I am not a literary giant

When Prince Xu saw that woman, he was shocked.

The woman had shoulder-length, slightly wavy hair; she wore an apricot-colored, sleeveless Chinese-style long dress adorned with ink bamboo paintings; the slit at the hem of the dress revealed glimpses of her very long legs, which were encased in pearlescent, semi-transparent stockings.

She wore a light, fluffy blouse of the same color over her dress, one sleeve slipping down to reveal her smooth, white shoulder; long, silver pendant earrings peeked out from under her hair, shimmering with a cold light.

Upon closer inspection, her features are not perfect: her eyes seem to speak, moist and spring-like, but they are not very big; her lips are upturned, pink like cherry blossoms, but the color is a bit too pale; her forehead is also slightly wider compared to the beauties on TV.

But when these elements are combined, their individual shortcomings disappear, just like in Bach's Harpsichord Concerto No. 2 in D minor, where each voice strives to highlight its own characteristics while maintaining a perfect balance.

Or rather, she cannot be simply described as "beautiful." Her smooth shoulders and strong, long legs exude a vibrant life force. Rather than being "beautiful," she is more like an embodiment of libido.

Wang Zixu seemed to see a deer appear in the office. It first used its huge antlers to knock Wang Zixu over, then jumped onto the table, trampling the room into a mess, with manuscripts flying everywhere.

"Feed? Feed? Hey!"

Prince Xu was suddenly startled to find himself facing the large face of the middle-aged man, who was staring at him suspiciously.

"I asked you when Director Mei will be back?"

Prince Xu seemed to snap out of a daze and replied, "Two hours later."

"That long?"

The man frowned, glanced down at his watch, and asked the woman, "Ms. Ning, would you like to wait?"

The woman was now sitting on the sofa, her hands on her knees, shallow dimples appearing on her face, looking quite docile.

"Of course I'll wait. I came to Xihe to see Senior Mei, and it's worth waiting no matter how long it takes."

The middle-aged man said, "Okay, then please wait a moment. I have something else to attend to and will come back later."

The woman nodded: "You go ahead and do your own thing, don't worry about me."

After the man left, only Wang Zixu and the woman remained in the office.

Wang Zixu opened the speech at the on-site meeting celebrating the completion of the New Dream Project and optimizing the business environment on his computer, scrolling up and down casually while stealing glances at the woman.

The woman seemed to notice him looking at her, and her gaze drifted over. Wang Zixu quickly turned his head to look at the screen, staring intently at the speech draft on the screen, muttering to himself as if he wanted to devour the computer.

She is beautiful, like a painting in the Louvre. Prince Xu can stand for a long time to appreciate the beauty of the painting, but he would never be so crazy as to want to possess it.

Only the extremely wealthy would attempt to buy a painting they fancy while visiting the Louvre; it's a luxury reserved for the rich. Even a prince wouldn't dare dream of it. And it is precisely because of his humility that he is able to maintain a pure appreciation for beautiful things.

He couldn't help but fantasize: if this were a chivalric romance novel, this woman would definitely be the true heroine, making countless Don Quixotes look like clowns, and then wearing the ring offered by the most powerful knight.

As for Prince Xu, he is neither a knight nor Don Quixote; he might be Sancho, the squire of Don Quixote.

"My name is Ning Chunyan," the woman suddenly introduced herself. "I have some connection with your Director Mei, and I came here specifically to see him."

"Oh," Prince Xu's voice was dry and lifeless.

Ning Chunyan asked, "Is Director Mei still writing poetry?"

Wang Zixu said, "I don't know. I'm not from this office."

Ning Chunyan slightly widened her eyes, as if she wanted to ask him why he was sitting here.

Wang Zixu didn't say anything. He didn't know why he was sitting there. With his hands on his lap, he felt that he must be acting foolish in her eyes.

The office was quiet, the wall clock ticking softly. Time was dragging. The phone call still hadn't come.

Wang Zixu didn't want to talk to this woman anymore, but he finally couldn't hold back and asked, "Excuse me, are you Ning Chunyan, the one whose novel was published in 'September'?"

Ning Chunyan covered her mouth, her eyes sparkling: "You've read 'September'?"

Wang Zixu murmured, "September is a top-notch pure literature magazine in China."

Ning Chunyan laughed and said, "I thought nobody reads pure literature anymore."

Her smile was like a light rain pattering on a spring pond. Prince Xu quickly turned his head away from her and continued reading his speech silently.

September is a prestigious literary journal in China, and publishing articles there is considered a necessary step towards winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. Wang Zixu had carefully read September, and Ning Chunyan's writing left a particularly deep impression on him.

When he saw the name, he immediately thought of Li Bai's line, "Heaven and earth are the inn of all things; time is the passing guest of a hundred generations," leaving him with endless reverie.

He had assumed Ning Chunyan was a kind old lady with wisdom in her eyes amidst her wrinkles, but he never expected her to be so young, even looking younger than himself.

