597: Chapter 597 Kunpeng Ten Seats, More Than Half Have Learned from Him

Wang De'an placed his teacup back on the coaster.

The movement was very slow.

He leaned back against the chair, his gaze calm.

"What happened is actually simple to explain."

He looked around at everyone present.

"Half a year ago, Xinchao Publishing House launched a project internally called 'Social Literature Seminar'."

"The first cohort recruited thirty students. Fang Mian and Zhou Rui were both among them."

"The seminar stage is free of charge, does not bind anyone to a contract, and does not require students to promote it under their names.

Students only needed to submit a work under five thousand words and a creative statement.

The course was delivered in the form of online audio plus text annotations, with assignments submitted once every two weeks, and the editorial team returning feedback for each piece."

He paused for a moment.

"There are a total of seven core lessons."

"There is only one main lecturer."

The air in the conference room tightened a notch.

Wang De'an's next sentence was very soft, yet it was like a pebble thrown into still water.

"Jian Shen."

The silence lasted for three seconds.

Professor Zhang was the first to react.

He abruptly opened the evaluation manual in front of him, quickly flipping to Sun Qiming's defense record page.

His finger pressed down on a certain line of text.

"Wait a minute."

His voice was a bit higher than usual.

"Sun Qiming had his defense this morning.

Elder Su pressed him on why he didn't directly write about the pottery kiln keeper missing the kiln fire."

He read out that section of the record.

"Sun Qiming's original words: 'Once the word "missing" is spoken out, the weight becomes light.

He checks the thermometer every day, and the purpose is to confirm that that pottery kiln is still in his daily life.

When the kiln cools down, the thermometer won't rise.

But as long as he still goes to look at it, that pottery kiln has not completely disappeared.'"

Professor Zhang raised his head.

"What is the underlying foundation of this logic?"

He answered it himself.

"Don't cry out in pain for the characters; let the actions themselves carry the emotion. Let readers hear the sound from the silence themselves."

His finger moved to another record.

"There is also an earlier instance where, when the judges pressed him on his creative methodology, Sun Qiming said a sentence."

Professor Zhang read it out:

"Retreat to the corner of the wall and shrink into a chair. You do not exist. You are only responsible for remembering."

He closed the manual and looked at Wang De'an.

"This formulation does not match the theoretical expressions of any traditional literature school today. But its recognizability is extremely high."

"President Wang."

Professor Zhang's gaze was very direct.

Wang De'an nodded.

"That is precisely from the first lesson, *Before Seeing*."

He didn't explain any further.

Professor Zhang leaned back against the chair. His expression was very complicated.

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan walked back to his seat and sat down.

He opened his tablet computer and pulled up another set of files.

"I'll continue."

The screen switched to a new page.

Three study records.

Respectively marked with the names of Lin Que, Xu Changge, and Tang He.

"These three are students of the Qinglan Project.

During the training camp, they received lectures in rotation from five literary giants."

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan opened Lin Que's study profile.

"During the intensive training, Jian Shen once taught Qinglan Student via remote connection.

The course content was filed with the Writers Association, and I have the complete records in my hand."

He enlarged a section of the text.

The screen strikingly displayed:

"Don't just look at the character arcs."

"Don't cry out in pain for the characters."

"A truly heavy tragedy is when something disappears for many years, and the people around even spare themselves the regret."

Several people in the conference room looked at that line of text at the same time.

Professor Zhang's hand paused above the teacup, failing to fall.

Xue Hongchuan's gaze moved from the screen to Wang De'an's face, then back to the screen.

His lips moved.

"Chairman Zhou, pull up Tang He's defense record."

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan flipped through the tablet twice and found that section.

"Tang He. First round of defense.

Asked about her method of maintaining the ensemble perspective.

Tang He answered: Using the bell of the bicycle repair stall at the street corner as a spatial anchor point.

As long as the bell rings, the readers stay in that space.

Characters can rotate, but the space does not scatter."

Xue Hongchuan continued.

"Second round of questioning.

During the sixth viewpoint transition, the sound system was completely disconnected.

What was Tang He's answer?"

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan read out the original words.

"'Because the sixth switch occurred at the moment the demolition notice was pasted on the wall.

