Chapter 6 (12)

  People are often tolerant for the sake of tolerance, and listen to both sides for the sake of listening. The Municipal South Third Middle School is no exception. When they gave Lin Yuxiang a big checkmark and opened up the bathhouse, it was only to show that the school handled things decisively and cared about its students. At first, when Lin Yuxiang exposed the issue, the school thought it was fresh and handled it impartially to show its magnanimity. Unfortunately, Lin Yuxiang strayed from the path and mistook a single tree for an entire forest, refusing to admit his mistake even as he walked further into desolation. He continued to write exposés in his diary, hoping against hope that the school would take notice again. The school had already been exposed so thoroughly by Lin Yuxiang that it was at its wit's end. In a rage, they summoned Lin Yuxiang once more.

  This time, Principal Qian was not present, and the one in charge of lecturing was Principal Qian's colleague, Hu Mei. Hu Mei had been teaching at Shini High School for only a few years, teaching senior high school Chinese and Western literature lectures, and her teaching methods were well-organized, so she became a lecturer. According to students' rumors, Lecturer Hu emphasized using emotions to move people, with a highly developed tear gland, and would often become choked with sobs while lecturing, making even the most stubborn students feel moved and eventually reformed. Therefore, behind her back, students called her Hu Mei, and later also gave her a nickname that sounded similar, "Ku Mei" (Crying Sister). Being lectured by Crying Sister was something many students yearned for, and being hit by Yu Xiang, everyone said Yu Xiang's luck would change. Lin Yu Xiang felt very anxious in his heart, not knowing what he had done wrong. Before leaving, he patted his chest and said: "I'll go see her!" The crowd cheered. Qian Rong joked: "You go ahead, if you cry, I'll bring a TV station to do a report on you." In his tone, the Shini High School TV station was like a bag that he could take with him wherever he went.

  Lin Yuxiang steeled himself and encouraged himself, saying: I, Lin Yuxiang, am a proud man, not to be moved by romantic feelings, let alone for someone like Hu Lin! Fortunately, he had never read any romance novels and hadn't cultivated a heart more sensitive than Zhang Heng's seismograph.

  Mr. Hu's seat was opposite Principal Qian's, and Yu Xiang felt tense as he walked past Principal Qian's empty seat, as if Principal Qian's spirit still lingered. Mr. Hu beamed with a warm smile and said, "Come, sit here."

  Yu Xiang sneaked a few glances at Hu, and found that each of Hu's facial features wasn't particularly beautiful when looked at separately - single eyelids, thick lips. But collectively, they had great power; these features combined together were actually quite passable. Moreover, since there was a relatively large distance between them, each one had its own independence and mobility, with a larger range of motion, so the number of expressions that could be formed naturally increased.

  Hu's instruction began with a welcoming expression: "Do you know why I called you here?"

  Yu Xiang still didn't know that Zhou Ji had stirred up trouble, shaking his head. Hu Jiao's guidance was indeed from a Western literature background, and he said with an open mouth: "Do you like reading books very much?"

  Yu Xiang hastily said yes. Hu asked further, "Have you read many books that critique realism?" Just as Yu Xiang nodded. Yu Xiang hastily said no. Hu thought for a moment and said, "What about naturalism... like Zola's books? Do you like Maupassant's books?"

  Yu Xiang was afraid of being considered ignorant by Hu Mei, so he said: "It's okay, I've read some."

  Hú's eyes lit up, his voice rising: "No wonder, under the influence of Fú Lóu Bái? But I see you can't do 'discover problems without expressing opinions' either. Do you read modernist literature?"

  Yu Xiang listened with a confused expression, only able to nod along. He thought that after Hu's explanation, there would be many more unfamiliar names, and his ears were almost sweating. Unexpectedly, Hu had already grasped the essence of both Eastern and Western cultures, and after traveling abroad, he returned to China: "I found that you have a poet's temperament, dissatisfaction with the imperial court, ah——, then it——is unfulfilled ambition, evolving into an unruly personality."

  Yu Xiang listened for so long and still didn't understand, the core of the conversation was still in that distant place, he couldn't ask himself, so he could only wait for Hu to give an explanation.

  Hu finally broke free from the shackles of history and said something that didn't become ancient history: "Principal Qian is going to Nanjing to take care of some business, and before he left, he told me to find you to have a talk. Principal Qian cares about you a lot. Do you know why he called you this time?"

  Yu Xiao shook his head for the second time on this matter.

  Hú jiào dǎo réng rán bù kěn bǎ zhōu jì shuō chū lái, shuō: "nǐ yě xǔ zì jǐ bìng bù néng chá jué shén me, dàn zài wǒmen páng rén yǎn lǐ, nǐ shēn shàng yǐ jīng qǐ le yī zhǒng biàn huà, zhè zhǒng biàn huà duì nǐ de nián jì ér yán, tài zǎo, wǒ bù zhī shén me cù shǐ nǐ yǒu le zhè zhǒng yóu liàng dào zhì de biàn huà, suǒ yǐ, jīn tiān wǒmen liǎng rén lái tán yī tán."

