416: Chapter 416 He will never hide behind the scenes forever!

Lin Que glanced at that copy of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store.

On the warm yellow cover, the words "Jian Shen" were printed in the author's column; the font wasn't large, yet it felt even more quiet than the book's title.

"Yes. Born and raised there, from childhood to adulthood."

Lin Que's tone was steady, no different from when he answered all the previous questions.

Xu Zhengqing placed the book in the center of the desk and pressed his finger lightly on the cover.

"Xinchao Publishing House is also in Jiang City."

He said this very faintly.

Like an elderly man casually mentioning a place name during a chat.

But Lin Que could tell it wasn't casual.

"Yes," Lin Que did not evade the topic.

"Xinchao Publishing House's reputation in the industry only truly rose because of Teacher Jian Shen joining them.

Before that, Xinchao was just a medium-sized old house in Su Province, not even making the top ten in the provincial rankings."

He paused for a beat here.

"When Teacher Jian Shen gave his first book to Xinchao, many people on the outside didn't understand.

With so many major publishing houses in Beijing and Shanghai scrambling for him, he chose a small local house in Jiang City.

Everyone has seen what happened later; Xinchao is now the number one publishing house not just in Jiang City, but in the entire Su Province."

Xu Zhengqing did not interrupt.

He held his thermos, his thumb slowly tracing a circle on the lid.

"Your understanding of this publishing house is much deeper than that of an average reader."

"Jiang City is only so big," Lin Que's answer was unhurried.

"Xinchao Publishing House is in the city center, and I pass their storefront on my way to school.

After Teacher Jian Shen's books came out, all the bookstore windows on that street changed; it was hard not to pay attention."

Xu Zhengqing looked at him for five seconds.

The old man's gaze wasn't scrutinizing, but rather like he was using a very fine ruler to measure something.

After finishing his measurement, he set the thermos back on the desk and leaned forward slightly.

"Student Lin, I've been in this industry for over fifty years. I've seen all kinds of geniuses and all kinds of eccentrics."

He spoke very slowly.

"But for a seventeen-year-old child to be able to dissect Jian Shen's narrative logic so thoroughly in class, and explain the relationship between the grassroots and the soil more deeply than most professional critics...

That cannot be explained just by passing bookstores and reading a few books."

The study fell silent for two seconds.

Outside the window, the wind rustled through the locust leaves.

The light in the study dimmed a level.

Clouds had covered half the sky at some unknown point.

"Even if you don't know Jian Shen personally,"

Xu Zhengqing tapped his finger on the desk with very light force.

"You must have had very deep contact with him. Your perspectives on the world are too similar.

The same land, the same market, the same alley.

These are things that cannot be learned from books; they are steeped in daily life."

He looked at Lin Que.

As these words landed, the atmospheric pressure in the study seemed to drop half an inch.

Lin Que's sitting posture did not change.

His hands rested on his knees, his back was straight, and his expression remained that unfathomable calm.

"Elder Xu flatters me," he began, his voice not loud, but every word articulated clearly.

"I have read Teacher Jian Shen's writings many times, and I can even recite some passages from memory.

But to say I am someone close to him—that inference is too much of a leap."

He paused for a beat, shifting to a more composed rhythm.

"Jiang City is an old industrial district with hundreds of thousands of residents.

The cobblers, bricklayers, and market vendors in those alleys—I see them, and Teacher Jian Shen sees them too.

We happen to live in the same environment, so it's normal for our perspectives to be similar.

It's like two children growing up on the Loess Plateau; both will notice the cracks on the walls of the cave dwellings.

That doesn't mean they necessarily know each other."

After a full five seconds of dead silence, the old man suddenly laughed.

"Truly airtight, isn't it?"

Xu Zhengqing gave him a deep look and let out an imperceptible sigh.

"Student Lin, let me tell you something you probably don't know."

Xu Zhengqing's tone changed.

It wasn't a follow-up question or a probe.

It was like a person standing at the mountain peak, finally deciding to let the young person beside him see the scenery on the other side.

"The Chinese Literary World hasn't always been like this."

Lin Que didn't move.

"Thirty years ago, traditional literature had a period where a hundred flowers bloomed.

Realism, rural life, urban life, even the filth in the deepest parts of the human heart—people dared to touch everything.

The literary awards you see on the market today—the works they selected back then were all powerful enough to make people unable to sit still."

Xu Zhengqing's hand rested on the armrest, his knuckles tightening slightly.

"Later, the national strategic focus shifted toward technology.

There was nothing wrong with this direction. Technology needed to develop, science fiction needed to be promoted, and a tilt in resources toward STEM was inevitable.

The problem lay within our own group of literary people."

His voice lowered half a notch.

"When funding went toward sci-fi and the awards blew in that direction, young authors flocked there.

Those writing about rural life felt they had no future, those writing realism feared stepping over red lines, and those writing urban stories found they had no traffic.

One by one, everyone retreated."

Lin Que sat there, listening to every single word.

"And what about us old fogies?"

The corner of Xu Zhengqing's mouth twitched with a faint bitterness.

"The more clearly we lived, the more cowardly we became.

Even though we knew the various aspects of the era needed to be written, and that the stories of the grassroots shouldn't only live in memory, no one was willing to stick their neck out."

