Sigh.
No wonder people say ignorance is bliss. The more you know, the more worries weigh on your mind.
It wasn’t that Wen Ying, the reborn busybody, wanted to meddle. Some things she could pretend not to notice if they didn’t happen right under her nose. When they did, she really couldn’t turn a blind eye.
There were still six months until Shui Mingyue retired and vanished. Wen Ying tucked the matter away in her heart.
Now she was no longer just Shui Mingyue’s reader. They had exchanged contact details and added each other on QQ. Wen Ying could keep track of her movements. Actually, if Shui Mingyue truly wanted to stop writing, that was fine. Everyone has the right to choose their own path.
It would be good if, when the time came, Shui Mingyue simply told her readers, so they wouldn’t worry or let malicious speculation run wild!
Thanks to Wen Ying’s public clarification in the canteen, the credibility of the rumour that she had checked into a hotel across the road with a man plummeted.
He Xin still disliked Wen Ying.
Wen Ying had a big heart and didn’t care.
After all, apart from He Xin, every other teacher at the Academy was lovely to get along with.
The instructors always set aside time in each class for free discussion, exactly the kind of intellectual exchange and creative collision Wen Ying looked forward to most.
In this very classroom, who knows how many similar scenes had unfolded before this cohort arrived? Countless literary works had been sparked by such exchanges. The light of past literature now shone on them. Among this group of young writers, future “literary giants” destined to be engraved in the hall of Chinese-language literature might emerge. Just thinking about it made Wen Ying tremble with excitement!
Her eyes sparkled with fervour.
“Don’t laugh at me for being a country bumpkin. I really never attended anything like this before. No wonder so many people fight tooth and nail to get in. It truly is invaluable!”
He Xin, a 27-year-old PhD in literature, had secured a permanent teaching post at the Academy and was a resident instructor.
Those who lectured without a formal post were even bigger names.
These free-spirited masters disliked constraints. When they had time they came to teach; when they didn’t, they simply said so.
Some had only finished middle school, a few even primary school. Clearly, academic qualifications had no bearing whatsoever on literary achievement.
There is no standard template for writing.
It is all just the writer “making things up”. Write whatever you imagine, never follow trends, write what you know best.
One veteran writer was refreshingly blunt, advising the young ones to be practical. “For instance, if a writer comes from the countryside, write about farmers. Writing about farmers is nothing to be ashamed of. China has hundreds of millions of farmers, and even more ‘children of farmers’. Your potential readership is enormous… and writing about farmers is an easy way to win awards!”
The whole class burst into laughter.
Today an extremely famous writer showed up with a bird’s-nest hairstyle to teach them.
He Xin held this writer in the highest esteem. She had previously devoted an entire lesson to dissecting his prize-winning work, and now she sat through the class with the students, listening attentively.
By the end of the session, He Xin had interacted with the writer more than any student.
Wen Ying instantly understood: this was He Xin’s ultimate favourite!
So Wen Ying did something a little wicked. During the open Q&A, she asked the writer, “Could you tell us how you first started writing? Right from the beginning, did you already have a premonition that you would achieve what you have today?”
This was clearly meant to reignite the debate about “literary values”!
More than half the class immediately perked up.
Trouble! Reverse Flow Fish was stirring the pot again!
Mu Fan and Shui Mingyue exchanged glances: Xiao Yu is going after He Xin?
Was Xiao Yu really that confident?
If this famous writer shared He Xin’s views, wouldn’t Xiao Yu end up thoroughly slapped in the face?
Both Mu Fan and Shui Mingyue saw through Wen Ying’s intentions. He Xin was no fool; of course she saw it too.
Yet He Xin was not the least bit nervous. This was the Academy. Writers who lectured here cared about their reputation and would consider the image they left on the younger generation. No matter why they originally started writing, now that they were successful they would naturally dress it up with a lofty reason.
He Xin had miscalculated.
Or rather, her admiration for this writer wasn’t deep enough. She had projected her own reactions onto him, unaware that this one truly did whatever he pleased.
Oblivious to the undercurrents in the room, the writer scratched his hair at Wen Ying’s question.
“Why did I start writing? Because I didn’t want to work a regular job. I didn’t want to clock in every day, so when someone told me writers don’t have to, I became a writer.”
“Pfft—”
“Huh?!”
“Seriously?”
Everyone except Wen Ying was stunned. The most stunned of all was He Xin.
He Xin tried to smooth things over. “You’re so humorous…”
The writer shrugged. “Humorous what? I’m telling the truth. I became a writer because I didn’t want a nine-to-five. I didn’t want one back then, and I still don’t now. Time’s up. Class dismissed!”
With his actions, this famous writer demonstrated just how much he hated “working”. The moment the bell rang he rolled up his notes and bolted for the door.
To him, teaching was just another form of clocking in. If the Academy directors hadn’t begged him repeatedly, he wouldn’t have come at all!
The writer fled. Wen Ying grinned. He Xin stood rooted to the spot, hair blown by an imaginary wind.
Such a wilful answer clearly shattered Teacher He’s worldview.
How could someone whose work possessed such profound literary value be like this?
Not wanting Wen Ying to see her embarrassment, He Xin struggled to maintain her composure and slowly walked out. The moment her front foot crossed the threshold, laughter erupted behind her.
He Xin did not look back. She walked even faster!
Mu Fan wiped away tears of laughter. “How did you know he’d answer like that? You’re done for now. Teacher He is never going to like you!”
Shui Mingyue was laughing too. “It’s just Xiao Yu’s luck. She happened to run into him.”
Everyone thought Wen Ying had simply been lucky to encounter such an unpredictable famous writer who had brutally slapped He Xin across the face.
Luck was the only explanation they could find.
A writer that famous couldn’t possibly have colluded with Wen Ying just to humiliate Teacher He!
Wen Ying put on a bewildered expression. “Why wouldn’t Teacher He like me? I actually quite want a proper job in the future. A job would give me a regular schedule.”
The classroom roared even louder!
“Xiao Yu has high aspirations. Me? I hate regular jobs.”
“I started writing novels just to earn some money. I never expected the magazine editor to say I wrote well. I was shocked too—”
“I began as a hobby. Then writing earned more than my day job, so I became a full-time writer…”
The room filled with animated chatter. Wen Ying, who had successfully opened the topic, quietly claimed neither credit nor blame.
Luck?
Yes, it was luck.
The luck of rebirth, a luck that belonged solely to Wen Ying.
Unless she said it herself, no one would ever guess that she had been able to slap He Xin because, in her previous life, she had seen screenshots of this exact writer’s interview.
His “I just didn’t want a regular job” quote had been dug up and gone viral across social platforms.