  Yu Xiang felt a chill run down his spine, completely unaware of what "change" was being referred to. In Hu's words, it seemed as if Yu Xiang was an insect that had spun a cocoon too early. Yu Xiang asked: "What... change?"

  This sentence just fell into Hu's trap, and Hu said: "I'll say it, as the parties involved, you can't perceive such subtle changes."

  Lin Yuxiang was so anxious he wanted to jump up: "Teacher Hu, I really don't know what's going on."

  Hú said with a raised eyebrow: "That's why you can't discover any changes in yourself."

  Yu Xiang had never experienced Hu Zhu's ability to move people with his emotions and only knew that he was anxious to the point of tears.

  Hu asked, "Do you feel like there's a desire to vent pent-up emotions or hatred towards the world?"

  Yu Xiang was so scared that even if he did have something, he didn't dare say it. He said softly: "No."

  Hú asked sideways, "So, don't you feel that your ambitions are not yet fulfilled, or do you have any ideals or wishes that cannot be realized at Sanzhong in the city?"

  This sentence hit the sore spot. Lin Yuxiang thought for a moment and said, "Actually, it's not that serious." Then, as if he had eaten several leopard gallbladders, he continued: "But I think the selection process in Shini Middle School is unreasonable, like the Literature Club." He looked at Hu, saw that he hadn't been angered to death, and added: "This kind of thing only shows who can shout louder, it doesn't reflect a person's level. I even won first prize in the national essay competition before, but I couldn't get into the Literature Club." As he spoke, his own face grew hot with embarrassment.

  Hearing the words "National First Prize", Hu's expression changed, as if Lin Yuxiang in front of him had become a different person. He looked at him with a stranger's gaze, sizing him up again and again, saying: "I couldn't tell, why didn't you say so? The literary club's selection is a new form, it can't be helped that there are some inadequacies. You can go find Teacher Zhuang, who's in charge, to explain the situation. Our school values talent very much and will let everyone freely develop their abilities. You can also ask Teacher Mei to speak up for you, there are many paths to take."

  A lamp lit up in front of Yu Xiang. Hu returned, saying: "But no matter how brilliant a person's achievements have been, he cannot be arrogant. He cannot speak as he pleases. You live in society, you must accept this society."

  Lin Yuxiang was clear for a moment, and then fell into the fog again.

  Hu taught himself not to be a fairy, tearing off the mysterious feeling, taking out Yu Xiang's notebook and saying: "I've read the contents inside."

  Lin Yuxiang didn't know whether the following words were good or bad, and for a moment he couldn't put on an expression. Hu Daoren finally flipped to an article and said: "I'll just flip through one, you take a look - you say that the school's management work is not strict, and other dormitories are noisy after lights out at night. These things shouldn't be managed by the school with three orders and five declarations, the school has put in a lot of effort in managing the dormitories -" He spread his two hands apart to indicate just how much effort had been put in. "However, nowadays students have too strong a sense of self-awareness, they do as they please, no matter how perfect the school's system is, it can't make them restrain themselves, and the school is also having a hard time. This is a problem for both sides, more importantly, it requires the students' conscious cooperation."

  Yu Xiang didn't dare speak.

  Here is the translation:

  "Hu let out a soft sigh, gazed at the wall, and immersed herself in the long river of memories. After a while, she slowly said: 'I remembered my university days again. Ah, those were really good times. We were all just a group of girls... I remember that when we were in the dormitory, we were all very close friends. If someone was missing something, others would give it to them. The university wasn't strict back then. There was a classmate on the upper bunk who had a weak body, and the school doctor said we had to ensure her quiet. She always had headaches... Ah, how could we have known that she already had brain cancer at that time?! We all took care of each other, thinking about it now warms my heart. By our junior year, that classmate wasn't coming to school anymore... She was really smart! It's just a pity... Back then, we cried for an entire night...' Rain Xiang noticed Hu's eyes and saw that they were brimming with tears. Hu also had the self-awareness to prepare a handkerchief, wipe her eyes, and say: 'You'll all understand eventually, the preciousness of friendship... You're all noisy now, but later you'll understand too. Looking back, you'll laugh at how ignorant you were back then.'"

  Lin Yuxiang sighed and complained that Hu was being too harsh, and his tears seemed to be at his beck and call. The conversation had reached the point where tears were flowing, so it wasn't good to say anything more. After all the servants retreated, Hu said: "There are some areas of school management that are not satisfactory, these schools will gradually improve, of course, we also welcome students to write diaries pointing out problems, but students' energy should not be too focused on this aspect, diaries are mainly for recording students' learning plans. For example, setting a plan and making a summary, do you understand?" After exchanging a few pleasantries, he let Lin Yuxiang go. Lin Yuxiang misunderstood the meaning of this conversation, thinking that the school supported him writing, but was afraid it would affect his studies, so he was very grateful for the school's concern. When he returned, he told his classmates about his heroic deeds, and Qian Rong didn't expect "Crybaby" to really cry, regretting missing a good news story: "Shit, missed one beat!" He blamed himself for not being summoned to be lucky.

