I am not a literary giant

Chapter 274 Naturally the First Class Among Humans

Jia Siming fiddled with his sunglasses, a look of seasoned wisdom and composure on his face, and said, "The issue we were just discussing boils down to one question: Should literature be valued?"

"After one of my movies premiered, a film critic would block me backstage and ask me what the movie was trying to teach people. Was it criticizing human selfishness or praising resilience?"

"I said I have no right to educate anyone. I just filmed what I saw, thought, and felt, that's all."

He rested his elbows on the table, his fingertips tracing the edges of the book pages: "It seems that audiences in our country generally feel that literature or film must have some educational value in order to be considered worthwhile; otherwise, it's just a waste of time and energy."

"But please think about this: a work is a treasure if it has meaning, and trash if it has no meaning. It has no value in itself; it is merely a carrier of meaning—is this binary thinking reasonable?"

"Perhaps this makes sense to that film critic. I'm a big director, I have a lot of influence, and countless children and grandpas will try to imitate any shot I make, so my films must be meaningful and educational, otherwise they will become poisonous weeds that harm people."

"But when I'm making a movie, I don't have time to think about anything of high value. If I were to start thinking before filming, 'What lesson am I going to teach the audience through this story?' the shots would become stiff, the characters would become fake, and the movie would be unwatchable."

"Furthermore, what exactly constitutes meaning? And what meaning does meaning itself hold?"

He leaned forward.

"I squatted in the movie theater and eavesdropped on the audience talking about movies. They talked about life, ideals, and the meaning of life. In the end, nine times out of ten, they came to the same conclusion: make more money. Only making money is meaningful; everything else is meaningless."

As soon as he finished speaking, the lecture hall erupted in laughter, and many people applauded.

Jia Siming, however, didn't smile. He sat up straight and said, "I think literature is the same way. I bet when Wang Zixu wrote those stories, he didn't think about modernity, illusion of reality, or historical context at all—"

"He just wanted to write about a man torn in two by fate, it was so painful, and I felt the pain when I read it too, which is great. He wrote about a kind of unpredictable truth, and only truth can move people."

"The worst thing about creation is overthinking." If he's always trying to elevate the book's value and maintain a balanced approach, I'm sure the book will be unreadable. It'll lack inspiration.

"Value grows naturally, it's not something the author forces in. If you write a good story, the audience will naturally be able to read their own insights. Everyone sees different things, and that's what a good work should be like."

"If you approach creation with the mindset of 'it must be valuable,' and confine the story to rigid rules and regulations, that's the greatest harm you can do to your creative process."

After saying that, he leaned back, reverting to his previous inscrutable demeanor, as if his words were just casual conversation.

A sustained round of applause rang out in the lecture hall, seemingly a response to the applause that had followed Cheng Wu's speech.

"Ahem, ahem, what Director Jia said is a completely different matter from what we're talking about." Lü Qinghou cleared his throat. "We're discussing the social value requirements of literature, while Director Jia is speaking from the perspective of a creator."

Cheng Wu then added, "We are not trying to restrict creators with rules and regulations, but rather to trace the root causes from an outsider's perspective and point out the problems in the works—isn't that precisely the significance of literary criticism?"

Hu Yezhou said, "I'm not an academic, so I don't quite understand. I just want to ask: if a literary critic demands that creators do things that harm their own work, is there any point in having that criticism?"

Cheng Wu's eyes flickered occasionally as she looked at Hu Yezhou: "Does Professor Hu mean that female narratives have no reason to exist?"

"I didn't say that."

"Professor Lü says these are two different things, but in my opinion, they are one and the same," Jia Siming said again, his sunglasses gleaming. "The core issue is simply: is the creator biased, or is the critic nitpicking?"

Lü Qinghou said, "This is the awkward thing about our academic reviews. We look at the works from a forward-looking social perspective, and the focus we pay attention to can easily be seen as nitpicking by today's readers."

Hu Yezhou said, "The problem is that it is asking a man to tell a female story is inherently difficult."

Cheng Wu said, "My meaning is also very clear: if it cannot be done, it can hardly be called a great work."

Everything's in chaos.

The entire studio was in complete chaos.

