374: Chapter 374 The Untouchable Crack — Bonus Chapter Sponsored by <Wan Ye Zhi Qiu>

Xu Changge's gaze was steady as he looked at Lin Que, and noticing that the other party did not evade his eyes, he continued.

"Where do you think the biggest crack in your work is?"

This question landed in the dormitory, feeling heavier than any confrontation on the steps during the day.

On the steps, it was a performance in front of twenty-eight onlookers.

In the dormitory, there were only two people, a distance of three meters, and the door was closed.

This was an exchange of real blades and live ammunition.

Lin Que leaned back in his chair, his gaze landing on the copy of "folding beijing" with the deeply creased spine on Xu Changge's desk.

He was silent for three seconds, tapping his fingers on the armrest twice.

"You go first."

Xu Changge nodded without hesitation.

"The foundation of "ancient wall" is traditional narrative aesthetics, but the density of imagery is too high, and I've raised the threshold for reader empathy too high myself."

He spoke slowly, as if every word had been weighed before being released.

"That is its biggest crack."

After finishing, he looked at Lin Que with a calm gaze, waiting for an equal exchange.

Lin Que did not answer immediately.

Outside the window, the ginkgo tree rustled in the evening breeze, its golden leaves turning in the streetlamp light, casting flickering shadows on the ceiling.

The dormitory was quiet for a few seconds.

Lin Que's fingers stopped on the armrest.

He knew what Xu Changge was waiting for. A piece of honesty of equal weight. An equal exchange.

But he couldn't give it.

It wasn't that he was unwilling.

The skeleton of "folding beijing" did not grow out of his own flesh and blood.

Those precise settings regarding hierarchy, folding, and the forty-eight-hour turnover cycle were structures poured out by another person in another world using their entire life.

He could move it, could use his own writing prowess to refill every inch of blood vessels and texture,

but he had no right to speak for that person and say, "There is a crack here."

It was like being able to take an engine built by someone else apart to the very last screw and put it back together,

but you would never know what possibilities the person who built it gave up on that night when they designed the first blueprint.

It was within those abandoned possibilities that the true cracks were hidden.

And he couldn't reach them.

This was the quietest thorn in his heart.

Xu Changge had already laid his softest parts on the table, waiting for a response of equal weight.

But the knife in Lin Que's hand was not pulled from his own bones.

It was borrowed.

Lin Que withdrew his gaze from the window and looked into Xu Changge's eyes.

He did not hypocritically invent a crack to complete this exchange.

"You just said that the imagery density of "ancient wall" is too high, and you've raised the threshold for reader empathy yourself."

Lin Que's tone was very flat, but Xu Changge could tell he wasn't just repeating it; he was taking over.

"That judgment is correct, but it only reaches the surface."

Xu Changge's brow furrowed slightly.

"The real problem isn't the high density. It's that when you were stacking imagery, you also built yourself into the wall."

Lin Que's voice dropped by half a degree.

"Every brick in "ancient wall" was carefully selected by you, but you loved your bricks too much."

"You couldn't bear to remove a single one, even if it blocked the reader's view of the scenery behind the wall."

He paused for a second.

"Your crack isn't a technical issue. It's that the distance between you and your work is too close."

"So close that you can't distinguish which images serve the story and which are just to satisfy yourself."

Xu Changge's fingers stopped on his knees.

He stared at Lin Que for a full three seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing once.

His lips moved once.

The movement was minimal, as if a retort had already reached the root of his tongue, only to be forcefully swallowed back down by himself.

The air in the dormitory sank.

It wasn't the heaviness of being offended, but the heaviness of being seen through.

Xu Changge lowered his head, his gaze falling on his intertwined fingers.

He was silent for a long time.

"...You're right."

His voice was very light, but when the word "right" landed, it carried the crispness that only comes after a bone snaps.

"Then... what about you?"

Lin Que leaned back against the chair, tilting his head to look out the window.

The tips of the ginkgo trees outlined a blurry golden silhouette in the streetlamp light, and further away, there seemed to be a glimmer of light in the direction of the main building.

"As for cracks, the ones you see yourself aren't the most fatal."

His tone was calm, but it lacked the lightheartedness of before.

This time, it was closer to the truth.

"The most fatal one is only discovered when someone else's blade stabs in."

Xu Changge raised his head.

He looked at Lin Que's profile.

There was no perfunctoriness or arrogance on that face.

What was there was something he couldn't quite name for the moment; it seemed like some kind of apology, and also like some kind of honesty he couldn't yet touch.

Xu Changge did not press further.

Not because he was satisfied.

It was because he could hear that the dissection Lin Que had just given him carried more weight than the honesty most people could offer.

It was just in a different direction.

Lin Que chose to aim the blade at him, rather than at himself.

This made Xu Changge vaguely realize one thing: Lin Que wasn't unwilling to exchange, but had some reason he couldn't speak of.

"Fine."

Xu Changge nodded, his movement crisp.

He stood up, pulled that copy of "folding beijing" from the corner of his desk, flipped to the page with the most sticky notes, and tapped his fingers gently on the paper.

"Then tomorrow, I'll take a look at what's left after it breaks."

Hearing this, Lin Que tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth curving into a very faint arc.

"Take a look."

Xu Changge turned off the desk lamp.

The dormitory darkened, leaving only a narrow sliver of light from the corridor's emergency light seeping in from under the door gap.

That beam of light landed exactly on the floor between the two desks.

Right in the middle, cutting the three-meter distance into two halves.

Outside the window, the ginkgo leaves turned over in the streetlamp light, the golden side facing up, the dark green side facing down.

In the distance, that light in the main building was still on.