220: Founder of Office Literature

Minister Wan Yunju's movements were very light,

but when that red tray landed on the lectern, it seemed to carry the weight of a thousand tons.

Everyone's eyes were focused on that thin document.

It wasn't an ordinary contract, nor was it even a commercial agreement.

The line of bright red Song-style font at the header of the document read:

'Huaxia Publishing Group Special Grade Signing Letter of Intent' and the attached 'Cultural Export Strategy Key Support Agreement,'

gleaming with a heart-pounding authoritative luster under the spotlights.

Stamped below was a national emblem seal, eye-catchingly red.

"The weight of this agreement might exceed everyone's imagination."

The host gripped the microphone, his gaze sweeping across the room, slowing his pace and speaking with clear articulation:

"Signing this name means that Student Lin Que's work will no longer go through the regular three-review, three-proofreading process of publishing houses, but will instead directly enter the national-level green channel for publication!"

"It means that in the future, every one of his works will be led by national power, with priority given to full-rights IP development!"

"Even more so—"

The host paused, looking at the students and teachers in the audience whose mouths were already agape in shock:

"His future works will serve as special ammunition for Huaxia culture, funded by the state for global distribution!"

This time, there was no clamor inside the auditorium.

Everyone stared blankly at that bright red national emblem seal.

If the hundred thousand prize money just now made people envious, then this agreement now

was enough to make every knowledgeable literary person present feel a shudder from the depths of their soul.

What kind of concept was this?

This wasn't just 'entering the establishment'; this was directly gilding one's body in gold!

In this world where the entertainment industry was relatively barren yet the censorship system remained strict,

how many talented authors had been stuck at the review stage because their subject matter was sensitive?

And how many masterpieces had died in obscurity due to a lack of promotional funding?

But now, the state had directly torn down the hardest door to push open for Lin Que.

They had even thoughtfully laid out a red carpet.

Standing on the stage and looking at that document, Lin Que's originally nonchalant gaze finally changed.

Only he himself knew the weight of this gift.

What he carried in his mind wasn't just 'folding beijing.'

There were also those civilization epics on a cosmic scale,

those cold prophecies about totalitarian societies,

those thought experiments that might even touch the bottom line of ethics and rules... Before this,

he had still been worrying about how to 'safely' bring them over to this world.

And now, what Minister Wan had handed over was precisely the key to this ship carrying the fire.

With this status, he was a state-certified cultural business card.

Whoever dared to touch his books would be slapping the face of the national cultural strategy.

Lin Que took a deep breath and reached out both hands.

His movements were no longer casual, but carried an unprecedented solemnity,

as he received that heavy document from Minister Wan Yunju's hands.

"Thank you for the recognition. I will not fail my mission."

Lin Que's voice was very steady.

Minister Wan looked at the youth before him who remained calm regardless of favor or humiliation, and the appreciation in his eyes deepened further.

He patted Lin Que's shoulder with great force:

"Write well, and don't be afraid to cross lines. The backbone of our Huaxia still needs to be held up by the pens of young people like you."

Following that was the handshake segment.

Minister Ding Huaijin's palm was dry and warm, carrying a scholarly air.

Minister Wan's palm was broad and powerful, exuding authority.

Finally, Lin Que's hand was held by Xue Hongchuan.

This Chairman of the Writers Association, who had single-handedly orchestrated the 'Fu Zhi Yao' reform, did not hurry to let go.

He leaned in slightly and whispered in Lin Que's ear in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"Lin Que."

Xue Hongchuan's voice was deep and mellow, carrying a solemnity as if handing over a heavy burden:

"The state tore down the wall for you, not so you could run more happily in the courtyard.

This knife has been handed to you to expand our territory. Don't let this golden body bind your hands and feet."

Lin Que's brow twitched slightly, and a flash of profound depth that surprised even Xue Hongchuan crossed his eyes.

Meeting Xue Hongchuan's gaze, the corners of his mouth curled up, and he responded with a nod that only the two of them understood.

"Chairman Xue, you gave me a knife. But what I intend to carve is a monument."

Xue Hongchuan's smile stiffened for a moment, and his grip on Lin Que's hand involuntarily tightened,

followed by a burst of hearty laughter as he heavily patted the youth's back.

Seeing this scene from below, Gu Changfeng scratched his head in curiosity, nearly running onto the stage to hear what they were saying.

The three big shots turned and left the stage, leaving the spotlight to the sole protagonist of the night.

Holding his trophy and documents, Lin Que was about to follow them offstage when he was quickly stopped by the host.

"Student Lin! Student Lin, please wait!"

The host wiped the sweat from his forehead with a bitter smile:

"You're about to leave, but you haven't given your acceptance speech yet!

Tens of millions of viewers online are waiting to hear your secret to success!"

