Old Song, Old Song!
Editor Wan nudged once with no response, then nudged again.
Croak—
Song Foxiang, with drooping eyelids, turned to him: What, I’m listening!
You, when you hear me, you don’t even reply. I’m asking if you know her?
Wan muttered.
Song Foxiang’s cheeks puffed up and deflated, puffed up and deflated, quite comical, his tone laced with gritted teeth: I don’t know her!
Wan didn’t notice his friend’s expression, still stabbing at Song’s heart: Well, you could get to know her, same school as Little Chan. Didn’t you say young people should connect more?
Wan clicked his tongue in wonder.
The newspaper said The Fish Swimming Upstream, oh, that’s Wen Ying, and she’s only in Year 2.
So she was in Year 1 when she wrote Teen Idol?
Teen Idol can’t compare to literary masterpieces, but its style is mature, far beyond an average high schooler.
It’s a story about young people, yet it moves adults, truly impressive!
Wan recited Song Foxiang’s past newspaper praises for Teen Idol, genuinely admiring: You’re the cultured one, Old Song. Your insight is sharp, your reviews so profound!
What could Song Foxiang say? He just wanted to return to his pond, stretch his neck in a quiet corner, and croak at the sky!
At that moment, Song Chan came home.
Dad… oh, Uncle Wan, you’re here too?
Wan smiled: I was just talking to your dad about the Teen Idol lawsuit. It’s in today’s Evening News, first-instance judgment: The Fish Swimming Upstream won! Guess what? The author’s a student at your provincial key school, one year below you—
Song Chan’s lips curved into a smile.
They won the lawsuit?
That’s really great.
No wonder she saw Xie Qian at school today and felt something different. Maybe he’d already heard about the victory.
Song Chan had long thought Xie Qian was The Fish Swimming Upstream. Wan was being all secretive, but she played along, feigning curiosity: The author’s my schoolmate?
Wan chuckled: Not just your schoolmate, you might already know her.
Song Foxiang didn’t know Wen Ying, but Song Chan surely did. Both won first prize in the same New Concept Essay Contest, like two martial arts masters in the same town, even if they hadn’t met, they’d have heard of each other.
Song Chan’s smile widened: Uncle Wan, stop teasing, who is it?
Wan pushed the newspaper across the table.
See for yourself.
Song Chan first saw the judgment published in the Evening News.
Reading about the 80,000 yuan compensation and public apology, she felt it was truly satisfying!
Below the judgment was The Fish Swimming Upstream’s bio.
A student at the provincial key school, New Concept first-prize winner… Wen Ying?
Song Chan froze for a moment.
How could it be Wen Ying?!
Wasn’t The Fish Swimming Upstream Xie Qian?
She’d clearly overheard it last time, and the newspaper said so too, a striking young person!
Song Chan’s smile stiffened, her body rigid. She slowly sat down, unable to process for a long time.
Wrong, all wrong, The Fish Swimming Upstream was Xie Qian. Chengdu Evening News was too careless!
A voice screamed in Song Chan’s heart.
Another, calmer voice questioned: Why couldn’t it be Wen Ying? Just because she seemed too ordinary to write a bestseller like Teen Idol or dare sue a magazine and Editor Han in court?
In fact, Wen Ying being The Fish Swimming Upstream made more sense.
She’d never heard of Xie Qian being a skilled writer, but Wen Ying, like her, was a New Concept first-prize winner!
If she could publish a novel, why couldn’t Wen Ying?
The difference was, Wen Ying’s book was more successful than hers.
The difference was, Wen Ying was more low-key.
With such talent, she never boasted when Song Chan asked why she didn’t publish in the school magazine.
Song Chan faced a moral reckoning: when she thought Teen Idol’s author was Xie Qian, she praised it highly, seeing him as a creative kindred spirit. Why, now that it was Wen Ying, did she feel so disappointed?
Did the author’s identity affect her view of Teen Idol?
I’ve been judging by appearances, shallow and hypocritical!
Song Chan was speechless, stunned.
Father and daughter sat at the same table, both crestfallen. Wan finally sensed something was off.
What’s with you two?
Song Croak didn’t want to talk, but Song Chan forced a smile: The news is too shocking, I need time to process.
So, Song Chan did know Wen Ying!
Wan reached this conclusion but didn’t blurt it out.
One talented girl might not always get along with another. Writers often clash, as the saying goes, one mountain can’t hold two tigers, especially two tigresses… it’s a bit delicate.
Wan quietly took the newspaper, folded it, stood up softly, and tiptoed out of the Song household.
He’d planned to open a good bottle of wine with Old Song today, but that was off the table.
The shock hit Song Chan hard; she didn’t even maintain politeness to keep Wan around.
Her mind flashed between Xie Qian’s face and Wen Ying’s, their images alternating like a movie, finally settling on the scene she saw at noon.
Wen Ying was The Fish Swimming Upstream.
Once she accepted this, things made sense.
Someone who could be friends with Xie Qian wasn’t as ordinary as they seemed!
…
When Wen Ying dropped her pseudonym, the shock to the Song family was immense, and they weren’t alone in feeling it.
A New Concept first-prize winner and a bestselling author aren’t quite the same. Many winners don’t make big waves, and first books as successful as Wen Ying’s are rare. Her journey easily reminded people of the two hottest young adult literature writers, both from the same contest, now leading the genre.
The era of two kings had lasted a while, but was a third power rising?
It might be too early to say.
Even Han Qin, reading Chengdu Evening News, was furious.
She hadn’t known Wen Ying was a New Concept first-prize winner. If she had, things might not have escalated to court!
Had she known, she’d have offered Wen Ying higher serialization fees.
A New Concept first-prize winner staying with a young adult magazine wouldn’t be paid just over 100 yuan per thousand words, nor settled with a standard 8% royalty for new authors.
Han Qin didn’t think she was wrong; clearly, Wen Ying hid this fact.
Did Xiao Ni know?
She must have!
Han Qin’s phone rang, her magazine boss calling to hold her accountable.
