19: This is true literature!

Lin Que turned off his phone screen and archived the email from New Tide.

The night breeze poured in through the gap in the car window, carrying the hustle and bustle of the city.

He looked at his parents' backs in the front row. His father, Lin Jianguo, seemed to be standing much straighter, while his mother, Wang Xiulian, kept turning her head like a little girl to look at the Xisheng Mansion residential area that had already disappeared into the night.

"Little Que, Mom... Mom still feels like this is a dream."

Wang Xiulian clutched the home purchase contract tightly.

Lin Jianguo cleared his throat and spoke with feigned composure, but his slightly trembling voice betrayed him: "Alright, the contract is signed, the signatures are down, how could it be fake? From now on, we are also people who live in a big house."

Although he said this, his hand resting on his knee kept unconsciously rubbing against the seam of his trousers.

Lin Que smiled.

"Dad, Mom, this is just the beginning."

His voice was very soft.

"From now on, you just need to enjoy life; leave the money-making to me."

Wang Xiulian's eyes turned red again, and she quickly turned her head away, pretending to look at the scenery outside the window.

Lin Jianguo took a deep look at his son through the rearview mirror.

This teenager, whom he had always thought had not yet grown up, had unknowingly grown into a towering tree capable of shielding the family from the wind and rain.

Back at that "home" that was about to become history.

Wang Xiulian, for the first time ever, did not go to cook immediately; instead, she pulled Lin Jianguo into the small living room and began to plan for the future.

"Jianguo, look, the new house is so big, we need to buy a big sofa so that when Little Que brings classmates back to hang out, it will be spacious enough."

"And that room facing south has the best light; leave it for Little Que as a study."

"Oh, right, I'm going to quit my job tomorrow. I've had enough of that chemical smell!"

Lin Jianguo held a cigarette in his mouth, listening silently, nodding from time to time, the exhaustion between his brows swept away.

Lin Que didn't disturb them and returned to his bedroom alone.

He turned on his computer, didn't log into Hong Guo Net, but instead opened the layout draft sent by the New Tide editorial department.

On the screen, "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store" was placed in the most prominent position, with the title in a quaint and elegant Song typeface.

[The Sound of the Harmonica in the Deep Night]

— Jian Shen

He reviewed it word by word. Every punctuation mark and every paragraph break had been carefully adjusted. This was the professional standard of a top-tier periodical.

After confirming everything was correct, he replied to the email.

[Thank you for your hard work, there are no issues. Looking forward to meeting the readers. — Jian Shen]

After doing all this, Lin Que leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

...

The night passed without incident.

When Lin Que stepped into the gates of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School again, he turned back into that lazy and laid-back second-year high school student. Only today, the atmosphere on campus seemed exceptionally different.

Class 3, Grade 2.

Yesterday's storm had made Lin Que the focus of the class. During the break, no one dared to look at him with contempt anymore. Replacing it was curiosity, awe, and even fawning.

"Brother Que, Brother Que! What exactly was that 'firefly' about? Tell us about it?"

"Student Lin Que, I have a math problem I don't quite understand, can you help me look at it?"

Even the class beauty, Su Qianqian, who previously ignored Lin Que, gave him a friendly smile when she passed by his seat today.

Lin Que couldn't be bothered with any of this and continued to maintain his lazy persona of loving to sleep.

Wu Di became his press secretary, spouting off to a group of classmates about how Lin Que had debated the scholars and treated fame and wealth like dirt...

Zhang Ya did not come to school today; word was that she was sick.

The whole world seemed to be revealing its kind side to Lin Que in a dramatic way.

In the afternoon.

The latest issue of New Tide magazine was officially released across all channels.

Jiang City, Xinhua Bookstore.

Professor Li Yuanchao wore a duckbill cap and, like an ordinary reader, took a brand new copy of New Tide from the bookshelf.

He didn't flip through it immediately but walked straight to the cashier. This had been his habit for many years; as a special editorial board member of the magazine, he always bought it immediately to show his support.

Returning to his office at Jiangcheng University, he brewed a pot of Longjing tea and then leisurely opened the magazine.

He turned directly to the table of contents. When he saw the unfamiliar name and title in the finale section, he couldn't help but be stunned.

[The Sound of the Harmonica in the Deep Night... Author: Jian Shen?]

"Jian Shen? Never heard of it. Looks like a newcomer."

Li Yuanchao was a bit curious. To be published in the finale section of New Tide and take up such a large space was not a privilege an ordinary newcomer could have.

He took a sip of tea and started reading. The office was very quiet, with only the rustling sound of him turning the pages.

