169: Teacher Lin, you look so handsome today!

As the sound of high heels faded into the distance, the air in the small shop began to flow again.

"Phew—scared me to death!"

Ye Xi let out a long breath, looking like she had just finished a hard-fought battle, and slumped onto her chair.

But the next second, she immediately sat up straight and shoveled a large mouthful of noodles into her mouth.

"Mmm (´▽｀)! So delicious! I'm back to life!"

Ye Xi exclaimed indistinctly, her eyes narrowing into slits of happiness.

In that state, there wasn't a trace left of the cold goddess who had been on stage.

Lin Que watched her wolf down the food and picked up his own chopsticks,

but he wasn't in a hurry to eat, merely offering a thoughtful smile.

"Eat slowly, no one's competing with you. Since it's fuel, it needs to burn a bit longer."

Ye Xi swallowed the noodles and sucked in a breath from the spiciness, fanning her mouth with her hand while giving Lin Que a thumbs-up.

"Master Lin, that theory of yours just now... 'Hypoglycemic Lament'? Only you could come up with that!

It's the first time I've seen Sister Yang make that face."

"I was telling the truth."

Lin Que picked up a piece of pork rind soaked in soup and put it in his mouth.

"Art is inherently human art. If people have no energy, where does the divinity come from?"

Ye Xi was stunned for a moment, her chewing slowing down.

She looked at the boy sitting across from her quietly eating noodles; under the dim yellow light, his silhouette appeared exceptionally soft.

The moment Sister Yang got angry just now, she had been truly panicked.

That fear of being controlled for a long time was etched into her bones.

But with just a few words, Lin Que had effortlessly moved the mountain blocking her path.

He had even turned it into a table where everyone could sit down.

"Lin Que."

Ye Xi suddenly called out.

"Hmm?"

Lin Que looked up.

"Actually..."

Ye Xi poked the poached egg in her bowl with her chopsticks, her voice dropping slightly.

"I wanted to say earlier that I really did watch that video several times."

Lin Que raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Ye Xi looked up, her gaze a bit evasive, but filled with a stubborn earnestness.

"Mainly because... what you said was so good. Really."

Ye Xi smiled, her smile carrying a hint of self-deprecation.

"Before, I thought playing the piano was for winning awards, for not disappointing my grandfather and father, and for Sister Yang's contract.

But hearing you bluff like that just now... I suddenly feel like playing for this bowl of noodles is also quite worth it."

Lin Que looked at her.

The exquisite girl who had been in the Golden Hall,

now in this greasy corner with red oil on the corner of her mouth, finally possessed a soul that truly belonged to her.

"Then for this bowl of noodles."

Lin Que raised his cola can and lightly tapped the edge of the large bowl in front of Ye Xi.

"Cheers."

Ye Xi let out a giggle and also raised the bowl that was larger than her face, heroically clinking it against the cola can.

"Cheers!"

The crisp clinking sound was exceptionally pleasant to hear in the somewhat noisy night.

After finishing the noodles, the two walked out of the alley.

The night breeze blew away the heat and the smell of cooking fumes.

Sister Yang's black business van was parked at the intersection, its hazard lights blinking in the darkness like a silent urge.

"I have to go."

Ye Xi kicked a pebble by the roadside somewhat reluctantly and turned to look at Lin Que.

"If you pass the semi-finals, you must tell me immediately."

"Don't worry, you won't miss out on this celebratory feast."

Ye Xi suddenly took half a step forward.

Her hands, adorned with cartoon band-aids, clenched the hem of her clothes at her sides as her gaze lingered on Lin Que's face for a few seconds.

Finally, as if having made a decision, she just gave a brilliant smile and waved vigorously.

"Then... see you next time? No, if you make it to the finals, you'll probably go to the Capital, right?"

"Why think so far ahead?"

Lin Que looked into her eyes, his tone relaxed.

"Anyway, you can't run away in Jinling. Next time we'll find a place Sister Yang doesn't know about and eat to our heart's content!"

"Okay!"

Ye Xi's eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, then she turned and ran toward the van.

After running a few steps, she paused.

