138: The shock of the first day of school

Winter in Jiangcheng left very slowly, like an old man who loved to sleep in,

reluctantly dragging its feet and refusing to let spring in.

Since the winter break began,

Lin Que had been living like a prematurely retired veteran cadre.

He woke up naturally every day, helped Comrade Wang Xiulian prepare vegetables,

listened to Comrade Lin Jianguo brag about old stories from his workplace,

and, of course, occasionally went to the studio to update two chapters of

soul ferry.

The days were so unremarkable they felt almost luxurious.

When his phone vibrated, Lin Que was nestled in a beanbag chair on the balcony,

with a copy of this world's General History spread across his lap.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: [Image][Image][Image]

The photos showed the streets of Vienna, with gray pigeons resting on the shoulders of verdigris-covered statues.

Another photo was taken backstage at a magnificent concert hall,

where Ye Xi, wearing a gown tight enough to choke someone, made a peace sign at the camera with a look of utter despair.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: I'm going crazy.

My dad dragged me to meet musicians across half of Europe. Every day is either spent listening to a concert or on the way to one.

Now, when I see a violin, I want to snap it in half and use it for firewood.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Lin Que, why don't you come to Jinling for a few days? I found another small restaurant, and the food is incredible!

Lin Que looked at the screen,

his finger hovering over the word "Okay," but he ultimately hit the delete key.

Going to Jinling was easy, but what he needed right now was peace of mind.

[Mu Xia]: No thanks. My winter homework is still brand new, and I can already faintly sense the murderous aura of the Old Class Teacher.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Hmph... Excuses [Cleaver]

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Uh... Well, that's fine too. I'll probably be exiled for another three to five days.

When I get back, I definitely need to come to Jiangcheng to make up for all the barbecue I missed.

Oh, right, I mailed you something as a New Year's gift. Make sure you receive it.

Lin Que replied with a "Thank you, Boss" sticker and exited the chat interface.

His refusal to go to Jinling wasn't entirely an excuse.

The conclusion of the ferryman,

while causing a huge splash among readers, also gave Lin Que an unprecedented sense of crisis.

That sense of crisis stemmed from self-awareness.

Previously, he thought of himself as a porter,

merely moving the civilization of that other world over here,

exchanging it for some money and fame, making his life more comfortable.

But with the appearance of the older generation of literary figures,

with Ye Xi crying uncontrollably over a single ending,

and after worry solver and soul ferry had healed countless readers,

he realized the burden on his shoulders had grown heavier.

It was the weight of an entire civilization.

He found that although he could replicate the framework of those stories, and even imitate seventy percent of their essence,

the soul hidden deep within the text,

the profound depth accumulated through decades of cultural experience by the original authors,

was something his current writing ability could not fully control.

Therefore, if he wanted to bring the civilization of that world over completely,

it absolutely could not be just "copy and paste."

If he did that,

sooner or later, he would be crushed by this enormous treasure trove.

Lin Que opened General History,

his finger stopping on the page about the "Jingkang Incident."

In this world, this catastrophe never occurred. Yue Fei did not die at the Pavilion of the Storm,

but instead, the Northern Expedition succeeded, and the Great Song Dynasty lasted for four hundred years.

Without the sorrowful indignation of "Straight to make Hangzhou Bianzhou,"

later generations of poetry lacked that desolate, tragic, and iron-blooded spirit,

and gained a few touches of opulent, cosmetic flavor.

Lin Que closed the book and rubbed his temples.

No wonder the theme of 'facing death to find life' in the ferryman caused such a huge sensation in this world.

The cultural soil here was too comfortable, so comfortable that people forgot pain.

To plant stories steeped in blood and tears from that world here,

he had to be not just a porter, but also a "translator."

"Since I've become the torchbearer, I cannot let the flame die out halfway."

He looked at the gray sky outside the window and muttered to himself.

Wang Xiulian was very pleased about this,

feeling that her son had finally matured and understood the importance of the second semester of grade 11.

