Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

Chapter 177 Away Game

A profound silence fell over the small auditorium, as if something had happened and everyone needed time to process it before continuing. Zhang Huaili frowned, glancing towards the audience, and found himself subconsciously searching for Han Fei's face. But he didn't know what Han Fei looked like; he only knew that he was a legendary young publisher.

Most importantly, Chen Zhengyuan unexpectedly revealed a likable side, even a humble one, instead of his infamous arrogance. But something was amiss; his speech completely deviated from the prepared script and the topic, attempting to drag a completely unrelated person into this lecture on school-enterprise cooperation.

Zhang Huaili couldn't predict what would happen next, so he just hoped to find a face in the crowd that showed different emotions, and see if the expression on that face was joy, surprise or embarrassment, so as to assess the next direction of the situation and be able to react in advance.

"President Han," Chen Zhengyuan said, "we've known each other for a long time. Look, you've graced us with your presence, yet you've just sat there without saying a word. Doesn't that make me, the organizer, seem impolite? Come on up here and say a few words to everyone. Let everyone hear what brilliant insights a young man who can revive a dying publishing house and generate millions in monthly revenue has."

Chen Zhengyuan waited quietly, looking in the direction where Wen Shuyan was sitting, a smile on his face.

Everyone looked surprised and turned to look behind them. Zhang Huaili saw the tall young man in the blue striped suit next to Wen Shuyan stand up, a smile on his lips. "Good heavens," Zhang Huaili thought, "So that's Han Fei." Han Fei walked onto the stage and bowed slightly to the audience. A staff member handed him the microphone.

"President Chen gave me a surprise attack," Han Fei said, his voice low and calm. "If I had known there would be this part, I should have memorized two passages from the Analects before leaving home, just to make a good impression."

Polite chuckles rippled through the audience. Zhang Huaili looked at Chen Zhengyuan, who appeared as if he'd been punched. The opening remarks had been defused, easily resolved by a self-deprecating joke. This wasn't the effect Chen Zhengyuan had intended. Zhang Huaili knew what Chen Zhengyuan was planning; he wanted to leave the young man flustered and incoherent, making the entire audience watch Han Fei embarrass himself.

"President Han, you're too modest," Chen Zhengyuan said in a deep voice. "I've read your publication, *Li Yuanyuan*. If I remember correctly, the author is President Han himself. The opening four whites of the novel left a deep impression on me—the first snow,..."

"Peeled eggs, refined white flour, and Li Yuanyuan's buttocks"—do you think this kind of description is appropriate if students see it?

Zhang Huaili felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, instantly putting him on alert. He scanned the audience again and saw a thick layer of suspicion on everyone's faces.

Here it comes, Zhang Huaili thought. This question is insidious. Chen Zhengyuan was using an old trick, but it was very effective. He didn't ask if the content was appropriate, but directly asked what would happen if students saw it. This was a serious accusation; if it were applied, it would be considered poisoning the minds of teenagers. This was called praising someone before killing them—first elevating them, then kicking them down in front of everyone. Zhang Huaili had personally witnessed Chen Zhengyuan use the same method to make a university vice-director lose face at a dinner party.

"Mr. Chen mentioned the beginning of 'Li Yuanyuan,' which I did indeed write myself."

Zhang Huaili raised his eyebrows, looking at Han Fei's face, thinking that if he deliberately showed his charm, he would definitely charm many young women present.

"I must admit," Han Fei said, flashing a smile that revealed his perfectly white teeth, "that opening line wasn't for aesthetic appeal, it was for realism. I wanted to write about a rural woman, how her body was used as public fodder, objectified, and gossiped about. 'White' isn't praise, it's cruel. If readers find that line jarring, then that's right. Because that jarring feeling is the gaze Li Yuanyuan endures every day."

Good, Zhang Huaili thought to himself, he hadn't fallen into a trap and the atmosphere hadn't gotten out of control.

"I completely understand Mr. Chen's concern that students might see inappropriate content, and I am very grateful for that. That's why Qingniao has never and will never push this kind of content to minors. Our SP business has strict age screening; the SMS messages are sent to adults aged 25 to 45. Our magazines are only sold through newsstands and will not be sold in primary and secondary schools."