That notice compressed and emptied out the original sounds of the market.

The absence of the bell represents the first tear in the daily order.'"

Xue Hongchuan stared at the screen.

"The absence of the bell represents a tear in the daily order."

He repeated this sentence once.

Then he turned to Wang De'an.

"In Jian Shen's course records, there is one called 'Don't just look at the character arcs'."

"When Tang He was pushed to the limit during her defense, the core logic of her on-the-spot reaction was precisely 'Look at the space, not the characters'."

Xue Hongchuan leaned back against the chair a bit more.

"In the final segment of Lin Que's defense this morning: 'I didn't add poetry to him. The rhythm of the footsteps wasn't bestowed by me; that's what Old Zhao walked out over twenty years.'"

"'I didn't arrange their fates into my narrative template.

I just stood there, stood long enough, until those things floated up by themselves.'"

He paused for a beat.

"Retreat to the corner of the wall, do not exist, and only be responsible for remembering."

"Don't cry out in pain for the characters."

"Let the disappearance itself become the heaviest tragedy."

Xue Hongchuan tapped his fingers lightly twice on the tabletop.

"These three sentences come respectively from the first lesson, the core concept, and the classroom quotes of the third lesson of Jian Shen's seminar."

"And today, on the defense stage of the Kunpeng Youth Literature Award Top Ten, variants of these three sentences appeared in the answers of at least six people."

He raised his head.

"Everyone."

"According to the Writers Association's filing records, Lin Que, Xu Changge, and Tang He all participated in that remote class by Jian Shen."

"Fang Mian and Zhou Rui, students of the Xinchao Publishing House seminar, received training in Jian Shen's seven lessons."

"Sun Qiming, also a seminar student, completed *pottery kiln* based on Jian Shen's first lesson as the creative starting point."

"Six people."

Xue Hongchuan's voice was lowered very low.

"Among the Kunpeng Top Ten, more than half."

"Jian Shen has never even shown its face once."

"Yet its brushwork, its philosophy, and its observation methods have already been carved into these people's bones."

No one spoke in the conference room.

The council member who had raised doubts earlier pushed the half-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

His fingers knocked three times on the documents, breaking the silence.

"Chairman Xue, I have a different opinion."

His voice carried the rigor customary to academia.

He sat up straight.

"First, the so-called 'Don't cry out in pain for the characters' and 'Shrink into a chair'—while these formulations have high recognizability, ultimately, they are summaries at the methodological level."

"It is a normal phenomenon in literary education for a good methodology to be adopted by multiple people."

"We cannot attribute all of their achievements to the instructor simply because multiple students used the same set of methodology."

He turned a page of the documents.

"Second, commercial packaging.

Xinchao Publishing House's market performance over the past year has been extremely dazzling, and Jian Shen's reputation has already established a fairly high level of recognition among the readership.

Under this premise, is there any suspicion of over-packaging by binding the seminar's results with Jian Shen's personal influence?"

He looked towards Wang De'an.

"I have a very direct question.

President Wang, did Jian Shen itself personally participate in the seminar's instructional design and assignment grading,

or did it just lend its name?"

This question was very sharp.

Wang De'an did not get angry.

He put the teacup aside and leaned his body forward slightly.

"Council Member asks a good question. I will answer in three points."

"First, the seven core lessons were recorded as encrypted audio by Jian Shen personally and delivered, with voiceprint information protected."

"The delivery time, file verification, and course versions all leave traces in Xinchao Publishing House's confidential system and can be verified."

"Second, although the feedback on students' periodic assignments was executed by the editorial team, each cohort's grading standards, review points, and special annotations for key students were all confirmed by Jian Shen personally."

"It participated throughout the entire process of the course framework, grading standards, and key student reviews, which counts as actual operations."

"Third."

Wang De'an paused for a moment.

"Regarding Sun Qiming."

His gaze swept across the entire room.

"After Sun Qiming completed his seminar graduation assignment back then, Xinchao Publishing House did contact him and proposed a separate publication cooperation intention."

"But he refused. The original words were: 'Accustomed to freedom, I don't want to be constrained'."

"After that, the matter was never mentioned again."

