313: Chapter 313 Two Detonators

The automatic glass doors slid open on both sides.

The moment Lin Que stepped into the lobby on the first floor, a visually striking scene rushed at him, pinning his feet to the spot.

Left of the center of the lobby, a giant, earthy-yellow poster over ten meters high hung down from the second-floor railing, spanning three load-bearing pillars.

Without any flashy embellishments, only the black Song typeface exuded the ruggedness and gravitas of the Loess Plateau.

"ordinary world."

These four large characters hung in mid-air like an invisible mountain, pressing down on the head of everyone who walked into the bookstore.

Below the poster was an exclusive exhibition area completely booked by Xinchao Publishing House.

Dozens of three-dimensional book stacks were arranged in a staggered, orderly fashion, like a phalanx ready to march.

Beside each stack stood a quote board from Jian Shen.

Although the books had not yet been officially placed, the entire framework was already set up.

Over a dozen staff members wearing New Tide promotional shirts were rushing back and forth within the cordon, making final lighting adjustments.

Even more terrifying was the area outside the cordon.

With over a dozen hours left until the launch tomorrow, there were already no fewer than a hundred people gathered outside the cordon.

Some were holding up phones, snapping pictures frantically, while others were pulling at the security guards maintaining order, asking anxiously.

"Sir! What time exactly does it open tomorrow morning? My New Tide APP ID is in the top five thousand; can I exchange it for that numbered special paper postcard?"

A boy wearing glasses was sweating profusely from anxiety.

The security guard held a megaphone, his voice hoarse from shouting:

"Ten o'clock tomorrow morning! We open at ten sharp! Everyone, stop pushing; come earlier to queue tomorrow!"

Fanaticism.

This was a fanaticism bordering on pilgrimage.

The air on the left side of the entire lobby was burned scorching hot by this emotion, the atmosphere terrifyingly intense.

Lin Que watched this scene quietly, saying nothing.

"Look over there."

Hu Yizhao's voice sounded in his ear, carrying a hint of unnaturalness.

Lin Que followed the direction of Hu Yizhao's finger and turned his gaze to the right.

In a corner on the right side of the lobby, there was an area cordoned off with barriers.

Nine small individual book signing desks were lined up in a row.

The tables were covered with dark red velvet, and at each corner of the table sat a transparent plastic sign holder with a printed name inserted inside.

Behind the tables stood three roll-up banners, printed with "Fu Zhi Yao Competition National Finals Award-Winning Anthology Launch."

No giant posters, no three-dimensional stacks, no onlookers.

In the face of this overwhelming earthy-yellow promotional storm and the luxurious exhibition stands,

this area belonging to the winners of "Fu Zhi Yao Competition" looked like nine isolated islands about to be submerged by a monstrous wave.

Thin. Shabby. Even exuding a sense of desolation.

In front of the nine tables,

a semi-circular open space had been barely squeezed out, with a simple wooden podium half a meter high and five meters long set up, covered with a red carpet of the same color.

Hanging directly above the podium was a slightly old-fashioned white-on-red banner:

"Chinese Literary Rising Star · 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition' National Championship Signing & Four-City Launch Ceremony."

Beside it, there were even a few rows of folding chairs placed symbolically,

with A4 papers labeled "Media Section" and "Guest Section" stuck to the backrests.

The contrast was too tragic.

Hu Yizhao watched Lin Que observing the contrast between the two exhibition areas, the expression on his face completely unable to hold up.

A dignified event led by the National Writers Association and the Ministry of Education was being rubbed into the ground by a commercial publishing house,

which made him, the deputy director leading the team, feel a burning sensation on his face.

He coughed twice, leaned closer to Lin Que, and lowered his voice to explain:

"Student Lin, you've seen it too. New Tide's weight in the East China publishing industry is established.

And for Jian Shen's new book this time, they are treating it as an annual strategy; the first-floor venue was signed with an exclusivity agreement long ago."

Lin Que nodded, signaling he was listening.

Hu Yizhao stared at the giant poster over ten meters high on the opposite side, his face turning pale and then green, gritting his teeth as he whispered:

"New Tide, truly ruthless methods."

He turned his head, looked at Lin Que, and sighed with a complicated expression:

"Student Lin, I've let you see a joke.

New Tide's channels in East China are too strong; the first-floor venue was locked down by them early on.

To be honest, if it weren't for that Jian Shen teacher personally speaking up,

saying he didn't want to drive the young people into a corner and specifically carving out this area, we would really have to stay on the second floor tomorrow.

This person has a hard hand, but he did leave a bottom line."

Lin Que looked at that "one-third of an acre" of land that belonged to him.

