530: Chapter 530 Conspiracy

The people around the tea table stood up almost simultaneously.

Chu Pengshu stopped mid-sentence.

Shen Jiangping also placed his cup back on the table, the smile on his face kept firmly in check.

The person who entered was named Zhao Zhizhang.

The newly appointed helmsman of Huanyu Publishing Group, he held the entire set of resources including publishing houses, distribution channels, and a library of film and television copyrights.

What made those present even more apprehensive was that he had also been a writer in his early years.

He knew how to praise a book to the heavens, and he also knew how to make an author disappear without a trace.

Before he even sat down, the waiter had already cleared away the cold tea and replaced it with a fresh pot of Dahongpao.

Zhao Zhizhang walked to the head of the table and casually unbuttoned his suit cuffs.

The several young writers who had dared to mock Qingbei School of Literature just moments ago all fell silent.

He smiled.

"Just now outside the door, I heard Pengshu and Jiangping discussing literary standards."

Zhao Zhizhang picked up his teacup and his gaze swept over the two.

"Pengshu upholds the bottom line of the text, while Jiangping encourages literary innovation."

"If Huaxia literature wants to move forward, we need both a strict yardstick and soil that is tolerant of others."

Chu Pengshu's cold, stern expression softened slightly.

He picked up his own teacup without refuting.

Shen Jiangping also retracted the gloom in his eyes, a gentle smile reappearing on his face.

Zhao Zhizhang continued, his tone earnest:

"The younger generation should be united; don't let disputes hurt our harmony."

He paused.

"How about this, I'll host dinner tonight, invite the two of you to eat, and we can all shake hands, make peace, and work together to maintain the prosperity of the literary world.

The Kunpeng Youth Literature Award is an honor for young Huaxia writers. Regardless of whose hands the trophy ends up in, if we start causing chaos internally, it will only make outsiders laugh at us."

Chu Pengshu put down his teacup and nodded in agreement:

"Since President Zhao has spoken, I will give you this face."

Shen Jiangping also smiled and agreed:

"I'll follow President Zhao's arrangements. Literature inherently requires harmony without uniformity."

The tense atmosphere at the tea table finally relaxed.

Some picked up their cups again, while others took the opportunity to lower their heads to drink tea, hiding the cold sweat on their foreheads.

Soon, the several young writers around them also began to speak.

"President Zhao's vision is truly admirable."

A young writer wearing a casual suit gave a thumbs up.

"Once President Zhao speaks, the situation stabilizes.

If the young literary world is to move forward, we need someone who can sort out both the resources and the rules."

Another writer wearing glasses chimed in.

"That bunch of student writers from Qingbei Program, just because they have the Qingbei brand, they want to parachute into the Kunpeng Award. It's time they learned that the literary circle isn't that simple."

A long-haired writer pursed his lips, his tone filled with sourness.

Zhao Zhizhang waved his hand, signaling everyone to continue drinking tea.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, a perfectly measured smile on his lips.

The smile was gentle, the measure extremely precise.

It was like mediation, yet also like control.

After the gathering ended, the young writers walked out of the tearoom one after another.

In the hallway, several people whispered to each other.

"I only heard before that Young Master Zhao knew how to play with traffic, but today I realized his ability to control the room is even more ruthless."

"Chu Pengshu and Shen Jiangping were arguing so intensely, and he suppressed it in just three sentences."

"I heard that several major IPs are currently being operated by President Zhao. In the future, when we publish books, we really need to rub shoulders with him more."

"Do you think that Lin Que is really that amazing?"

"I read folding beijing, it just has a clever setting.

What does he have to compare with those of us who have been writing for seven or eight years?"

"Exactly, he's just a high school student; what does he know about social experience?

The Qingbei School of Liberal Arts submitting them as a group this time is clearly meant to use us as stepping stones.

When the preliminary review results come out, they'll have a hard time."

...

The group walked towards the elevator, chatting and laughing.

The sound of footsteps faded away bit by bit.

Not until the last person's voice vanished at the end of the corridor did the bodyguard outside the tearoom reach out to close the door.

The door lock made a crisp click.

The gentle atmosphere inside the tearoom was completely severed by this sound.

The gentleness on Shen Jiangping's face dissipated completely.

He walked quickly to Zhao Zhizhang's side, bowed his head slightly, and his voice no longer held any trace of the demeanor of a youth leader.

"President Zhao."

Chu Pengshu sat in his original seat, not surprised.

He picked up his teacup and blew the foam off the top.

Shen Jiangping suppressed his anger: "The public opinion has been burning for the past few days, but neither Qingbei nor Lin Que have entered the fray.

This time, we didn't manage to sink our teeth into him."

He pressed both hands on the tabletop: "My article set the tone so high that even a few old judges were alarmed.

As long as Lin Que came out to refute it, or showed even a hint of a young person's arrogance, I could logically label him as an arrogant fool who doesn't know the heights of the sky.

But he just won't say a word."

Zhao Zhizhang put down his teacup. The cup hit the tabletop with a very light sound.

The smile on his face vanished. That face which had been gentle and composed just moments ago now held only indifference.

"That kid's composure has indeed exceeded my expectations."

Zhao Zhizhang's voice was low. "A seventeen-year-old high school student, facing online 'praise-killing' and text deconstruction, can actually be this steady.

This disposition is not simple."

Shen Jiangping paused, his tone slightly anxious. "Then what do we do now? The Kunpeng Award preliminary review is about to start, and the Program's group submission will naturally draw the attention of the judges and the media."