Several people spoke at the same time. At first, it was still possible to hear each other's opinions clearly, but later it turned into a complete verbal battle. Voices and opinions were intertwined, and it was impossible to tell who was saying what.

Seeing this, Wenren Zao grabbed the microphone and shouted in a voice loud enough to drown out the entire room, "Dear teachers! Dear teachers! Please calm down! The rules stipulate that each teacher can only make one supplementary statement. Please be patient. You will have another opportunity to explain your literary ideas during the subsequent judging process!"

The camera panned across the room. Lü Qinghou's face was solemn, Cheng Wu's eyes were sharp, and Hu Yezhou looked unwilling. Clearly, none of them had gotten a result, and they were holding back their anger.

Seeing that the situation was under control, Wenrenzao raised the microphone and said with great emotion, "The reason why our Feishi Literary Award invites guests with different styles and independent thoughts is that we hope to hear diverse voices. Disputes are inevitable."

He then changed the subject: "The argument just now precisely confirms our principle of striving to select a diverse range of works that possess both depth and warmth —"

Just as Wenren Zao finished speaking and was feeling smug about her quick wit and control of the situation, the director's voice suddenly came through her earpiece, like a bucket of cold water being poured on her: "Why did you interrupt them? The show was at its climax, let them argue a little longer!"

Backstage at the program, in the workshop of the Fei Shi Literary Award organizers, the planning director paced back and forth excitedly, clenching his fists: "It's a hit! It's a hit! Hurry up, you there!"

He beckoned the head of the publicity team over and directed, "Quickly package up a few trending topics. I've already thought of the titles: Jia Siming rarely loses his temper: Creation shouldn't be self-imposed constraints; Hu Yezhou confronts academic bigwigs: I'll do whatever makes me happy; Cheng Wu talks about female narratives again: Literature shouldn't only empathize with men."

The propaganda team leader, holding his notebook, listened in stunned silence before finally saying, "Isn't this... a bit inappropriate?"

"What's wrong with that? The appearance fees for these teachers all include publicity and marketing."

"What I mean is," the propaganda team leader carefully chose his words, "isn't this a bit too cliché?"

What did you major in at university?

Journalism.

"You studied journalism!" The planner pointed at his nose and said in thick Beijing dialect, "I'm telling you, if I hear you say such unprofessional things again, I'm firing you!"

The publicity team leader went downstairs as instructed, and the planner then gave orders to Wenren Zao's headset at the front desk: "Wen, strike while the iron is hot! Encourage Yanzishan to also make a supplementary speech. We must capitalize on this wave of popularity!"

'

On camera, Wenren Zao, upon receiving instructions, immediately flashed a perfectly timed expectant smile: "The discussions just now were absolutely brilliant! From literary value to the essence of creation, each layer was insightful and thought-provoking!"

She paused, then turned her gaze to Yan Zishan, who had remained silent throughout: "Now, the entire audience and netizens watching on screens are eagerly anticipating a few more words from Professor Yan Zishan. Would you be willing to share your additional thoughts?"

As soon as he finished speaking, all eyes in the room focused on Yanzishan.

The camera lens slowly zoomed in, capturing every expression on his face;

In the lecture hall, the students sat up straight;

In the rest room of Wennuan Base, Black Dog also stopped fiddling with the books, staring at the screen and holding his breath.

Yan Zishan slightly raised his eyes, his gaze calmly sweeping across the entire room. He remained silent for two seconds, then slowly shook his head.

"No need."

His lips didn't curve into any extraneous smile, and his voice remained concise, without a single wasted word.

Wenren Zao was greatly disappointed: "You really don't want to say anything?"

"That's enough of the discussion. I have nothing to add."

He offered no explanation or further comment, remaining as still as a statue, as if the heated debate and the anticipation of the audience had nothing to do with him.

Wenren Zao paused for a moment, then quickly smoothed things over: "Okay, we respect Professor Yanzishan's choice! Although it's a bit of a pity, this discussion surrounding 'Fire in the Stone' has been brilliant and insightful enough—"

Although the organizers backstage were slightly disappointed, they couldn't hide their excitement as they watched the trending search data and discussion volume climb in real time.

Even if Yanzishan didn't participate, this "debate among big names" and "battle of the gods" is already enough to generate buzz.

Chen Qingluo's posture remained unchanged, but her eyes, which had been lowered, finally lifted up.

