322: Chapter 322 Dare to Hear a Few Words of Truth

The desperate siphon effect on the first floor of the Shanghai Century Book City was still fermenting.

At this time, thousands of miles away,

The largest cultural landmark in Guang City, Southland Bookstore.

Completely different from the circular high-ceiling structure of the Shanghai Book City, Southland Bookstore was flat and long, with an extremely deep interior.

At this moment, the first-floor hall had completely turned into a sea of earthy yellow.

Giant promotional materials for ordinary world covered everything, hanging from the ceiling all the way to the floor.

Fervent readers crowded the checkout counters to the point of being impassable. The long queues for payment circled several times inside the store before folding directly under the arcade outside.

The noise of the crowd, the urging, and the cheers of those who got the book intertwined, almost lifting the roof off the book city.

The gaze shifts upward, passing through this boiling clamor, and fixes on the second floor.

Due to Xinchao Publishing House's cost-no-object venue booking strategy and the absolute crushing force of the massive traffic, the launch ceremony for Fu Zhi Yao Competition in the Guang City division was forced to be held on the second floor.

The venue on the second floor was much wider and grander than the one in Shanghai, and was even entirely booked by the officials.

But in the spacious venue, the customer flow was sparse, with only a few official media outlets setting up their equipment.

The red-carpeted signing table and official exhibition area, contrasted with the deafening checkout announcements from the first floor, looked like a cultural island completely forgotten by the carnival.

In front of the transparent glass railing on the second floor stood a boy in a high-end custom suit.

Chen Jiahao.

He was irritably messing with the hairstyle he had spent an hour meticulously grooming this morning, the originally styled hair being ruffled into a mess.

His hands were gripped tightly on the glass railing, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the buying frenzy on the first floor.

In that gaze, extreme longing was intertwined with the painful struggle of being trapped in place.

A dark-skinned youth quietly walked up to Chen Jiahao and stood side by side with him.

The youth was wearing an ordinary long-sleeved T-shirt that had been washed until it was faded, with some wear on the cuffs, but his eyes showed tenacity.

Wei Yiming, the sixth-place winner from the Guangxi division.

His final work, heavy mountains, used extremely oppressive and profound strokes to analyze the invisible wall built by information gaps and class between left-behind children and their parents working in cities.

His quiet posture formed a sharp contrast with the restless Chen Jiahao beside him.

"There are quite a few people down there."

Wei Yiming looked down following Chen Jiahao's gaze, his tone steady.

Chen Jiahao sighed and irritably tugged at his expensive tie.

"More than just 'a few'! If I hadn't been pinned here by the officials as a signing guest today, I would have rushed down long ago to grab the first edition of ordinary world!"

This straightforward rich second-generation heir laid his cards on the table, half envious and half helpless.

He glanced left and right, leaned closer to Wei Yiming, and lowered his voice.

"I'm telling you, to get that numbered limited edition postcard, I hired ten professional line-standers."

Chen Jiahao held up two fingers.

"Five hundred yuan each for their hard work. They're currently mixed in the sea of people on the first floor, holding the line for me."

Wei Yiming was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh out loud at this hardcore move.

One was a rich second-generation heir who spent money like water and wanted to avoid inheriting the family business to be a happy man of letters.

The other was a child of a farming family who came out of the mountains and saw through the heavy pressure of life early on.

Two people with vastly different backgrounds, when facing the seemingly insurmountable literary mountain that was Jian Shen,

actually crossed the barriers of class and developed a strange and tacit resonance.

Jian Shen's writing power truly managed to make people from different worlds submit willingly.

Chen Jiahao stopped talking and vigorously brushed the dust off his high-end suit.

"But then again, although I'm a fan of Jian Shen, I'm Master Que's number one die-hard fan!"

He gritted his teeth, his gaze becoming firm.

"Even if I have to grit my teeth until they break today, I have to hold down the fort for our Fu Zhi Yao Competition. I absolutely cannot embarrass my idol!"