  Yu Xiang's wish to join the Literature Club was naturally fulfilled, and his teacher was the same examiner who had picked on him. His pen name was Zhou, and as a historian, he was used to reading ancient books from right to left. Everyone affectionately called him "Zhou Qing". A veteran history teacher at Municipal South Third Middle School was close friends with "Zhou Zhuang", and upon seeing the name, his historical instincts were triggered, feeling that calling him "Zhou Zhuang" wasn't satisfying enough. He dug deeper, calling him Shen Wan San, and to show familiarity, he dropped the "Shen" character, changing San to Shan, directly addressing him as "Wan Shan". Teachers called each other this way, so students wouldn't be polite either, calling him Teacher Wan whenever they met.

  Mr. Wan's age is not as old as he appears, and he has written three or four books. Since ancient times, many literary men have gone bald, and Mr. Wan was no exception. He started going bald at the age of 40, but it wasn't too bad at first. He had a lot of hair on his head, and when one spot went bald, he would just comb some hair over from another spot to cover it up. However, as time went on, his baldness accelerated, and his supporting troops were unable to keep up. He couldn't take care of everything, and eventually, he became completely bald. Mr. Wan once wore a wig, but it fell off during a teacher's sports day event, becoming a laughingstock for eternity. He didn't dare wear one again, so he just let his head be.

  The Literary Society meets once a week, but it's more like a dead silence, listening to Teacher Wan teach Chinese literary history.

  Mr. Wan is a very serious and meticulous person, but he was ruined by literature. He usually speaks the truth, his tongue is stiff, and he can't speak clearly. Li Yu and Li Cu had to spend half a day repeatedly asking him to clarify what he meant. Recently, when talking about Du Fu and Du Mu, he used all his might to explain that this tofu is not that tofu. Since there are many Chinese poets, after the lesson on Li Yi and Li Ke, he was too afraid to continue. The first four classes were an introduction to Chinese literature, but Lin Yuxiang didn't attend them, thinking he had missed a lot, so he went to the library to find books to read by himself, determined to regain his glory in the literary society. He borrowed some books but lost interest after reading only one preface and not even finishing it. High school life suddenly became much more relaxed than middle school, where you could listen or not, everything was casual, and even sleeping in class was allowed as long as you didn't snore. It was autumn, and Lin Yuxiang seemed to have already prepared for hibernation, sleeping through every class, and once asleep, he would forget to wake up. Mr. Xie Jingyuan tried to rouse him by knocking on the desk a few times but eventually gave up, thinking that Lin Yuxiang had potential and just needed to work hard. Lin Yuxiang was good at telling lies but not at making them convincing, his math grades were consistently failing, and his math teacher said that it was very common for students in their school to fail math, which could motivate students to study harder. Lin Yuxiang heard this and thought it was no big deal, so he didn't take it seriously, telling himself that he was extremely smart and just needed to cram before the exams. He also believed his own lies, and his grades plummeted.

  For two months since entering high school, Lin Yuxiang's interests, apart from literature, seem to be the face of a Suzhou beauty in the eyes of Western literati, changing unpredictably. Today he likes playing chess, tomorrow he loves computers, but these originally good hobbies in Yuxiang's hands are like the foreign coaches of the Chinese football team, one defeat after another. Yuxiang is superficially skilled at everything and claims to be a versatile person, but in reality, he is just a mediocre person; his mind is no longer focused on studying. At Municipal South Third Middle School, apart from feeling a bit depressed, his hands and feet seem to still be sleeping in the scorching heat, extremely relaxed. His lying skills have gradually improved to the point where even wooden heads would nod their heads in belief.

  It's been a long time since I've had such days, and my heart feels empty. Yuxiang took entering the Literature Club as a sign to end the last two months of idle days.

  The boarding high school gets off early every Friday afternoon, and all kinds of activities are carried out during that time. Lin Yuxiang first goes to Liu Zhizhang's place to ask for leave, then reports to the Literature Club, feeling a bit nervous. Wanshan calls him over and introduces: "He is Lin Yuxiang, his articles are very well-written."

  The students were very nervous, because in the martial arts world, every time there was a martial arts conference, masters would always suddenly appear out of nowhere. Now the situation is similar, and everyone is on guard against Lin Yu Zhi. Yu Xiang eagerly hoped that Wan Shan would introduce his award-winning achievements to establish prestige among the students, but unexpectedly Wan Shan, like all old literati, had already become indifferent to fame and wealth, and didn't care about these things.

  Wan Shan briefly introduced the history of Chinese literature, which should be detailed. He originally planned to introduce "Huainanzi" in this lesson, but suddenly thought of something important and handed it over, saying: "Because we were just established at the beginning, a president was temporarily elected. Now that everyone has been together for more than a month, they should be very familiar with each other. I think we can elect a new one after a few weeks."

