I am not a literary giant

Chapter 277 Shi Shuqiu's Shock (Son of Shi Tonghe)

Zhao Ci took a deep breath.

"Teacher Shi, what I'm about to tell you might surprise you."

Shi Tonghe didn't reply, casually playing with a fountain pen, his eyes like two wells, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Zhao Ci felt a sweat trickle down his face as he was enveloped in that gaze.

Now there is no turning back.

She was just an ordinary worker in a large factory, completely isolated from the literary world. Just standing in front of Shi Tonghe was enough for her to use all her skills.

In just a few days, she collected Shi Tonghe's interview transcripts, postscripts to his works, news about his literary activities, and even friends and students mentioned in old news from many years ago, all of which were written down in her notebook, forming a crooked network of connections.

Finally, I found a breakthrough through a magazine editor, added the WeChat of the local writers' association's external liaison officer, and then, through this officer, got in touch with Shi Tonghe's nanny.

After much pleading and coaxing, she finally managed to get the nanny to pass a message to the teacher. Standing before this literary giant, she still felt as if she were walking on clouds, her reality unreal.

She was just one step away from achieving the result she wanted.

Zhao Ci steeled his resolve and met Shi Tonghe's gaze.

"Prince Xu is the Little Prince."

The air in the study suddenly froze, and there was silence for a full three seconds.

Three seconds later, a crack finally appeared on Shi Tonghe's indifferent face.

"What did you say?"

"The Little Prince is—the one who was recently mentioned by the TV station," Zhao Ci said. "He's very famous online, extremely famous, but nobody knows his identity. Everyone says—"

"I know the Little Prince," Shi Tonghe interrupted her. "I mean, are you sure Prince Xu is that Little Prince?"

As soon as he finished speaking, it was as if a bomb had dropped in the lounge, shattering the previous atmosphere: Black Dog's eyes widened suddenly, and the thermos cup in his hand almost flew out; Xin and Xiao Ba sat up at the same time; Xing Sheng swayed and the chair leg made a piercing popping sound.

"Holy crap?"

It was unclear whose exclamation was echoing in the air.

"Congratulations!" Cheng Xing clapped lightly. "Everyone's efforts have finally paid off."

Xiao Mengyin gave a soft "humph": "Making Wen Nuan (a type of literary work) is more profitable than I imagined. Hey, how much will we get?"

She gently nudged Wang Zixu's calf twice with her foot under the table, but Wang Zixu seemed completely unaware, his voice remaining calm and unchanged: "However, for creators, revenue is just a byproduct; our focus should always be on the content of the work itself."

After saying that, he raised his head: "And your scripts all have a lot of room for improvement."

His words poured cold water on the enthusiastic crowd, and the once cheering lounge immediately returned to a lifeless calm.

Xiao Mengyin's nonchalant attitude dissipated, and she looked at Wang Zixu with more interest.

She now understands Wang Zixu better. She can see that Wang Zixu has entered "Little Prince mode." Once he enters this state, he is not easily disturbed by external things and devotes himself wholeheartedly to the creation itself.

Very charming.

"Let's start with Xiao Mengyin. She's been number one in daily sales for years. I've already copied her script into everyone's email; I recommend you all read it."

He paused, then continued, "In this script, my favorite part is this passage. Let me recite it: 'The fog still shrouds us, the boat has already reached the shore; some feelings are best kept hidden, not revealed.' — What's so good about this line?"

After he finished speaking, he looked around like a teacher giving a lecture.

"First, there is distance. Fog, boats, and shore all maintain a certain sense of haziness. Many of us lack a sense of proportion in our understanding of 'warmth and gentleness,' and I think that's precisely where the problem lies in our grasp of this sense of distance."

"The difference between romantic love and love lies in the sense of distance. Endless entanglement and clinginess is romantic love; the pull and longing that comes from being close yet distant becomes love. Therefore, we need to create a sense of distance so that romantic love can be sublimated into love."

After Wang Zixu finished speaking, Xiao Ba and the believers frantically took notes, wishing they could record the sentence as a golden quote and recite it repeatedly.

"Secondly, restraint is key. The worst thing you can do when expressing love is to say 'I love you' all the time, as this will make the other person feel that you have a strong ulterior motive. Love and affection are essentially the same; the best love is often something that can be seen but not touched."

