had no choice but to do it.

He cultivated relationships, hosted banquets, and befriended all sorts of people because he was the chairman of the Writers' Association, a literary giant, and a father.

But he picked up his pen again for no other reason than that he was a writer. A person who writes.

Recalling Xiao Mengyin's words earlier—"To put it bluntly, he's a bit of a madman"—Shi Tonghe sneered.

When Xiao Mengyin called, she seemed to be trying to distance herself from him, but her words clearly showed her intention to protect Wang Zixu, which he couldn't possibly miss.

She said she didn't know beforehand that Wang Zixu was there to cause trouble, but Shi Tonghe didn't believe her at all. A shrewd person like Xiao Mengyin wouldn't easily help set things up without first understanding the intentions. Her interpersonal skills were as superb as her creative abilities.

But this very person actually spoke up for Prince Xu, which surprised Shi Tonghe greatly.

Prince Xu must possess some kind of magic to attract people like Chen Qingluo, Ning Chunyan, and Xiao Mengyin to help him.

However, to Shi Tonghe, Xiao Mengyin's words of help were completely meaningless.

Which writer isn't a little bit obsessed?

Back then, they competed with Shi Tonghe, each arguing their strengths and weaknesses, vying for headlines and prime spots. These talented writers and renowned scholars were as numerous as carp crossing a river.

Where are they now?

He was left all alone; the literary world was desolate, and the higher one climbs, the colder it gets.

Many years have passed, hormone levels have decreased, metabolism has slowed down, and desires have gradually faded away with the passage of time...

But his name is still Shi Tonghe.

Perhaps no one will know that the writer who dominated the literary world decades ago has returned.

But the obstacles in front of us will evoke the melancholy of those who were defeated decades ago.

……

"Because I am the Little Prince."

After saying this, Prince Xu sat on the windowsill, as if he had finally taken off the shackles he had carried for many years.

No one in the room spoke, not even the most talkative Sartre, who fell silent, leaving only the soft ticking of the clock.

After a long silence, An Younan finally spoke: "You are the Little Prince."

She repeated his words.

Prince Xu nodded: "Yes."

"Then I'm Qin Shi Huang," An Younan said urgently. "There's a limit to nonsense. Aren't you still treating me like an idiot?"

Wang Zixu said, "Whether you are Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han, the fact that I am the Little Prince cannot be changed. Just like the towering hills of Bailu Plain, they are established history with the passage of time as footnotes, which neither you nor I can change. All we can do is accept them."

This book has a brand new chapter.

Let's take a look!

"..."

An Younan discovered something.

She noticed that the man's demeanor had changed.

He was—or should have been—a shrewd middle-aged man. Now, however, he possessed a confidence he shouldn't have.

Judging from his clothing and appearance, this person has no more than 20 yuan in savings. His cautiousness in front of her is just like his car driving alongside hers on the road. Turning the steering wheel 30 degrees might cost him a life-altering price.

But he brazenly called himself a technician and launched into a philosophical discourse in front of her, who was completely naked. She admitted that she was fooled for a moment, and even while lying in the spa room, she lingered over their conversation for a while before finally exclaiming that she had been tricked an hour later.

The moment she realized the suspect's identity, she was just as shocked as she is now. Perhaps she was even more shocked then. When this seemingly honest man revealed himself to be someone who read Hegel and Adonis and rubbed his shoulders like he was kneading dough, and this overlapped with her impression of the Little Prince, it didn't seem so jarring anymore.

"But how can you be the Little Prince?" An Younan said. "If you are the Little Prince, then why are you so obsessed with a literary prize like the Jade Award? You could easily earn many times that amount of money."

"This has nothing to do with money," Wang Zixu said, clasping his hands together. "What I care about are things other than money."

"Heh, only rich people have the right to say that." An Younan gave him a cold look. "People who wear cheap casual suits and say things like that are just making a fool of themselves."

After saying that, An Younan overturned her momentary feeling, nodded, and said to herself, "Yes, you can't be the Little Prince."

"What kind of person is the Little Prince in your heart?"

"At least he's someone who doesn't lack money."

Do you think I'm short of money?

Are you sure you want to hear my thoughts?

Wang Zixu jumped off the windowsill, walked to An Younan's side, paced around her twice with his hands behind his back, and finally stopped in front of her.

An Younan met his gaze without blinking, as if they were competing to see who would back down first.

"Do you know how much this cheap suit of mine costs?" the prince asked casually.