Zhang Huaili nodded slightly and looked at the others, noticing that Han Fei had received nods of approval and surprised attention from everyone, even the people from the Education Commission seemed satisfied with this explanation. Zhang Huaili then glanced at Chen Zhengyuan, whose expression was quite strange, as if laughing would hurt.

"Since you're so strict about controlling the content," Chen Zhengyuan said irritably, "then I'd like to ask President Han, what use are the things Qingniao does to our country's culture and education? Besides showing people some real cruelty, what positive value can it bring?"

The audience fell into a sudden, deathly silence; even the people from the Education Commission seemed bewildered and at a loss. Zhang Huaili knew that everyone else was thinking the same thing as him: this wasn't a normal exchange at all; that bastard Chen Zhengyuan had turned the school-enterprise cooperation launch meeting into a personal attack against Han Fei.

Only Han Fei found the question interesting. "Mr. Chen asked a good question. I'd like to start by saying that education doesn't just happen in schools; it happens every day after everyone reaches adulthood. Many of our readers are migrant workers on construction sites, assembly line workers, or elderly people left behind in rural towns. They may not have the opportunity to sit in a classroom and listen to literature lessons, but they still need an emotional outlet, they need to know that there are others suffering just like them," they need to see their own reflection in the stories, and gain even a sliver of comfort from being understood. What Qingniao does isn't teaching people to read or instilling grand principles, but rather making those who are silent feel seen. A father working far from home, reading the despair in *Living a Widow*, might not analyze the literary techniques, but he would sigh silently and make a phone call home. Isn't this empathy and self-reflection part of education?"

The crowd began to applaud, though their applause was somewhat uncertain; it was mostly out of relief that the conversation hadn't escalated into something more awkward. Zhang Huaili noticed that Chen Zhengyuan's face had turned pale and his expression had stiffened.

"Furthermore," Han Fei said, smiling slightly, "President Chen, do you really think that Qingniao's content has absolutely nothing to do with our classroom education?"

Chen Zhengyuan chuckled a few times; this was his usual trick to ease the awkwardness.

"Many of the stories we at Qingniao have created, such as Liu Chunmei in 'Living as a Widow' and the bridge where the mute waited for someone for twenty years, are not model essays in textbooks or reading comprehension passages in exams. But they are precisely the parts that are the most difficult to teach in the classroom and the easiest to overlook: the struggles, dignity, and forbearance in human nature, and how people are still willing to hold on to something in the mud at the bottom of society."

Zhang Huaili took a breath and saw that the lifeless faces from just a few minutes ago were now infused with new vitality by Han Fei, and some were even taking notes. Good heavens, this launch meeting was practically turning into Han Fei's private lecture. Wasn't Chen Zhengyuan, that idiot, shooting himself in the foot?

"So I can be frank and say that the content of Bluebird is not suitable for direct inclusion in textbooks, and we don't have that ambition. But we can teach students how to see people, how to see society, and how to see those overlooked corners. What we provide is not standard answers, but a mirror that allows students to see themselves and others in the stories, so that when they feel pressured and even almost lose themselves, they can still find some warmth, some reflection, and some strength to keep going in the stories."

Applause erupted from the audience. Zhang Huaili looked at Chen Zhengyuan, and a phrase suddenly popped into his mind: ashen-faced. This complexion was perfectly suited to someone declared dead. Chen Zhengyuan's lips twitched a few times.

"Actually," Han Fei continued, "President Chen gave me a very valuable insight today. I've always had an idea, but I didn't know how to bring it up with the Education Commission. Since President Chen brought it up for me, I'll take the liberty of reporting it to the leaders."

Everyone stared intently.

Zhang Huaili's heart skipped a beat. What was Han Fei up to? Did he intend to use Chen Zhengyuan's attack as a stepping stone for himself?

"In the process of collecting story materials, Qingniao discovered a particularly interesting phenomenon: the best stories are often not written by writers, but told by ordinary people themselves."

Han Fei tells the story of a mute man. He worked as a blacksmith for twenty years, asking for no money, only food. After his death, he found letters written by a woman over the past twenty years. The last letter read: "Brother Mute, I have a terminal illness. In the next life, I'll be your wife."

