86: A deafening sound doesn't have to be a loud shout.

Jinling.

Shiyue Magazine Agency.

Outside the window, the French parasol trees were left with only withered branches, like the shriveled fingers of an old man grasping at the gray-white sky.

The heating in the office was turned up high,

Fang Zhenyun sat behind a mahogany desk, rolling two glossy, oiled walnuts in his hand.

Click, clack.

The sound of the walnuts colliding was especially crisp in the quiet room.

On the computer screen in front of him was the real-time ranking list for Weibo's hot searches.

The red character "Explosive" was shocking,

with "Yang Jian Becomes a God" on one side and "Tristan Goes Against the Flow" on the other.

The two massive streams of traffic were like two giant whales fighting in the deep sea,

stirring up huge waves across the entire literary world.

"Editor-in-Chief Fang, I don't understand."

Assistant Xiao Chen stood before the desk, holding a stack of data reports, his brows furrowed.

"In the past few days, we've used a lot of astroturfing resources to fan the flames in the comment sections on both sides.

One moment we call 'the ferryman' sentimental nonsense, and the next we call 'the human world is like a prison' garbage.

But... besides increasing their popularity, what good does this do for our 'October'?"

Xiao Chen opened the report, pointing to the dismal circulation data:

"Our sales for this issue, due to the pressure from these two books, have already fallen below the historical low.

Online... their popularity is everywhere,

and the resources we invested are like stones sinking into the ocean..."

Fang Zhenyun stopped his movement and lifted his eyelids.

His eyes, hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, revealed a seasoned shrewdness.

"Xiao Chen, you are still too young."

Fang Zhenyun picked up his teacup and blew away the foam.

"You think I'm helping them?"

"Aren't you? Now the entire internet is discussing these two people; other writers can't even get a sip of the soup."

"Popularity is a double-edged sword."

Fang Zhenyun took a sip of tea and said unhurriedly.

"When everyone's attention is focused on them, they are effectively placed over a fire.

The followers of Dream Weaver tolerate no sentimentality, and the supporters of Jian Shen cannot bear a single cruel word.

These two groups are now two piles of kindling, needing only a spark..."

He pulled open the drawer, took out a gold-stamped invitation, and tossed it onto the desk.

"The spark, naturally, needs to be lit by the authorities."

Printed on the invitation were several large characters:

[The First Su Province "New Literary Talent" Summit Forum]... Jiangcheng No. 1 High School.

Lin Que sneezed and rubbed his nose.

"Got a cold?"

Wu Di leaned over, holding the dog-eared copy of New Tide.

"Brother Que, why don't you go see the nurse?

The New Year's Day Gala is coming up soon, and you're the star of our class.

If you collapse now, Old Shen will tear you apart."

"Nah, someone's probably just cursing me behind my back."

Lin Que tightened the collar of his school uniform.

Winter in Jiangcheng is like a magic attack; the damp cold seeps into your bones.

"Curse you? Who dares curse you?"

Wu Di waved his fist.

"Who in the entire school doesn't know you're famous now?

Even the cafeteria aunties don't shake when serving you food! If I go with you, I get an extra big chicken drumstick every time!"

Lin Que rolled his eyes at him and didn't respond.

He knew clearly in his heart,

although the online public opinion had been pulled back somewhat by the new chapters of "the ferryman," the undercurrents were intense.

The feeling of being watched made him very uncomfortable.

"Oh right, Brother Que, how is your poetry recitation coming along?"

Wu Di looked curious.

"Yesterday I saw the Arts and Culture Committee member Liu Hui so anxious she was pulling her hair out,

saying you haven't even gone to rehearsal, and if you forget your lines on stage,

our class will be utterly disgraced."

"What's the rush?"

Lin Que pulled a piece of chocolate out of his desk drawer.

"Let whoever is not worried worry."

"Wait, huh? No, Brother Que, why are you making a personal attack?"

Wu Di was indignant.

"I am concerned about collective honor!"

Just as he spoke, the front door of the classroom was pushed open.

Several students wearing Student Council uniforms walked in,

The leader was a tall boy, wearing a badge that read "Chairman of the Student Council" on his chest.

Li Ze.

The top student of Senior Class 3 (1),

and one of the chief planners for this New Year's Day Gala.

He held a program list,

his gaze swept around the classroom, finally settling on the corner of the last row.

"Is Student Lin Que here?"

Li Ze's voice carried an air of bureaucratic arrogance.

The entire class fell silent.

Lin Que slowly stood up:

"Can I help you?"

Li Ze walked up to him, his gaze sweeping over him,

finally landing on his face, which looked somewhat lazy from just waking up,

his eyes holding a few traces of scrutiny and a few traces of unconcealable jealousy.

It was because of his first prize winner award that Li Ze, the original school star, had been overshadowed.

"Regarding the performance you submitted, 'Coco'."

Li Ze shook the list in his hand.

"The Student Council review committee discussed it and felt that the format of this performance is too simple, and... the theme is a bit obscure.

Poetry recitation like this isn't suitable for the finale of the gala; it's likely to fall flat."

"So?"

Lin Que asked indistinctly while chewing the chocolate.

"Therefore, we suggest you switch to a different performance. Or..."

Li Ze paused.

"Just cancel it entirely. After all, the gala has limited time, and we need to ensure the overall effect."

A burst of whispering arose in the classroom.

This was clearly picking a fight.

Who doesn't know that Lin Que's performance was specifically requested by the principal?

Wu Di was about to stand up and argue, but Lin Que pressed him down.

Lin Que looked at Li Ze and smiled.

"Simple? Obscure?"

Lin Que swallowed the chocolate and brushed the crumbs from his hands.

"Chairman Li, have you heard my recitation? Have you read my script?"

"No, I haven't."

Li Ze was confident despite being unreasonable.

"But what kind of tricks can a poetry recitation have?

It's nothing but 'Oh, the ocean,' or 'Oh, Mother.' Middle schoolers are tired of that stuff."

"Funny you should say that."

Lin Que put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward slightly.

"My recitation genuinely doesn't have any 'Ohs' in it."

"Lin Que, I'm doing this for your own good."

Li Ze frowned.

"When thousands of people from the whole school are watching, if you go up and read a few overly sentimental poems and get zero reaction, you'll be the one who's embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?"

Lin Que raised an eyebrow.

"Chairman Li, how about a bet?"

"What?"

"If I fall flat, I'll admit I have no talent in front of the entire school, and I'll give you that first prize winner trophy."

The whole class erupted in astonishment.

Li Ze's eyes lit up; that trophy was an honor he had always dreamed of.

"But if..."

Lin Que changed the subject, his gaze turning sharp.

"If I don't fall flat, if the entire venue is so quiet you could hear a pin drop... you have to recite 'Peppa Pig and Family' over the school radio station every morning during morning reading for a week."

"Pfft—"

Someone couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.

Li Ze's face immediately flushed red.

"Fine! You're on!"

Li Ze gritted his teeth.

"I don't believe a measly recitation can cause any waves! Lin Que, don't you regret this!"

Having said that, he stormed out with his group.

Wu Di looked at Lin Que with a worried expression:

"Brother Que, did you go too far?

That's a whole-school gala; everyone goes to watch singing and dancing. Who has the patience to listen to a recitation?

What if it really falls flat?"

Lin Que sat down again and pulled a white piece of paper from his stack of books.

There were only a few lines of text on the paper.

"Don't worry."

Lin Que spun his pen, looking at the gray sky outside the window.

"Some voices don't have to be shouts to be deafening."

...