575: Chapter 575 The Literary Traces Left by Jian Shen

A-031. The moment the image froze, all review terminals lit up simultaneously.

Manuscript Number: A-031.

Genre Tag: Urban Realism.

The main text displayed no author information, and even the title was hidden by the system.

All the judges could see was the first line of text.

"Rainy night, city."

Lights covered the glass curtain walls of the skyscrapers, and the taillights of taxis extended along the main road.

Puddles reflected the neon lights, and the shadows of plane trees fell upon the shoulders of pedestrians, sliced repeatedly by the headlights of passing cars.

The text was densely packed.

Lights, shadows, rain, and the sound of wind were all compressed into the first two pages.

Splendor was the first strength this manuscript revealed, but it was also where its problems first surfaced.

Gu Changfeng finished reading the first chapter and raised his head.

He did not offer an immediate evaluation, only tapping the review sheet twice with his pen cap.

Su Mubai enlarged the font size and read line by line.

Tao Zhiyan had the fastest progress.

When he turned to the third chapter, his finger sliding across the screen suddenly stopped.

The protagonist of the story finally appeared.

A fresh college graduate squeezed into the morning rush hour subway.

The subway announcement was drowned out by footsteps and breathing; the people around were pressed against each other, yet there was no communication whatsoever.

The next several paragraphs were all about smells.

The faint fragrance of laundry detergent came from a girl wearing a school uniform.

The greasy smell of a breakfast pancake clung to the cuffs of a middle-aged man.

The smell of smoke on an old jacket belonged to the night shift security guard standing by the door.

These scents were not piled up to show off technique; instead, each one drew out a person rushing to a different corner of the city.

With just a few details, the carriage gained layers.

Tao Zhiyan read this passage again.

In terms of sensory control alone, this manuscript already surpassed most submissions from young writers.

A few minutes later, Elder Cui Wen pressed "Request Discussion."

The indicator light turned on.

Xue Hongchuan looked up at him.

"Elder Cui?"

Elder Cui Wen took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"The language is very familiar."

"Especially this subway scene; the smells, actions, and character identities are tightly knit."

"Without long-term training, one couldn't write to this level of precision."

Gu Changfeng nodded.

"The word choice is also steady."

Elder Cui Wen put his glasses back on and marked the second paragraph.

"I am more concerned with its rhythm."

Several judges looked at their own screens.

"Whenever the details are at their densest, the author uses an extremely short action sentence to wrap it up."

Elder Cui Wen flipped down a page.

"After finishing the rainy night in the first chapter, it followed with 'He did not look back.'"

"After finishing the smells in the carriage in the third chapter, it ended with 'The door opened.'"

"This kind of closure appears repeatedly, forming a stable narrative habit."

Su Mubai adjusted both marked spots to the same page.

After looking for a dozen seconds, he nodded slightly.

"There is indeed a pattern."

Zhang Zhaofeng, however, frowned.

"If the pattern is too clear, it might be a deliberate design."

"Based solely on two sentence structures, it cannot yet be proven that the author has truly mastered narrative breathing."

Elder Cui Wen did not refute.

"That is why we must keep reading."

The review hall fell silent again.

The sound of page-turning on the terminals rose and fell.

Ten minutes later, Su Mubai finished reading first.

He took off his reading glasses and placed the temples gently on the desktop.

"I have read quite a few submissions from young writers this year."

"Similar changes are appearing more and more."

Xue Hongchuan looked at him.

Su Mubai said slowly:

"In the past, some young authors liked to fill their writing with flowery language, and the emotions were always pushed to the extreme."

"Since the end of last year, it has changed."

"At least among the manuscripts I have encountered, there are significantly more people willing to lower their heads and observe life."

He pointed to the subway paragraph on the screen.

"Laundry detergent, breakfast pancakes, the smell of smoke. These details carry the source of life. The author knows what they are writing."

"This is a realist foundation that is currently taking shape."

The review panel was silent for a few seconds.

Xu Zhengqing's fingers paused on the desktop.