Crushed on the left, tucked into a corner on the right, and the official leaders still had to grit their teeth and accept this favor.

A very faint smile flashed in his eyes, and a sense of absurdity spread in his heart.

He quickly collected his emotions, his tone calm without a ripple:

"Director Hu, you've gone to a lot of trouble.

Since Senior Jian Shen left this piece of land, tomorrow, we must make good use of it."

Seeing that Lin Que was not throwing a tantrum because of the shabbiness of the venue, Hu Yizhao breathed a sigh of relief.

This child not only wrote good articles but was also mature enough in his conduct.

Just as he was about to offer a few more words of comfort, the phone in Hu Yizhao's pocket suddenly vibrated.

He took out his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and his expression immediately became serious.

He walked to the side to answer, nodding repeatedly, saying "Okay, leader, I'll return to the unit immediately."

After hanging up the phone, Hu Yizhao walked back quickly, looking apologetic.

"Lin Que, several leaders from the city are attending our opening ceremony tomorrow, and I have to rush back to the Writers Association to check the reception process; I really can't get away."

He turned to look at the young staff member standing beside him who had been holding the sign all along.

"Little Liu, take Lin Que to recognize the location for tomorrow and explain the specific process of the book signing to him. Make sure to take good care of him."

"Okay, Director, don't worry, go ahead and get busy."

Little Liu quickly agreed.

Hu Yizhao gave Lin Que a few more instructions, then left the bookstore in a hurry.

Little Liu led Lin Que to the nine lonely tables. He pointed to the position in the very middle.

"Student Lin, this is your signing desk. Because you are the overall champion, you are in the C position."

Little Liu turned to look at the fanatical battle array on the New Tide side, swallowed his saliva, his tone full of undisguised sympathy.

"Tomorrow... it might be a bit deserted, please don't take it to heart.

That's Jian Shen over there, a mega-god with tens of millions of fans. Being able to show our faces on the first floor is already basking in reflected glory."

Lin Que touched the plastic sign on the table, which read "National Champion: Lin Que."

He smiled at Little Liu.

"It's fine. Being deserted is good; I'll have time to practice my calligraphy more."

Little Liu was stunned for a moment, assuming the young man was just putting on a brave front,

sighed, and handed over the schedule for tomorrow.

...

Night, at the star-rated hotel arranged by the Shanghai Writers Association.

The room lights were off, only a floor lamp emitting a warm yellow light.

After showering and changing into loose pajamas, Lin Que held a glass of cola with ice cubes.

He first sent a WeChat message to the family group saying "Arrived at the hotel, everything is going well," and casually took a photo of the night view outside the window.

Switching back to the main interface, the Grade 12 Class 3 class group had already been flooded with hundreds of messages.

Wu Di was crazily @-ing everyone in the group:

"Brothers! Ten o'clock tomorrow! Set your alarms for me. Although we can't go to the scene, we must stir up momentum for Brother Que online!"

Lin Que smiled and replied with a "fist bump" emoji.

Ye Xi's message was still from yesterday, apparently still busy with some "secret."

He got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window was the brilliant night view of Shanghai.

The cruise ships on the Huangpu River were lit with neon lights, and the lights of the high-rise buildings converged into an ocean of light.

This city never lacks miracles, nor does it ever lack cruel competition.

He picked up his phone again and swiped the screen.

On the Microblogging platform trending list, the entry about the "Century Clash of Schedules" was already completely boiling.

The heat was more than double what it was in Jiangcheng yesterday.

In the afternoon, Xinchao Publishing House released layout diagrams of the scenes at various libraries across the country.

Among them, the layout diagram of Century Bookstore was especially prominent:

The giant poster hanging from the second floor, and that "Fu Zhi Yao Competition" signing area squeezed into the corner, directly ignited the entire internet.

In the comment section, sympathy for Lin Que had reached its peak.

"I passed by Century Bookstore today, and the New Tide lineup was like a rally. In contrast, those tables for Fu Zhi Yao Competition were huddled in a corner; it looked so miserable."

"I heard they were supposed to be moved to the second floor, but it was Jian Shen teacher who spoke up to keep them on the first floor."

"I don't know whether to praise Jian Shen teacher's generosity or lament the misfortune of these children."

Various marketing accounts were also frantically setting the tone, with headlines more sensational than the last.

Some said this was a dimensionality reduction strike by traditional literature against youth literature,

while others said this was a perfect crushing of officialdom by commercial capital.

Lin Que looked at the text scrolling frantically on the screen.

No anger, no anxiety.

He flipped his phone face down on the glass round table, letting the light of the screen be completely covered.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the waves of the Huangpu River were silently lapping against the embankment.

The storm had already formed,

and he was the one holding both detonators.