Turning back, the girl cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted toward the figure at the mouth of the alley:

"Teacher Lin! You're extra handsome today!"

After shouting, she didn't wait for Lin Que's reaction and pulled open the car door, slipping inside like a slippery loach.

The door closed, and the van slowly started, merging into the traffic.

Under the streetlights, the boy watched the van's taillights disappear around the corner.

He put one hand in his pocket and shook his head helplessly.

This girl was certainly more lively than before.

Pulling down his hat brim, he turned and blended into the night in the opposite direction... The days after returning from Jinling felt like jet lag.

The aftereffects of that eight-hour extreme mental drain were staggering.

Even after a week, some corners of grade 11, class 3 still carried a dejected air of 'missing brainstems.'

Li Bowen hadn't done physics problems during evening self-study for three days straight,

instead staring blankly at the willow trees outside, supposedly to ponder 'whether that plot twist had any logical loopholes.'

It wasn't until Wednesday that this gloom was scattered by a bombshell.

The official Microblogging platform of the Moyun Award pinned a new post.

There was no long-winded talk, only a highly designed black poster.

In the center of the poster was a lonely small boat, with a blurry figure standing at the bow.

The caption was only two short lines, but every word was precious:

[Behold the sharpness of the new edge, explore the depths of the literary sea. This Friday at 8 PM, the Moyun Award, be there or be square!]

As soon as this Microblogging platform post came out, it was like a piece of hot sodium dropped into water.

Starting with the character 'Jian' and ending with 'Shen.'

Netizens are so sensitive.

In just half an hour,

the hashtag #JianShenAttendingMòyùnAward surged to the top of the trending searches,

followed by a deep purple 'Explosive' tag.

Just after the break-time exercises ended, the classroom erupted.

"Wow! A live one! Big shot Jian Shen is going to participate in the Moyun Award!"

Wu Di held his phone, so excited he almost jumped onto his desk:

"What does the official statement mean? 'Be there or be square'? This is going to be a face-revealing debut!"

"Really?"

The girl in the front row also turned around, eyes sparkling.

"It's going crazy online. Some say Jian Shen is a weathered middle-aged man, others say a highly educated elite.

Either way, this is a mysterious god of the literary world!"

"I don't think so."

Even though Li Bowen said that, his eyes had long since drifted to Wu Di's phone screen.

"Teacher Jian Shen doesn't really like crowds, and New Tide has kept the security so well, it might just be a video link."

"A video link is fine too! I'll be satisfied just to hear the voice!"

The girl in the back row looked full of longing.

"A man who can write sentences like 'If fate is a lonely river,'

must have a voice full of resonance, like a subwoofer—absolutely!"

Sitting in the back row by the window, Lin Que's finger paused.

Subwoofer?

He listened to his own voice, which was still at the tail end of puberty, and had reservations about that.

These people probably have some misconceptions about the mysterious god.

"Brother Que, what are you thinking about?"

Wu Di leaned over, looking mysterious.

"What does Jian Shen actually look like? With that deep insight into human nature, you think it could be written without forty or fifty years of experience?"

Lin Que stopped his movements, glanced sideways at his deskmate, and said earnestly:

"I think so too. Maybe even a wrinkled guy who picks his feet."

"Lin Que! Don't ruin my idol!"

Zhang Ya turned back and scolded him angrily.

"You're just jealous! Pure, unadulterated jealousy!"

Lin Que shrugged and said no more.

He fished his phone out of his desk; the promotion for the Moyun Award on the screen was massive.

This is business.

Capital knows exactly how to manipulate people's hearts.

Using this kind of ambiguous rhetoric, they pushed public expectations to the limit.

When the time comes, no matter how Jian Shen 'appears,'

under this overwhelming emotional buildup, it would be interpreted as a kind of 'looking down from above.'

Since someone was building momentum for him, he had no reason not to finish the act.

Lin Que turned off his phone.

Outside the window, the first cicada's cry tore through the sweltering heat of early summer.

In the green locust tree alley, the southern breeze is fine; hearing the first cry of the new cicada once more.

Summer has truly arrived...