411: Chapter 411 Hellish Assignment!

Professor Liu Zuoqing stood at the edge of the podium, his gaze sweeping past the front row to take in the tense atmosphere of the entire lecture hall.

He stood tall with his hands behind his back, his gray zhongshan suit appearing exceptionally composed in the morning light.

"This class carries a lot of weight. Elder Xu has dissected the very bone and blood of the grassroots for you, and he's also shown you the blind spots in your own eyes."

Professor Liu Zuoqing's voice echoed through the classroom with a force that left no room for negotiation.

"Tomorrow is October 1st.

Normally, the Qinglan Project's special training camp is a closed-off extreme drill with no statutory holidays.

But I just discussed it with Dean Dai. To give you time to thoroughly digest what you've heard today and to fix those airy habits of yours,

the next centralized teaching session is set for October 6th."

A slight commotion immediately broke out below.

Chen Jiahao's shoulders completely slumped as he let out a long breath of turbid air.

Having pulled two all-nighters in a row to revise his drafts, the strings in his mind had long been stretched to their limit; this five-day buffer was a literal saving grace for him.

Zhong Hengyuan also wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

He relaxed significantly, and even his sitting posture became less stiff.

Professor Liu Zuoqing looked at the relaxed state below and gave a light chuckle.

"But don't be happy too soon.

These five days aren't for you to wander around Beijing's attractions."

Professor Liu Zuoqing's tone shifted.

"In five days, you must submit a short story assignment."

A suppressed sigh rippled through the classroom.

Zhang Yiyu shook his head and muttered softly, "I knew it wouldn't be this cheap; the wool of the Qingbei School of Literature isn't that easy to pluck."

Zhong Hengyuan pulled out the pen he had just stuffed into his desk cubby and spread out his manuscript paper as if accepting his fate.

Chen Jiahao clutched his hair forcefully, his face a picture of despair.

Everyone there was a top student who had fought their way out of their respective provinces, so they naturally understood the cruelty of the Qinglan Project.

This five-day holiday was merely a change of location for their suffering.

Just as the crowd was discussing in low voices, calculating what conventional themes to use to get by,

Professor Liu Zuoqing tapped his finger twice on the lecture desk. The sound wasn't loud, but it caused all the noise to vanish instantly.

"Not only do you have to write, but the theme this time has to change."

As these words fell, the movements of several students in the front row froze.

The pressure of the special training camp was already immense; a last-minute change of theme

was no different from asking them to forge new weapons on an unfamiliar battlefield.

Professor Liu Zuoqing leaned his hands on the edge of the lecture desk, his gaze scanning the core students in the front row.

"During the Preliminary Round and Semifinals of Fu Zhi Yao Competition, I read most of your drafts.

The proportion of sci-fi themes was extremely high.

This is the field you all are most comfortable with, and perhaps your trump card for getting high scores."

At the mention of the word "sci-fi," the atmosphere in the classroom instantly became lively.

These geniuses from various provinces had been immersed in concepts like interstellar jumps and quantum entanglement since childhood.

Writing hard sci-fi? That was their absolute domain!

They could take any random physics concept and write thousands of words of sophisticated prose.

Chen Jiahao slapped his thigh and whispered in ecstasy, "This round is in the bag!"

Several boys on the left who specialized in cyberpunk themes even straightened their backs, unable to suppress the smiles on their faces.

The atmosphere in the classroom had completely livened up.

The boys on the left who were good at hard sci-fi sat up straight, their faces full of confidence.

The heavy feeling of being suffocated by Xu Zhengqing's grassroots narrative earlier vanished the moment they heard the word "sci-fi."

They felt as if they had returned to their absolute comfort zone where they could freely unleash their imagination.

Professor Liu Zuoqing looked at the group of young people who had regained their confidence, and the smile on his lips slowly faded.

"It seems everyone is quite confident."

He picked up his chipped thermos and gave it a half-turn in his hand.

"However, have you forgotten where you are?

In the traditional sense, those things that float in the clouds naturally cannot enter our special training classroom."

The smiles in the classroom froze on their faces.

Chen Jiahao forgot to close his open mouth, and Zhong Hengyuan's newly straightened back slumped once more.