Wang De'an tapped his finger lightly on the tabletop.

"A person who refused Xinchao Publishing House's contract still used the logic of Jian Shen's first lesson to the bone on the defense stage."

"Council Member Fu, you tell me, is this something that commercial packaging can achieve?"

That council member's fingers stopped on the frame of his glasses.

He did not immediately retort.

The conference room was quiet for a few seconds.

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan took advantage of this gap to pull up another set of data.

"I'll add another one."

What was displayed on the screen was the detailed questioning record of today's defense.

"Lin Que. First round of defense. Professor Zhang pressed on the true source of the synchronization between footsteps and operatic vocals.

One sentence in Lin Que's answer was: 'My job is not to invent the structure, but to recognize it. Then present it without embellishment.'"

"Xu Changge. Asked why the young line patroller did not say thank you.

Xu Changge answered: 'Gratitude falling into the next stop is heavier than being spoken out.'"

"Tang He. Asked whether there is still meaning after the absence of the bell.

Tang He answered: 'Readers might not say that the bell is broken, but they will feel that page suddenly turn cold. What I want is this coldness.'"

Vice Chairman Zhou Wenyuan highlighted all three passages in red and placed them side by side on the screen.

"Three people, three completely different subjects.

Rural realism, Gobi survival, urban ensemble portraits."

"Yet their on-the-spot logic and core strategy when facing extreme questioning were completely identical."

"Do not explain, do not speak on behalf of the characters, hide information in actions and objects, and let absence itself convey information."

He closed his tablet.

"This can no longer be explained by coincidence; this is the trace of training."

Xue Hongchuan did not look at the screen anymore.

His gaze fell on the tabletop, his fingers crossed together.

After more a dozen seconds of silence, he spoke.

"Let me summarize."

His voice was not loud. But everyone in the conference room heard it clearly.

"Kunpeng Top Ten, ten finalists."

"Lin Que, Xu Changge, and Tang He were directly taught by Jian Shen."

"Fang Mian, Zhou Rui, and Sun Qiming received systematic training from Jian Shen through the Xinchao Publishing House seminar."

"Six people. More than half."

"Among the remaining four, at least two of them have restrained brushwork with comparable traces to Jian Shen's published works, and the chain of influence still needs further verification."

He withdrew his hands from the tabletop.

"Jian Shen has not shown its face in a public identity, nor has it appeared on official event guest lists and in media camera lenses."

"To this day, the literary world has still not been able to confirm its true identity."

Xue Hongchuan's gaze looked straight ahead.

"Yet among the top-tier creators of this session of the Kunpeng Youth Literature Award, the underlying creative logic of more than half of them has been rewritten by it."

"Its philosophy has penetrated into the creative foundation of these people."

"Not surface imitation, but something in the bones."

"It has always stood behind the scenes."

"Yet it has already become a core coordinate that the younger generation of the literary world cannot bypass."

As these words fell, not a single person in the conference room made a sound.

The council member who raised doubts took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with an eyeglasses cloth.

His movements were very slow, wiping for a full five seconds.

Then he put his glasses back on and looked towards Xue Hongchuan.

"Chairman Xue, if everything you said holds true."

His voice was much lower than just now.

"Then I have one more question."

"Who on earth is Jian Shen itself?"

"How much of its age, identity, and resume has the Writers Association grasped?

Someone who can systematically reshape the creative foundation of six top young authors—

what level of today's literary world has its creative prowess and academic depth actually reached?"

This question got right to the root of the matter.

Everyone's gaze in the conference room simultaneously fell upon Wang De'an.

Wang De'an held his teacup, not in a rush to drink.

He placed the teacup back on the tabletop, his fingers pausing on the cup handle for a breath.

"To this question, I have no way to answer completely today."

He raised his head.

"But I can provide everyone with a reference material."

Wang De'an bent down and unzipped the briefcase placed beside his chair.

From inside, he took out a thick file with a blue confidential stamp pressed on the cover.

The file was about thirty-odd pages, with sealing strips affixed to the corners.

The cover had no title, only a line of small text in the bottom right corner:

Xinchao Publishing House Internal Archive,

Security Classification: Confidential.

...