A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

October 9th, Sunday, make-up classes continue.

Because of the National Day holiday adjustment, there will be no break this weekend; classes will resume as usual on Saturday and Sunday. The morning breeze is a bit cooler than yesterday; you can already feel the autumn chill in the air.

When Lin Shubai arrived at the classroom, he found an extra copy of "Story Collection" on his desk, open and under his pencil case.

He picked it up and glanced at it; it was the October issue, first half of the month, and the page he turned to was "The Most Precious Gift." The three characters "Lin Shubai" under the article title were highlighted in bright yellow, making them particularly eye-catching.

He turned to look at Su Wan beside him.

Su Wan was looking down at her English textbook, but she was clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

"Did you do this?"

"What?" Su Wan looked up, her face completely innocent.

"This one." Lin Shubai held up the magazine and pointed to the circle of highlighters.

"It wasn't me," Su Wan denied quickly, but the tips of her ears turned red. "It might be Liu Yang. He said yesterday that he was going to buy two copies; maybe he's the one who put them there."

Lin Shubai glanced at the front row; Liu Yang's seat was empty, and he hadn't arrived yet.

He closed the magazine, put it aside, and took out his textbook. But as soon as he opened the textbook, he caught a glimpse of something tucked into the drawer. He looked down and saw a folded square note with "Lin Shubai (recipient)" written on it in ballpoint pen. The handwriting was neat, unlike Liu Yang's.

He unfolded the note, which read: "Lin Shubai, your story is really well written. Especially the ending of 'The Most Precious Gift,' I read it three times. Keep it up! —A classmate."

No signature.

Su Wan peeked out to look, but he blocked her way.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"You're lying, I saw it all, it was a note. Who wrote it?"

"Unsigned."

"It's not a love letter, is it?"

"What are you thinking? It's about the novel I wrote, praising my writing."

Su Wan said "Oh" and didn't ask any further questions, but her eyes swept around as if she was observing who might be spying on them.

Liu Yang rushed into the classroom as the school bell rang, still clutching half a half-eaten jianbing guozi in his hand. He ran to his seat, turned around, and stared intently at Lin Shubai.

"Shubai, did you see that?"

"What do you see?"

"The magazine! I put it on your desk!" Liu Yang said, reaching out to rummage through Lin Shubai's desk. "Huh, where's the magazine?"

"It's been put away."

"Why didn't you put it away properly!" Liu Yang exclaimed anxiously. "I highlighted it for you with a highlighter, it's so eye-catching! You should have put it on the table so everyone could see it."

"So it really was you." Lin Shubai shook his head helplessly.

Liu Yang chuckled: "Let me tell you, I bought three copies yesterday. One for myself, one to send to my cousin, and one to put in the classroom so anyone who wants to read it can. It's for promotion, you know."

Su Wan, listening from the side, shook her head and said, "You seem to care more than Lin Shubai himself."

"Of course, he is the honor of our class," Liu Yang said, then turned back.

During the second break, Lin Shubai went to the restroom. When he returned, Su Wan pointed to the back of the classroom: "Look over there."

Lin Shubai looked in the direction she pointed and saw a few boys huddled together in the back row, passing around a copy of "Story Collection." He recognized it; it was the one Liu Yang had said he could leave in the classroom for anyone who wanted to read.

Zhang Wei sat in the middle, flipping to the "Lunch" article in the magazine, and was reading it aloud with great expression: "'Ms. Zhang put the last piece of bamboo shoot into her mouth, chewed it slowly, and a satisfied expression appeared on her face. She said: See, I told you I would only eat one dish.' -- This Ms. Zhang is so shameless!"

Several boys nearby burst into laughter.

Li Haoran slammed his fist on the table and said, "People like that should pay! One meal for her and a month's salary is gone."

"That's why this author writes so well," Zhang Wei said, then looked up and saw Lin Shubai looking in their direction. He held up the magazine in his hand and said, "Lin Shubai, your 'Lunch' is absolutely brilliant! The image of that Ms. Zhang is so vivid; I can picture her right in my mind."

"Thanks."

"When will you write again? I want to read more," Zhang Wei asked.

"I'm writing it. You'll see it when it's finished."

Zhang Wei nodded and then looked down to continue reading the magazine.

At lunchtime, the cafeteria was busier than usual. Lin Shubai carried his tray to his usual spot, where Liu Yang had already taken a seat with three plates piled in front of him. Su Wan sat opposite him, picking at her rice with her chopsticks.

Lin Shubai had just sat down when he heard someone call his name from the side.

"Lin Shubai!"

He turned his head and saw a boy from the next class named Chen Hao. He had gone to the same middle school as the original owner of this body, but they weren't very close. Chen Hao came over with his tray and sat down next to him.

"I've read all the novels you've written, they're really well-written," Chen Hao said.

"Thanks."

"Do you plan to become a writer in the future?"

"I have that idea."

Chen Hao nodded, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly said, "I also wanted to be a writer when I was little. But then my mom said that writers wouldn't be able to make a living, so I gave up on that idea. You're only in high school and you've already published in 'Story Collection,' which means you have talent. Keep it up and don't waste it."

Lin Shubai glanced at him: "What your mother said may not be true."

Chen Hao smiled and said, "Maybe." He stood up, picked up his tray, and left.

Liu Yang, munching on a chicken leg beside him, said, "Shubai, are you a 'celebrity' now? Why does everyone come to talk to you?"

"Hurry up and eat your chicken leg," Lin Shubai interrupted Liu Yang.

Liu Yang put down the chicken bone. "I've been in this school for so long, and apart from teachers calling on me to answer questions, no one has ever spoken to me on their own initiative."

"Because you don't look like someone who can talk," Su Wan added sarcastically from the side.

Liu Yang retorted, "What's wrong with me? I'm so kind and approachable."

Su Wan ignored him and continued eating. But after a while, she suddenly looked up at Lin Shubai and asked, "How's your novel coming along?"

"Happiness, I should finish writing it in a few more days."

"So fast?" Su Wan was a little surprised.

"I wrote faster these past few days during the holiday."

"If you actually publish a book, you absolutely have to give me a copy, a signed one. If you become a great author, the book will definitely be worth a lot of money."

"Okay, I'll definitely give it to you," Lin Shubai replied to Su Wan with a smile.

That night, after finishing his story "Charlotte's Web" for the day, Lin Shubai lay in bed, his mind filled with images—Charlotte's words woven on the spider web, Wilbur's arrival of spring in the pigpen, and Finn's determined eyes as she rescued the piglet from her father.

This story must be published.

No matter how long it takes, no matter how many hurdles to overcome.