303: Chapter 303 The Mascot That Ran into the Muzzle of a Gun

Shen Qingqiu's voice had just fallen.

"Holy crap! The four major super-first-tier cities?!"

Wu Di slammed his palm onto his book, letting out a dull thud.

Li Bowen's finger, which was pushing up his glasses, froze in mid-air.

Zhang Ya, who had been listening silently with her head down, also jerked her head up.

A scale like this was unheard of, not just in the history of the "Fu Zhi Yao Competition," but even in the history of Huaxia.

In the past, winning works were at most printed into a thick, miscellaneous collection,

stuffed into the teaching materials section of major bookstores for the miserable high school students of the next competition to buy as model essays for study.

Now? A simultaneous launch in the four major first-tier cities!

This was genuine bestseller treatment, directly elevating these high school students' works to the status of orthodox literary publications.

On the podium, Shen Qingqiu curled her fingers and rapped the lectern twice, producing a crisp sound.

"Quiet."

The noise subsided slightly as dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on the podium.

Shen Qingqiu looked at the over-excited students below, a faint curve appearing at the corners of her mouth.

"Don't be so quick to get excited; it's not that simple."

"This publication is by no means the usual miscellaneous collection of works."

The whole class held their breath.

"This is the 'Emerging Literature Classics Series,' jointly reviewed and approved by the National Writers Association and the Ministry of Education."

The noise in the classroom instantly ceased.

National Writers Association. Ministry of Education. Jointly reviewed.

With these titles dropped, anyone would be dazed.

"Furthermore, each winner's work will be published as an individual volume!"

Shen Qingqiu deliberately emphasized her tone, her voice carrying great penetration.

"Not only that, the National Writers Association has specially invited literary giants to personally write the introductions."

Shen Qingqiu glanced at the student lying face down in the corner.

"The authorities intend to promote the winners of this Fu Zhi Yao Competition as genuine writers, not just students who can only write exam-oriented essays!"

"Wow—"

The whole class completely boiled over with excitement.

Wu Di was so excited his face and neck were flushed red; he turned and threw an arm around Lin Que's neck, shaking him vigorously with both hands.

"Brother Que! Individual volumes! Introductions by giants! You're about to be deified! Will I have to buy a ticket just to see you in the future?"

Lin Que, who had been lying down, coughed repeatedly from the chokehold, his right hand pulling hard at Wu Di's arm.

"Let go... cough... if you strangle me to death, you'll only be seeing me in your dreams."

Wu Di quickly let go, but his eyes still shone with a fanatical green light.

It wasn't just him.

Li Bowen and Zhang Ya in the front row, the surrounding classmates,

and even Shen Qingqiu on the podium—all their gazes involuntarily focused on Lin Que.

All forty people in the class had the same thought burning in their minds.

folding beijing.

What exactly was written in that piece which had swept the "Fu Zhi Yao Competition" finals—reputed to be the strictest ever—to claim an SSS rank with unstoppable force?

The finals were completely closed-door; besides the judges, no one had seen the original text.

Everyone only knew that Lin Que took first place, and that the article had left the judges and professors in silence.

Now, this legendary masterpiece was finally about to reveal its true face.

Facing the burning gazes from all sides, Lin Que straightened his collar, which had been pulled askew, a perfectly timed humble smile on his face.

"Don't look at me like I'm some rare animal.

The authorities are doing this to establish a model for quality education; I just happened to walk into the line of fire and became a mascot."

His tone was relaxed, without a hint of pretension,

which instead caused the surrounding boys to burst into good-natured laughter, instantly bringing the somewhat distant atmosphere back down to earth.

On the surface, he looked flattered.

In reality, as early as half a month ago, the deputy editor-in-chief of the National Publishing House had personally called to give him the inside scoop.

The authorities had deliberately timed the release for the September back-to-school season,

intending to use the school-opening hype to spread this fire through middle and high school campuses across the country.

At the time, the other party had strongly invited him to the Shanghai Book City to assist with the launch promotion, and Lin Que had agreed readily.

After all, establishing a foothold in the mainstream literary world with his true identity

was an indispensable part of his entire cultural layout. Showing his face was just a matter of convenience.

...

The afternoon classes came to an end.

The Grade 12 teachers' office.

Lin Que stood before the desk, watching Shen Qingqiu as she graded papers.

"Teacher Shen, I'd like to request a leave of absence."

Shen Qingqiu's red pen didn't stop, and she didn't look up:

"Requesting leave on the first day of school? Reason."

"To go home and prepare for the Qinglan Project."

Lin Que's tone was sincere.

"There are some reference materials I need to look up on my computer at home."

Shen Qingqiu's movements stopped.

She looked up, her gaze passing over the tops of her glasses as she scrutinized the student in front of her.

The "Qinglan Project" was a key project promoted by the National Writers Association, and even the principal had personally mentioned it.

This reason was high-sounding and impeccable.

But Shen Qingqiu had taught so many classes of students; she had a very sharp eye.

The youth before her had a relaxed posture and clear eyes;

that inherent composure and sophistication were definitely not the state a simple high school student going home to look up materials should have.

This kid was probably up to something big again.

The two stared at each other across the desk for a full five seconds.

Lin Que met her gaze without evasion, his eyes clear, with even a perfectly timed hint of innocence at the corners of his mouth.

Finally, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but sigh softly, a relieved smile appearing on her lips.

"Fine, I approve your leave."

She looked away, opened a drawer, pulled out a leave slip, and her pen scribbled across the paper.

"But..."

"Don't lose the habit of studying!"

Lin Que took the slip with both hands, beating her to the punch.

"Thank you, Teacher Shen!"

Shen Qingqiu watched the figure disappear in a flash, shaking her head helplessly but with a smile on her face.

...

7:00 PM.

Xisheng Mansion, Jiangcheng.

Lin Que pushed open the front door and changed his shoes.

Only a floor lamp was on in the living room, casting a soft light.

Lin Jianguo was sitting on the sofa, reading glasses perched on his nose, holding a newly bought tablet computer, his fingers slowly swiping across the screen.

The screen showed the "Spark" section of the New Tide APP.

Ever since being influenced by Jian Shen, Old Lin's greatest daily pleasure now

was serializing his days as an apprentice at the machinery factory in this section.

A small group of old buddies and kindred spirits from the same trade had actually gathered there, following and discussing his posts every day.

Hearing the door open, Lin Jianguo looked up and pushed his reading glasses down.

"Son's back."

"Yeah. Dad, what are you looking at so intently?"

Lin Que walked to the sofa and asked casually.

"Nothing, just chatting with some old buddies online."

Lin Jianguo didn't elaborate; instead, he slapped the tablet face down on the coffee table and looked at his son with an excited expression.

"You said last time that your first-place national essay was going to be published and you were going to Shanghai for a book signing?"

"Yeah, next Saturday."

Lin Que said as he walked to the water dispenser to get a drink.

"What's up?"

"Slap!"

Lin Jianguo slapped his thigh and sprang up from the sofa.

The commotion startled Wang Xiulian, who had just come out of the kitchen carrying a fruit plate.

"Oh my! You're a grown man, why are you always so jumpy? You scared me to death!"

Wang Xiulian set the fruit plate down heavily on the table and glared at her husband.

Lin Jianguo was not annoyed; he chuckled, put the tablet aside,

stood up, walked over to Lin Que, and slapped his son's shoulder hard, his tone leaking uncontrollable pride:

"Alright! It's settled!

Next Saturday, I'm pushing aside all those trivial community matters!

I'll personally accompany you to Shanghai to back you up!"

...