404: Chapter 404 His surname is Xu, but his given name is Changge

The pencil in Xu Changge's hand hung in mid-air, stopping for a full three seconds.

The barrel spun half a turn between his fingers, but it didn't finish; it got stuck.

He lifted his gaze from the manuscript and looked at Lin Que's face.

"How did you know?"

Lin Que leaned against the window frame with his hands in his pockets, his posture unchanged.

"When Professor Liu walked past the first row, he slowed down.

You thought he was looking at the first row, but his chin lifted ever so slightly.

The people in the first row didn't need him to lift his chin.

That angle just happened to pass over Chen Jiahao's head and land on the far left of the second row.

Your seat."

Xu Changge's Adam's apple bobbed.

He placed the pencil on the desk.

The light sound of the wooden barrel hitting the tabletop was exceptionally clear in the quiet dormitory.

He leaned back against his chair, the strength instantly draining from his body.

"That mysterious grandmaster coming to the Training Camp for a lecture the day after tomorrow."

Xu Changge's voice was very flat, but the interval between each word was half a beat longer than usual.

"Is my grandfather."

The air in Dormitory 303 froze for a moment.

Lin Que's expression showed no extra fluctuation.

A name flashed through his mind.

Xu Zhengqing.

The pillar of Beijing School Literature, a living fossil of the Chinese Literary World.

He gave a small nod.

Seeing Lin Que's reaction, Xu Changge actually breathed a sigh of relief.

If the person opposite him had shown that kind of "Oh, you must be under a lot of pressure" sympathy,

He would have probably choked the conversation right then and there.

But Lin Que gave nothing extra.

Just like when he faced Dan Yi under the ginkgo tree.

This posture of not applying pressure instead pushed open a crack in the door that had been tightly shut in Xu Changge's heart.

"I only found out when I received a private message from Professor Liu the night before."

Xu Changge's gaze fell on the stack of manuscripts on his desk, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the paper.

"My first reaction was to go to Professor Liu and apply for a recusal. Or simply take sick leave and hide for two days."

Lin Que didn't interrupt.

"From childhood to now, no matter how many books I read, what I write, or how high I rank..."

Xu Changge's voice was very low, as if afraid the next room would hear.

"The first thing others say is always the same template.

'As expected of Elder Xu's grandson.'

'The Xu Family's genes are just that good.'

'With such a scholarly lineage, how can ordinary people compare?'"

His fingers pinched the edge of the manuscript, leaving a white crease on the corner of the paper.

"I started reciting Tang and Song poetry at seven, and finished the entire 'The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons' at nine.

Most of the parallel prose structures in it are still etched in my brain.

At eleven, I read the original 'Zizhi Tongjian' from beginning to end. I coughed up blood the day I finished; my mom almost burned the book.

At twelve, an essay I wrote was selected by a provincial publication, but when the editor called the house, the first thing they asked was, 'Was this guided by Elder Xu?'"

Xu Changge gave a laugh.

That laugh was short, escaping from his nose, carrying a dullness from being worn down for too long.

"My mother answered the phone then; she said no.

The editor was silent for three seconds on the other end, then said, 'Is that so? Then it's also very excellent.'"

Xu Changge laughed again.

"'Then it's also'."

Xu Changge repeated those words, his emphasis heavier than anything he'd said before.

"The Xu Family surname is a centuries-old brand.

No matter how brightly it's polished, when it's hung over my head, everyone sees the brand; no one sees the person standing beneath it."

Lin Que stood by the window, shoulder leaning against the frame, his posture relaxed.

Outside, the sycamore trees rustled in the night wind, and the streetlights' glow broke into fragments through the leaves.

He didn't interrupt Xu Changge.

"When I came to participate in Fu Zhi Yao Competition, everyone knew my surname was Xu."

Xu Changge looked up into Lin Que's eyes.

"But at least from the beginning until now, when they look at my manuscripts and argue over my viewpoints,

Their first reaction is that they are competing with 'Xu Changge,' not 'Xu Zhengqing's grandson.'"

He paused for a beat.

"But the moment my grandfather sits on that podium, this balance will be completely shattered."

The dormitory was quiet for several seconds.

The wind outside blew a sycamore leaf against the glass; it stuck for a moment before being swept away.

"So what if it's shattered?"

Lin Que spoke.

Xu Changge was stunned.

"So what if everyone knows your surname is Xu?"

Lin Que's tone was as casual as chatting about the weather.