"Third, the visuals are light and the sense of breathing is ample. The rhythm of the preceding text is very intense, so this is a pause that gives the reader a space to relax, which is a good way to break the rhythm."

Xiao Mengyin bit her lip, a slight smile playing on her lips. She felt she had been read, and read correctly, which made her feel gratified, but also a little ashamed.

Prince Xu continued, "But there are also some shortcomings."

Xiao Mengyin quickly suppressed her smile.

"This sentence is too literary and too subtle."

"Everyone should know that the vast majority of our conversations take place on mobile phones. Users won't give you the same reading effort and depth as with paper books, so our writing can't be too concerned with elegance."

He stretched out his pen and drew a few lines in the air: "I have an idea for improvement. Just a little bit. The fog is still enveloping people, and the boat has already reached the shore. There's some excitement, but it's only suitable to stay close to the neck and dissipate with a breath. That might be slightly better."

Xiao Mengyin remained silent for a few seconds, then let out a soft "humph".

"understood."

The prince swiped the mouse wheel to turn to the next page of the notepad.

"Next up is the believer, who had the worst performance yesterday."

The believer immediately felt ashamed and utterly humiliated—and that was it. He felt completely numb now, used to being at the bottom.

"I know you're very sad right now. When you're sad, you think about a lot of things from the past. Those things are like sand; the more you try to hold on to them, the less you can keep them."

He finished reading and paused. "The writing style is fine. The structure is fine. Even the rhythm is fine."

"But you're in too much of a hurry."

The believer paused for a moment.

Wang Zixu turned the computer screen around and pointed to that line of text.

"You wrote 'I know you're sad.'" Why did you write that? Because you felt the user needed to be understood. But the user came to you not to hear you say, "I know you're sad." They came to convince themselves that someone could understand their sadness without them having to say it.

"When you're writing the script, you're not thinking about what the character is thinking. You're thinking about what the character needs."

These are two different things.

The believer's expression changed slightly: "Is there a difference?"

"Yes," Wang Zixu said. "If you want to know what he's thinking, you'll write 'What happened today?' If you want to know what he needs, you'll write 'I know you're sad.' The former is like knocking on the door, the latter is like banging on it."

The believer opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Xiao Ba chimed in quietly from the side, "So there's a reason why your performance is poor."

The believer glared at him.

Wang Zixu didn't laugh, and closed the form: "Xiao Mengyin's good grades aren't because of her writing skills. There are plenty of people with good writing skills. It's because she treats users as people who don't need to be educated, don't need to be saved, but just need to be seen."

"You write in a hurry because you think the user can't wait. But the user comes to you precisely because they can't wait, and you have to be able to wait."

Just then, a deep engine sound came from outside the window, as if deliberately interrupting Wang Zixu's class.

The sound wasn't like that of an ordinary car; it was a low, deep rumble, like the rumble of some large feline in its throat.

The black dog was closest to the window and glanced outside. Then he froze.

"What's wrong?" the believer asked.

The black dog didn't answer. He just stood there, staring out the window, his mouth slightly agape. The believer leaned closer and glanced out as well. Then he too froze.

A car was parked in the wasteland at the entrance of the base.

The car was low and wide, its body a deep, dark green that gleamed dimly under the streetlights. Its lines were so sharp they looked as if they'd been carved with a knife, and its tires were ridiculously wide; the rims flashed briefly in the light.

The believer couldn't recognize what kind of car it was, but he knew it must be very expensive.

This kind of car is like a man's mental energy booster. It looks alright from a distance, but if you knew who was driving it, no one could resist secretly being envious to the point of being twisted in a grimace.

Wang Zixu walked to the window, intending to block out this disruptive element in the class, just as he saw the car door open.

First, a high heel is extended.

The shoes were stilettos, deep red, with something embellishing the upper that glittered under the light. Then came the legs, very long, the hem of the skirt barely covering the knees.

Then the man bent down slightly, got out of the low-slung car, straightened up, the streetlight shining on his face, and looked around with the curious eyes of a small animal.

Upon seeing her face, Wang Zixu's lips twitched involuntarily.