Zhang Yiyu, in the front row, was full of bewilderment. If they weren't writing about those, what were they supposed to write?

Isn't the very foundation of sci-fi these grand and cold concepts?

Professor Liu Zuoqing didn't give them a chance to catch their breath and directly played his trump card.

"That is, combining the lesson Elder Xu gave you today,

I require you to write a piece of grounded sci-fi."

The air became thick once again.

Grounded sci-fi.

To these geniuses, the combination of these six words was more absurd than asking them to go out and farm.

The foundation of sci-fi is grand narrative, the light of reason that transcends reality, cold metal, and the infinite universe.

But what Xu Zhengqing talked about today was soil, roughness, and the dull pain of being crushed by life.

High-tech sophistication and the roughness of the soil were naturally repellent; this was essentially an irreconcilable paradox.

Xu Changge looked down at his desk, his pencil drawing two circles on the blank manuscript paper.

In the left circle, he wrote "Sci-fi," and in the right, he wrote "Roughness."

The edges of the two circles overlapped, and in that narrow intersection, he drew a large, heavy question mark.

He found that the knowledge reserve he took pride in was completely useless in the face of this intersection.

Tang He and Yuan Ningning looked at each other, their eyes filled with confusion.

How could urban fables and traditional ethics be stuffed into a sci-fi shell?

Zhong Hengyuan irritably clutched his hair, his newly relaxed nerves tightening once again.

Lin Que sat in his place with his hands in his pockets, his posture unchanged.

His knuckles lightly tapped against the fabric inside his pockets.

Grounded sci-fi.

These words reached his ears.

In his memory, there was already a masterpiece short story that perfectly fit this requirement.

It was a story that perfectly stitched together the most extreme cosmic grandeur with the most barren loess village.

The collision of carbon-based life and silicon-based civilization, Newton's three laws and a blackboard in an adobe house—these seemingly unrelated elements completed a most shocking symphony in that story.

As long as he brought that story out, the so-called paradox would crumble.

Dai Shengzong and Su Mubai stood by the podium, their gazes quietly scanning the faces of the thirty students.

Most people were scratching their heads in frustration, except for the youth in the middle of the second row, who was as calm as a well without ripples.

Su Mubai turned his head and exchanged a look with Dai Shengzong.

The two literary titans said nothing, but both saw the same expectation in each other's eyes.

This class officially ended.

Professor Liu Zuoqing briefly gave some formatting requirements and then walked out of the classroom with Xu Zhengqing, Dai Shengzong, and Su Mubai.

As soon as the big shots left, the lecture hall erupted.

"How do we write this? Drive a spaceship onto the Loess Plateau?"

Chen Jiahao complained irritably as he stuffed the manuscript paper on his desk into his backpack.

"This is harder than asking me to be reincarnated."

"Or write about an alien coming to Blue Star to farm?" Zhong Hengyuan chimed in with a bitter smile.

"The sci-fi audience looks for spectacle, while the grassroots audience looks for resonance. A forced stitching will only result in a chimera."

Xu Changge folded the manuscript paper with the question mark and tucked it into his notebook.

He stood up and looked at Lin Que, who was packing his things nearby.

"Do you have a lead yet?"

Xu Changge asked very directly.

Several students nearby who were still worried immediately quieted down and pricked up their ears to listen to the commotion here.

Lin Que held the prose collection in his hand and said in a flat tone:

"I thought of a story about a teacher."

"A teacher?!"

Chen Jiahao's eyes nearly popped out, and his voice suddenly rose.

"Master Que, are you serious? Writing about a teacher in a sci-fi short story? Is he going to teach aliens Huaxia knowledge?"

"Yeah, teaching physics."

Lin Que didn't explain further. He pushed his chair back into place and, under the gazes of the group looking at him like he was a madman, turned and walked out of the classroom.

He left the group standing there in a daze.

Xu Changge watched Lin Que's back, his brow furrowing even tighter.

The profession of a teacher usually exists as a background element in sci-fi themes,

yet Lin Que wanted to use it as the core entry point. This completely exceeded his existing knowledge framework.

