365: Chapter 365 A blank sheet of paper carries no burden, but we have...

Tang He froze for a moment.

She then pointed her finger at the seat diagonally opposite Lin Que, the paper cup in her hand swaying slightly.

"Yeah, what a coincidence. I boarded the train at the starting station in Magic City, and my seat is right there."

"I was looking at my phone the whole time when we stopped at Jiang City, so I didn't notice you getting on at all."

"I went to get some water, and when I came back, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye—"

She pursed her lips, as if weighing her words.

"I only dared to confirm it was you after walking a few steps closer."

Lin Que shifted his body slightly and gestured with his chin toward the empty seat beside him.

Tang He hesitated for a second, placed her paper cup on the small tray table, and sat down next to him.

As soon as she sat down, Tang He spoke.

"Did you know, Lin Que?"

"A few days ago, after that public lecture of yours in Jiang City, the Chinese Language teaching and research group at Fudan Affiliated High School held an emergency meeting overnight."

As Tang He's voice fell, the paper cup in Lin Que's hand stopped in mid-air, not reaching his lips.

His finger tapped gently against the wall of the cup.

"The Provincial Department's administrative channels moved that fast? Even Magic City saw it?"

Tang He shook her head, pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket, and her fingertips quickly flipped through it a few times.

She handed a push notification page from an education-related public account to Lin Que.

On the screen was an article with a view count marked as '100,000+'.

The title was bolded and in red, with a font size so large it took up nearly half the screen:

《Record of a Seventeen-Year-Old Boy Lecturing Ten Thousand People: Breaking an 'Impossible' Composition Topic on the Spot》

The accompanying image was a high-definition screenshot.

In the frame, Lin Que stood sideways in front of a whiteboard.

His marker had just finished the last stroke, and the large LED screen behind him simultaneously projected that line of text:

"A bird that does not borrow the wind cannot fly over the mountains of social class."

The overhead light fell from above, cutting a clear boundary of light and shadow around him.

His entire person stood out from the dark stage background.

Lin Que's gaze lingered on that screenshot for a second, and he swiped down with his thumb.

The first pinned comment in the comment section,

Came from an account verified as a 'Provincial Key Middle School Chinese Language Researcher,' with over twelve thousand likes.

The content was just one sentence:

"I've taught for sixteen years, but today I was given a lesson by a high school student."

The comments following it were dense; he scrolled through three screens without reaching the end.

Tang He took her phone back, holding the paper cup with both hands.

Her posture was somewhat stiff, but her tone of voice was quite crisp.

"The night that video was sent down to every high school by your Su Province Provincial Department three days ago, someone clipped segments and uploaded them online."

"The first to repost were a few education bloggers, and the next day it was collectively shared by three or four College Entrance Examination preparation accounts with millions of followers."

She paused, as if organizing her words.

"Our Fudan Affiliated High School's Chinese Language teaching and research group played the full recording specifically during the research meeting the next day."

"You should have seen it; no one spoke the whole time. After it finished, our Chinese Language Teacher was silent for a long time, and finally only said one thing."

Tang He looked at Lin Que.

"Her exact words were: 'This student's level of thinking has already surpassed the vast majority of frontline teachers.'"

Lin Que leaned back against his seat, his expression unchanged.

He placed the paper cup on the tray table, his right fingertips unconsciously tapping twice on the armrest.

He truly hadn't expected it to spread so quickly.

The Provincial Department sending the recording followed administrative channels, so logically the diffusion should have been limited.

But as long as one teacher felt it was worth sharing,

Screen recordings, screenshots, and re-edits could spread everywhere within a few hours.

This content hit too many viral triggers.

Seventeen years old, a ten-thousand-person venue, breaking a topic on the spot, and senior teachers collectively won over.

On any platform, this was natural headline material.

It was a bit faster than expected, but not exactly a surprise.

Tang He stared at Lin Que's reaction, which was calm to the point of being nearly indifferent.

The hot water in her paper cup was almost cold, and she hadn't taken a single sip.

"Are you... not surprised at all?"

"Surprised by what?"

"The total views for that video of yours across the entire internet have already exceeded eight million."

Tang He's tone carried a sense of confusion, as if to say 'how can you be so calm'.

"Do you know which sentence is being discussed the most in the comment section?"

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

Tang He's voice softened, as if afraid of disturbing the other passengers in the carriage.

"It's not 'the bird and the mountain,' nor is it 'the wall of social class.'"

She looked into Lin Que's eyes, the stiffness in her tone largely fading.

In the lounge of the Magic City book signing, she had sat in the corner the whole time, barely initiating a word.

But right now, it was different.

"It's your final line, 'I wish to see you all at the summit.'"

Tang He paused.

"Many people say that's the fiercest blessing they've ever heard."

The announcement in the carriage sounded at the right time, a female voice announcing that the train was about to arrive at the next stop.

