461: Chapter 461 Cranes in the Clouds, Do You Want Pickled Garlic?

Jiangcheng University Literature Department, Professor's Office.

Li Yuanchao had already copied those four lines of poetry onto the small whiteboard in his office.

"Wonderful!"

He stared at the screen and slapped his thigh hard.

"Simply wonderful!"

He slapped it again.

A young lecturer passing by poked his head in, startled by him.

"Professor Li, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!"

Li Yuanchao stood up from his chair and paced back and forth in the office, his steps full of vigor.

"Do you know that a dragon has flown out of our Jiangcheng? A true dragon!"

The young lecturer looked bewildered.

Li Yuanchao thrust his phone screen in front of him.

"Look! Look at this poem! Look at who wrote it!"

The young lecturer glanced at the title, and his eyes suddenly widened.

"Lin Que? The Lin Que from 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition'?"

"Who else could it be but that Lin Que!"

Li Yuanchao snatched the phone back and read the four lines of poetry once more.

"This kind of spirit, this kind of vision—if a forty-year-old had written it, I would applaud for him. But he's seventeen! Only seventeen!"

He stopped pacing and let out a long breath toward the window.

"Jiangcheng has produced an extraordinary figure."

Meanwhile, the WeChat group for Class 3, Grade 12 of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School had exploded into a frenzy.

Within thirty seconds, Wu Di sent nine screenshots in a row, each one showing Lin Que trending on different platforms.

[Wu Di]: "Brothers!!! Quick, look at the Yin Fu trending topics!"

[Wu Di]: "Brother Que has blown up again!!!! Our classmate, Lin Que!"

[Li Bowen]: "I've already seen it. It's being shared across the whole internet. I counted, and the views on the Yin Fu platform alone have surpassed ten million."

[Fang Zhiyuan]: "Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap! Wasn't he supposed to be at the training camp? Why did he go to Beihai Park to write poetry?"

[Wu Di]: "Who cares where he wrote it! Look at this poem! Look at this poem! 'A crane soars through the clear sky above the clouds'! I've got goosebumps!"

Messages kept scrolling up. All thirty-nine members of Class 3 were online, and new messages popped up every few seconds.

Some screenshotted and shared it to family groups, some posted video links to schoolmate groups, and some typed out those four lines of poetry and sent them three times.

The last message in the group was from Wu Di.

[Wu Di]: "Before, when people asked me what my biggest regret in high school was, I'd say not doing well on my exams.

Now, when people ask me what my proudest moment in high school was, I'll say I was Lin Que's desk mate."

Below this message, thirty-eight '1's were posted in a neat row.

At the same moment.

In the faculty office building of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, at a desk in the corner of the second floor.

Shen Qingqiu sat there alone.

The desk lamp was on, its warm yellow light shining on the lesson preparation notes spread out before her.

But her gaze wasn't on the notes; it was on her phone screen.

The video had finished playing.

The frozen image on the screen was of the youth in the navy blue hoodie, hands in his pockets, back to the camera, walking toward the lakeside.

She recognized that hoodie.

The corners of Shen Qingqiu's mouth curled up slightly.

She raised her hand and wiped the corner of her eye.

It was a very complex feeling.

Like a gardener watching a sapling they had watered, weeded, and shielded from the wind during storms,

Suddenly one day growing taller than the wall, so high she had to tilt her head back just to see the canopy.

She pressed the save button.

The video was saved into an encrypted folder in her phone's photo album.

The folder already contained quite a bit of content.

Screenshots of the 'Fu Zhi Yao Competition' award ceremony, news photos from the book signing event,

And a screen recording of Lin Que giving the public lecture 'Birds and Mountains' in a stadium of ten thousand people.

She turned off her phone, picked up a red pen, and lowered her head to resume grading homework.

The tip of the pen drew a circle on the paper, then another.

The autumn wind outside the window made the plane tree leaves rustle.

Jinling, Jiangsu Provincial Writers Association Office.