He now understood why he found Ning Chunyan so beautiful. The literary air she possessed was a perfect weapon against someone like him, an absolute weakness that could be exploited.

Voices came from outside the door, then the door was pushed open, shattering the fragile silence. A man walked in and shouted:

"What a coincidence! I never expected it to be such a coincidence that Miss Ning has also returned to Xihe!"

The man was short and thin, with sunglasses perched on his head and neatly styled hair. He looked spirited, but there was a hint of greasiness in his bone structure.

Upon seeing the man, Ning Chunyan stood up, crossed her legs, and tilted her head, saying, "Shen Qingfeng?"

Shen Qingfeng laughed and reached out his hand. Ning Chunyan hesitated for a second, touched his fingertips with his, but Shen Qingfeng grasped his hands.

"Ning Cai is even more beautiful in person than in the photos! A rare guest indeed! Welcome back to Xihe!"

The prince stared blankly at the scene before him, feeling as if he were in a dream. He knew Shen Qingfeng too.

This one is more heavyweight.

Shen Qingfeng used to be a radio announcer and host. After resigning, he opened a bed and breakfast and published a book called "Girl, Let's Hold Hands". The book became a hit and he continued to publish a book every year, dominating the bestseller list each time, creating a cultural phenomenon.

In Wang Zixu's bedroom, his bedside is always occupied by Proust's *In Search of Lost Time*, Faulkner's *Absalom! Absalom!*, and Vargas Llosa's *Conversation in the Cathedral*. His wife's side, on the other hand, is always occupied by Shen Qingfeng's *Girl, Let's Hold Hands*, *Run! Hakimi*, and *Hallelujah! Yatai Kula*.

He glanced at his wife's book and refused to look at it again, feeling nauseous. But his wife read it with great interest.

His wife would often nag him, "You always look down on this and that. I think Shen Qingfeng is more cultured than you. Otherwise, why is he so popular? What right do you have to look down on him?"

Wang Zixu said, "You're judging by results. Success doesn't necessarily equate to talent. In any case, I haven't seen any useful elements in Shen Qingfeng's books."

His wife rolled her eyes and said, "Success doesn't necessarily mean talent, but it definitely means money. Failure definitely means a lack of talent."

Prince Xu could not refute him.

Shen Qingfeng sat on the sofa, crossed his legs high, and chatted with Ning Chunyan.

"You're from Xihe, and so am I. But you're a member of the Provincial Writers Association, and I'm the vice president of the Municipal Writers Association. We should communicate and exchange ideas more in the future so that we can better serve our writer friends."

Ning Chunyan chuckled, and after laughing, she said, "I'm a laid-back person and not very good at leadership. If you want to talk to me, I won't have anything useful to say."

Her answer was polite and gentle, but it contained a subtle hint of a rebuff. Seeing that the beautiful woman wasn't interested, Shen Qingfeng started a new topic.

He added, "We're all people who travel all over the country, and we suddenly met today. Isn't that fate? If it's fate, we should drink. Come to my guesthouse tonight, I'll treat you to drinks and let you stay for free. When you leave, just sign your name on our wall."

Ning Chunyan declined his invitation again, saying that she wanted to go home and stay with her parents.

Shen Qingfeng said in surprise, "Ning Cai Nu hasn't brought her parents to the big city yet? I have houses in major tourist cities all over the country. My parents can go wherever they want to stay. Sometimes I can't even find them."

Ning Chunyan said casually, "How could I be as rich as President Shen?"

After hitting several snags, Shen Qingfeng was speechless, and the office fell silent, the sound of the clock returning to the room.

Prince Xu regretted it. He regretted taking on that job and being forced to sit here.

He used to have many fantasies about the literary world, but he never expected it to come to him so abruptly and directly.

One is a bestselling author, and the other is a writer of pure literature. They gathered in the office of Xihe No. 1 Pen Holder. They were both representative figures, but the atmosphere at the scene was so unbearable.

He began to pray that the young woman would call him soon and rescue him from this awkward situation.

"Oh, by the way," Shen Qingfeng said, scrolling through his phone, suddenly turning to the side, "Does Ms. Ning know Lin Feng from our Writers' Association?"

The name Lin Feng made Wang Zixu sit up straight immediately.

Ning Chunyan said, "I think he wrote reportage, right? I remember he published a novel in Fiction Monthly."

Shen Qingfeng said, "Yes, this person has always been a bit pretentious. But something really funny happened yesterday."

Ning Chunyan tilted his head, waiting for him to continue. Shen Qingfeng then said:

"He went to inspect a unit yesterday, got drunk with a clerk, went home and went crazy, his wife kicked him out of the house, and he was reciting Li Bai's 'The Road to Shu is Hard' in the street, you know?"

Ning Chunyan widened her beautiful eyes: "Why?"