55: Contestants? Judges?

The office door was slightly ajar,

and a faint scent of jasmine tea drifted out.

Lin Que called out, “Report,” and pushed the door open.

Shen Qingqiu was sitting behind the desk,

holding an old-fashioned enamel mug printed with “Jiangcheng No. 1 High School.”

The heat blurred her cool, distant gaze.

On the desk, there was only one test paper on top,

and the bright red “59” was exceptionally conspicuous.

She didn't speak immediately, just pointed to the chair opposite her.

“Sit.”

Lin Que didn't stand on ceremony; he pulled out the chair and sat down.

He instinctively reached for the oranges on the table, but halfway through extending his hand,

he met Shen Qingqiu's half-smile and sheepishly withdrew it.

“Teacher, these oranges look quite fresh.”

He was just making conversation.

Shen Qingqiu put down her tea cup.

Her fingertip tapped lightly on the test paper, making a faint thudding sound.

“The entire Chinese Language Department used quite a few tissues today.”

Shen Qingqiu tapped the test paper with her finger.

“Lin Que, you have quite a talent.”

Lin Que looked humble.

“It's mainly because Teacher Jian Shen writes so well. I'm just standing on the shoulders of a giant and showing off a little.”

“Stop your smart talk.”

Shen Qingqiu leaned forward slightly.

“The prompt asked you to write a letter, to write about hope, outlook, communication, and warmth.

But you, you started by writing yourself to death.

Using death to set off familial affection, putting yourself in a desperate situation to find life—you played that beautifully.”

Lin Que leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands:

“Teacher, when you're alive, no one listens to you. It's only after you die that people are willing to read your will.

That's not tragedy; that's reality.

I merely pre-enacted the process.”

“Pre-enacted?”

Shen Qingqiu was so exasperated she laughed.

“You call that pre-enactment?

That line, 'The money is on the card, the love is in the wind,' even the Dean of Students, a man with a heart of stone, got teary-eyed reading it.

Be honest, are these insights truly something someone your age could write?”

She had always felt a sense of incongruity about Lin Que.

He was clearly a seventeen or eighteen-year-old high school student, yet sometimes his eyes held the weary wisdom of an old man who had lived two lifetimes.

That kind of insight into human nature, that indifference toward life and death,

wasn't something you could cultivate just by completing a few practice exams.

Lin Que was silent for two seconds.

He looked up, dropping his frivolous expression.

“Teacher, some things don't require experience, just observation.

After seeing too many tears outside hospital doors and too much smoke rising from the crematorium, you naturally understand.

Didn't Teacher Jian Shen say it, too?

'Everyone has a hole in their heart.

Some choose to patch it up with mud; others choose to grow a flower.'”

Shen Qingqiu was stunned.

She looked at the young man before her, and that familiar, elusive feeling washed over her.

“That mouth of yours...”

Shen Qingqiu sighed, her tone softening.

“Alright, the essay this time was indeed excellent.

Although the theme was a bit extreme, the emotion was sincere and the writing style was mature.

As for that one point I deducted, you know perfectly well why.”

“I understand, you're afraid I'll get arrogant.”

Lin Que replied with a grin.

“I'm afraid you'll treat death as a joke!”

Shen Qingqiu glared at him, then pulled a registration form from her drawer and pushed it toward him.

“This is the registration form for the Jieyou Cup Provincial Middle School On-site Essay Competition.

Our school has three spots, and you're the first one confirmed.”

Lin Que glanced at the form.

It was full of dense clauses and required a two-inch passport photo.

“Teacher, can I not go? I want to catch up on sleep this weekend.”

He asked tentatively, though he already knew the answer.

“Not go?”

“Do you know how prestigious this competition is?

It's jointly organized by the Provincial Department of Education and the Provincial Writers Association. First prize gets bonus points on the college entrance exam,

the top three essays will be recommended for publication in major magazines,

and you might even... receive a personal review from Teacher Jian Shen!”

She paused, her tone becoming meaningful.

“Didn't you keep saying you wanted to learn from Teacher Jian Shen?”

Reverse psychology.

It was cliché, but very effective against “arrogant” students.

Lin Que looked at Shen Qingqiu's “I've seen right through you” expression and found it amusing.

Teacher Jian Shen personally reviewing it?

The scene was ridiculous just thinking about it.

He picked up the pen and quickly signed his name on the registration form,

his handwriting bold and unrestrained, radiating arrogance.

“Go? Of course, I'll go.

Since it's about bringing glory to the school and responding to Teacher Jian Shen's call, I have an obligation.”

He pushed the form back, stood up, and brushed off non-existent dust.

“Teacher, if there's nothing else, I'll head back?

Tonight, I still need to go back and thoroughly study The Miracles of the Namiya General Store,

and strive to move the judges to tears again during the competition.”

Shen Qingqiu watched his irritating back view and waved her hand helplessly:

“Go, go. Oh, right, remember to cut your hair.

The Provincial TV Station will be filming on the day of the competition, don't embarrass No. 1 High School.”

“Got it!”

Lin Que opened the door and strode out briskly.

In the hallway, the setting sun stretched his shadow long.

He hummed an unknown tune under his breath,

but his mood was far calmer than he had shown in the office.

Shen Qingqiu wanted to “reform” him in this way,

pulling him out of the shadow of Dream Weaver and pushing him toward the light of Jian Shen.

Unfortunately, she didn't know.

Light and shadow were originally one... Back at Xisheng Mansion, the house was quiet.

A note was pressed onto the coffee table: the two elders had gone to the community celebration

—to celebrate their son taking first place in the entire school, the old couple were busier than they were during the New Year.

Lin Que was happy for the peace and quiet.

He returned to his studio.

The screen's glow lit up his slightly tired face.

He first logged into the backend of Hongguo Novel Website.

The popularity of Ghost Doctor was still fermenting; comments about tips and update requests refreshed every second.

He glanced at them, not rushing to write.

Instead, he switched to another private email page.

This was Jian Shen's dedicated email address.

Only Wang De'an and Xu Lan from New Tide knew this address.

Usually, aside from manuscript exchanges and necessary copyright communication, few new emails came in.

But today, an unread email was sitting in the inbox.

The sender was an unfamiliar name: Jiang Min.

The email subject was very formal:

[Letter Regarding the Invitation of Teacher Jian Shen to Serve as the Final Review Judge for the “Jieyou Cup” Finals].

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

These people moved fast enough.

The competition was just confirmed, and the Provincial Writers Association was already targeting “the true identity.”

He clicked open the email.

[Dear Teacher Jian Shen:

Hello!

I am the secretary from the Provincial Writers Association Chairman's Office. You can just call me Little Jiang.

I apologize for the abrupt intrusion, but it is truly unavoidable.

Recently, the “Jieyou Cup” Provincial Middle School On-site Essay Competition, jointly organized by the Provincial Department of Education and the Provincial Writers Association, is about to commence.

This competition aims to promote positive literary energy and guide teenagers to establish correct values,

and your work, The Miracles of the Namiya General Store, is the spiritual core and inspiration for this competition.

The Chairman specifically instructed me to sincerely invite you to take time out of your busy schedule to serve as the final review judge for the competition finals.

We understand that you prefer quietude and do not wish to appear in public,

but this competition concerns the literary dreams of millions of students across the province, and receiving your guidance

would be a tremendous honor for these children.

We await your reply.

Sincerely, Jiang Min]

...