A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

The next morning, when Lin Shubai arrived at the classroom, Su Wan was already in her seat.

Lin Shubai overslept again today, so he missed coming to school with Su Wan.

Su Wan had an English textbook open in front of her, but her eyes kept glancing towards the door. When she saw Lin Shubai come in, her gaze immediately fell on the schoolbag in his hand.

"Did you bring it?" she asked in a low voice.

"I brought it. Also, don't make it look like a rendezvous." Lin Shubai put down his backpack, pulled out the folder, and handed it to her. "The Little Prince, the complete text."

Su Wan took it and turned to the first page. Below the title was written, "Dedicated to all adults, who were once children." She glanced at that sentence for two seconds, then continued reading.

Lin Shubai didn't disturb her. He took his textbook out of his bag and began preparing for the first lesson.

Liu Yang turned around from the front row and asked, "What are you guys up to secretly now?"

"Read a book."

"What book?"

"The Little Prince".

Liu Yang was taken aback: "The one you wrote?"

"Um."

"Finished writing?" Liu Yang's eyes lit up immediately, and he leaned forward half a meter. "Let me see! Let me see!"

Su Wan didn't even look up, instead pulling the folder into her arms to protect herself: "I'll look at it first. You wait in line."

Liu Yang shrank back, but every few minutes he would glance back at Su Wan's progress in turning the page.

The morning classes proceeded smoothly. Math covered inequalities, and English covered passive voice. Lin Shubai sat in his seat, taking notes when he needed to and looking up when he needed to. Everything was normal, except that he could occasionally hear Su Wan turning pages beside him. She had already read up to the part about the Little Prince leaving his planet, and she was turning the pages at a moderate pace.

During the second break, Lin Shubai stood up and stretched, his gaze inadvertently sweeping over the reading corner at the back of the classroom.

The reading corner is a new addition to the school this semester. It consists of a wooden bookshelf against the back wall of the classroom, with dozens of magazines and extracurricular books on it, mostly magazines like "Reader" and "Youth Digest," as well as some popular science books and literary classics.

Lin Shubai rarely goes there, not because he doesn't like reading, but because he doesn't have time—the ten-minute break between classes is enough time to go to the toilet and get a drink of water.

But today he went over there because the cover of a magazine on the top shelf caught his eye.

The cover features a deep blue background with a huge circular structure, resembling a space station or some unknown machine. The top left corner of the cover displays four large white characters: "Science Fiction World".

He flipped directly to the last page, which contained the magazine's address, postal code, submission email address, and submission guidelines.

"Science Fiction World Magazine, No. 11, Section 4, Renmin South Road, Chengdu, Sichuan Province, 610041, China."

Lin Shubai wrote down the address and then put the magazine back in its original place.

Back in his seat, Lin Shubai's mind started racing.

I've finished both articles—"Dinosaurs in the Afternoon" and "Artificial Beauty"—and they're currently in my schoolbag. I can mail them after school today. I've memorized the addresses; they'll be sent by registered mail, and it should arrive in Chengdu in a week at most.

At lunchtime, Liu Yang came over with a tray piled with three plates—chicken legs, braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, and a bowl of steamed egg custard. He put the tray on the table, and the whole table shook.

"Don't you get tired of eating so much every day?" Su Wan glanced at his plate.

"It's not greasy. Chicken drumsticks are protein, braised pork is fat, green vegetables are vitamins, and steamed egg custard is a combination of protein and fat. It's a balanced diet."

"That's called overnutrition."

"Excess is also a form of balance."

After finishing their meal, the three of them came out of the cafeteria. Liu Yang burped, Su Wan played Snake on her phone, and Lin Shubai walked at the very back.

When Su Wan returned to the classroom, she closed the folder and handed it back to Lin Shubai.

"Finished watching?"

"I've finished reading it; it wasn't very long to begin with."

Liu Yang turned around from the front row: "Finished watching? My turn, right?"

Su Wan handed him the folder: "Don't fold the corners."

"Okay, okay."

The second period in the afternoon is physical education class.

The PE teacher, surnamed Ma, was in his thirties, with dark skin and a muscular build. He was said to be a graduate of a sports school. His teaching style was very simple—run laps, then have free time.

Today is no exception.

"Boys run the 800 meters, girls run the 400 meters. Free time afterwards."

A chorus of groans erupted across the playground. Liu Yang stood on the starting line, looking utterly dejected. "I've never passed the 800-meter race."

"Because you never practice." Su Wan stood in the girls' group and turned around to say.

"It's not that I don't train, it's that I'm just not naturally suited for long-distance running. My physique is better suited for sprinting, with strong explosive power."

"You ran the 50 meters in 9.8 seconds last time."

"That's because the shoes were bad that day."

Teacher Ma blew the whistle. The boys rushed out. Lin Shubai ran at a moderate pace, keeping in the middle of the group. He wasn't good at running in his previous life, and he wasn't much better in this one, but he had one principle: he wouldn't be last. As long as there were people ahead of him, he could keep going.

Liu Yang started panting after running one lap, and by the second lap he had fallen to the back. His face was flushed red, and his pace slowed down, like a walrus struggling on the beach.

When Lin Shubai finished running, Liu Yang still had more than half a lap left. He stood by the track, watching Liu Yang move step by step.

"Keep going, only 200 meters left!" Lin Shubai shouted.

Liu Yang gave him the middle finger, but quickened his pace.

Finally finishing the run, Liu Yang, hands on his knees, gasped for breath, sweat dripping from his chin to the ground. He looked up at Lin Shubai: "What...what was your score?"

"I don't know, but I passed anyway."

"Really?" Liu Yang's eyes lit up.

"Probably."

Liu Yang let out a long sigh and plopped down on the grass: "It was worth it! I can eat two bowls of rice tonight."

During free time, the boys gathered in twos and threes. Liu Yang walked over, sat down next to him, and handed him a bottle of water: "You said that 'The Little Prince' you wrote, who is it for? Children or adults?" The Little Prince is not very long, and Liu Yang could finish reading it in one afternoon.

Lin Shubai unscrewed the water bottle and took a sip: "Either way, kids will see it as a story, and adults will find some truth in it."

"Then what am I? I think it makes sense, but I'm just a kid too."

"You are somewhere in between."

Liu Yang thought for a moment: "Then it's called 'middle-aged child'?"

"You can call me that if you want."

Liu Yang leaned against the steps, looking at the clouds in the sky: "Shubai, if you really become a great writer in the future, do you think I could appear in your books?"

"How do you plan to appear?"

"Just write 'Dedicated to my friend Liu Yang,' or 'Thank you, Liu Yang, for your support throughout my writing career.' It doesn't need to be long, just one line will do."

Lin Shubai glanced at him: "You wish."

"Of course. You should always have dreams; what if they come true?"