"What do you plan to do? Cross out the name 'Xu Changge' from your household register?

Or find a pen name to debut again and announce to the world that you've been reborn?"

Xu Changge's lips moved, but he was at a loss for words.

"That manuscript I just read."

Lin Que straightened up from the window frame, took two steps, and stood before Xu Changge's desk.

His finger landed on the stack of manuscripts covered in pencil writing, tapping a paragraph in the middle that had been repeatedly edited.

[The part where the old tailor measures his own three dimensions. Both hands holding the measuring tape, reaching around his back to grab the other end, but unable to reach.

His shoulders hurt when he lifted his arms, and his waist couldn't hold out when he bent down. Finally, he bit one end of the tape with his teeth to barely manage a measurement.]

Lin Que looked at Xu Changge.

"How do you think a small tree growing next to a towering giant tree can prove it isn't just a branch of the giant?"

Xu Changge's brow furrowed.

When this question came from Lin Que's mouth,

His first reaction was to think in terms of literary theory, but after a few turns of his mind, he realized Lin Que wasn't asking about theory at all.

"It's certainly not by complaining all day that the giant tree is blocking its light, nor is it possible to desperately pull out its roots and move to another spot."

Every word of Lin Que's voice carried weight as it fell into the dormitory air.

"It's by burying its roots even deeper than the giant's, and then growing leaves that look completely different."

Xu Changge's breath hitched for a beat.

Lin Que's finger tapped twice on the third draft of 'the tailor'."

"Your previous articles were exquisite, orderly, and flawless.

Every line looked like it was written against a ruler.

That was the 'discipline' you learned from home; it's the foundation of the Xu Family."

His finger moved to the repeatedly edited paragraph.

The part where the old tailor bites the measuring tape.

"But the person you wrote this time can't even reach his own back, and his joints are so sore his fingers are deformed.

He has the smell of sweat, the dust, and the calluses worn down by a brass thimble used for a lifetime.

This kind of thing..."

Lin Que withdrew his hand and looked into Xu Changge's eyes.

"Is surnamed Xu, but named Changge."

Xu Changge stared at the stack of manuscripts on the desk, motionless.

His fingers hung over the edge of the paper for a long time. All the things he'd been agonizing over all night

Were smashed to pieces at this moment by a single sentence.

Surnamed Xu, but named Changge.

Seven words.

It unraveled the knot that had been twisted for over a decade from the innermost loop.

Xu Changge's shoulders slumped.

It was the relief of a string finally loosening after being taut for too long. Though the movement wasn't large, his entire aura changed.

He looked up,

The gloom in his eyes had mostly dissipated, replaced by a clarity like the sky after rain.

Lin Que watched his expression, and the tension in his own heart also eased.

But his mouth wouldn't allow the atmosphere to remain so tender.

"Besides, what you should be worried about now isn't what others think of you."

Lin Que's tone suddenly took a turn, carrying a hint of teasing.

"You should worry about whether your grandfather will pull out your first draft in class and use it as a negative example."

Xu Changge's expression froze.

"After all, that tailor in your first draft, how should I put it?"

Lin Que leaned back against the window frame, hands in his pockets, the corner of his mouth twitching to one side.

"It was exquisite, but it felt like the old tailor was about to pick up a bone china teacup for afternoon tea at any second.

If your grandfather saw it, he'd probably think with relief:

'Our Changge is so kind, he even provided the tailor with two maidservants to wait on him.'"

All the heavy emotions Xu Changge had been brewing were completely shattered by this sentence.

"Pfft."

He couldn't hold it in.

Laughter burst from his throat, short and helpless,

As if he'd been slapped hard on the back, all the breath stifled in his chest escaped.

"Lin Que, your way of comforting people is truly unique."

"I'm telling the truth."

Xu Changge shook his head, but he could no longer suppress the smile on his face.

He looked down at his manuscript, which had been revised three times.

His fingers rubbed over the repeatedly edited paragraph, feeling the indentations left by the pencil.

Xu Changge slowly reined in his smile,

His gaze fell back onto the manuscript, but his eyes were brighter and more determined than ever before.

"Go for it, Old Xu."

Lin Que's voice suddenly softened, without teasing or extra embellishment.

Just four words, clean and simple.

"The first step to breaking free from the giant tree is letting it see with its own eyes that you've grown different leaves."

Xu Changge looked up at Lin Que.

That look was very short, yet very long.

But nothing was said.

...