527: Chapter 527 Praise to Kill

The biological clock he developed in Muchuan Town remained precise; even after returning to the capital, his body automatically retained the habit of resting at noon.

When Lin Que woke up, the light outside the window had shifted from the piercing white of noon to the warm yellow of the afternoon.

He got up, unscrewed the water bottle by the bedside, took a few sips of room-temperature water, and quickly ran through his afternoon schedule in his mind.

The scheduled update for "ghost blows out the light," the submission email forwarded by Wang De'an, and the encrypted letters in the studio were all piled up for the afternoon.

He opened the wardrobe and took out the black jacket that had been washed until it was somewhat soft, pulling it on.

His backpack leaned against the table leg, containing his laptop, an encrypted USB drive, and a few old factory record books brought back from Muchuan Town.

Lin Que zipped up the backpack, his fingers pausing on the cold metal zipper pull for a second.

That morning, Dai Shengzong's remark, "Make the manuscript tougher," still echoed in his ears.

Thirty names, thirty manuscripts just brought back from the mud and sand, would soon be sent to the judging table for the Kunpeng Award.

Chu Pengshu's long article deconstructing "folding beijing" had already been driven like a thin nail into the public opinion landscape of the Kunpeng Award.

Lin Que moved the cup aside, his fingertips brushing against the cold glass.

Just then, the dormitory door was slammed open from the outside with a "bang."

Chen Jiahao rushed in like a gust of wind, his face brimming with excitement, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of having just stumbled upon big news.

The zipper of his windbreaker wasn't even pulled up properly, hanging crookedly across his chest.

"Master Que! Something happened again!"

Lin Que's hand stopped in mid-air as he looked at Chen Jiahao.

"Is someone tearing me apart again?"

Chen Jiahao closed the door behind him, rushed to Lin Que's desk in two or three steps, and practically shoved his phone screen into Lin Que's face.

"Look at this! I just saw it!"

On the screen was the homepage of the Wenyuange Forum; the long article had been marked in red by the administrator, and the number of replies had already reached five figures.

The poster's avatar was a silhouette of a person, and the ID was "Literary Talent Can Settle Pingjiang."

Lin Que's gaze landed on the title: "On the Paradigmatic Significance of 'folding beijing': A Work of Redemption That Transcends the Era."

Chen Jiahao couldn't wait for Lin Que to read it carefully and clicked directly on the highly-liked excerpt.

"Shen Jiangping! The winner of the last Kunpeng Youth Literature Award! The very same Shen Jiangping who wrote 'Wild Beach Collection'! He personally wrote an article to support you! And the way this article is written, it's fierce!"

He cleared his throat and, imitating the tone of the article, read aloud with dramatic emphasis:

" 'The emergence of "folding beijing" is not merely the success of a single work; it represents a thorough revolution in literary paradigms. The ingenuity of its setting, the depth of its thought, and the precision with which it dissects class reality have reached a level that should make many stagnant literary titans blush with shame!' "

By the time Chen Jiahao finished reading this, his face was already flushed with excitement.

"It gets even more ruthless later on." Chen Jiahao scrolled to the comments section.

"Some people are already using terms like 'lighthouse' and 'declaration of war' to bash Chu Pengshu, and they've dragged a few old judges into it as well."

He looked up, his eyes shining as he looked at Lin Que.

"Master Que, with him saying that, Chu Pengshu's nitpicking article has been immediately suppressed! Right now, the Wenyuange Forum is full of discussions about this; the buzz is more than ten times higher than Chu Pengshu's article!"

Lin Que did not take the phone immediately. He looked at Chen Jiahao's excited face, then glanced again at the titles and summaries on the screen, filled with glowing praise.

Shen Jiangping. "Wild Beach Collection." Winner of the Kunpeng Youth Award. He had an impression of this name.

When he first received the news about being submitted for the Kunpeng Award, he had checked the past winners.

And Shen Jiangping was indeed one of the first representatives of this generation of young writers to gain mainstream recognition; he excelled in realistic themes, had a solid writing style, and enjoyed a good reputation within the circle.

For someone like this to suddenly enter the fray, the timing was too perfect, the tone was too high, and the praise was too excessive.

Lin Que raised his hand and took the phone from Chen Jiahao. He began to read the long article.

The article discussed everything from the philosophy of the setting to class metaphors. Every paragraph elevated "folding beijing," and after each elevation, it conveniently pushed Chu Pengshu, academic critics, and several old judges to the opposing side.

The text repeatedly cited the technical points Chu Pengshu had questioned, then refuted them one by one. His tone was extremely heavy, almost framing Chu Pengshu's textual analysis as a direct crusade by conservatives against a genius.

Reading to the middle, Lin Que's eyes calmed down. He scrolled up the screen, quickly scanning over words like "epoch-making," "redemption," and "titans blush with shame."

The emotional intensity of the article was too high. This article had already deviated from normal criticism and began to push "folding beijing" into a banner.

Lin Que quickly saw through the skeleton of the article. Every time Shen Jiangping praised "folding beijing," the next sentence would turn the blade toward Chu Pengshu and the textual analysis faction.

Especially that line about "making literary titans blush with shame," the weight of which crossed the line.

Xu Changge, who had been sitting at the desk organizing his notes, walked over at this moment. He stood behind Chen Jiahao, his gaze also falling on the screen of Lin Que's phone.

He didn't rush to speak; his gaze first rested on the two terms "titans blush with shame" and "conservative forces," and his brows furrowed slightly.

Lin Que's speed of scrolling down the screen slowed down. The end of the article even called for young writers to take a stand. In the comment section, some people were already labeling anyone who opposed this article as "conservative forces."

"He is holding me up as a banner." Lin Que returned the phone to Chen Jiahao, his voice calm.

Chen Jiahao was stunned. "Huh? But he clearly attacked Chu Pengshu really hard!"

"Once the banner is raised, the spotlight is his." Lin Que picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"And by the way, he drags me into it too."

Xu Changge placed the phone on the table, tapped his fingertip on Shen Jiangping's name, and said in a steady tone:

"Shen Jiangping won the Kunpeng Youth Award in the last session with 'Wild Beach Collection,' but the reception for his new works over the past three years has been much weaker. What he needs now is not just buzz, but a chance to stand back in the center of the youth literary scene."

"The collective submission of the Qinglan Project to the Kunpeng Award is already the hottest topic. Chu Pengshu handed over the knife first, and Shen Jiangping conveniently took it; the blade is aimed at Chu Pengshu, but the light shines on himself."

He paused for half a second and looked at Lin Que. "He chose this moment to enter the fray, using such a high tone to praise it, calling 'folding beijing' a redemption, a declaration of war."

The excitement on Chen Jiahao's face faded bit by bit, replaced by a sudden, belated sense of dread.

"You mean... he's not helping Master Que, he is..."

Lin Que lifted his backpack and slowly spat out two words. "Killing with praise."