Mentioning Lin Que, Chen Jiahao's excitement could no longer be suppressed.

"You don't know, during the finals, I was in the same exam room as Master Que and even stayed in the same hotel! That fate is just incredible!"

He stared at Wei Yiming with shining eyes and pressed:

"Which row were you sitting in during the awards ceremony?"

"The sixth row," Wei Yiming answered truthfully.

"Then you must have seen clearly what Master Que looked like when he accepted the award!"

Chen Jiahao excitedly slapped the railing, his voice rising a bit.

"That aura, that look! Facing so many cameras and reporters below the stage, he didn't even blink!"

Chen Jiahao recalled the scene at that time, shaking his head repeatedly in admiration.

"He was just like a veteran who had been tempered in society for over a decade, terrifyingly calm, not at all like someone our age!"

Wei Yiming nodded in deep agreement.

The images of that day were also vivid in his mind, and he had long developed a deep sense of awe for that champion he had never met.

Exactly 10:00 AM.

The launch ceremony for the Guang City division officially began in a slightly cold atmosphere.

The Vice Chairman of the Guangdong Provincial Writers Association attended in person to give a speech.

This Vice Chairman was different from the traditional stereotype of a man of letters.

He wore a slightly casual dark jacket, was a bit chubby, and had a kind but shrewd smile.

He stepped onto the stage, took the microphone, and used a speech that was very approachable yet weighty, attempting to use the official's absolute endorsement to stabilize the scene.

"Today is a good day, our Southland Bookstore is very lively."

The Vice Chairman scanned the slightly empty venue with a beaming face, turning a deaf ear to the deafening noise from downstairs.

He didn't mention sales or popularity at all, but instead directly led the topic to the essence of literature.

"Just now, I flipped through the children's books again while offstage." He pointed to Wei Yiming, who was sitting behind the signing table.

"Student Wei Yiming's heavy mountains has a very thorough humanistic concern for the left-behind groups at the bottom of society; the knife strikes very accurately."

Then, his finger pointed at Chen Jiahao.

"And Student Chen Jiahao's the madhouse within the high walls is imaginative, unconventional, and full of spiritual brilliance."

The Vice Chairman stopped smiling, his tone becoming forceful.

"The value and depth of literature can never be measured solely by temporary commercial sales! As long as there is real substance in the writing, it will stand!"

These words forcibly raised the tone of the event, barely steadying the slightly apprehensive hearts of the youths on stage.

After the speech, the process moved to the media and reader interaction session.

An awkward situation arose.

There were very few real readers on the second floor. Aside from the cameras of several official media outlets, almost no passers-by who had come voluntarily could be seen.

"Next is the free Q&A session. If anyone has any questions, you can ask the young writers on stage."

The host announced with a face full of smiles.

The atmosphere instantly fell into a suffocating silence.

No one raised their hand, and no one spoke.

The bursts of cheers from the buying frenzy on the first floor penetrated through the floorboards, making this dead silence seem particularly piercing and embarrassing.

The youths on stage looked at each other. Chen Jiahao unconsciously tugged at the hem of his suit, while Wei Yiming silently lowered his head.

The host's smile froze on his face, his fingers tightening slightly around the microphone.

He quietly glanced at the reporters in the front row with official media badges on their chests,

frantically hinting with his eyes, preparing to forcibly activate the emergency plan.

As long as these plants threw out a few mild questions, he could forcibly muddle through this interaction session.

"Well then, we invite this media friend in the first row..."

The host was just about to speak.

In the front row of the guest seats, someone suddenly stood up without any warning.

This was a traditional literary critic in the Lingnan literary world, known for his academic rigor and extremely sharp words.

He had white hair, wore an old, washed zhongshan suit, and his back was straight.

He didn't take the microphone, nor did he pay any attention to the host's schedule.

The old critic's sharp gaze bypassed everyone and locked firmly onto the youths on stage.

"No need for these hollow formalities.

Do you so-called geniuses dare to hear a few words of truth?"

...