Gu Changfeng leaned back in his armchair, his left hand holding a cup of premium Pre-Rain Longjing tea, and his right hand gripping the corner of a tablet.

The tablet was propped on his lap, and the video was playing for the second time.

After finishing it, he shook his head.

He watched it again.

He still shook his head.

"Tsk."

He put down the tablet, picked up the Longjing, and took a sip.

The tea entered his throat, bitter at first with a sweet aftertaste, which surprisingly matched his current mood perfectly.

"I truly didn't misjudge him," he muttered to himself.

He set down the teacup and picked up his phone to scroll through the comments section.

The screen was full of repetitions of 'A crane soars through the clear sky above the clouds' and various screenshots.

"He's simply not leaving any room for his peers to survive."

Gu Changfeng chuckled and tossed his phone back onto the desk.

"Forget it, if there's no way out for them, then so be it. This path wasn't meant for ordinary people anyway."

Jinling, Ye Family Villa.

In the first-floor living room, Elder Ye sat on a rosewood sofa, a light cashmere blanket draped over his knees.

The autumn sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating his gray hair and the marks of time on the back of his hands.

A tablet was placed on the coffee table, and the sound coming from the speakers was very clear.

Elder Ye's hand tapped lightly on his knee.

"'A crane soars through the clear sky above the clouds, carrying poetic inspiration to the blue firmament.'"

He tapped again.

"Good."

A single word.

Coming from an old man who had witnessed over half a century of storms, it held more weight than any long discourse.

Elder Ye looked at the row of ginkgo trees outside the window. As the autumn wind blew, the golden leaves swirled down, covering the ground.

"This era desperately needs young people who dare to look up at the sky."

He said no more.

He simply played the video from the beginning again, then picked up the remote and turned on the living room's sound system.

Chopin's 'Nocturne in E-flat Major' flowed from the speakers.

The piano music blended with the autumn light outside the window.

Second-floor piano room.

Ye Xi leaned against a low cabinet by the window, a towel draped around her neck, with fine beads of sweat still hanging on her forehead.

She had just finished an extremely high-intensity practice session, and her ten fingers were still slightly aching.

She picked up her phone, originally just intending to check her messages.

The moment the trending topic caught her eye, her fingers stopped.

"Lin Que autumn poem."

She clicked in.

The video loaded quickly.

The pavilion corridors of Beihai Park appeared on the screen.

She recognized the background at a glance.

The White Pagoda, the lake, the willow branches.

Last time she came to the capital to see Lin Que at the training camp, her taxi had passed by the entrance of Beihai Park.

Then she saw the youth in the navy blue hoodie.

The corner of Ye Xi's mouth twitched slightly.

In the video, Lin Que had his hands in his pockets, his expression as nonchalant as if he were waiting in line at the cafeteria.

"Since ancient times, people have lamented the loneliness of autumn."

Ye Xi's finger lightly tapped the beat on the edge of the screen.

"But I say autumn days surpass the morning of spring."

Her eyes lit up.

"'A crane soars through the clear sky above the clouds, carrying poetic inspiration to the blue firmament.'"

The video finished playing.

Ye Xi leaned by the window, looking at the autumn scenery of Jinling outside. The osmanthus trees in the courtyard below were in full bloom.

She dragged the video back and watched it again.

After the second time, she pulled the towel from her neck and tossed it onto the low cabinet.

She picked up her phone and opened WeChat.

That familiar avatar lay quietly in her chat list.

The last chat record was a photo she had taken while practicing piano two days ago.

Now, Ye Xi's fingers danced rapidly across the keyboard.

She typed a line, looked at it for two seconds, and deleted it.

She typed another line and deleted it.

The third time, her fingers paused for a moment, then she typed it all out in one go and pressed send without hesitation.

The message was sent.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: Great Poet Lin, does the crane above the clouds eat Sweet Garlic? [Doghead][Doghead][Doghead]

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