Can I really not go in?
Wang Shuang’s eyes brimmed with pleading, but he was up against the stone-hearted Xie Qian.
Reluctantly, Wang Shuang followed Xie Qian to the study, turning back every few steps, looking as pitiful as a blade of grass swaying in the wind!
Wang Shuang’s grievances lingered even when Li Mengjiao arrived for tutoring. She nearly turned up late, missing the drama, and couldn’t fathom Wang Shuang’s sulking.
“Why do you want to meddle in everything? You don’t even understand it. Isn’t it better to leave things you don’t get to those who do?”
Li Mengjiao was carefree, even comforting Wang Shuang.
She often spouted unintentionally wise words, leaving even Xie Qian unsure if she was genuinely clueless or just playing dumb.
Everyone has their strengths, and even the best can’t excel at everything. Li Mengjiao’s mindset was like a company boss, not knowing the trade doesn’t matter, let the experts handle it, as long as the results are good, you’re off the hook. Wang Shuang wasn’t utterly hopeless, just not yet enlightened. He didn’t know his strengths, and seeing his friends shine brighter, he grew anxious.
Wang Shuang thought, we’re different, you can be clueless and still be a star, but if I don’t know anything, how will I stand out in Tianjiao, or in society?
At eighteen, Wang Shuang felt the weight of anxiety.
This was normal, everyone goes through it growing up. Wang Shuang’s misfortune was having dazzling friends, and he was desperate to catch up.
Others could help, but no one could live this journey for him.
Not Wen Ying, not Xie Qian.
Still, Xie Qian felt he could help, giving Wang Shuang more confidence for the future.
No matter what Wang Shuang did or when he found his niche, a good university was always a safe bet.
Xie Qian showed his care through exam papers.
“Finish these before noon.”
Two test papers suddenly appeared before Wang Shuang. He looked at Xie Qian, who remained unfazed, then at Li Mengjiao, who clutched her pen, head down, focusing only on her own work.
Poor Wang Shuang, trembling in the autumn breeze.
…
In the living room, Mrs. Wang was oblivious to her son’s torment.
More so, she had no idea that in Yuan Fenghui’s words, she’d become Tianjiao’s PR manager.
Yuan Fenghui had indeed offered her the job, but Mrs. Wang was still mulling it over, not yet agreeing.
Work has its perks.
Being a full-time housewife has its perks too.
For her son’s bright future, Mrs. Wang was willing to hustle, to keep his helpful friends close.
But going to an office daily, clocking in for her son’s sake, come on, isn’t sleeping in sweeter, or shopping and binge-watching dramas more fun? Years ago, she toiled alongside her husband to build their empire from scratch. Now that she could finally relax as a salted fish, why go back to work and exhaust herself?
Mrs. Wang was unaware of the “PR manager” title Yuan Fenghui had pinned on her, but her actions now perfectly matched the role.
Wen Ying and Yuan Fenghui handled the serious talk, while Mrs. Wang livened the mood.
Before Wen Ying finished presenting the plan, Mrs. Wang had already secured a follow-up meeting with Zou Weijun.
Zou Weijun agreed in a daze, distracted by Mrs. Wang’s enthusiasm. Wanting to say something, she met Mrs. Wang’s fervent gaze and genuine smile, making refusal impossible.
Fine, agree to Mrs. Wang for now.
Zou Weijun tried to refocus, summarising Wen Ying and Yuan Fenghui’s proposal, “A creative writing contest to select adaptable story material for Tianjiao Films, while promoting *Spark* magazine, using high prize money to attract talented writers…”
Wen Ying nodded, “Exactly, quality submissions can be published in batches in *Spark*. Most authors might come for the prize money, but a few could become regular contributors, drawing attention to *Spark* and its readers. Oh, I just thought, we could adopt the ‘audience voting’ mechanism from talent shows for the final round. Readers could vote on shortlisted entries. But that means stricter word limits, as overly long pieces won’t work for unified publication in the finals!”
Borrowing the “audience voting” mechanism from talent shows?
Wen Ying’s suggestion left Zou Weijun speechless, and even Yuan Fenghui paused.
Yuan Fenghui backed Tianjiao and *Spark*’s creative writing contest for practical reasons.
Practical as she was, Yuan Fenghui still held some reverence for writing contests.
She thought Wen Ying was qualified to judge entries.
But letting readers decide the quality of submissions, wasn’t that too frivolous?
Only Wen Ying was unfazed.
She was, after all, a reborn soul from the web novel era.
Web novels boiled down to reader votes.
From clicks and bookmarks to subscriptions, recommendation tickets to monthly passes, from tipping coins to gifting virtual trinkets, every standout novel in the library owed its success to readers’ relentless support.
A gripping story didn’t need authors shouting for attention, readers would organically boost its stats, letting great works take centre stage!
Of course, the web novel era was still distant, so Wen Ying couldn’t use that to convince Zou Weijun and Yuan Fenghui. Instead, she cited Tang Dynasty poet Bai Juyi, “It’s said Bai Juyi wrote poems for simplicity, reading them to old women. If an ordinary grandma understood, he’d keep the poem, if not, he’d revise. Literature is serious, but it can also be grounded. A story’s quality is proven by readers’ enthusiasm, so why can’t ordinary readers judge?”
*Spark* aimed for inclusivity, not mimicking trendy youth magazines or going the pure literature route like *Sprout*.
Since it wasn’t about being pretentious, why not engage readers more?
Winning contest entries would also feed Tianjiao’s material pool, and whether adapted films were good still depended on ordinary viewers, didn’t it?
Wen Ying even considered adaptations.
Mrs. Wang couldn’t help clapping, “I think Wen Ying’s spot on. A TV show’s success isn’t just up to you professionals, it’s the audience’s call.”
Writing contests? Mrs. Wang didn’t get them.
TV dramas? She was a seasoned viewer.
“Tonight’s the finale of *The Princess’s New Clothes*. Ratings are the audience’s choice. Letting readers pick in a writing contest is perfectly normal!”