Lin Que walked out of the School of Liberal Arts building. The cold late-autumn wind blew against him, dispersing much of the stuffy air from the classroom.

He had just stepped down the steps, his mind still conceiving that sci-fi masterpiece,

when the phone in his pocket vibrated.

He took it out and saw a message from Fugitive Beethoven on the screen.

Ye Xi had sent a photo of the venue layout.

The photo was taken from the back row of the audience seats.

Above the stage directly in front hung a huge electronic banner that read: The 30th Xinghai Cup National Piano Competition.

A black grand piano sat in the center of the stage, the lights shining on the keys, making it look extremely imposing.

Immediately after, a second message popped up.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "The venue looks big, but the echo effect is actually average. I just did a sound check, and the articulation in the bass area feels like it's not coming through."

Lin Que typed a reply with one hand:

[Mu Xia]: "If the hardware isn't enough, use technique. You're someone who went straight to the finals."

The reply came quickly, with a clear tone of complaining.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "Don't even mention it."

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "Sister Yang insisted on me signing up, but because of the age limit, I could only sign up for the Youth Group."

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "I looked at the entry list; it's all a bunch of fifteen and sixteen-year-old kids. With me being almost an adult mixed in there, I feel like I'm bullying my younger brothers and sisters."

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "Winning would be an unearned victory, and if I make a mistake, I'll lose face all the way to the Pacific [facepalm][facepalm][facepalm]"

Lin Que looked at the words on the screen, and Ye Xi's huffy expression appeared in his mind.

[Mu Xia]: "You've already toured the Vienna Golden Hall; why would you be afraid of a group of kids?"

Just as he sent it, he saw the top of the screen flashing "The other party is typing..."

It flashed and stopped, then stopped and flashed.

After a while, Ye Xi sent a cat sighing emoji:

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "[sigh.jpg] You'll know why when the time comes."

Lin Que smiled.

[Mu Xia]: "They're still young; they'll have plenty of opportunities in the future."

[Mu Xia]: "Since you've signed up for this group, what you can do is show the strength of someone in the adult group. Use an absolute stomp to show them the gap; that's also setting a good example for the younger ones."

Half a minute later, Ye Xi sent a cat emoji with a face that said "I guess you know how to talk."

[Fugitive Beethoven]: "October 3rd, October 3rd, October 3rd."

[Mu Xia]: "I won't forget."

Lin Que pressed the send button and put his phone back in his pocket.

October 3rd happened to be within the five-day buffer period.

After finishing that short story, he could go listen to a piano competition to clear his head.

Lin Que walked to the door of Dormitory 303 and pushed it open.

Xu Changge had already arrived.

He was standing by the window staring blankly at the streetlights outside, not at all sitting at his desk revising drafts as usual.

Hearing the door open, he turned around.

"You're back."

Xu Changge's tone had a hint more unnaturalness than usual.

"Yeah." Lin Que hung his coat on the rack and walked to his desk to sit down.

"You left faster than I did; I thought you'd already started building the framework for your sci-fi short story."

Xu Changge shook his head.

"That topic is too tricky; I still need to organize my thoughts."

After he said this, the dormitory fell silent for a few seconds.

Xu Changge's gaze lingered on Lin Que's desk for a moment, and he seemed to hesitate.

Lin Que noticed his abnormality and turned to look at him.

"What? Is something wrong?"

Xu Changge cleared his throat, his back unconsciously straightening.

He set aside his usual restraint as a young master of a prestigious family, his expression solemn, even carrying a rare hint of awkwardness.

"Lin Que, tomorrow... what are your plans?"

Lin Que thought about it.

The concept for that sci-fi short story had already taken shape in his mind; it would only take half a day to write it down. He really didn't have any specific arrangements for the rest of the time.

He shook his head.

"No special plans."

Xu Changge's finger lightly tapped on the windowsill as if he were weighing his words.

"My grandfather today... in his life, he has very rarely given such a high evaluation to the younger generation."

Xu Changge looked into Lin Que's eyes, his tone becoming extremely solemn.

"Tomorrow happens to be the first day of the holiday."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to invite you to my home as a guest."

..."}],