His palm opened and then closed again.

"Huddling together for warmth, comforting each other, and whitewashing the literary world into a state of peace.

On the rare occasion a young person dared to write something and showed their head, they were immediately suppressed.

Either the judges blocked you, the publishers didn't dare take it, or it was published but no one read it.

Over time, everyone just accepted that those things weren't meant to be written."

Only the sound of the wind outside remained in the study.

Xu Zhengqing looked up at Lin Que.

That gaze was heavy, like someone who had seen too many receding tides finally seeing a wave in the distance that refused to subside.

"In the end, the one who took this step for us is a junior we haven't even met."

This sentence landed in the study without an echo.

Lin Que's fingers tightened on his knees for an instant.

It was very brief, so brief that even Xu Zhengqing couldn't see it.

Xu Zhengqing picked up The Miracles of the Namiya General Store from the desk and placed it gently on the edge of the table in front of Lin Que.

"Student Lin."

The old man's tone had shed all previous probing; what remained was heavy, like the weight of the book itself.

"I ask you these things today without a trace of malice. Whether you believe it or not, I am telling the truth."

He paused for a beat.

"I'm sixty-seven this year."

I know in my heart how many more years I can guard the gate for this literary world.

I sit here today to talk to you about this not for the Xu Family, not for Qingbei, but for the path of the Chinese Literary World in the decades to come."

Lin Que did not respond.

His gaze fell on the book; the warm yellow of the cover looked like a piece of old memory in the window light.

"What Jian Shen is doing now is causing too much of a stir."

Xu Zhengqing's voice deepened another level.

"Flipping tables in the traditional literary world and planting flags in overseas markets.

Those domestically who have been made to look pathetic by comparison—some are enduring it, and some... are already making moves."

Lin Que looked up.

"A person, no matter how well they write, will never have roots as long as they always stand in the dark.

A person without roots will fall as soon as the wind blows. Today your books sell well, and everyone praises you.

Tomorrow, if someone throws mud at you, not a single person within the establishment will dare to stand up and speak for you."

Xu Zhengqing's palm pressed on the desk, like pressing down an unalterable verdict.

"He needs to come to the forefront and accept the protection of orthodox forces.

Otherwise, sooner or later, those hiding in the shadows sharpening their knives will find an opportunity to bury him, skin and bones."

The air in the study became extremely quiet.

Lin Que sat there, his back still straight.

His expression didn't change much, but he knew in his heart how much weight Xu Zhengqing's words carried.

This was a kind warning from an elder.

It was also the highest peak of the beijing school literary world proactively offering a protective umbrella to someone who had never shown their face.

Xu Zhengqing pulled open the drawer on the right side of the desk.

The drawer slides were a bit stiff, letting out a dry, raspy friction sound.

He took out a yellowed paper business card from inside.

The card was very small, only about two-thirds the size of an ordinary business card.

There was no title, no organization, and no name on it.

There was only a string of handwritten landline numbers; the ink had slightly bled, written with an old-style fountain pen.

Xu Zhengqing placed the card on the cover of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store and, with two fingers together, slowly pushed it toward Lin Que.

"Fewer than five people know this number."

Lin Que looked at the business card but didn't reach out immediately.

"Elder Xu."

He looked up, his tone carrying the perfect amount of respect.

Xu Zhengqing looked at him, a very faint smile floating on the corners of his mouth.

In that smile, there was appreciation, helplessness, and another deeper layer.

"You and he are people raised by the same land. You said so yourself just now."

The old man's voice was flat.

"People from the same land will always have a time when they meet."

Lin Que was silent for two seconds.

"Does Elder Xu mean for me to pass a message on your behalf, should I have the opportunity in the future?"

Xu Zhengqing smiled.

"The Chinese Literary World needs someone who dares to lead the charge like this.

I want him to know that he doesn't need to hide in the dark and fight alone.

If he stands out, the Xu Family's door is always open.

Whether it's resources, connections, or relations further up, I can give him whatever he needs."

After the old man finished speaking, he leaned back against the chair and stopped pushing.

A gust of autumn wind swept through, and the cloud layer outside was suddenly blown apart.

A large expanse of bright sunlight passed through the window lattice, abruptly illuminating the entire study.

Lin Que lowered his head, watching the yellowed card lying quietly on the warm yellow book cover.

The two old colors overlapped in the bright light and shadow, much like two different eras briefly coinciding on this table.

He reached out with both hands and steadily took the card along with the copy of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store.

"Elder Xu."

Lin Que stood up and bowed slightly, performing a standard bow of a junior.

"I have noted your words."

He straightened up, his gaze falling calmly on Xu Zhengqing's face.

"However, based on my understanding of Teacher Jian Shen's works, that senior probably isn't hiding in the dark because he covets comfort.

He perhaps has his difficulties; some things cannot be rushed before the time is right."

Lin Que carefully tucked the card into the title page of The Miracles of the Namiya General Store and closed the book with both hands.

"But I believe in one thing."

His voice wasn't high, but every word was as clear as if carved in stone.

"He will never hide behind the scenes for a lifetime.

When he is ready, he will surely stand before everyone with dignity."

...