Only Lin Que knew

that he was taking remedial classes—a major lesson in "foundational depth."

Three days before school started, the so-called "New Year's gift" arrived.

It was a heavy wooden box, covered in various customs fragile item labels.

Lin Que unwrapped the layers of packaging,

and a vintage walnut record player lay quietly inside.

Several old vinyl records were included next to it.

The top one was Schubert's Trout Quintet.

The handwriting on the card was bold and unrestrained, betraying the frantic energy of someone stifled abroad:

"Found this at a junk shop in Prague.

The owner said it held the soul of that era.

I think this piece of music is especially like you:

you look quite lazy, but you're swimming more happily than anyone else beneath the surface.

Give it a listen.

—Fugitive Beethoven"

Lin Que smiled, plugged it in, and put on the record.

The textured music flowed out.

It was Franz Schubert's Trout Quintet.

Clear, rich, yet in its deepest part,

surged a lively and unrestrained power... The sixteenth day of the first lunar month: school resumed.

The entrance of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School was once again bustling with traffic.

The shouts of breakfast vendors, the ringing of bicycle bells, and the laughter of students greeting each other,

completely washed away the coldness of winter.

The classroom of grade 11, class 3.

"I'm finished, I'm finished! I still have two math papers left unwritten! Quick, quick, let me copy yours!"

"Did you write the English composition? Let me take a look!"

"I heard the final exam results are being announced today? Oh my god, just let me die!"

Wu Di was sprawled across his desk, his cheek fat squashed out of shape,

staring blankly at the rag in Lin Que's hand.

"Brother Que, are you wiping the desk? You're wiping away my tears.

Did you hear? The city-wide joint exam's Chinese language scoring group went crazy this time. They say the essay topic was hard enough to give someone a cerebral hemorrhage."

Lin Que tossed the rag into the bucket and slowly took out his textbook:

"What's the use of panicking? The papers have already been handed in. Can worrying bring the scores back?"

"I'm totally screwed!"

Wu Di groaned inwardly.

"If I drop out of the top forty in the class this time, my dad will definitely break my legs!"

Lin Que shook his head.

To articulate the panic of a poor student so uniquely refined, this guy was truly one of a kind.

The morning reading bell rang, and Shen Qingqiu entered the classroom right on time.

Her gaze swept around the classroom,

finally resting on the back row, where her eyes paused for half a second.

"It seems everyone had a very fulfilling winter break."

Shen Qingqiu's voice carried its usual hint of authority.

"Has all the homework been completed?"

A dead silence fell over the class; no one dared to answer.

"Alright, settle down and focus."

Shen Qingqiu picked up the results sheet.

"I know what you are all waiting for.

This final exam was a city-wide joint examination,

and the grading standards were based on the College Entrance Exam, so it was extremely strict."

She paused, her gaze turning sharp.

"Our class's overall performance ranked third in the grade, which is acceptable.

However, the phenomenon of subject imbalance among certain students is still very serious!"

As she said this, she specifically glanced in the direction of Luo Ji, the Physics Class Representative, who instinctively shrunk his neck.

"Next, I will read out the scores and rankings. Those whose names are called, please come up to collect your report card."

"Xu Xinqi, total score 672, first in class, fifth in grade."

Sparse applause broke out, and Xu Xinqi calmly walked to the front.

"Zhang Ya, total score 655, second in class."

...As names were called out one by one, the atmosphere in the classroom grew heavier.

Some rejoiced, others worried. Wu Di was so nervous he chewed his pen cap to pieces.

"Lin Que."

When Shen Qingqiu read this name,

her voice clearly paused.

The entire class immediately pricked up their ears.

Lin Que was currently a prominent figure in the school, and everyone was curious

to see how many points this guy, who looked lazy all the time yet was incredibly talented, had scored.

Shen Qingqiu looked at the report card in her hand,

glanced again at the calm-faced Lin Que sitting by the window, and took a deep breath.

"Chinese Language, 149 points."

...