Ning Chunyan turned her head to look at Chen Qingluo.

What do you think?

"That's a bit undignified."

"It's really not dignified," Ning Chunyan said. "A group of intellectuals, arguing in public, I think this has only happened once in the last five years. And that time it was Wang Zixu."

"That's one aspect," Chen Qingluo said. "The content of these judges' speeches, as well as their stances, are also quite interesting."

“Yes,” Ning Chunyan said, “Lü Qinghou, with his academic airs, seems to be upholding the boundaries of literature, but in reality, he’s upholding the boundaries of his circle. Who wants to come in is up to him.”

Chen Qingluo nodded slightly.

"Cheng Wu," Ning Chunyan continued, "isn't targeting 'Stone Fire.' She's using this book to build a reputation for herself."

Chen Qingluo finally spoke: "Feminism is her weapon, and also her shield. When she uses it to fight back, no one can fight back."

"Where is Hu Yezhou?" Ning Chunyan asked.

Chen Qingluo thought for a moment: "He's smart. He knows he's not an insider, so he never pretends. He speaks for the audience, saying, 'I don't understand academics, I only know I enjoyed watching it.' This kind of approach is something Lü Qinghou and the others haven't seen before, and they can't handle it."

Ning Chunyan remained silent for two seconds.

"Jia Siming————"

Before she could finish, Chen Qingluo interjected, "Jia Siming is the only one here who is truly talking about creative work."

Ning Chunyan looked at her.

"What he said, Lü Qinghou couldn't understand, Cheng Wu didn't want to hear, and Hu Yezhou understood but couldn't articulate." Chen Qingluo paused, "It seems that film art has been elevated to the level of 'Tao,' and can be applied to literary creation in a similar way."

"What about Yanzishan?"

Chen Qingluo was silent for a moment, then said, "Those words of Jia Siming should have been said by him."

But he remained steadfastly silent.

"He's cunning," Chen Qingluo said firmly. "I don't like him."

The two were talking very quietly, and almost no one else could hear them; but in the back row, the students' discussion was already in full swing.

"Jia Siming is right! Why does literature have to educate people? I hate those who have to write a book report after reading a book!"

'

"What do you know? A work without values ​​is just a pile of loose sand; you'll forget it as soon as you finish watching it!"

"So what did you remember? What values ​​are in 'Yesterday's Star'? Tell me!"

"I—I haven't finished watching it yet—"

"What are you bragging about if you haven't even finished watching?"

"So you've finished reading 'The Spark in the Stone'?"

"no."

"Then why are you making such a racket?"

The two stared at each other, neither saying a word.

The bespectacled man next to him pushed up his glasses and joined the discussion: "I think Cheng Wu has a point. Male writers have blind spots when writing about women. This is a structural problem, not a problem of individual ability."

"What about female writers who write about men?"

"Of course there are blind spots too."

"So there are blind spots on both sides, so should we still write it or not?"

The bespectacled man paused for a moment.

He Yangyuxiao was overwhelmed by the arguments. She turned to Ye Zhihan, hoping to find some agreement, but found Ye Zhihan with her head down, staring at her phone screen with her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

Ye Zhihan handed her the phone.

The screen displays a page for a book community. Under the entry for "Fire in the Stone," the number of discussions is refreshing at a visible rate.

What does it mean to say, "We were just arguing about Jia Siming's words, and now we're discussing the truth without preconceived notions"?

"Ye Zhihan said."

He Yangyuxiao glanced at the numbers: "This—this is rising way too fast!"

Ye Zhihan didn't say anything.

She scrolled down and saw a new post: "Question: Can someone who hasn't read *Spark in the Stone* directly read the section about the 'delivery room' mentioned by Hu Yezhou? Will they understand it?"

The first reply below suggests reading the original work first. That section is in the second half. If you don't understand the foreshadowing in the beginning, your experience will be diminished.

Second reply: The e-book is available for pre-order; I just placed an order.

Third reply: +1.

Ye Zhihan put her phone away and stared at the line "I just placed an order" for a long time.

She didn't like Prince Xu. She never liked him.

But now, she finds herself possibly having to read that book.

It's not about supporting anyone, it's about following the trend.

As a book blogger, if everyone is discussing a book that she hasn't read, she loses her voice.