  "It should be decided by democratic election, okay? It's settled then."

  Last time when the layout was wrong, the reclusive president of the hidden society couldn't be found and deliberately flipped through books without looking at people. Other members looked at each other and communicated with each other carefully. Yu Xiang sat upright with a smile, creating a false impression that Lin Yu Xiang appeared only to act as the president.

  It's really fortunate that I came this time, coinciding with the election. If I can be elected as the president of the society, I will have the capital to contend with Qian Rong.

  Yu Xiang won people over from the very first class. He borrowed someone else's writing to review, and after reading it, he praised it endlessly. No matter how hard-hearted a person was, when faced with flattery, they would all be completely taken in. Yu Xiang's move had a great effect, and the people around him were all stunned and dizzy from being praised.

  Because Wanshan prefers prose, most members of the club write prose. In prose, sentences are easily clichéd, and members rack their brains to exhaust their knowledge. Yuxiang was most impressed by a member who claimed to be well-versed in rhetoric, who turned a simple sentence "I saw lotus flowers gathered together, cool breeze blowing, all stretching out their leaves" into a complex one "Yu Jianjian sees the fungus of the masses, wind whistling, all rubbing against the leaves". He was so impressed that he couldn't speak. There is also a group of avant-garde writing styles, such as "This person is really bad, it's gotten me very hurt", Yuxiang didn't understand, and the person said: "This is the latest in modernist - alternativeism." Then took out a well-known newspaper, pointing to a column "Alternative Literature", rarely met with this kind of alternative, excitedly said: "Now popular writing style in urban areas."

  Yu Xiang took over the newspaper and read it, as if meeting an old friend - the articles inside were all in Qian Rong's style. "The sunshine is shining. Is this me? The former me? Really? NO! Not me! What's wrong with me?" Yu Xiang read for half a day and still didn't know what was wrong with the author, shaking his head and saying: "Another type! Another type!"

  Mr. Wan is lecturing on the myths in "Huainanzi", but his lectures are too dull, and any fascinating myth becomes a boring story when he speaks. Few members listen to his lectures, they just take notes to get credits. After finishing his lecture, Mr. Wan glances at his watch and sees there are still a few minutes left for him to ramble on, saying: "Our magazine 'Soft Exposure' is going to start compiling articles again, everyone please write more good articles for the current president to review, or you can submit them directly to me. Chinese literature is very profound, everyone should be careful not to rush into success; don't be superficial, take it step by step, start with small insights and write small essays, until you have the ability to control the language, then write bigger insights and bigger essays.

  "Also, 'Initial Exposure' has been published for many issues, and the comments from various aspects are not uniform. However, our literary society has its own autonomy, and we are engaged in literature that belongs to us..."

  Literature is like a beautiful woman, often inspiring reverence and admiration at first sight. Those who work with literature are like her husband, having already possessed her, no longer need to pursue her eagerly, and can even ravage her. Before entering the literary club, Yu Xiang often heard people say how noble literature was, but after joining, he gradually came to understand that "working on literature" meant messing around and playing with it, a more accurate description would be "fabricating literature" or "faking literature". The so-called "literary masters" of Shi Nan No. 3 Middle School were all just empty names, they didn't treat literature like their own home, but rather as a dormitory. The "campus poets" were secretly anxious, unwilling to be called "people", and wished to call themselves campus poetry masters.

  Yu Xiang has been in the Literature Club for a long time - actually not long, only two weeks, but already feels that there are great divisions within the club. The prose faction looks down on and despises the poetry faction. These literary forms are not actually the center of the division, the main issue is that everyone thinks they are the most talented and wants to be the president, but on the surface they all modestly decline saying it's not possible. The poets are the most arrogant, having suffered cold stares, turning sorrow into strength, each one loudly demanding a special poetry publication, almost to the point of forming their own party.

  The current president is a weak person, and the prose poetry is written, it's hard to say clearly which side he stands on for the time being. He doesn't have the talent of Zhang Jun's advice, and he can't help but quote this sentence: "All literary people in the world are one family, you copy me and I copy him", to show the members that they should unite.

  The Literary Society meets every Wednesday, and the last meeting was like an Inner Mongolia conference. According to custom, the Wednesday meeting is a collective discussion and finalization of drafts, then arranging the manuscripts, and the sample issue of "Initial Exposure" comes out. As a result, the poets who attended were dissatisfied, saying that the space allocated to them was too small; the prose writers were even more arrogant, clamoring that each issue of "Initial Exposure" could only carry one article, which couldn't meet the readers' demands - and these so-called readers were just a handful of people. These individuals hadn't even finished their studies, yet they had already inherited the family's bad habits, writing in a grandiose style that forced "Initial Exposure" to sacrifice large chunks of space to publish their writings. The prose writers were the most numerous, but their hearts were as scattered as their articles, and no matter how much noise they made, they couldn't muster up any momentum. This kind of prose writer composes articles like a jigsaw puzzle, taking perfectly good material and deliberately disassembling it, rearranging the order, and reassembling it in order to give it a "prose flavor".