An Younan rolled her eyes: "How would I know? I'm not sensitive to the price of consumer goods under 1 yuan."

Prince Xu reached out and grabbed her wool collar, startling An Younan so much that she blinked twice.

This behavior would normally be considered a serious invasion of her privacy, but An Younan simply took a step back and turned her head slightly.

"What brand is your shirt?"

"Brunello Cucinelli," An Younan blurted out in fluent Italian, "Don't ask me the price, I never look at the price when I buy clothes."

"Very good. You see, we don't even know how much the other person's clothes cost. In the sense of consumerism, the two pieces of clothing lead to the same thing, just like you and me in this room. If we forget all our identities, we are just a man and a woman. No matter how expensive your clothes are, they have no meaning to me. Only when you take them off do they have meaning to me."

An Younan's face flushed slightly: "But it means something to me."

"What's the point?"

"It will make me more confident."

Are you insecure about your body?

"How could that be?"

"Then why do you need a piece of clothing to boost your confidence?"

"That's sophistry."

Prince Xu threw off her collar, sat back down in his chair, clasped his hands together, and crossed his legs.

"This is not sophistry, because I don't need expensive clothes to give me confidence. In my eyes, there is no functional difference between an expensive piece of clothing and a cheap piece of clothing, so I don't need that much money."

An Younan smiled slightly: "But in other people's eyes, there is a difference, and a big difference."

Why should I care about what other people think?

"Everyone has to live in the eyes of others. Why can you not care about what others think?"

"Because I am the Little Prince," said Prince Xu.

Because he's the Little Prince, he doesn't need to care about other people's opinions. It's An Younan who needs to care about the Little Prince's opinion. After all, she's the one who wants to find the Little Prince.

An Younan felt a little defeated; she rarely lost an argument, so she was somewhat annoyed. She thought for a moment, then smiled and spread her hands, saying:

"Because you don't care about money, you're the Little Prince; because you're the Little Prince, you don't care about money. That's circular reasoning. I told you you're sophistry."

The Little Prince said, "She is too proud; her confidence must be broken."

Sartre said, "Hey, she's just a little girl, how can you have such a twisted sense of humor?"

"Only by shattering her confidence can we control the flow of the conversation."

The prince closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again: "What are you pursuing?"

An Younan was taken aback: "Why are you asking me again?"

"Or rather, what are you afraid of?"

An Younan's body trembled.

"You wear a top-tier cashmere sweater from a high-end brand, live in the best neighborhood in this city, have more savings than you could ever spend in a lifetime, and your face is displayed high in the sky above this country. Everyone likes you. Yet you go to great lengths, using every means possible, to find me. What are you afraid of? What is driving you to this?"

An Younan's face turned slightly pale: "I don't need to tell you this, do I?"

"But I can tell you," Prince Xu said, "the birth of the Little Prince was a mistake, and I have been paying the price to make up for it ever since."

"Because I don't see myself as the Little Prince. Even if the Little Prince's achievements are dazzling, I feel they have nothing to do with me. They are just things I can easily obtain with a flick of my wrist, and I don't care about them. Just like you don't care about your sweater."

"Everything you have is enough to make over 99% of the world envious, but you don't care. Are you like me? Also pursuing another identity that makes you feel dignified?"

There seemed to be tears welling up in An Younan's eyes, but the light vanished in an instant. She grinned and said, "Have you always been like this? Speaking too intimately with people you've just met, saying very offensive things to them."

"That's how the Little Prince works." The prince casually crossed his legs and put his hands behind his head.

"Shouldn't the Little Prince's job be to make girls happy?"

"The Little Prince's job is to truly understand women's hearts."

An Younan stared intently into his eyes for a long time before saying, "I finally understand why the Little Prince was so infatuated with so many girls."

Wang Zixu said, "Does this mean you're somewhat infatuated with me?"

"Of course not."

After finishing her sentence, An Younan added, "But I'm starting to acknowledge you a bit. You're the Little Prince, so your studying philosophy, poetry, and even kneading dough—that's all true, right?"

"Except for kneading the dough."

"So, as a technician who has never kneaded dough before, your massage technique is quite comfortable."

"Thank you for the compliment, but I will never work as a technician again in my life."

"Let's take this opportunity to talk about the contract."

An Younan turned around, took a contract from the bookshelf, and threw it onto the sandalwood table:

"I want you. No, we want you."

(End of this chapter)