A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

Friday at noon.

"bell--"

The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

As soon as the teacher announced "get out of class dismissed," the classroom erupted in chaos. The sounds of chairs being pushed and pulled, textbooks being closed, and pencil cases being zipped up and closed blended into a cacophony of noise.

Several boys sitting in the back row had already stood up and stretched, while the girls in the front row were packing up their things and discussing which window to go to for lunch.

Liu Yang turned around from the front row and lay down on Lin Shubai's table, his face showing the expression of someone who hadn't eaten for three days seeing a Manchu Han Imperial Feast.

"Cafeteria! Cafeteria! Cafeteria! They have chicken drumsticks today!"

"All you care about is chicken legs," Su Wan retorted as she packed her things.

"What's wrong with chicken legs? Chicken legs are a product of human civilization."

"You said braised pork was the right one last time."

"Yes, yes." Liu Yang waved his hand dismissively, glossing over the philosophical question, then looked at Lin Shubai, "Let's go, what are you daydreaming about? If we don't go now, the chicken legs will be gone!"

Lin Shubai took his phone out of the drawer.

A short message lay silently on the screen, with the time displayed as "09:48".

The text message arrived during class that morning. His phone vibrated in the drawer, and when he glanced down at it, a preview of a new message appeared on the screen—"Hello Lin Shubai, this is Lü Jia, editor of the red edition of 'Story Club'..."

He only glanced at the phone before putting it back, because Old Chen was standing on the podium lecturing on classical Chinese texts, and his gaze lingered on him for a second longer as it swept across the class.

Lin Shubai stood up, put his phone back in his pocket, and said, "You guys go first."

"What's wrong?" Liu Yang asked curiously.

"Something came up."

"What could be more important than eating?" Liu Yang looked incredulous, as if he had heard something outrageous.

Su Wan glanced at Lin Shubai and tugged at Liu Yang's sleeve: "Let's go, let's go. Do you think everyone is like you, all you do is eat?"

"But..."

"Walk."

Su Wan's tone left no room for argument. Before Liu Yang could even finish speaking, she yanked him up from his chair, almost causing him to drop his backpack. As he was being dragged out, he looked back at Lin Shubai, muttering, "Then I'll save you a seat."

"it is good."

As the two walked out of the classroom, Su Wan paused at the door and glanced back at him. That look was brief, lasting only a second or two, but Lin Shubai understood—she was saying, "If you need anything, tell me."

Almost everyone had left the classroom, leaving only a few students on duty wiping the blackboard. Lin Shubai walked out of the classroom, down the corridor to the corner where there was a window facing the playground.

He leaned against the windowsill, looking at the line of text on his phone screen.

All three articles are proposed for publication.

In my previous life, I wrote online novels for eight years and received at least eighty to a hundred messages from editors. Among those messages, "not enough reading," "suggestions for revision," and "will be reviewed after publication" were frequent occurrences, while the words "proposed for publication" never appeared.

This life is different. These manuscripts weren't written by him—no, they were written by him, but not "created" by him. They are works that have stood the test of time, and their adoption is highly probable. It would be a surprise if they weren't adopted.

So when he received the text message, he felt more of a sense of relief, like "I knew it," rather than the ecstatic joy of "Oh my god, I actually won!"

Of course, his heart still skipped a few beats. A sixteen-year-old's body is not entirely under his control; there's nothing he can do about it.

Lin Shubai dialed the number on the text message.

beep - beep - beep -

The call was answered after three rings.

"Feed?" a female voice asked, with a slight southern accent.

"Hello, is this Ms. Lü Jia? This is Lin Shubai. I received your text message."

"Oh, hello, hello!" The other person's voice became noticeably warmer and faster. "Teacher Lin, I originally wanted to call you directly, but I was afraid you might not be able to answer, so I sent you a text message first."

The moment Lin Shubai heard the words "Teacher Lin," he almost lost his composure.

He had never heard of the title "Teacher Lin" in his previous life.

He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound like "Teacher Lin": "Yes, I have something to do this morning, so it's not convenient for me to answer the phone."

"I understand, it's during working hours. I've read all three of your articles, and they're of very high quality. We plan to use them all."

"Thank you, Teacher Lü."

"What are you thanking me for? It's because you wrote it well." The sound of turning pages came from Lü Jia's side, probably someone flipping through his manuscript.

Lü Jia continued, "I've spoken with the editor-in-chief, and I'd like to briefly explain the arrangements. We'll publish the three articles in two issues. I plan to put 'Chunhua Noodle Shop' at the beginning of the issue. 'The Most Precious Gift' and 'Lunch' will be placed in later sections, published in two separate issues. I'll decide on the order after I've done the layout work. What do you think?"

