320: Chapter 320 This wall is called class!

As Lin Que's voice fell,

the entire first-floor lobby of Century Book City fell into a dead silence that lasted for three full seconds.

Those three seconds seemed to stretch out infinitely in that moment.

Even the faint hum of the air conditioning vents in the lobby could be heard clearly.

The college students in the front row holding their books subconsciously held their breath, their arms trembling slightly from excessive tension.

A middle-aged man in work clothes held a towel mid-air, forgetting to wipe his sweat.

The security personnel maintaining order on the periphery gradually moved their megaphones away from their mouths.

The fourth second.

The group of media reporters in the front row was the first to break the deadlock.

The sound of shutters exploded frantically, like the sudden onset of the heaviest summer rain.

The white flashes merged into a dazzling grid of light, illuminating the area in front of the red carpet as bright as day.

Several cameramen carrying heavy equipment knelt halfway on the ground, their lenses locked onto Lin Que's young but fearless face.

They knew all too well the weight of those words.

A seventeen-year-old high school student, in front of the national media, had openly challenged a literary giant with tens of millions in sales.

Tomorrow's front-page headline was secured.

The readers below who had originally intended to watch a joke now had all traces of mockery wiped from their faces.

They looked at the boy on stage wearing a simple casual jacket.

The boy was clearly being pressured by the dozens of luxurious displays to his left, yet his back remained as straight as a spear.

This almost arrogant sharpness forcibly hammered itself into their minds.

"This kid... is a bit wild."

A young man wearing a baseball cap muttered in a low voice.

But his companion beside him didn't respond, only staring straight at Lin Que on the stage.

There was no ridicule in his tone, only an incredulity born of being awestruck.

"He's wild, but he's got guts. If I were sitting there facing Jian Shen's home turf, I wouldn't even be able to speak straight."

Sitting at the signing tables behind Lin Que, the reactions of several peers were even more direct.

Zhang Hao gripped the fabric of his thighs tightly, his eyes turning red.

He clenched his fists hard and squeezed out a few words through his teeth:

"Nicely done."

Liu Yu's finger trembled slightly as he pushed up his rimless glasses.

He had always believed that logic and data were the only truths, but at this moment, he was completely ignited by the unreasonable blood and spirit radiating from Lin Que.

Tang He still maintained her posture with her hands folded.

But her knuckles had turned white from exertion, and the gaze behind her lenses burned brightly.

Chairman Lu stood at the edge of the stage. He didn't make any exaggerated gestures, only nodding slightly.

The eyes of this literary titan held the approval of someone who had passed a test.

He wasn't afraid of young people being arrogant; he was only afraid that they wouldn't even have the courage to draw their swords when facing a high mountain.

Lin Que's performance perfectly matched his expectations for a new sprout of Chinese literature.

The extremely experienced host immediately noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

He raised his microphone and strode to the center of the stage, his highly provocative voice instantly taking over the room.

"Thank you, Student Lin Que, for that powerful statement!"

The host's voice was loud, carrying an unquestionable tone of affirmation.

He very skillfully pulled Lin Que's arrogance back into the discourse system that the officials were most pleased to see.

"Well said! Only birds that dare to face the storm can fly over the highest peaks!"

He looked around the room and waved his arm forcefully.

"This backbone of a newborn calf that does not fear the tiger is exactly the strength our Chinese Literary World needs most!"

These words directly sublimated Lin Que's personal statement into the character representing the entire younger generation of writers.

A burst of applause rang out from below the stage.

It started with just a few scattered claps, then quickly spread, merging into a single wave.

Even those readers who had only intended to leave after buying Jian Shen's book couldn't help but applaud at this moment.

Taking advantage of the crowd's fully mobilized emotions, the host turned around and threw a highly anticipated question to Lin Que.

"Many readers and media friends, including myself, are very curious."

The host paused slightly, building the suspense to its peak.

"As a seventeen-year-old high school student, how exactly did you conceive a masterpiece like folding beijing?"

He stepped aside, yielding the absolute center of the stage to Lin Que.

"This work was highly praised by Chairman Lu and the professors on the Writers Association judging panel. Can you share your creative journey with everyone?"

The audience's gaze focused on Lin Que once again.

All the cameras and microphones were aimed at the boy standing in the middle of the red carpet.

Everyone wanted to hear just how much substance this genius, who dared to draw his sword before Jian Shen, actually had.

Lin Que looked composed.

He didn't recite hollow platitudes thanking his school and teachers like an ordinary student.

Holding the microphone, he calmly scanned the media lenses in the front row.

He went straight to the core material.

"The topic for the finals of Fu Zhi Yao Competition was just one word."

Lin Que held up one finger.

"Wall."

The lobby was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Hundreds of people held their breath, listening to this boy deconstruct the topic.

"When most people see a wall, they think of bricks and stone, of physical barriers, or psychological defenses."

Lin Que's speaking pace was steady; there was no intentional emotional appeal in his voice, yet it carried an extremely cool rationality.

Many college students in the audience nodded silently.

This was indeed the first reaction of a normal person seeing this topic in an exam room.

Writing about the coldness of interpersonal relationships, about generation gaps, or about the urban-rural divide.

These themes could be considered standard, but they were definitely not stunning.

Lin Que looked at the dense crowd below and changed his tone.

"But the wall in my writing is the invisible folding of living space."

Folding?

As soon as this word came out, the eyes of several reporters in the front row instantly lit up. The speed at which they tapped their keyboards noticeably increased.

"I constructed a Beijing divided into three layers of space."

"Five million top-tier people exclusively enjoy twenty-four hours of sunlight and abundance."

He paused for a beat.

Immediately following, Lin Que gave the second half of the sentence.

"Meanwhile, twenty-five million middle-class people and fifty million lower-class people."

His gaze swept over the readers wearing work clothes and clutching copies of ordinary world.

"Can only humbly share the remaining time within the folded night."

As soon as these words were spoken, a collective gasp echoed through the lobby.

The setting of forcibly segregating time and space according to population proportions carried a suffocating sense of oppression.

Fifty million people, forced to survive like ants in the night, where even a glimpse of the sun became a luxury.

This highly oppressive sci-fi setting instantly pierced through the psychological defenses of many people present.

"My god, this concept is a bit chilling."

The young man in the baseball cap couldn't help but rub the goosebumps on his arms.

Lin Que didn't give them a chance to catch their breath.

He knew that having a sci-fi shell wasn't enough.

To establish his reputation as the overall champion, he had to plunge the knife into the deepest place.

"It wears the cloak of science fiction, but what it writes is the coldest, most bone-chilling realism."

Lin Que looked directly into the camera ahead, his tone sharpening.

"Old Knife, a lower-class laborer, risks his life to travel through folded space just to pay the kindergarten tuition for a child he picked up."

The image of a father from the bottom of society fighting for his child's tuition fees vividly appeared before them.

This extremely grounded character motivation formed a sharp contrast with the grand sci-fi setting.

The eyes of the middle-aged man in work clothes below the stage suddenly turned red.

He didn't know what space folding was, but he understood all too well what it felt like to risk one's life for a few hundred yuan in tuition fees.

Holding the microphone and meeting the hundreds of gazes in the room, Lin Que hammered down the final blow.

"This wall is called class."

...