  Yu Xiang is alone, with no disputes in the world, quietly sitting and watching the inner river. The poet's first move was to expand the scope of struggle to poets throughout history. Xu Zhimo was the most unfortunate, his nose grew bigger and became a clear target, being criticized by someone as a weapon: "(Farewell Again Cambridge) Have you read it? Many people like it, this is the poetic realm! Poetry is the most important genre in literature——" The person originally wanted to add "one of", to leave room for retreat, but when he spoke with righteous indignation, he even swallowed the "one of".

  "That's an exaggeration." The family stood up. A slow and gentle sentence, the poet's sharpness was worn away by more than half.

  That man had a well-prepared speech and thought it necessary to grind away the remaining sharp energy. He looked up at the sky and said, "A frog in a well."

  He made a big mistake. The way to provoke someone is to say something unrelated and painful when they are scolding you to death. That sentence "frog at the bottom of the well" provoked the poet's fighting spirit, and the little poet listed all the great poets, all from ancient times. It was developed in the Song Dynasty, a bit disadvantaged in terms of years, and during the Ming and Qing Dynasties, it seemed to have fallen into the toilet and been stained with a layer of yellow color, losing a lot of reason, not daring to compare, can only say: "Your poetry is obviously piled up with adjectives." This sentence should be scolding poets, but unexpectedly, the writer of prose responded with a guilty conscience: "'Popular things are always vulgar, nothing popular can be elegant!"

  At home, for a moment, I couldn't find anything that was both popular and elegant to refute, so I had nothing to say.

  Suddenly, a voice emerged from somewhere: "Jin Ping Mei", and the four of them burst out laughing. Those who should have laughed had already finished, but they still wanted to laugh more wildly, trying to break down my mental defenses. But little did they know, my skin was as thick as a fortress, and their laughter was like lead bullets bouncing off a tank. The person who spoke the most jumped up and proudly cited Jin Ping Mei: "What's wrong with this book? It's an oasis in the spiritual desert! It's a breakthrough from tradition!" He sat down, self-satisfied, and his so-called "breakthrough from tradition" was understood as follows - at that time, the tradition was writing erotic books, and Jin Ping Mei was more erotic than other erotic books, so it was a "breakthrough from tradition".

  The three of them got stuck on the banned books of the Ming and Qing dynasties, reluctant to leave this topic, and the girls were not willing to fall behind either, all venturing into this unknown territory.

  The boss got anxious and finally thought of his right to stop them, saying in a soft voice: "Alright, stop making trouble."

  The general manager was so bold, it's rare, and all the employees stopped to listen to the general manager's high opinion. The general manager's strong point is in written expression, his mouth's function seems to have degenerated to only eating, so he doesn't speak much, four words came out: "Follow the original."

  The staff were indignant and thought that they had just had a fearless debate, but it ended in vain, and they all regretted what they had said.

  The final layout of the "Initial Exposure" newspaper was three essays and one poem. The main writer, who advocated for alternative literature, wrote an essay that used his unique perspective to observe the spiritual emptiness of the world, with a voyeur as the main character, titled "ASnoopeMan". The president's work "In the Wind" was also selected because he personally admired it too much. Unfortunately, the excellent work of the classical prose writer who excelled in rhetoric was not selected, not because it was poorly written, but because the typist thought those characters were difficult to type, and the proud essayist refused to revise, believing that changing a single word would be disrespectful to art and this style, and would rather have his work die than compromise.

  It has always been a must-win for the military, and that Meat Shield supporter defeated all the heroes. One of his articles about giving up seats on public transportation was relatively new compared to others in the same category, and it was honored to be selected. There is a saying: "This will create our O'Henry". Yu Xiang is pitied by O'Henry. This "American Humor Encyclopedia" must have done something evil, and even after death, it cannot rest in peace, and it has to come to the Third Middle School of Shicheng to atone for its sins.

  The poet failed to publish his poetry collection, so he played a trick. Modern poetry is more harmful than an earthworm, one sentence can be broken into several segments without much harm, so the poet intentionally broke his poem. It is said that dismantling things is "one of the highest techniques of Western civilization", and the poet skillfully used this "highest technique" to write poems like this:

  Night drifts in my sleepy eyes

  Where does the wind come from?

  The car wind blows away my dreams

  Tell me it's my heart

  Snow floats in the night sky

  Is it the night sky that has entered my quiet night?

  Who is the fragrance that lingers in my dream for a long time?

  Scattered in my heart.

  The director looked surprised and asked the poet if he could assemble it, but the poet shook his head, saying that once the sentences were connected, they would damage the rhythm of the jump. He also said that this was nothing, with a tone that seemed to want to tear the words apart one stroke at a time. The director counted them, only a few dozen characters, but arranging them would take at least a whole page, and he had no idea what to do.

  The poet said: "Nowadays poems are all like this, it's better to publish a collection and make some money."

