I am not a literary giant

The sounds of quiet conversation inside the door came and went, like the faint aroma of tea wafting from the tea dregs bucket in the hallway. If Prince Xu's name hadn't been mentioned, he wouldn't have heard it so clearly.

The person who just spoke was Song Yinglian, a male who joined the company at the same time as Diao Yiwen and Guo Ranran. He has slightly dark skin and is thin. Some people have seen him watching movies with Diao Yiwen on weekends.

The corridor was deserted; everyone was in their offices, each door tightly shut. The corridor connected a dozen or so offices, which, like eighth notes, formed the short, compact sections of the entire organization. And this corridor was the musical staff.

Wang Zixu stood on the musical staff, feeling like an out-of-place rest.

He blinked, and the wood grain on the red-lacquered door became vivid before his eyes, then suddenly opened wide. His astonishing imagination pierced through the flimsy door.

Guo Ranran leaned against her desk, sunlight reflecting off her hair clip. Diao Yiwen sat on a wooden sofa with her knees together. Song Yinglian stood in the room, waving his arms passionately. Several other colleagues were also there, some sitting, some standing; everything was clearly visible.

Song Yinglian said, "Xiao Diao, don't feel pressured. I think you have a better chance than Wang Zixu. Yes, he was in the limelight recently, but Shen Qingfeng criticized him almost by name. What the leaders really value is someone like you who writes diligently and practically."

Diao Yiwen said, "But I've only published in Xihe Literature and Art. I've never written any materials."

Guo Ranran said, "What's wrong with *Xihe Literature*? Some people want to publish in *Xihe Literature* but can't. Let me tell you a secret, the gatekeeper told me before that Wang Zixu submitted articles to *Xihe Literature* many times, but he never even saw a trace of them."

"Is that so? No wonder Shen Qingfeng looks down on him. What good is it if you can only recite book titles but can't write them..."

"Anyway, don't worry, Xiao Diao. If we keep this under wraps, everyone in this office will definitely vote for you."

His imagination faded, the scene in the office disappeared, and Wang Zixu's gaze returned to the tightly closed door, staring blankly at the red lacquered wooden door.

Suddenly, it dawned on him: Zhang Cangnian had been reminding him to "be prepared," but he had never understood what "preparation" meant. Hearing the conversation inside the room, he realized that this was what preparation was all about.

He understood why he was still struggling at his age. In the first few years after joining the company, all he knew was to work hard and do whatever his superiors asked him to do, and whatever tasks his colleagues assigned him. He was good at doing but not at communicating, which led to him inexplicably offending people and receiving low scores in his year-end evaluations.

Song Yinglian and Guo Ranran were essentially Diao Yiwen's election team. Through speeches, lobbying, vote-getting, and office networking, they quickly gained the support of one office after another.

The Red Office, the Blue Office, and the swing office—they will go to each one to lobby and work on them. This tiny election team's activities deliberately avoided Wang Zixu's office.

He understood why Zhang Cangnian had come to remind him. He must have known about these activities, but from Zhang's perspective, he couldn't be too direct. He could only hint at it indirectly, urging Zhang to start participating as well, otherwise he would be isolated by the entire unit.

A simple performance evaluation had turned into a massive election for the President of the United States. The prince was humbly and sincerely convinced.

"Click".

Suddenly, the door in front of him opened, and a colleague, holding a teacup, leaned halfway out of the doorway, making eye contact with Wang Zixu.

Song Yinglian's voice traveled past his body to Wang Zixu's ears:

"It's okay, Xiao Diao. Even if you haven't published in Xihe Literature, I'll still vote for you. Wang Zixu is too arrogant and aloof. He only talks to us because he's well-read."

The colleague who bumped into Wang Zixu looked embarrassed and stood there, not knowing what to say. Wang Zixu turned around naturally and left their office door silently, like a ghost, for fear of disturbing the people talking loudly inside.

He returned to his office, sat down in his seat, and buried his head in his hands.

After finishing that report in the morning, he planned to take advantage of the free time to brainstorm script content. But after sitting there for a long time, he couldn't come up with a single word.

He felt he was mentally strong enough to ignore these petty squabbles. He saw the Yangtze River and, like Kuafu, headed towards it. But he didn't have Kuafu's long legs to easily cross the vast expanse. He could only wade through the river, letting the muddy water wash over his head.

Since he doesn't pursue progress, he doesn't want to spread coldness either.

He himself had suffered enough injustice and subtle discrimination, and he didn't want to pass on this discouraging content to young people. So he chose to quietly step aside, in a way that wouldn't affect their mood.

If they knew he had heard and remembered every word of their conversation, he wondered how they would feel. He could only pretend he hadn't heard and remain silent.

Unfortunately, he wasn't as powerful as he had imagined. The cursor blinking on the computer screen affected him.

Suddenly, Prince Xu raised his head.

Damn it, why?

I've already given up on the awards, I've already given you all the opportunities. You can campaign for votes and do your thing, why do you have to belittle one and praise the other behind their backs?

He was always considering everyone's feelings. He considered his wife's feelings, his father's feelings, and also the feelings of his colleagues and superiors.

But no one ever considered his feelings.

A 30-year-old penniless man deserves to be disliked, ignored, and nobody cared about. His very existence is an obstacle to others, needing to be kicked aside for world peace. This world belongs to us, to you, but not to him. He deserves to obediently relinquish this world, unable to harbor any emotions. Damn it, why?!

Wang Zixu stood up and strode to the door he had just been standing in. The sounds from inside the door became much quieter; perhaps the colleague who had opened the door earlier had told them someone was eavesdropping, so they were lowering their voices.

Prince Xu reached out and pushed the door open with a "click".

The conversation abruptly stopped.

Guo Ranran leaned against the desk, Diao Yiwen sat on the wooden sofa with her knees together, and Song Yinglian stood, looking back at him with surprise.

Clouds drifted by and blocked the sunlight, creating a Japanese-style filter effect in the office, making the light bright green and transparent, which was very pleasant.

Wang Zixu glanced at everyone and said, "What's so great about 'Xihe Literature'?"

……

Cheng Xing, wearing blue light blocking glasses, let out a long sigh of relief, took his hands off the keyboard, picked up the mouse, and clicked "Publish".

"The Little Prince's 40 Love Letters to the World" was not released all at once; he updated two letters every day.

By the time he updated to post 38 times, he had already surpassed 148 million followers on Red Pepper, and received tens of thousands of messages every day urging him to post more.

A business partner approached him, wanting to discuss a commercial collaboration, offering 120,000 yuan per order, but he politely declined. He felt it was all thanks to the Little Prince, and he couldn't claim credit for it. To do so for his own benefit would be distorted.

In the chat software, an avatar of a clown cat with a dirty face started jumping. Cheng Xing clicked on it and saw that it was Tian Zhenlei, the editor-in-chief of the magazine "Literary and Art Circles" whom he had communicated with before.

"Literary World" is a fiction journal that appeals to a younger audience. In the field of serious literature, its influence is second only to a few magazines such as "Get", "September", "Yangtze River" and "Flower Country". In some ways, it is even more popular among young people than those magazines.

Tian Zhenlei said, "Xiao Cheng, I'd like to put our 'The Little Prince's Love Letters' in 'Literary World' as a column. I'd like to discuss with you how to do it."

Cheng Xing sat up straight and typed "Okay" in the chat window.