283: Chapter 283 The Hardcore Spark in the Ordinary

In Jiangcheng during late August, the summer heat had been somewhat diluted by several autumn rains.

The early morning sunlight pierced through the blinds of the Xisheng Mansion dining room, cutting golden spots of light across the floor.

Steam rose from the dining table as Wang Xiulian walked out of the kitchen carrying a freshly cooked pot of century egg and pork congee.

She casually placed a plate of freshly made pan-fried buns, their bottoms charred golden and crispy, right in the center of the table.

"Eat while they're hot. I went early and stood in line for quite a while."

Wang Xiulian untied her apron and sat down at the table.

Lin Que picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a pan-fried bun, and took a bite, the delicious soup instantly filling his mouth.

Sitting opposite him, Lin Jianguo couldn't even be bothered to eat.

He held a bowl of congee in his left hand and his phone in his right.

His thumb swiped up quickly on the screen, and his already ruddy old face was now glowing with excitement.

"Satisfying! So satisfying!" Lin Jianguo slapped his thigh.

"What are you making such a fuss about so early in the morning?"

Wang Xiulian glared at him.

"You don't understand! A great battle was fought on the internet last night!"

Lin Jianguo pushed his phone to the center of the table, pointing at the notarization letter with the red seal on the screen, spittle flying as he spoke.

"Those punks who usually put on airs were jumping for joy last night, saying Jian Shen was using capitalistic tricks.

Once New Tide's notarization letter came out early this morning, they were all dumbfounded!"

Lin Jianguo picked up a deep-fried dough stick and took a huge bite.

"The one who led the rumors has now had even their underwear stripped bare by netizens.

This is what you call destroying the heart! Without wasting a single soldier, he used his breadth of vision to crush these petty people!"

Lin Que lowered his head to drink his congee, hiding the smile in his eyes.

"Teacher Jian Shen's move of entering the game himself truly has the style of an ancient hero!" Lin Jianguo grew more excited as he spoke, even putting down the dough stick to gesture with his hands in the air.

"He even took thirty percent of the profits to start a foundation, permanently fixing the price at 0.1 yuan per thousand words!

With this kind of spirit and magnanimity, can you find a second person like him in the entire Chinese Literary World?"

Hearing his own father sitting across from him, unreservedly and sincerely praising him, Lin Que felt an indescribable feeling welling up in his heart.

"Alright, alright, hurry up and eat your food. The congee is getting cold."

Wang Xiulian placed a bun into her husband's bowl.

Lin Jianguo picked up his bowl and took two gulps of congee before suddenly stopping.

He put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and his expression became uncharacteristically uneasy.

He rubbed his hands together and looked tentatively at Lin Que.

"Son, you mentioned that Spark section New Tide is going to start..."

"It says anyone who is an ordinary person can publish articles. Is that true? No educational requirements? No fame required?"

Lin Que looked up, meeting his father's slightly expectant gaze, and nodded.

"It's written in black and white on the notarization letter; there are no thresholds. Why, do you... also have ideas?"

Lin Jianguo's old face turned red, and he scratched his sparse hair sheepishly.

"It's just that after reading 'ordinary world' yesterday, I felt overwhelmed."

Lin Jianguo sighed, his gaze becoming distant.

"I was thinking about when I was an apprentice at the Machinery Factory; conditions were tough then too.

To teach me how to lathe gears, my master taught me hand-on, his hands covered in blisters from the heat of the flying iron filings.

Back then, everyone was dirt poor, and half an aluminum lunch box of cabbage and meat slices had to be passed back and forth, but that heart-to-heart friendship among coworkers really can't be found now."

He paused, and his tone dropped again.

"I want to write down the stories of these old workers. But... I didn't even graduate from high school.

I'm afraid my rough-hewn monotonous account would be embarrassing for Teacher Jian Shen's territory and defile such an elegant place."

Hearing this, Lin Que put down his bowl and chopsticks.

He sat up straight, his expression becoming extremely serious.

"Dad." Lin Que looked into Lin Jianguo's eyes.

"Literature has never been about piling up fancy words. True literature is the steam from the pots and pans of ordinary people, the iron filings on a lathe, and the days spent gritting one's teeth to pull through."

"The true events you've experienced and the friendship among those workers are, in my view, the hardest Sparks.

Teacher Jian Shen created this section perhaps specifically to wait for stories like yours, smelling of soil and machine oil."

Lin Jianguo was stunned.

He looked at his son's firm gaze, and his originally uneasy expression was gradually replaced by an indescribable light.

"It... it can really work?"

"It definitely will." Lin Que smiled.

"Just write, and write with the true emotions of those years. If even an old worker like you can't write, then the name Spark would be for nothing."

"Good!" Lin Jianguo suddenly stood up, full of vigor.

"Since my top scholar son has said so, I'll go to the stationery store downstairs after breakfast and buy a few thick notebooks!