"OK."

"Okay. As for the payment, it's 500 yuan per thousand words, around 3200 yuan for three articles. Is that alright with you?"

Three thousand two. Wang Xiulan's monthly salary is a little over four thousand.

"OK."

"Okay. Should the payment be made via postal money order or bank transfer?"

"Postal money order".

"Okay, is the address on the envelope?"

"right."

"Okay. Shall we use Lin Shubai as the signature?"

"right."

"Lin Shubai," Lü Jia read the name aloud, "It's a nice name, simple and easy to remember. Is it a pen name or my real name?"

"Real name".

"Real names are fine. Many authors use pen names, but real names are sometimes more recognizable." Lü Jia's tone was casual, as if she were talking to an old friend.

"By the way," Lü Jia changed the subject, "Teacher Lin, is your story 'Spring Blossom Noodle Shop' based on a real noodle shop?"

"Yes, it's an old shop on Nanjing Road."

"I think I vaguely remember seeing her before when I passed by. Are you very familiar with the proprietress?"

"We're not that close. I asked her if she agreed before submitting the article, and she said it was fine."

Lü Jia smiled: "The proprietress is very generous. Teacher Lin, is this weekend convenient for you? I'd like to meet you and maybe we can go to that noodle shop together. We can talk about the manuscript, and I'd also like to see the place in person."

Lin Shubai thought for a moment. Meeting in person was inevitable, and there were limited things they could discuss over the phone. Moreover, he did want to consult Lü Jia about "Charlotte's Web"—although it was a full-length children's story and didn't quite fit the style of "Story Club," Lü Jia had been an editor for eight years and certainly knew more about the publishing industry than he did.

"Sure. Saturday or Sunday?"

"Saturday, around 10 a.m.? Let's meet in front of that noodle shop, is that alright?"

"OK."

"It's settled then. See you Saturday, Teacher Lin."

See you on Saturday.

The phone hangs up.

Lin Shubai took the phone away from his ear and glanced at the call duration displayed on the screen: "05:47". It was just over five minutes, shorter than he had expected.

He thought they would talk for a longer time, perhaps about their initial motivations for writing or their future career paths, but Lü Jia didn't ask those questions. She only asked about the most crucial things—how the manuscripts would be arranged, how the royalties would be calculated, and when they would meet.

Professional, efficient, and concise. Lin Shubai had a good impression of this editor.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly stopped and looked down at his school uniform.

He recalled the tone of Lü Jia's voice when she called him "Teacher Lin" on the phone—polite, respectful, and carrying the courtesy one would show to a peer or even a senior.

If she knew that the "Teacher Lin" she was referring to was a sixteen-year-old boy wearing school uniform pants who had to clear his throat before speaking to avoid looking like a high school student—

Lin Shubai couldn't help but chuckle.

He was somewhat interested in seeing this scene.

The cafeteria was bustling with noise.

Lin Shubai carried his tray back to his usual spot. Liu Yang and Su Wan occupied the third row of tables by the window, their regular "nest"—not too far from the food window, just enough to avoid the queues and still have a view of the playground outside.

Three plates were already piled up in front of Liu Yang: a plate of chicken legs, a plate of braised pork, and a plate of stir-fried vegetables, with a large bowl of rice piled up like a small mountain next to it. He was gnawing on a chicken leg, oil dripping from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.

Su Wan sat opposite him, slowly and deliberately eating the scrambled eggs with tomatoes in front of her. Her plate contained only one dish and one serving of rice, a stark contrast to Liu Yang's minimalist approach. Her eyes kept glancing towards the doorway. She picked up a piece of egg with her chopsticks, put it in her mouth, chewed it twice, and then glanced at the doorway again.

"Lin Shubai! Over here!" Liu Yang waved to him from afar, still clutching half a chicken leg in his hand.

Lin Shubai walked over, placed his plate on the table, and sat down. His plate contained a plate of Mapo Tofu and a plate of rice.

"Where have you been? Aren't you going to eat?" Liu Yang still had a chicken leg stuffed in his mouth.

Su Wan also looked up at him, though she didn't say anything, she was clearly curious.

Lin Shubai picked up a piece of tofu, chewed it twice, and then said, "I just received a phone call."

Su Wan put down her chopsticks and looked at him.

"It was a call from the editor of 'Story Club'."

Upon hearing this, Liu Yang stopped eating his chicken leg. "Huh?"