Zhao Zhizhang tapped his fingers on the table, making a rhythmic tapping sound.

"His silence indicates that he has seen through our intentions."

Zhao Zhizhang's gaze was sharp. "As soon as he enters the fray, this literary discussion will turn into a fan-base war. The Qingbei School of Liberal Arts won't allow him to do that either.

So he is waiting.

Waiting for us to finish playing our public opinion cards, waiting for the Kunpeng Award to truly enter the judging phase."

Shen Jiangping's expression changed slightly: "He's a high school student, can he think this deeply?"

"Never underestimate someone who can write folding beijing."

Zhao Zhizhang's tone cooled a few degrees. "The class metaphors and spatial settings in that novel cannot be written with mere cleverness.

If he has an expert behind him, that's troublesome.

If he has no one behind him, that's even more troublesome."

Chu Pengshu put down his teacup and said coldly: "I have carefully studied folding beijing."

"Setting aside the emotional praise, this work indeed has flaws in its structure.

The operating mechanism of the Third Space, the institutional costs of cross-district passage, and the trigger conditions for the characters' key actions—none of these form a complete closed loop."

He paused. "These loopholes can be covered up by emotion and theme in a short story.

But once the judges carry this impression into reading his long-form work, they will subconsciously doubt his structural control."

Zhao Zhizhang nodded: "Pengshu sees it very accurately."

"But the judges of the Kunpeng Award are not all textualists. Those old judges value the social significance and ideological depth of a work more.

Lin Que's folding beijing hits the current social pain points.

This is his amulet."

Shen Jiangping gritted his teeth: "And what about me? I write about real suffering, solid realist themes. Can it really not compare to a high school student's fabrication?"

Zhao Zhizhang did not reply immediately.

He pulled his phone from his inner suit pocket, opened an encrypted file, scrolled to a certain page, and tilted the screen towards Shen Jiangping and Chu Pengshu.

"News I just received."

Zhao Zhizhang's voice was very low. "Before the decision to submit was made, the Qingbei School of Liberal Arts sent all thirty of these students out.

A full month of immersive fieldwork. The Northwest Gobi, urban villages, Northeast markets, old factory areas in Southern Shaanxi..."

He withdrew his phone and tapped his fingers on the table. "On the third day after returning, they submitted their long-form first drafts. On the sixth day, the school decided directly to submit them as a group to the Kunpeng Award.

This speed shows that Qingbei's confidence in this batch of new manuscripts far exceeds our expectations."

Shen Jiangping's expression darkened. "In other words, we know nothing about what Lin Que is actually putting on the judging table."

"And you—" Zhao Zhizhang's tone shifted. "The articles from your pen are too stable."

Zhao Zhizhang was blunt. "Stable means a lack of surprise.

Among young writers under thirty, your writing ability is absolutely top-tier. But Lin Que's appearance has broken this balance.

Judges naturally value writing ability, but the freshness Lin Que brings is too strong. For a youth award that has already developed inertia, this freshness itself is a variable."

Shen Jiangping fell silent.

He knew Zhao Zhizhang was telling the truth.

In literary creation, he had indeed fallen into a bottleneck.

This was why he had secretly signed with Zhao Zhizhang's publishing group, attempting to use capital operations to solidify his position.

Zhao Zhizhang looked at Shen Jiangping, his tone softening: "Jiangping, you don't need to be discouraged.

It's easy for one person to blow up once; to continuously stand firm within mature rules is true ability.

The market doesn't yet know if he can continuously produce output; this is our entry point.

As long as we add variables outside the judging table, his shortcomings will be magnified.

What newcomers fear most is never questioning, but the constraints of a mature system."

Chu Pengshu put down his teacup, his voice cold and precise: "But we can't make it too obvious. If we let the judges see that we are deliberately suppressing them, it will instead stir up their protective instincts.

I will continue to deconstruct other public works from the Program. Using only an academic framework, without a hint of emotion.

When everyone is accustomed to my deconstruction, accustomed to the technical scrutiny of this batch of new works, when the judges sit at the judging table, their first reaction won't be to be moved, but to subconsciously look for structural problems."

Zhao Zhizhang looked at Chu Pengshu with appreciation: "Pengshu is right.

What we must do is an open conspiracy. An open conspiracy that they cannot find fault with."

He stood up and walked to the window. Outside the window was the bustling night view of the capital, with heavy traffic and flashing neon lights.

"Jiangping, the fact that you secretly signed with our group has not been made public yet."

Zhao Zhizhang looked at Shen Jiangping, his tone calm. "This is your last time being eligible to participate in the Youth Award.

If you take the championship, the subsequent copyright development and long-tail traffic will ensure you never have to worry about food or drink for the rest of your life."

Shen Jiangping nodded: "I understand, but..."

"Lin Que's momentum is too great right now; I'm really not very confident about suppressing him during the final judgment."

Zhao Zhizhang sneered: "The board of directors is betting on this very hand.

A bunch of college students who haven't even graduated, if they really overturn the chessboard I spent two years laying out...

Then it's not just a matter of losing face.

It's that someone will have to pay for this result."

Shen Jiangping pressed: "Then how should we break the deadlock?"

Zhao Zhizhang picked up the tea that had already gone cold on the table and downed it in one gulp.

He placed the teacup heavily on the tabletop, making a dull thud.

"Relying solely on online public opinion and 'praise-killing' is no longer enough."

Zhao Zhizhang straightened the hem of his suit, his voice filled with biting coldness. "If online public opinion cannot suppress him, then we will move the battlefield into the rules."