Lin Que's footsteps paused, and he turned around.

Below him was a dense mass of heads, with countless pairs of eyes staring intently at him.

There was jealousy, admiration, inquiry, and also resentment.

The camera flashes were like a silver ocean, tirelessly washing over the stage.

Lin Que walked to the standing microphone.

He didn't pull out a list of people to thank like the other contestants, nor did he tearfully recall the hardships of creation.

He simply held the microphone with one hand, his gaze piercing through the blinding lights as if looking at some point in the void.

The entire venue instantly fell silent; even breathing became cautious.

Everyone thought that this genius who wrote 'folding beijing'

would surely deliver a profound speech about class, society, and human nature.

However, Lin Que just smiled.

In that smile, there was a bit of clarity mixed with a youth's roguishness.

"Actually, there isn't really any secret."

Lin Que's voice lazily spread through the venue via the speakers:

"I just wanted to tell a story about going to work. After all, in this folded world, whether you're an elite or a cleaner, everyone is rushing about for a few pieces of silver."

"Just like what was written in 'folding beijing,' survival is the primary driver.

Writing, for me, is a hobby, and it's also a form of labor that requires energy to construct a world."

He raised the trophy in his hand and shook it at the camera, a smile of relief appearing on his face:

"Now, the project period is over, and the inspection is passed."

"The protagonist in the text needs to go to work, and I... it's time for me to get off work."

"Thank you, everyone."

Having said that, he turned elegantly and walked off the stage.

The entire auditorium was stunned for a full three seconds.

That's... it?

No thanking parents? No thanking CCTV? No elevating the theme?

"Going to work? Getting off work?"

It was unknown who laughed first,

but immediately following that, applause and whistles erupted like a tsunami.

At the same time, the online live-stream chat completely exploded.

The comments were so dense they even obscured Lin Que's retreating figure.

"Hahaha! What the hell is 'going to work and getting off work'!"

"This is a real big shot! Others talk about ideals, he talks about working! We corporate slaves empathize so hard!"

"I declare, this is the founding ancestor of 'Work Literature'!"

The Microblogging platform hot search list underwent a violent earthquake at this moment.

The entertainment news that originally dominated the rankings was instantly washed away.

#Lin Que SSS# went viral immediately.

#Lin Que National Team# followed closely behind.

And #Lin Que Work Literature#

surged to the third spot on the hot search at an eerie speed.

A certain famous Big V posted: "What is a genius? A genius is someone who turns the 72-hour torment of others into 28 hours of efficient art!

Lin Que didn't just win the competition; he redefined the labor of writing!"

In the comment section, those haters who had once mocked Lin Que

were either playing dead or silently deleting their comments, fearing they would be dug up and publicly shamed by netizens.

The award ceremony concluded amidst grand symphonic music.

Just as Lin Que stepped down from the stairs, he was surrounded by a surging crowd.

Flowers, microphones, notebooks for autographs, and even film company bosses handing out business cards

formed a thick wall of people, surrounding him so tightly that not even water could leak through.

"Student Lin! I'm from Enlight Media..."

"Lin Que! Look over here! Give us an autograph!"

"Student Lin..."

...Lin Que dealt with them politely, but his gaze pierced through the gaps in the crowd toward the side door of the auditorium.

There, a tall and thin figure was walking out against the flow of people.

Danyi Lopivich.

That mixed-race genius from the borderlands had already put on a baseball cap, his cold face buried in the shadows.

He walked very fast, his back looking solitary and out of place with the celebration filling the hall.

Seeming to sense Lin Que's gaze, Dan Yi's footsteps paused slightly the moment he pushed open the door.

But he didn't look back; he simply kept his back to Lin Que, raised that pale and slender hand, clenched it into a fist in the air, and then strode into the night.

That was a declaration of war.

It was also a farewell that only those of the same kind could understand.

Lin Que withdrew his gaze.

"Lin Que."

A gentle voice came from his side.

Lin Que turned his head to see Xu Changge standing not far away.

This Prince of the Beijing Circle was currently surrounded by several elders of the circle, clearly undergoing some kind of 'social introduction.'

But Xu Changge paid no mind to the noise around him.

Across the moving heads, he looked at Lin Que from a distance.

As a waiter passed by, he picked up a glass of plain water from the tray and solemnly raised it toward Lin Que's direction.

He didn't speak, just gave a slight smile, then tilted his head back and drained the glass of water in one gulp.

A friendship between gentlemen is as plain as water.

But hidden in this glass of water was the promise of a long future ahead.

Looking at this scene, the string in Lin Que's heart also loosened a bit.

This war regarding the 'wall' was over.

But on this larger literary battlefield without walls, the good show had only just begun.

Walking out the door of the venue, he turned on his phone.

Just as the screen saver appeared,

the vibration started humming like a motor...