"I said all three manuscripts will be used." Lin Shubai said this in a calm tone, but he couldn't help but smile.

Su Wan paused for two seconds, then her eyes lit up: "Really! Didn't you say there was no news yet?!"

"I just received the text message this morning, and I just returned the call."

Liu Yang finally put the chicken leg down, but he was clearly still not quite back to his senses. He looked at Lin Shubai, then at Su Wan, his expression shifting from confusion to even deeper bewilderment.

"What are you talking about? I don't quite understand."

"I submitted a few articles to 'Story Club' before, and today I received news that they have decided to publish them."

"The 'Story Collection' magazine at the school gate? The one that costs eight yuan a copy?" Liu Yang's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped open, as if he had heard something unbelievable.

"right"

"Holy crap!" Liu Yang slammed his hand on the table, the sound so loud the entire cafeteria could hear. Several tables of people turned to look at him. He seemed oblivious, or rather, completely unconcerned. "Lin Shubai, you're awesome!"

"How much is the royalties?" Su Wan asked.

Around three thousand two hundred.

"Three thousand two!" Liu Yang's voice rose eight octaves, and several classmates around him turned to look.

Lin Shubai glared at him: "Keep your voice down."

Liu Yang covered his mouth, lowering his voice but unable to hide the shock in his tone: "Three thousand two! How much pocket money do I get in a month! You earn three thousand two just by writing a few stories!"

Su Wan's eyes lit up, but she didn't react with the same surprise as Liu Yang. She nodded, picked up a piece of egg, put it in her mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and said, "Then shouldn't I treat you?"

"Please. What would you like to eat?"

"Pan Fried Dumpling."

Liu Yang, who was standing next to him, finally swallowed the chicken leg in his mouth, slammed his hand on the table, and said, "You're only treating us to pan-fried dumplings for 3,200? At least give us braised pork ribs!"

"Okay, spare ribs it is."

Su Wan added, "Plus spicy strips."

Lin Shubai smiled and said with a hint of helplessness, "Okay, and spicy strips too."

The afternoon classes were uneventful. The math teacher taught a lesson on functions, and the English teacher taught a lesson on relative clauses. Lin Shubai sat in his seat listening half-heartedly, occasionally recalling the scene of meeting on Saturday.

He imagined the scene: a female editor in her forties was waiting for someone called "Teacher Lin" at the entrance of a noodle shop, and then a high school student in a school uniform walked over and said, "Hello, I am Lin Shubai."

Lü Jia's expression will probably be quite interesting.

Thinking of this, he smiled again.

Su Wan, who was copying notes next to him, caught him smiling out of the corner of her eye and asked softly, "What are you laughing at?"

"It's nothing."

"You've been laughing since noon, like an idiot."

"Is there?"

"Yes." Su Wan nodded firmly. "You can't see it yourself, but it's very obvious to me."

Lin Shubai composed himself, but he still couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.

When school was over, Liu Yang chased after me from behind, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, still muttering about pan-fried buns and spare ribs.

"Shubai, when are you treating us? How about Saturday?"

"Saturday won't work, I have something to do on Saturday."

"What is it?"

"Go see the editor."

Liu Yang paused for a moment: "Meet the editor? The one who called you?"

"Yes, we've arranged to meet on Saturday morning."

"Okay, okay"

Reaching the school gate, Liu Yang waved and ran off. Lin Shubai and Su Wan walked towards the bus stop.

Su Wan, walking beside her, suddenly asked, "Are you nervous?"

"What?"

See you on Saturday, editor.

Lin Shubai thought for a moment: "I'm not nervous."

"Aren't you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous at all. We're just going to chat when we meet, there's nothing to be nervous about."

Su Wan tilted her head and glanced at him: "You have a good attitude."

"There's nothing we can do if it's not good."

"By the way, does that editor know you're a high school student?"

"I don't know. She called me 'Teacher Lin' on the phone."

Su Wan burst out laughing: "Teacher Lin? So when she saw you on Saturday..."

"They'll probably be very surprised," Lin Shubai said.

"Aren't you afraid she'll think you're too young and won't cooperate with you?"

"The manuscript has already been approved, it has nothing to do with age. Besides," Lin Shubai paused and continued, "being young isn't necessarily a bad thing. A high school student writing this kind of article is more newsworthy than a middle-aged person writing it."

Su Wan thought for a moment and nodded: "What you said makes sense."

"And remember to take a picture of your 'Teacher Lin' too."

"What kind of photos?"

"Take a picture of the editor's expression when they see you. I want to see it."

"How do we film this?"

"Then describe it to me. Be detailed."

"OK."