Gradually, his expression changed. From the initial casualness to focus, then to solemnity, and finally, to complete shock.

When he read about the three thieves clumsily imitating Grandpa Namiya's tone, writing a reply letter to the fish shop musician struggling between dreams and reality.

When he saw that letter of thanks from the future, telling them that the song "Rebirth," after his death, had spread to the world by chance, changing the lives of countless people.

"Plop."

A turbid tear fell onto the page without warning.

Li Yuanchao froze. How long had it been... since he had shed tears over a piece of writing? Ten years? Or twenty?

The pot of fine Longjing tea in the office still smelled fragrant, but he seemed not to notice.

After an unknown amount of time, he slowly took off his reading glasses and wiped his eyes messily with his sleeve.

This novel used a fantasy setting to tell an incredibly gentle story. It had no flowery language, no grand preaching. What it had was only the simplest kindness and bonds between people. It was like a ray of light that could shine into the softest corners of the human heart.

Li Yuanchao picked up the phone on the desk, took a deep breath, and dialed the number of New Tide Editor-in-Chief Wang Dean.

"Dean! That "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store" in this issue of your magazine! That author called Jian Shen, who exactly is he?!"

On the other end of the line, Wang De'an laughed triumphantly: "Professor Li, you were shocked too, weren't you?"

"Shocked is an understatement!"

Li Yuanchao's tone was extremely excited. He paused, and in a tone bordering on sleep-talking, he exclaimed from the bottom of his heart: "This is true literature!"

At the same time.

Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, Chinese Language Teaching and Research Office.

Shen Qingqiu had also received the latest New Tide. As a member of the Writers Association, reading major literary magazines was her habit. Especially a top-tier magazine like New Tide.

When she opened the magazine, her eyes fell immediately on the editor's note at the beginning. Wang De'an's writing was always steady, but this time it rarely revealed excited emotions.

[In this fast-paced era, we seem to have become accustomed to fragmented reading and one-time sensory stimulation.]

[But there are always some words that are willing to slow down to listen to the echoes from the depths of the soul.]

["The Miracles of the Namiya General Store" is such a work.]

[It is like an old friend, lighting a solitary lamp for you in the deep night.]

[We are honored to bring this long-lost warmth to every reader who longs to be healed.]

[— New Tide · Wang De'an]

Shen Qingqiu was a bit surprised. Editor-in-Chief Wang always had high standards; previous articles were basically simple summaries. But praise like this was unprecedented and perhaps a bit too high.

This aroused Shen Qingqiu's intense curiosity. What kind of story could make him so generous with his praise?

With intense curiosity, she couldn't wait to flip the magazine to the finale section. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the title.

"The Miracles of the Namiya General Store"

— Jian Shen

Miracles? General Store? Just looking at the title, it seemed like a warm and gentle collection of essays.

Jian Shen.

If she remembered correctly, this Jian Shen was the first time she had seen it. A newcomer author?

With doubts, she continued flipping.

[The Sound of the Harmonica in the Deep Night...]

She read slowly and with great focus. At first, she had a scrutinizing gaze, but gradually, her breathing lost its rhythm.

Until she finished reading and looked up, she realized that her eyes were already moist. At this moment, Shen Qingqiu's heart was filled with an indescribable warmth.

This author called "Jian Shen," with a gentle touch bordering on compassion, skillfully wove together several seemingly unrelated life dilemmas across time and space through a small general store.

She stood up and looked out the window, savoring the heavy sense of choice and redemption in the story, outlining the author's appearance in her mind.

It must be an elder with an incredibly gentle heart who has seen it all. Only a soul that has experienced so much could write such clear and compassionate words.

But just as she was immersed in this warmth, a completely opposite thought popped into her mind without warning. Those cold, desperate words floated up from the depths of her memory uncontrollably:

"Don't look under the bed tonight"

"Ghost knocking at the door"

...

Extreme warmth and extreme cold collided violently in her mind. One used words to mend the regrets of the world. The other used fear to tear open the scars of reality. One was in heaven, one was in hell.

Just as Shen Qingqiu was being torn apart by these two extreme sensations, causing her a splitting headache,

"Knock, knock, knock."

The office door was knocked on neither too lightly nor too heavily. This sound made her flinch, and she subconsciously tensed up.

"Enter."

She composed her emotions, and her voice returned to its usual coldness.

The door was pushed open, and a familiar figure leaned against the doorframe, wearing that iconic, slightly annoying, lazy smile.

"Teacher Shen, I heard you were looking for me?"