104: Stealing the suffering of others to create ink for one's pen

The tea room was very quiet, with only the white steam exhaled from the spout of the purple clay teapot rising in curling wisps under the dim yellow light.

Gu Changfeng's question was like a stone cast into a deep well.

Where did this air of hardship come from?

Lin Que held the warm teacup, his fingertips gently stroking the rough texture of the pottery.

He did not answer immediately, but lowered his eyelids, watching the tea leaves rising and falling in the cup.

Where did it come from?

Should he tell these two titans that he was actually a "monster" who had lived two lifetimes?

Should he say that in his past life, in order to write a good script, he had staked out a funeral home for three days and three nights, just to observe the micro-expressions on the faces of the bereaved?

Or that he had helped unload cargo at a vegetable market at four in the morning, just to listen to the bawdy jokes and sighs of the peddlers and laborers?

Those were not hardships; they were the "survival instincts" he had been forced to cultivate as a screenwriter in his previous life just to make a living.

"Chairman Gu, Chairman Liang."

Lin Que raised his head. His eyes were clear, yet they carried a calmness that was extremely incongruous with his age.

"Actually, I haven't experienced any great ups and downs, as you two must know. My family is harmonious, both my parents are alive, and my life has been quite smooth."

Liang Wenyou frowned slightly; clearly, this answer could not explain the penetrating power in Lin Que's writing.

"However." Lin Que shifted the tone of his conversation, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I have seen."

"Seen?" Gu Changfeng's hand, holding the teacup, paused slightly.

"Yes, I have seen." Lin Que's voice was soft and slow, as if he were telling someone else's story.

"There is an uncle downstairs who sells jianbing. He sets up his stall at four every morning. He is always smiling, but I have seen him, when no one is around, secretly pick up half a sausage that fell on the ground, wipe it off, and put it in his own mouth. Because he couldn't bear to throw it away, and he couldn't bear to give it to a customer."

"I have seen the man in the hospital corridor, crouching in the corner crying while holding a payment slip. He cried without making a sound, only his shoulders were shaking. When the doctor called his name, he wiped his face hard with his sleeve, and when he stood up, he put that ingratiating smile back on his face."

Hearing this, the hand Liang Wenyou was using to hold his teacup trembled slightly. A drop of scalding tea splashed onto the back of his hand, but he didn't even notice, just staring fixedly at Lin Que.

Lin Que ignored it and continued:

"I have also seen a young man on the last bus late at night, wearing a cheap suit and reeking of alcohol. While vomiting, he still had to call clients to apologize and smile. After hanging up the phone, he rested his head against the greasy bus glass, tears streaming down his nose, while he hummed an unknown song."

Lin Que paused here and took a sip of tea. The tea entered his throat, slightly bitter, then left a sweet aftertaste.

"Two seniors, I am indeed young and haven't suffered any great hardships. But these eyes of mine are rather greedy. They like to stare at these 'unpleasant' things."

Lin Que pointed to his own eyes, his tone sincere.

"I store these scenes I see in my mind. When I am writing an essay, or when I am daydreaming, I bring them out. I imagine myself to be that uncle selling jianbing, that man crying in the hospital, that drunk salesman."

"I try to understand their pain, even if it's only one in ten thousand. Then, the words just flow out on their own."

"The so-called hardships are merely things I have stolen. I stole the suffering of others and brewed it into the ink beneath the pen."

The study fell into a long, dead silence. Only the sound of the wind occasionally sweeping past the window, rustling the leaves of the phoenix trees.

Gu Changfeng and Liang Wenyou exchanged a glance, both seeing deep shock in each other's eyes, as well as an unconcealable... appreciation for talent.

Stealing the suffering of others to brew the ink beneath the pen.

This was said lightly, but for a teenage high school student, what a terrifying capacity for empathy this was!

There are always some people in this world whom Heaven chases after to feed.

Ordinary people look at the world, seeing mountains as mountains and water as water.

But people like Lin Que can see through the skin, seeing the cracks in the bones.

This is not just observation, but a gifted sensitivity and compassion.

"What a 'stolen hardship'!" Liang Wenyou couldn't help but slap the table in admiration, his eyes behind his glasses shining frighteningly bright.

"Lin Que, how is this stealing? You are crying out in pain on behalf of those who cannot make a sound!"

Gu Changfeng put down his teacup and let out a long, heavy breath.

The look in his eyes when he gazed at Lin Que was no longer that of looking at a talented junior, but rather at an uncarved piece of jade that was already radiating brilliance.

"Lin Que." Gu Changfeng's voice became solemn.

"Originally, Old Liang and I were still a bit hesitant, fearing that we might be helping the shoots grow by pulling them... But now it seems that you are worthy of these two gifts!"

Lin Que quickly stood up.

"Sit down, sit down." Gu Changfeng pressed his hand down, took out a red-headed document that had been prepared long ago from the drawer, and pushed it in front of Lin Que.

"The first gift. After deliberation and decision by the presidium of the Su Province Writers Association, you, Student Lin Que, are exceptionally admitted as an honorary member of the Su Province Writers Association."

Lin Que was stunned.

A member of the Provincial Writers Association?

In this era, the gold content of being a member of the Writers Association is extremely high.

It is a symbol of status, an admission ticket into the mainstream literary circle.

Countless people write for a lifetime, breaking their heads just to get this title.

And an "honorary member" is even more special, usually only awarded to those highly respected seniors, or those who have made huge contributions to literature.

Giving it to him, a high school student?

"Don't be in such a hurry to decline." Seeming to see Lin Que's hesitation, Gu Changfeng explained with a smile.

"The word 'honorary' was added specifically for you. You are still a student, and naturally, your studies come first. Therefore, you do not need to attend those tedious meetings, you do not need to sit in the office, and you are not bound by those rigid rules."

"However, you will receive all the benefits of the Writers Association, including field trips, publishing support, and medical subsidies—you will not miss out on a single one."

"Simply put, you just focus on writing your articles, and the Writers Association will handle the rest of the mundane affairs for you."

Liang Wenyou added with a smile from the side.

"This is the green light that we old guys specifically turned on for you."

Lin Que looked at the document, his heart warming slightly.

This was not just a privilege; it was a protective amulet.

With this status, in the future, if people like Fang Zhenyun wanted to use their "qualifications" and "seniority" to pressure him, they would have to weigh it carefully.

"Then this junior will not refuse." Lin Que did not act coy; he took the document with both hands and bowed deeply again.

"Thank you both Chairmen for your great kindness."

"Ah, just call us Teachers in private from now on." Gu Changfeng waved his hand, his mood clearly excellent.

"Then... what about the second gift?" Lin Que asked, somewhat curiously, as he put away the document.

Gu Changfeng had just said there were two gifts.

Hearing this, Liang Wenyou and Gu Changfeng exchanged a glance, both of them revealing that kind of inscrutable smile on their faces.

"As for this second gift..." Liang Wenyou pushed up his glasses, smiling as he kept the suspense.

"It's not the time yet. When the cicadas are at their loudest, you will naturally know."

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

When the cicadas are at their loudest?

He vaguely guessed something, but seeing the "cannot speak" expressions on the two old men's faces, he sensibly did not ask further.

"Alright, it's getting late." Gu Changfeng looked at the wall clock.

"If I don't let you go back now, your Teacher Shen will probably blow up my phone. Old Liang, arrange a car; it's time to send our newly minted little member back."