A soft sigh came from the audience.

"This story is more moving than any model essay in anthologies," Han Fei said. "So I thought, why not let our students also record the stories around them? My specific idea is to collaborate with the education commission to carry out a 'hometown oral history' social practice activity in some suitable schools."

Zhang Huaili nodded slowly, licked his lips intently, and listened attentively as Han Fei explained the benefits of the plan.

First, it can solve the problem of teaching materials for Chinese language classes. Yes, that sounds promising. What rural schools lack most are good teaching resources.

Secondly, it can promote intergenerational communication. This is an unexpected bonus. Nowadays, children really don't communicate enough with their elders. Letting the elderly talk about the past is more effective than any kind of family education.

The last point is to preserve folk memories. This is a noble aspiration, but it's not just empty talk. The Education Commission has been promoting "local culture into schools" for the past two years, and this oral history project is a perfect fit for this.

Zhang Huaili saw everyone staring intently at Han Fei, as if a flame had been rekindled in the hearts of those who had grown weary of such events. Smiles and nods appeared in the leadership section of the first two rows of the audience. It was as if Qingniao was the actual representative of the enterprise in this school-enterprise cooperation, Zhang Huaili thought.

Han Fei went on to say three things Qingniao was willing to do: compile guidelines and distribute them free of charge to pilot schools; establish submission channels and an editorial team to publish outstanding works and compile them into a book. He clarified that this was not Qingniao's business, but rather a practical thing Qingniao wanted to do for education.

Three minutes later, Han Fei finished his speech, stepped down from the podium, a faint smile on his face, and heard enthusiastic applause. Zhang Huaili dutifully clapped along with everyone else, secretly afraid to go back to the podium, unsure whether to play the good cop or the bad cop.

The process was out of control, completely out of control. Moreover, he couldn't face both Han Fei and Chen Zhengyuan at the same time. He couldn't figure out how to smooth things over for Chen Zhengyuan, nor could he continue reciting scriptures on stage according to the original procedure when Han Fei was performing so perfectly.

Zhang Huaili stood on the podium, put down his file folder, coughed, pretended to look at the program schedule, then looked up, coughed again, and said with a wry smile, "Distinguished leaders, teachers, and students, it seems I haven't invited two guests today, but rather two hosts grabbing the microphone. Next time there's an event like this, I might as well just give up the podium and be in charge of clapping from below."

There was complete silence; there was no laughter.

"Uh, according to the schedule, the next step is the group photo. Leaders, guests, and company representatives in the front row, please move to the front of the stage."

A deathly silence fell; the flames died out.

"Thanks," Wen Shuyan said. They walked along the tree-lined path east of the old Literature and History Building, leading towards the Suzhou Creek, passing a row of benches. There weren't many people around, only regulars strolling along the riverside path. The advantage of this spot was that it was hard to get caught by reporters.

Han Fei raised his right eyebrow: "Why are you thanking me?"

"Thank you for coming. With you here, I don't have to stand there alone. I said that creation is an outlet for emotions, but sometimes, people who have just stepped off the stage also need an outlet. What I fear isn't speaking on stage, but whether anyone listened to what I said afterward. But today I know that at least you were listening." Wen Shuyan paused, looking at Han Fei, "And you also gave me a very wonderful speech. I originally thought you were just going through the motions, but I didn't expect you to say so many meaningful things. Especially the part about empathy being part of education, I was deeply moved after listening to it. It's just... I... I didn't expect that inviting you to participate would cause you so much trouble."

Han Fei smiled slightly: "It's alright, how can I blame you? Wangyi is Qingniao's competitor, it's normal for Chen Zhengyuan to want to embarrass me. Even if you hadn't invited me, he would have done the same thing on other occasions. Besides, plans can't keep up with changes. I originally intended to sit quietly in the audience, listen to you finish speaking, and then hand a business card to the people from the Education Commission and be done with it. But when Chen Zhengyuan called my name, I couldn't just pretend I didn't hear it, because that would be tantamount to belittling my status as the president of Qingniao on the spot. With so many media outlets present, if they report it, it will make it seem like Han Fei didn't dare to say a word at Wangyi's event."