I am not a literary giant

The two of them hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, and Lin Feng's tongue was even starting to taste bitter. But now that he was chatting with Wang Zixu, he didn't want to let him go, and said:

"Brother, I've actually been thinking about your piece, 'Wild Grasses.' It's really well-written."

Prince Xu said, "You flatter me."

Lin Feng said, "When I first read it, I didn't feel anything special, just that it was quite heavy and heartbreaking. To be honest, I didn't like it at first, and I had the urge to give up several times. Because you wrote it so realistically. The unhappiness of middle-aged marriages and the dissipation of love are all too real and too heavy. But now, looking back, it's actually starting to taste sweet after the bitterness."

Wang Zixu was delighted by the praise, and couldn't help but smile: "I just wanted to make it more tragic, so that it would have a stronger impact."

"It's too powerful. That's why it's so bittersweet," Lin Feng said. "When you wrote this, did you draw a lot of inspiration from real life?"

Prince Xu said, "No."

Actually, he did. But out of concern for his wife, he couldn't admit it.

The transformation of the wife's character in the novel is heartbreaking, and if one were to put oneself in the protagonist's shoes, one would feel a severe sense of oppression. This can breed aversion towards the wife's character.

He considered that once the novel was published, it would inevitably be read by people he knew. If people intentionally or unintentionally associated his wife with the wife in the novel, they would certainly have some complaints about her. This was something he absolutely did not want to see.

Lin Feng said, "Actually, when I read about the wife in your novel, I was reminded of my own wife countless times. Sigh, it's not her fault, it's just that she has unspeakable suffering and can't express it."

The prince raised his glass slightly: "Marriage is like this; it's not just the union of two people, nor just the union of two families, but a lifelong bond between two people. There's a more tragic aspect to this system. Come on, let's have a drink."

Raymond Lam said, "Let's have a toast. No need for further explanation, we're all men, we understand."

After the two finished their drinks, they noticed Xie Cong turning to look at them: "What's this? You two are drinking by yourselves? Come on, let's drink together."

Lin Feng and Wang Zixu raised their glasses again, feeling somewhat embarrassed about their behavior of being detached from the rest of the table.

Xie Cong put his hand on Wang Zixu's shoulder and said, "Actually, I really admire this classmate of mine. Every time I see him, I feel at ease. Can you guess why?"

The people around him were very supportive and asked why, and Wang Zixu looked at him curiously as well.

Xie Cong said, "Back when we were in high school, we talked about our ideals and ambitions. A few of us were talking about which university we wanted to go to. Guess what Comrade Wang Zixu said?"

When someone asked, "What did Prince Xu say?" Xie Cong smiled and said, "He said he would live a life different from everyone else."

Director Yang touched his face with his right hand, frowning slightly: "What do you mean?"

Xie Cong said, "It's just that it's different from others!"

No one spoke at the table, and the atmosphere became somewhat awkward. Xie Cong patted Wang Zixu forcefully and said:

"Anyway, seeing that you are still holding firm to the literary front and protecting the bottom line of writers makes me feel very moved and at ease, really."

Wang Zixu gave an awkward smile: "To put it bluntly, isn't it just that we're poor?"

The room erupted in laughter, and a man next to him clapped loudly and exclaimed, "Xie Cong, I get it! Your friend is really something else!"

Wang Zixu said, "The bottom line for a scholar should not be poverty and stinginess."

Unfortunately, his voice was drowned out by laughter, and no one heard him.

Someone at the table said, "The limit for a writer shouldn't be to be liked by everyone."

The prince glanced over and saw a white man with thick lips and glasses sitting among the people, a tablecloth around his neck, holding a glass full of beer, waving to him.

It was Jean-Paul Sartre. This old man had somehow ended up at the table, and he was making beer taste like wine.

Wang Zixu felt he must have lost his mind; he decided to ignore Sartre. No matter how Sartre provoked him, he would remain silent. Although he sensed a strong aggression and competitive tendency in Xie Cong, he didn't intend to retaliate. He had already offended too many people recently.

"Simone de Beauvoir was a good woman." These were the last words Prince Xu uttered at the banquet.

"Huh?" Lin Feng turned to look at him. Only Lin Feng heard it.

……

"I think you drew that conclusion rather hastily; your arguments and reasoning are all a mess. You just said that someone with high emotional intelligence might marry young. You didn't even listen to my points."

Ning Chunyan spoke at length, his tone calm but his emotions intense. Chen Qingluo, after listening, gave him a "what can you do about it?" look.

"I haven't guaranteed that my conclusion is correct. I'm just offering a judgment with an accuracy rate of about 80% from a professional perspective. Whether you choose to believe it is your choice."

She walked around the room barefoot, making a "pat-pat" sound. The tone of her voice made Ning Chunyan feel that she was being obnoxious, a complete scumbag.

Ning Chunyan said, "Qingluo, this matter is really important to me. Please take it seriously."

Chen Qingluo said, "What matters is your emotions in the present moment, every single moment of torment. Looking back from the end, life has no real meaning; what matters is this very moment."

Ning Chunyan said, "You're so knowledgeable. But you've never been in love, so it's easy for you to say. When it's your turn, you'll be even more conflicted than I am."

Chen Qingluo gently touched her chest: "Who says I've never been in love?"

Have you ever been in a relationship?

"Of course. It's just an accident that someone with my high emotional intelligence isn't married."

"Sorry, I didn't realize you had such a high EQ."

Chen Qingluo thought she might be very curious about her romantic experiences (in fact, Ning Chunyan wasn't curious at all), so she said in an emotional tone:

"It was a summer. That year, I was 17, and he was 17 too."

"Wait a minute," Ning Chunyan said, "Is your story long?"

"I don't know how long it will be until I finish speaking."

"Just tell me how long you talked."

"I don't know. We only knew each other for a few months, and then we parted ways."

"Okay, then go ahead and tell me."

Then Ning Chunyan realized she had been tricked.

Chen Qingluo's first love, as fleeting as morning dew, was indeed insignificant in terms of time; it was nothing more than the stirrings of adolescence, something that could theoretically be summed up in a few words. However, she added a great deal of her own psychological activities and indirect descriptions, transforming a short story into a novella through lengthy behavioral analysis.

A full half hour later, Ning Chunyan finally realized that she and her so-called first love had never confessed their feelings to each other, and there was no concrete evidence that the other person liked her. Chen Qingluo's reason for being certain of mutual affection was simply, "Who wouldn't like me?"

This woman below.

"That's it, you've wasted all my time," Ning Chunyan said. "I haven't finished copying my manuscript, and I haven't figured out the Little Prince thing. I've just listened to your irrelevant love story."

Chen Qingluo's face darkened: "People's joys and sorrows are different after all. What is a world-shattering event to me is just a trivial matter to you."

"Don't look down. Does your first love know you two are dating?" Ning Chunyan said. "Why don't you come out? I want to talk to you face to face. My phone is dead."

"I told you, I didn't want anyone to know I was back."

"Then wear a mask."

The two women met at 8:30 p.m., when it was completely dark and the chances of being discovered were slim. They agreed to meet at the crossroads, which was only 50 meters away from the "old village chief."

Wang Zixu's party had just ended, and Xie Cong said he was going to play bridge with some others, so they parted ways. Chen Qingluo appeared at the intersection wearing a trench coat, just as Wang Zixu had passed by, less than two minutes apart.

But neither of them saw each other, and under the cover of night, they missed each other at the same intersection.

Humans are not four-dimensional beings and cannot move freely along the timeline, so they will never realize what they have missed. This is the only thing we should be grateful for from the Creator.