175: Two stars in one province?

Beijing, No. 25 Tucheng Road West.

National Writers Association Building, Top Floor, First Conference Room.

The heavy mahogany doors were tightly shut, completely sealing off the hustle and bustle of the traffic outside.

The main lights in the conference room were off; only a few spotlights shone down on the long oval table in the center.

Every person sitting around this table was a leader of their respective provincial literary circles.

A single signature from them could determine the fate of countless young writers; a single cough from them would make the literary journals of every province tremble.

At this moment, these usually stern and serious big shots were huddled in groups of twos and threes, whispering their opinions to one another.

Without exception, the center of their conversation was the upcoming "Fu Zhi Yao Competition" national finals.

Gu Changfeng, Chairman of the Su Province Writers Association, leaned back in a soft chair on the left side of the front row, his gray suit jacket unbuttoned.

The well-seasoned purple clay teapot in his hand squeaked as he fiddled with it.

His eyelids drooped, making him look as if he were resting his mind.

Only his index finger, which occasionally tapped the handle of the teapot, betrayed his current jubilant mood.

"Old Gu, you're about to turn that teapot into a spirit with all that rubbing."

A booming voice broke Gu Changfeng's "rest."

Gu Changfeng lifted his eyelids to see an old man wearing a Zhongshan suit, built as sturdily as a man from Qinchuan, walking over with large strides.

Tao Zhiyan, Chairman of the Shaanxi Province Writers Association.

He was famous for his loud voice and blunt personality, and his writing was as heavy and rugged as the Loess Plateau.

"Old Tao."

Gu Changfeng sat up straight and set the purple clay teapot on the table.

His face wore a standard smile—thirty percent humble and seventy percent polite.

"What wind blew you over? I heard Shaanxi Province did quite well in the qualifiers this time. The younger generation is truly formidable."

"Cut the crap!"

Tao Zhiyan strode over, pulled out a chair, and sat down, bringing a gust of wind with him.

Without standing on ceremony, he grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table and took a swig, his eyes squinting at Gu Changfeng.

"Old Gu, you're drinking your tea quite peacefully.

I've seen the list. Su Province had 129 people advance this time. Are you planning to turn the finals into your province's internal civil war?"

Tao Zhiyan extended a finger and poked the tabletop forcefully.

"129 people! Do you realize what that means? If you add up all our northwestern provinces, we barely match your leftovers.

You're not leaving a path for anyone else to survive!"

Gu Changfeng waved his hand, picking up his teacup to hide the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Luck, it's all luck. The kids this year are indeed a bit more motivated; it's just that their foundation is solid."

"Solid foundation? You call that a solid foundation?"

Tao Zhiyan's eyes widened, and he lowered his voice a bit, but his shock only seemed to deepen.

"I won't even mention the numbers, since you're a major education province. But the most ridiculous thing is..."

He looked left and right, and after ensuring no one was paying attention, he mysteriously held up two fingers.

"Your province produced two 'premium selections'."

As soon as those two words were uttered, Gu Changfeng's tea-drinking motion paused imperceptibly.

"premium selection" was the highest level of evaluation in "Fu Zhi Yao Competition."

It meant the article did not need to go through the regular review process and was directly advanced to the next round.

Furthermore, it meant the judging panel had unanimously recognized it as having publication-level literary value.

Generally speaking, in a semi-final with thousands of participants, producing one "premium selection" was already cause for great celebration.

Tao Zhiyan thumped the empty bottle on the table and lowered his voice.

"The prodigy class at the Affiliated High School of Peking University, which claims to have half a foot in the top universities, only produced one premium selection.

But you guys—one popped up in the preliminaries, and another jumped out in the semi-finals.

What, does the soil and water in Su Province just breed monsters?"

"Old Gu, give me the inside scoop. Where on earth did these two monsters come from?"

Tao Zhiyan sighed.

"If even one of these two could be given to our Shaanxi Province, I'd wake up laughing from my dreams.

Two stars from one province—you're going to dominate the rankings this time!"

Gu Changfeng used the action of drinking tea to hide the smile that almost overflowed.

Two stars? Monsters?

That boy named Lin Que first used "fan jin passes the imperial examination" in the preliminaries to scare the grading team into doing a full database plagiarism check.