  The principal hastily said, "This won't do!" Because the Literature Society's publication of "Initial Exposure" still forcibly deducted fees from the class committee, and now they're compiling another poetry collection. Students will take it, pay for it, only to find that it's just a stack of rough paper, and if things go badly, it'll be a blow to the Literature Society. Yu Xiang casually picked up the poem, took a look, laughed, threw away the paper, and coldly said, "Is this also poetry?"

  The poet angrily said: "What's wrong with looking down on you?"

  Yu Xiang sighed with a tinge of heartache and said, "What good paper, wasted."

  The poet was furious and, burdened with his identity as a poet, found it inconvenient to fight back. He snatched away his treasured possession and said, "Can you write?"

  The director intervened when the two were about to duel, hastily saying: "Alright, use your poem." The poet heard this and immediately forgot his resentment towards Yu Xiang, grabbing the director's hand: "Please do it." The poet's soul was fragile, but his body was sturdy, with a grudge in every handshake. The director was inwardly delicate and physically weak, unable to withstand intense physical confrontation, bitterly smiling and saying: "Alright, alright."

  So layout became a problem. Lin Yuxiang said to the president of the literary society: "I will do the layout."

  The words shocked both the president and Yu Xiang. The president, simple-minded like a single-celled organism, didn't worry about his own position and said: "Great! I didn't expect that! You're too awesome! You're better than me!" He almost wanted to step down immediately and let Yu Xiang take over.

  Yu Xiang also had a worried heart, to be honest, he didn't know how to typeset, but just vaguely remembered some things his father had said, and now after the baptism of time, those fragmented memories were like buildings in London fog, unclear. The president valued talent and asked: "So what about this poem?"

  After Yu Xiang looked around, he confirmed that the poet was not there. Afraid of a fifth ear, he whispered: "Delete it."

  "Which part should be deleted?"

  "Delete all!"

  The boss waved his hand and said absolutely no way.

  Yu Xiang patted the manuscript with the back of his hand, and said to his face that he couldn't argue, then used the Whip Corpse Happy Method: "This poem - go, can't be called a poem, clichés, I've seen too many. The level is too low."

  The director compromised, saying: "Can't we use 'factory' instead——" He made a cutting motion with his hand in the air. Yu Xiang interrupted the director's words and slapped the manuscript again, feeling a sense of comfort in his heart, and said sternly: "This won't work either, this layout is not good, it will cause the entire newspaper to lose its balance!" He secretly praised himself for having a strong memory, recalling something he had heard two years ago and being able to use it freely at critical moments.

  The general manager was afraid of the poet and asked again: "Can't it be modified, can some modifications be made?"

  Yu Xiang let go of the draft paper, no longer hitting it, shaking his head, as if this body had already contracted a terminal illness, its vital energy about to be exhausted, and could not be cured.

  "What shall we do? The newspaper is about to be published."

  Yǔ Xiáng gave his crystallized wisdom to the president and said: "I think the best way is to change one, or not use poetry, use——"

  The director said: "Prose poetry, scattered beauty, implicit poetry, use prose poetry!"

  Yu Xiang's eyes revealed disdain, and prose poetry was what he disliked the most. He believed that anyone who wrote prose poetry must have failed at both prose and poetry, and that prose poetry could combine the shortcomings of both into a single advantage; naturally, the quality of prose poetry was evident as such. Yu Xiang strongly opposed it: "No way, let's just create a new column for writing critiques – literary criticism?"

  The general manager thought for a long time and finally said: "Alright, I'm just afraid of those people..."

  "It doesn't matter, they're also reasonable." He said with a Powell-like smile, "Who's going to write it?" He thought for a moment, looking at the ceiling as if all the people who could write had already gone to heaven. Only Lin Yuxiang was left on earth - The editor-in-chief humbly said: "I'm not good at writing. And we have to send it to print tomorrow, I'm afraid there's not enough time, can you write it?"

  "In his heart, Yu Xiang had a voice that was about to burst out: 'I've been waiting for this sentence!' With a look of feigned surprise on his face, followed by endless melancholy, he said: 'I probably...'"

  The boss hurriedly blocked the back door and said, "Try it out and you'll know, this is a very new column, you have to go write it now, best if you can hand it over to me by this afternoon. It's settled!" He was extremely pleased with himself for blocking Rui Xiang's path, leaving Rui Xiang no choice but to comply.

  Lin Yuxiang looked embarrassed and said, "I... I'll try." Then he bid farewell and walked away with an unusually light step. He was full of respect for himself, thinking that it had only been a little over a month since he arrived at Municipal Third Middle School, yet the group life had already honed him to be so cunning. He also thought that Qian Rong's time in the limelight wouldn't last long, and it seemed as though his own fame was rising steadily. He smiled with a smirk on his face.

  Qian Rong and Yao Shuqin were chatting in the classroom. Qian Rong was holding a book on "Formal Logic" and pointing to it for Yao Shuqin to see. Yu Xiang was puzzled, how could such a serious book make people laugh? He walked over to take a look and saw that they were looking at the "Mechanical Analogy" section of "Logical Fallacies". He admired their cleverness, which embodied the spirit of finding joy in bitter circumstances.