The scenery outside the window was shifting; low hills were gradually being replaced by vast stretches of flat farmland.

Lin Que's phone screen lit up at that moment.

He looked down and glanced at it.

He didn't rush to reply, but turned the phone over to rest face down on the armrest and looked back at Tang He opposite him.

His gaze inadvertently swept over Tang He's phone on the tray table.

Tucked into the back of the transparent phone case was a card; the corners were slightly curled, and there were several creases on the paper from being folded repeatedly.

That was the exclusive message he had written for each fellow contestant on the day of the book signing.

He remembered the one he wrote for Tang He had only one sentence:

"If the glass does not break, the light cannot enter."

Lin Que didn't point it out, but just tilted his head slightly and changed the subject.

"The Qinglan Project, what are your plans?"

Tang He put the paper cup down and finally took a sip of the now-lukewarm water.

She didn't answer immediately, her finger tracing half a circle around the rim of the cup.

"To be honest, I still don't know what the situation is."

She placed the cup back on the tray table and leaned her body against the seat back.

"I'll just get through the first stage smoothly first. Though the first stage is called 'Dismantling,' I feel like it won't be that simple."

Lin Que nodded, recalling the contents of the Qinglan Project.

Just the day before yesterday, Lin Que had received the master plan for the Qinglan Project at home.

The entire cycle was divided into three stages: Bone Dismantling, Blood Feeding, and Bone Forging.

Just looking at the names was enough to make most people's skin crawl, showing the official determination for this Qinglan Project.

Among them, the Bone Dismantling stage involved professors from the Qingbei School of Literature dismantling each person's work one by one.

The Blood Feeding stage consisted of intensive interdisciplinary reading and field research,

Forcibly injecting knowledge from sociology, anthropology, economics, and other fields they had never touched.

The final Bone Forging stage involved completing five short stories, three novellas, and one novel within two and a half months.

Three final review mentors would jointly evaluate them, and only by passing could one receive the graduation certification.

She paused, her tone becoming much more serious.

"Those who can make it to this step have all fought their way out of provincial and national arenas."

"Everyone has basically formed their own writing mindset, with their own methods and inertia."

"But what Bone Dismantling wants to do is equivalent to tearing down the entire system you built before."

Tang He gripped the cuff of her hoodie.

"Then isn't that like starting from zero like a blank paper?"

Lin Que looked at the scenery constantly receding outside the window, his tone neither heavy nor light:

"I'm afraid it's harder than starting from zero."

"Blank paper has no burden, but we do."

"What's being reconstructed isn't a method, it's instinct."

Tang He was stunned for a moment, then nodded.

Lin Que was still looking out the window.

Tang He's worry wasn't without reason.

Those who could break into the top thirty were precisely those whose writing inertia was most deeply rooted.

Asking them to personally dismantle the things they were best at was much more cruel than teaching a novice from scratch.

Lin Que leaned against the seat back, his fingers tapping gently on the armrest twice.

"But then again."

Lin Que's tone was very light.

"If a system cannot withstand being dismantled, then it means it had cracks to begin with."

"Dismantling it to reconstruct it isn't a pity."

Tang He froze for a second, then couldn't help but chuckle softly.

That laugh wasn't entirely because she found it funny, but also a sort of secret sigh of 'as expected'.

She straightened her posture, her gaze focusing again.

She saw Lin Que unconsciously reach out and press the inner pocket of his jacket.

His fingertips touched the outline of the kraft paper envelope, then he withdrew his hand.

"Good luck!"

She picked up her phone and paper cup and stood up, not saying any more redundant pleasantries.

After taking two steps, she stopped again and turned halfway around.

"So from now on, I guess we're... fellow travelers in the devil's training camp."

Lin Que leaned by the window, his gaze passing through the glass toward the fields receding at high speed outside.

He nodded once, the movement just enough for Tang He to see clearly.

Tang He understood the meaning of this nod.

She smiled, shook her head, and returned to her own row of seats.

The carriage became quiet again.

Lin Que picked up his phone and opened the chat with Ye Xi.

He saw three messages, with intervals of no more than twenty seconds, having the air of a persistent series of calls.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: ?

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Where are you?

[Fugitive Beethoven]: You ran off halfway through typing? You didn't run into some big shot on the train, did you? [Puzzled]

Lin Que typed with one hand.

[Mu Xia]: Didn't meet a big shot, met a fellow traveler.

The typing status on the other side flashed for three seconds.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Oh.

A single "Oh," without any emojis.

It was so clean he could almost hear the sound of breathing on the other end of the screen.

Lin Que looked at that word, the corner of his mouth curling imperceptibly.

Just as he was about to add a sentence, the phone in his palm vibrated again.

It wasn't a reply from Ye Xi.

It was a system push notification from the Hongguo Author Assistant.

He opened the notification bar; on the gray push notification strip was only one line of text:

[Your work "cthulhu mythos" final chapter "the rats in the walls" has just been automatically published.]

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