Immediately after, he used a sensational piece called "the metamorphosis" in the semi-finals to directly ascend to godhood.

One person had taken two premium selections.

If this were told to others, forget Tao Zhiyan not believing it—

If he shouted it out in this conference room, probably no one would dare believe it.

"Ahem."

Gu Changfeng set down his teacup, forcibly suppressing the urge to spoil the surprise.

He said with feigned gravity:

"They are both good prospects, good prospects.

As for whether they can dominate the rankings, that still depends on their performance in the finals. The outcome is not yet decided, not yet decided."

Just then, the conference room doors were pushed open again.

The originally noisy venue fell silent instantly, like a speaker whose power had been cut.

A middle-aged man wearing a deep blue suit walked in.

Zhou Wenyuan, Vice Chairman of the National Writers Association, and one of the leading figures in the contemporary literary world.

He had an elegant, scholarly air about him, but when his gaze swept across the room, the majesty of someone who had held a high position for many years created a powerful aura.

Zhou Wenyuan walked to the head of the table and sat down without wasting any words.

"Everyone is here, so let's begin."

The secretary quickly stood up and distributed bound documents to everyone.

"There is only one agenda item today."

Zhou Wenyuan placed his crossed hands on the table, his gaze calm.

"Regarding the tone of the 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition' national finals, and... the subsequent training mechanism for talent."

The sound of rustling paper filled the room.

Zhou Wenyuan picked up the thermos next to him, unscrewed the lid, and spoke in a steady tone.

"You all should have seen the results of the semi-finals.

Whether it's the quality of the writing or the depth of thought, they have both exceeded previous years."

His gaze seemingly drifted past Gu Changfeng's direction, and Gu Changfeng smiled slightly and nodded in greeting.

"Since the prospects are good, the stage must be built high enough."

Zhou Wenyuan tapped the table, his voice rising slightly.

"The finals will be held early next month at the Peking University Centennial Hall.

Of the more than one thousand national qualifiers, not many will ultimately get an entry ticket."

This was a true battle.

From millions in the preliminary selection to tens of thousands in the semi-finals, and now one thousand entering Beijing.

This was the "Imperial Examination" of the literary world.

"Regarding the reward mechanism."

Zhou Wenyuan opened the document and said:

"After consultation between the Writers Association and the Ministry of Education, the top 100 contestants in the finals will receive 'priority recommendation rights' for key universities within their respective provinces.

The prerequisite is simple: pass any undergraduate line in their academic subjects."

A low murmur of discussion rose from the audience.

This reward was by no means light.

For most high school students, the undergraduate line was a threshold.

But with this "priority recommendation right," it was essentially like having half a foot in the best university in the province.

"As for the top 50..."

Zhou Wenyuan paused, a playful smile appearing on his face.

"The document says 'obtain eligibility for recommendation to national universities,' with a joint recommendation letter written by all of us present."

Speaking of this, he shook his head and made a joke:

"But in my view, for kids who can truly fight their way into the national top 50, their talent is already overflowing.

When the time comes, forget recommendation letters; those admissions office teachers will probably be blocking their front doors overnight to snatch them up."

"The recommendation letters from us old fogies are probably not as effective as a full scholarship agreement from an admissions office."

A wave of good-natured laughter rang out in the hall.

Tao Zhiyan laughed the loudest and specifically turned to wink at Gu Changfeng.

"Hear that? Those two premium prospects of yours are probably already being eyed by the teachers from Peking University."

Gu Changfeng smiled without saying a word.

The laughter gradually died down.

Zhou Wenyuan retracted his smile, his expression becoming solemn once more.

From the very bottom of the folder, he pulled out a document printed with a bright red national emblem.

"Everything before this was standard procedure."

Zhou Wenyuan placed the document gently on the table, his finger tapping on the red title.

"The next agenda item is the highlight of today.

It is also a major matter concerning the lifeblood of the Chinese literary world for the next ten, or even several dozen, years."

Everyone's eyes focused on that document.

On the red cover, four bold characters were strikingly printed:

"Qinglan Project."

"Indigo blue comes from the indigo plant, yet it is bluer than the plant itself."

Zhou Wenyuan's palm pressed against the cover of the document as his gaze swept across everyone present.

"The approval process was completed the day before yesterday.

The higher-ups have given the nod.

This matter is settled!"

...