  Two people's heads are stuck together, as if they want to embed themselves in each other. The flame of love is burning hot, already reaching the realm of Han Ping couple in "The Investiture of the Gods" and Lian Li's branch in "The Song of Everlasting Sorrow".

  When people are happy, they think more. Yu Xiang saw Qian Yao's love for each other and thought of Susan, who was a hundred times purer than Yao Shuqin. As soon as he thought of her, his heart was filled with sorrow and regret, and he wanted to cry. The grievance is that just when he had some sparks with Susan, they parted ways. It's like lighting a cigarette and taking one puff before extinguishing it, leaving only the aftertaste in his mouth. Yu Xiang thought this wasn't quite right, because he hadn't even "taken a puff" yet - he had only lifted the veil of mystery surrounding Susan, satisfying his curiosity but not his desire. It was like wanting to eat a zongzi (glutinous rice dumpling) and finally peeling off the outer leaves after much effort, smelling the fragrance, and just about to take the first bite when it fell to the ground. He sighed and put Qian Yao out of his sight to avoid feeling sad, with only one thought in mind - to shine like the sun at Sanzhong Middle School. Of course, becoming like the sun overnight is not easy; even the sun moves inch by inch from the horizon to its peak. Yu Xiang also had to take it step by step, planning first to establish himself in the Literature Club and hopefully become the club president - if only China hadn't abolished the hereditary system, he would have been treated like a brother by Lin, the current president. Then, he wanted to lead the Literature Club to surpass the Journalism Club. For now, his plan was to write an article, either a book review or a literary critique.

  This afternoon's two classes were math classes. The classrooms in Municipal South Third High School are quite strange, with students of the same subject liking to squeeze together, like a deck of worn-out playing cards, all in pairs. The two math classes were still tolerable, thanks to the math teacher's benevolence. Next door, Class 2 was not so lucky, having drawn a math head teacher who loved math to death. In order to make students love it with him, he taught five consecutive math classes one morning, trying to make students spend more time with math and develop feelings for it over time. Unfortunately, the students in Class 2 didn't develop feelings, but rather developed anger, sending an anonymous letter to the school leadership. The leader cleverly defended: "The motivation was correct, but there were some minor deviations in action." Yu Xiang felt lucky that he didn't have such a head teacher and had instead encountered Mei Cha, who was very lenient, so he decided to do literary criticism during the two math classes.

  Criticism must have an object, otherwise a scolding will be aimless and useless no matter how much damage it can do. Yu Xiang dares not criticize everyone, but he can casually criticize newcomers — for example, if a car breaks down, the passengers can get out and push; if a train breaks down, there's nothing you can do about it. However, in recent years, China's literary world has been full of people pushing trains, Yu Xiang doesn't want to waste his effort, so he'd rather start from small things.

  Having determined the scope, it's time to lock in a victim. Xu Jia, who has published two books, is a great target, but those two books are like ghosts crying out in the middle of the night - you can only hear the sound but not see their true face. The outside propaganda was loud and intense, but those two books never appeared, Rain Xiang didn't have any materials on hand, and he developed a rigorous academic attitude, thinking that it wouldn't be too late to criticize these two romance novels after they came out.

  Everyone's attention was focused on Xiao Tie. Xiao Tie's article seemed like a scientist predicting what people would be like 1,000 years later - with their heads and bodies reversed in proportion. Moreover, he often failed to distinguish between primary and secondary points, writing articles as if picking wild herbs; the main point being that Xiao Tie's metaphors were as rigid as iron, such as "seeing an essay is like seeing a carrot, not even wanting to touch it..." Yu Xiang annotated below this sentence: "I don't understand! What about when you see a white radish?" He used the tone of Lung Ying-tai evaluating the anonymous author's trilogy on love.

  Xiao Tie's article can be used as a negative teaching material, Yu Xiang criticized it with great joy, clapping his hands repeatedly, just like in "The Feeling of Growing Up" where it says "it's impossible to go back on the road, just like time won't turn back, and river water can't flow backwards". Yu Xiang had only heard that river water can't flow backwards, theoretically, river water has tides, there is no problem with flowing backwards, another mistake. Also, in the introduction of how he was wrong to achieve today's results, "My Writing Experience" used a quote from "Encouraging Learning" but was too stingy to even put quotation marks. And so on, Yu Xiang wrote a whole thousand words, feeling satisfied, and handed it over to the editor-in-chief.

  The newspaper came out two days later, and Yu Xiang got his hands on it first to look for his own work. He finally found "My Critique of Xiao Tie" in the corner, but was somewhat dissatisfied with the title being too long and cumbersome. In order to make it more aesthetically pleasing, he had cut off the word "article" that followed "Xiao Tie", which completely changed the tone of the text into a personal attack. Upon reading the main body of the text, he found that over 200 characters had been deleted, but the purpose was vastly different from the change in title. It seemed that some sarcastic and ironic parts had been removed. Although Yu Xiang was not entirely satisfied, this was his first published article at Municipal Third Middle School, and deep down, he still liked it. He secretly read it seven or eight times, chuckling to himself several times, wishing that every literate person in the world could read it a few times.