I have to draft it with a pen first. When the time comes, you'll have to teach me how to post it on that software!"

Watching his father's back as his fighting spirit was reignited, Lin Que picked up his water glass and took a sip of warm water, feeling unusually at peace.

After breakfast, Lin Que went to his studio.

He sat down at his desk, his mind filled with a thousand thoughts.

After this soul-stirring night, the first stage of the battle between literary dignity and price could be considered a complete victory.

Those forces that tried to use money and class barriers to monopolize the right to interpret literature...

...would eventually be completely submerged by the torrent triggered by 'ordinary world'.

The phone on the desk continued to vibrate; it was an encrypted message from Wang De'an, the president of Xinchao Publishing House.

Wang De'an: "Teacher Jian Shen, the first-day subscription data is fully out!"

Even through the screen, Lin Que could feel the other party's fingers trembling as they typed.

Wang De'an: "A conversion rate of 89%! A retention rate of 94%! These numbers have directly shattered the ceiling of our publishing industry! From today on, the commercial landscape of the Chinese Literary World has been completely rewritten by your single book!"

Lin Que's expression remained calm as he tapped the keyboard with one hand to reply:

"The readers' eyes are sharp. If you give them sincerity, they will naturally repay you with passion."

The dialogue box was quiet for a few seconds, and then Wang De'an sent a long paragraph of text.

Wang De'an: "Teacher Jian Shen, your judgment was indeed precise. But I've always had a question in my heart.

I can understand that we brought the price down to let more people read.

But you insisted on taking thirty percent from the profits to build that Spark section.

Is it really just to give those amateurs some manuscript fees and do some charity?"

As an old fox who had been tempered through years of experience in the business world,

Wang De'an vaguely sensed that there was a deeper plot behind this section, but he couldn't fully see through it.

Lin Que looked at the question on the screen and typed a few lines on the keyboard.

"President Wang, we can't just focus on building skyscrapers in the clouds.

We have to let the crops in the fields grow; only then can it be called a bumper harvest.

Spark isn't about giving handouts; it's about loosening the mouths that have been covered and letting them speak for themselves.

When these voices become loud enough, those old rules will naturally lose their footing."

"For a long time, the discourse of literature has been controlled by a few elites; they decided what was good and what was bad.

What I want to do is not to hand out fees, but to smash this barrier.

The purpose of Spark is to awaken the desire for expression in ordinary people across this land, to let them know that their suffering and laughter are equally worth recording."

"When ten million ordinary voices converge, the old rules will be completely overturned."

In the top-floor office of the New Tide Building,

Wang De'an looked at these few lines of extremely subversive words and gasped in shock.

He finally understood Jian Shen's ambition.

This wasn't doing business; this was a complete overhaul of the entire Chinese Literary World!

Wang De'an typed heavily on the keyboard:

"I understand. New Tide will use the strength of the entire house to protect this wilderness."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the capital.

The scorching sun of late August baked the Fujing Commercial Street.

Amidst the surging crowds, Xu Changge stood quietly at the street corner, wearing a well-tailored pure white shirt.

He tilted his head up slightly, his gaze locked onto the giant LED advertising screen ahead, which was three stories high.

There were no endorsements from popular stars on the screen, nor were there any fancy special effect animations.

There was only a somber background of the Loess Plateau and a line of large black characters on a white background, slowly scrolling.

"A Tribute to the Ordinary — 'ordinary world'."

Xu Changge stood there, looking at the surrounding scene.

There were white-collar workers in a hurry with briefcases who stopped in their tracks.

There were delivery riders in yellow uniforms straddling their electric bikes, looking up.

There were even sanitation workers leaning on their brooms, staring fixedly at that line of characters.

People of different classes and identities were drawn by the same sentence.

Xu Changge felt a soul-piercing shock.

As a noble scion, the education he had received since childhood told him that literature was elegant and required a threshold.

But now, Jian Shen had used the most simple and uncompromising way...

...to erect an invisible monument in the busiest district of the capital and in the hearts of all ordinary people.

This was the true Great Path.

Xu Changge's breathing became somewhat rapid.

He felt an almost obsessive curiosity and yearning towards that 'Jian Shen' hidden behind the network.

Just what kind of person could possess such compassion to see through the world, and yet have such a thunderous stroke?

He even felt an impulse to cast aside the reserve of a noble scion and go to Jiangcheng to meet this true gentleman.

Jiangcheng, Xisheng Mansion.

Lin Que had just finished his conversation with Wang De'an and was preparing to switch accounts to see the subsequent reader feedback.

In the bottom right corner of the computer screen, the messaging app belonging to another persona suddenly flashed frantically.

The avatar of Hong Hu, the Editor-in-Chief of Hong Guo Net, pulsed repeatedly, popping up three urgent messages in a row.

Hong Hu: "Teacher Dream Weaver! Something big has happened!"

Hong Hu: "[Image] This... please take a look!"

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