She bit her lip.

This feeling is very unpleasant.

It felt like being forced to do something you didn't want to do.

Wennuan base.

The black dog stared at the curtain, its eyes gleaming with an alarming intensity.

"Brother Believer," he said, his voice slightly unsteady, "did you see it?"

The believer ignored him.

"I'm so envious of Teacher Little Prince."

"Um??"

The believer finally turned to look at him.

"When The Little Prince was all the rage in China, you didn't express any envy when you met him, and you weren't envious when his work was featured on TV shows. Now you're saying..."

Envy?

Moreover, the Little Prince, who could clearly transcend the three realms, insisted on participating as an ordinary person, allowing his work to be subjected to the judges' scathing criticisms, making him feel like a fish on a chopping board. He didn't understand what was so enviable about that.

"Don't you think so?" the black dog said. "The Little Prince only wrote one book, and then this group of people started arguing like this, enough to keep people talking for a lifetime."

The believer glared at him, with a look of disdain that seemed to say, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

Then, the black dog said something that made his jaw drop: "A true man should live like this!"

"Write a book, put it there, and it causes a huge uproar—" Xing Sheng repeated Black Dog's words, "That's really impressive."

Xiao Ba chimed in quietly, "Arguments aside, the book sales have gone up. Will The Little Prince still need to write heartwarming stories in the future?"

No one answered him.

Xiao Mengyin leaned back on the sofa, a strange smile curving her lips.

Cheng Xing looked at her: "What are you thinking about?"

Xiao Mengyin didn't look at him.

"I was thinking," she said, "what if one day someone argued like this for me?" She paused.

"Then my life of writing can be considered worthwhile."

In the live stream room.

Wenrenzao's voice rang out again, carrying a professional composure.

"Thank you all for your insightful remarks. The discussion just now, though intense, has shown us the diversity and vitality of literary criticism. This is precisely what the Fei Shi Literary Prize has always advocated—to let different voices converse and different perspectives collide."

She paused.

"Now, please continue to review the remaining works."

The camera panned across the five judges.

Lu Qinghou picked up his teacup, took a sip, and his expression remained unchanged.

Cheng Wu looked down at the documents in front of her, as if nothing had just happened.

Hu Yezhou leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and wore an expression that said, "I'll just watch and not say anything."

Jia Siming was wearing sunglasses, and his expression was unreadable.

Yanzishan remained motionless.

That heated exchange just now felt like an illusion.

The subsequent judging process became surprisingly calm.

Lu Qinghou continued to comment on the next few works in his steady academic tone; Cheng Wu occasionally added a few words, his tone returning to that detached coldness;

Hu Yezhou stopped joking and simply said a few polite words: Jia Siming spent more time silent than speaking.

Even the students in the lecture hall started to lose focus.

Some people are looking down at their phones. Some are chatting quietly. Some are slumped over their desks, their eyes half-open.

He Yangyuxiao yawned.

"Why am I suddenly so bored?"

Ye Zhihan didn't answer. She was still refreshing the page of that book community, watching the number of discussions gradually increase.

The popularity of "Fire in the Stone" is still growing.

But the excitement in the live stream has already dissipated.

Despite Wenrenzao's efforts to liven up the atmosphere during her appearances, the enthusiasm inevitably plummeted.

Although a few books have emerged that have caught people's attention, none have reached the level of discussion that "Fire in the Stone" has garnered.

Finally, the review of the last work was completed, and the three-hour marathon review finally came to an end. Wenrenzao reappeared in the center of the camera.

"Thank you to the five judges for their insightful comments. After today's intense and productive judging session, we are one step closer to the final shortlist."

She paused.

"Now, please allow me to announce that everyone in the lecture hall has sat up straight again."

At the Wen Nuan base, the black dog held its breath.

In the first row, Ning Chunyan's pen rested between her fingers.

"The final shortlist results will be officially announced on the official website of the Fei Shi Literary Award at 3 pm tomorrow."

The entire room fell silent for a second.

Then came a low murmur.

"Tomorrow? Not on the spot?"

"What's going on? I've been waiting all day!"

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow—"

Chen Qingluo and Ning Chunyan stood up at the same time.

They didn't speak, but simply looked at each other deeply.

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