22: Chairman Wang's combined punches

Jiang City Writers Association.

In the Chairman's office, the fragrance of tea from a purple clay teapot filled the air.

Wang Shouyi leaned back in his grand armchair, a long-lost, relaxed smile on his face.

In his hands, he held a copy of "New Tide."

He had already read that story, "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store," three times over.

With every reading, the admiration in his heart grew a bit deeper.

"Excellent!"

"Truly well-written!"

He couldn't help but sigh with emotion to Vice Chairman Gu Songran, who was sitting opposite him.

"Old Gu, look at this penmanship, this plotting, this thematic depth!"

"This is the kind of literature our era needs!"

Gu Songran nodded repeatedly in agreement.

"Indeed, Chairman, the response to this article has been exceptionally good.

I heard the phones at the 'New Tide' editorial department are ringing off the hook, all inquiring about this Jian Shen."

"That was inevitable!"

Wang Shouyi slapped the table hard, his face glowing with excitement.

"Readers can recognize truly good work!

It's like spring rain, nourishing things silently; it brings people hope and strength!

This is the social responsibility that literary works should bear!"

As he spoke, he grew more agitated, standing up to pace the office.

"Then look at the internet nowadays; the atmosphere is terrible!

There are always some young people who are impetuous,

only thinking about how to grab attention and create sensationalist content!

They think the darker they depict the world, the more profound it is!

It's simply putting the cart before the horse!"

As he spoke, his gaze became sharp,

clearly reminded of something unpleasant.

Just then.

There was a knock on the office door.

A young clerk walked in, holding a newly published copy of "jiangcheng literature and art."

"Chairman, Vice Chairman Gu, the latest issue of 'jiangcheng literature and art' has arrived."

"By the way, Chairman Wang, this... you might need to take a look at this."

The clerk flipped the magazine directly to the end.

Wang Shouyi looked over instinctively.

His movements suddenly froze.

A bolded, blackened Editor's Note struck his eyes directly.

[Why do we need literature?]

[Perhaps it is to catch a glimpse of poetry in ordinary life. Perhaps it is to salvage forgotten memories from the long river of history.]

[But today, I want to say that we also need a type of literature that acts like a sharp scalpel, daring to cut open the truths we have grown accustomed to, or even revere as absolute dogmas.]

[It is not responsible for providing answers, only for raising questions. It is not responsible for bringing comfort, only for inducing pain.]

[Because pain is the beginning of thought.]

[Admittedly, the following work titled 'firefly' has a bleak worldview and a cruel ending. It may even offend the sensibilities of some readers. Yet, we still choose to publish it.]

[Because we firmly believe that a healthy literary world should accommodate different voices. A mature reader should also have the courage to face the darkness.]

[When everyone is singing praises of the light, we should at least allow a tiny firefly to question the whereabouts of the sun.]

Below the Editor's Note were the few words he never wanted to see again in his life.

[firefly]

Author: Lin Que

Instructor: Shen Qingqiu

Recommender: Li Yuanchao

Wang Shouyi's breathing suddenly became heavy.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the phone on the desk,

and dialed the number of Chen Liangsheng, the Editor-in-Chief of "jiangcheng literature and art."

When the call connected, Wang Shouyi's voice was eerily calm,

but beneath that calmness was a freezing chill:

"Editor-in-Chief Chen, the article on the last page of the latest issue of 'jiangcheng literature and art'—

did you personally give the final approval for that?"

Only after the other party confirmed did the ice in his voice instantly shatter:

"Chen Liangsheng! What is the meaning of this?!"

Chen Liangsheng on the other end of the line was clearly taken aback for a moment,

then his unhurried voice came through:

"Chairman Wang, why such a great temper?"

"My temper? Look at what you've done!"

Wang Shouyi picked up the magazine, staring fixedly at the last page.

"A poisonous weed like 'firefly'—you actually dared to publish it?! Aren't you publicly slapping my face?"

"Chairman Wang, you can't put it that way."

Chen Liangsheng's voice remained calm.

"After all, this was a manuscript personally recommended by Professor Li Yuanchao, and the article itself indeed has its unique merits.

Our magazine's tenet, after all, is to be inclusive.

If there is praise, we must naturally accommodate controversy as well."

"Inclusive? I think you've gone senile!"

Wang Shouyi roared.

"I'm telling you, this isn't over!"

"Chairman Wang, calm down, it's just a literary discussion, why must you..."

"Beep... beep... beep..."

Wang Shouyi slammed the phone down before he could finish, his chest heaving violently.

"Bastard!"

Wang Shouyi's face turned ashen instantly.

With a loud "thwack," he slammed the magazine onto the desk, trembling with rage.

"Li Yuanchao! What does he think he's doing?! Is he trying to publicly oppose me?!"

Gu Songran was startled. He quickly picked up the magazine, looked at it, and immediately understood.

"Chairman, please calm down. Professor Li... he's just stubborn, you know that."

"Stubborn? I think he's just an old fool!"

Wang Shouyi pointed at the story "firefly," incensed.

"This kind of poisonous weed that promotes nihilism, deconstructs hope, and poisons the minds of young people!

He actually dared to recommend it for publication?

Does he still have any respect for me as Chairman? Does he still care about the rules of the Writers Association?!"

He paced back and forth in the office in a fury.

Suddenly, he stopped.

His gaze fell upon "New Tide," which he revered, and "jiangcheng literature and art," which he viewed as a poisonous weed.

An idea flashed through his mind.

"Right!"

He slapped his thigh hard, his eyes lighting up.

"Since Li Yuanchao is being heartless, don't blame me for being unjust!"

He turned to Vice Chairman Gu Songran:

"Old Gu, go make the arrangements immediately!

I want to write a commentary piece for the next issue of the Writers Association's internal newsletter!"

"The title of the article will be 'Literature Should Have Integrity: Resolutely Resisting the Erosion of Spiritual Opium'!"

Hearing this title, Gu Songran's heart skipped a beat, knowing the Chairman was playing for keeps.

"Chairman, this... isn't this a bit too intense? After all, Professor Li..."

"Intense?"

Wang Shouyi gave a cold laugh.

"When dealing with poisonous weeds, one cannot be soft-hearted!"

He picked up the copy of "New Tide" and held it high.

"I want everyone to see what true literature is, and what is just trash under the banner of literature!"

"We must establish 'The Miracles of the Namiya General Store' and this author Jian Shen as the benchmark!

A positive, bright benchmark that gives people hope!"

Then, he pointed viciously at "jiangcheng literature and art."

"And then take this 'firefly' as a negative example and criticize it to death for me!"

Wang Shouyi's anger had not yet subsided.

The Vice Chairman beside him, Gu Songran, quickly chimed in and added at the opportune moment:

"Chairman, the root of this perverse trend you mentioned might actually be on the internet."

"I heard my child mention that there's a web novel recently called 'the human world is like a prison'.

It's incredibly popular, but also incredibly sinister.

It scares the kids so much they can't sleep at night."

"I feel that 'firefly,' in its ideological core, was influenced by it; they both share the same lineage of nihilism and gloom!"

"the human world is like a prison?!"

Hearing this name, Wang Shouyi's rage was ignited once more. He said through gritted teeth:

"Good! What a 'Human World is Like a Prison'!"

"So, they're all birds of a feather! They are all tumors in our literary world!"

"Eradicate them! They must be eradicated together, not a single one left!"

...