  It turned out that thanks to Lin Yuxiang's article, the price of "Initial Exposure" increased significantly. The students at Nan San Middle School were used to reading arrogant texts, but when they saw an article scolding someone, their interest was greatly piqued, and they all remembered Lin Yuxiang's name, praising him in unison. Qian Rong also came over to offer his congratulations: "Not bad, the great author has finally published an article! Congratulations!" At that time, Yuxiang was basking in joy, surrounded by flattering words, and naturally took Qian Rong's words as a compliment. It was like receiving red envelopes at a celebration - only when the festivities were over and he was alone did he open them to find that Qian Rong had given him a few IOUs. When Yuxiang calmed down and savored Qian Rong's words, he detected a hint of malice, like being cut by a sharp knife. At first, he didn't feel anything, but when he discovered the wound, the pain would be twice as severe. He wanted to scold Qian Rong, but class was in session and they were too far apart. Even if he had shouted, his voice wouldn't have carried any weight, and he couldn't have inflicted serious harm on the other person. After thinking for a while, he decided to take advantage of the situation and turned around to say to Yao Shuqin: "Hey, I haven't seen your big shot writer's masterpiece in a long time!"

  Yao Shuqin's ears were more useful than Yu Xiang's, and she picked up on the venom in his words. In just a few sentences, she shot back: "Lin Da, the great writer, is so knowledgeable and has such a strong memory, after accumulating for over a month, he finally published an article scolding people, how can Qian Rong compare to that?"

  Yu Xiang couldn't say a word, Yao Shuqin pursued and said: "Lin Dawen Hao, who are you going to scold next? Forget it, I don't have the honor of knowing, you go ahead with your business, we're all waiting to read your wonderful writings." After finishing speaking, she opened her notebook and wrote "Yu Xiang spoke out of turn in class, disrupting classroom discipline". Yu Xiang was so angry that he wanted to kill himself, but deep down he admired Qian Rong's skillful taming.

  It was a stifling afternoon, and Yu Xiang's thermos seemed to be suffocating along with its owner. It had been placed on the shelf, but somehow it got knocked over and shattered into four pieces. After investigating, they found out that someone from Room 1 had bumped into it. Yu Xiang quietly asked him to compensate for the damage, but unexpectedly, the person became more stingy as he got richer. He argued with Yu Xiang for half a day, claiming that the thermos had fallen on its own. Qian Rong also chimed in: "Your thermos was placed so far out, and if someone accidentally knocked it over, you can't blame them. You people who are used to living in the suburbs need to have some collective awareness, don't be so selfish, and learn to be more refined."

  Yu Xiang's anger flared up again, his whole body burning with rage. Just as he was about to explode, he thought of the consequences for Liang Banjun and suddenly cooled down, storming into room number two. Qian Rongge laughed loudly in room number one, cursing: "What's wrong with China is not that it's not universal, but that Chinese people are too uneducated, rough and rude. In fact, we should distinguish between cities and rural areas to be fair."

  Thanks to Lin Yuxiang's poor English, he only understood a few main words, otherwise he would have gone to fight. In Room 2, Xie Jingyuan was reading "Chu Lu" and said to Lin Yuxiang: "Your composition is not well-written, you should write positively, how can you write negatively?" This kind of composition won't get high marks." Jingyuan unintentionally provoked him, and he finally couldn't hold back, venting: "You don't understand anything, this isn't an article - it's a critical essay!" He didn't know how to describe it, his mouth full of reasons was all tangled up, and he sat heavily on the bed, saying: "You don't appreciate it, your level is too low." After scolding him, he felt balanced, originally there was only one person who was wronged in this room, now suddenly another one appeared, Lin Yuxiang had no reason to be unhappy.

  Shen Qi had a rare plumpness for a rural student, and the flesh that made him plump was deducted from his height. At first glance, he looked like someone who slept a lot. Tonight, he was sleeping soundly, but was woken up by the noise. He poked his head out of the quilt, looking like a snake after hibernation, and asked, "What's going on? What's going on?" Seeing Yu Xiang and Xie Jingyuan sitting with their backs to him, he went back to sleep.

  Tan Weidong seemed to have been reformed by the influence of Room 1. He ran to Room 1 every day, and was rarely seen in Room 2. Even his clothes had started to change, often wearing a long-sleeved shirt over a short-sleeved one.

  Yu Xiang had long since lost all good feelings towards Tan Weidong. He went to the neighboring room 205 to vent his frustrations to Yu Xiong. Yu Xiong consoled him, "Mind your own business and don't bother with them. Just ignore it." Yu Xiang thought to himself, "Easy for you to say, but how can I explain that punch from Tan Weidong when he was massaging my motorcycle?" He almost wanted to speak out and refute Yu Xiong.