Tao Zhiyan also raised his head.

They all understood Su Mubai's judgment.

Over the past year, "ordinary world" had swept across all major reading platforms.

New Tide launched an author support Program.

In the Program, Jian Shen had dissected the four words "rooted in reality" through a remote lecture.

Some had listened to that lecture.

Some had studied Jian Shen's works.

And even more young authors had simply relearned how to lower their heads and observe life amidst the reading craze.

These paths were different from each other, yet they were collectively changing the face of youth submissions.

Dai Shengzong sat in the observation seat, not participating in the discussion.

A guess emerged in his heart.

The realist trend brought by Jian Shen might have already entered this year's final review manuscripts.

Currently, there was only one sample.

The remaining ninety-nine works would provide the answer.

Gu Changfeng gently twirled the pen in his hand.

"This kind of change is a good thing."

"If young authors are willing to write about specific people and observe specific lives, the writing will naturally settle down."

Xu Zhengqing put his reading glasses back on.

"There is no problem with the shared foundation."

"What truly determines the height of a work is what the author can grow on top of this foundation."

He looked at A-031.

"This manuscript has learned to observe, but the characters have not yet truly stood up."

Elder Cui Wen took over.

"After the protagonist enters the subway, his emotions are constantly pushed by the environment."

"He is tired of the crowding, afraid of being late, and envious of the people in the office buildings. These reactions are reasonable, but the manuscript never clearly states what he truly wants."

Zhang Zhaofeng pulled up the fifth chapter.

"Arranging for him to resign here also lacks the support of prior desire."

"The reader knows he has had enough, but doesn't know where he is preparing to go."

Tao Zhiyan pondered for a moment.

"Sensory descriptions can build a world, but character desire drives the story."

"The city in this manuscript is alive, but the protagonist is still missing a breath."

Judge markings appeared one after another on the screen.

Some affirmed the language control.

Some pointed out the repetition in the middle section.

Others questioned the symbolic rainstorm at the end.

The controversy quickly focused on one question.

Can precise sensory description compensate for the lack of character motivation?

The nine valid scoring seats submitted their results one after another.

The system aggregated them.

[Recommended: 5 votes.]

[Pending: 4 votes.]

[Key Observation: Not entered.]

The three guidance seat evaluations from Xu Zhengqing, Su Mubai, and Elder Cui Wen were archived separately and not counted in the final vote.

Chairman Lv Songran found no information that required recusal, and his score was included in the statistics normally.

A-031 stayed in the upper-middle position.

The language was solid, and the observation was accurate.

The character depth had not yet reached the standard of the final ten seats.

Xue Hongchuan glanced at the time.

"The first one is finished."

"Take a five-minute break."

The judges stood up one after another.

Some went to get water, while others stood in place to stretch their shoulders and necks.

Tao Zhiyan walked over to Su Mubai with a paper cup.

"Elder Su, the realist foundation you mentioned just now, I have also seen it many times this year."

"It is especially obvious in provincial publications."

Su Mubai took a sip of water.

"A model will change the direction of writing."

"When a truly powerful work is placed there, young people will imitate it and also absorb it."

Tao Zhiyan lowered his voice.

"Jian Shen's influence might be deeper than we estimated."

Su Mubai looked at the row of terminals that had already gone dark.

"One hundred manuscripts, only ten will remain in the end."

"With similar foundations, the review must see the differences clearly."

"Some people stop at imitation, while others can digest what they have learned and finally write their own voice."

Tao Zhiyan smiled.

"It seems the ten spots this year will be hard to compete for."

Su Mubai put the paper cup back on the edge of the table.

"It is only valuable if it is difficult."

"What the final review is looking for are finished works."

Five minutes ended.

Everyone sat down again.

Xue Hongchuan started the second round of selection.

A-031 went dark in the candidate pool.

The remaining ninety-nine anonymous numbers began to scroll.

Three seconds later, the main screen froze.

A-067.

Genre Tag: Western Realism.

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