The day before The Idol of Youth went on sale, a heavyweight veteran writer and critic spoke in the newspaper, saying that those engaged in literature must first cultivate good character. Writing skills could be improved through practice, but authors with poor character would influence readers through their works, and if such works sold well despite bad character, it would have a harmful impact on society.
The veteran writer did not name names at the time, but anyone with eyes could tell who he was referring to.
The Idol of Youth hit the shelves and sold massively, Wen Ying won her lawsuit, and as the winner, she had to show grace. As a newcomer, it was not appropriate for Wen Ying to chase after a senior to argue, so the veteran writer’s criticism of Wen Ying fizzled out.
But that was last time.
This time was different.
Last time, the veteran writer did not name names; this time, he did.
He first reminisced about the literary world of the past.
In the 1980s, and even earlier, how brilliant China’s literary scene was.
Material conditions were not abundant, yet it gave birth to a large number of talented writers. Literary youth was a term of high praise back then!
“It shows that literary creation has never been about money. Poverty is not shameful; material scarcity can even make creators focus on enriching their spiritual world. Good works, those that endure for centuries, do not cater to the market, do not seek to sensationalise. When a literary competition lowers its standards, becoming as threshold-free as an entertainment talent show, even daring to appoint an underage high school student as a judge just to create buzz, and those promising young authors have their values distorted by such a competition… such a ridiculous and tragic situation, I believe, is the true path to the end of the literary world!”
The veteran writer’s pen was sharp as a knife, not quite weeping blood with every word, but truly heartfelt concern for the future of China’s literary scene.
The criticised party, Wen Ying, was certainly not pleased.
The Starfire Cup writing contest was like Jiang Taigong fishing, willing bait for willing fish. If someone did not want to participate for the prizes, Wen Ying would not force them to write.
Some people were willing to live in material poverty, and Wen Ying could respect their choice.
But some people were unwilling to be destitute, wanting to earn rewards through their talent. Was that wrong?
That was laughable.
Illegal ways like gambling, drugs, or profiteering deserved criticism, but earning through talent without being able to hold one’s head high? Then why bother striving at all!
“How is this? They’ve set their sights on me, treating me like a fat sheep, not stopping until they’ve sheared me bald?”
Wen Ying had known there would be opposition, and she was prepared to face doubts, but some things could happen once, not twice. Chasing her relentlessly, of course she would get angry.
The literary world heading toward its end, such a grave accusation from ordinary netizens would not bother Wen Ying.
But coming from a heavyweight veteran writer, naming her directly, such an accusation could crush Wen Ying!
Even if the target was not Wen Ying but another young writer, Wen Ying would still think the veteran writer was off his rocker.
—China’s literary world was not dictated by some young writer. What ability did a young writer have to lead it to ruin?
Moreover, what end? Even if print media declined, literature had never headed toward ruin; it simply adapted to the times with new changes. That was the law of all things in the world. No industry or field remained unchanged— if it could not evolve, modern vernacular would not exist, literature would still be poetry, songs, and archaic phrases like “zhi hu zhe ye”. Modern Chinese novels, contemporary poetry, and such should all be cut off!
Xie Qian had originally been angry about the veteran writer’s remarks, but seeing Wen Ying so upset, he calmed down instead.
“The gun hits the bird that sticks out. Think positively: they’re targeting you because your fame is big enough, bundling you with the Starfire Cup writing contest because you represent it.”
What kind of consolation was that!
Wen Ying grumbled inwardly, but her face had already turned from cloudy to sunny, “…It’s alright, I suppose. My bit of fame is thanks to Aunt Zou’s support and Teacher Yuan’s efforts, but when Teacher Yuan asked me to cameo in filming, I didn’t agree!”
Xie Qian did not yet know about Yuan Fenghui’s attempt to lure Wen Ying into acting.
Hearing that Wen Ying had refused, Xie Qian felt slightly satisfied: at least she was clear-headed!
But the hamster mentioning it now was probably seeking praise?
Xie Qian thought for a moment, tore a red sticky note from Wen Ying’s desk, and with the red paper flipping swiftly between his fingers, he quickly folded and turned it. Using a ruler, he trimmed the excess, turning the sticky note into a five-pointed star shape.
“What’s this?”
“This is a voucher. Collect five, and you can redeem a wish.”
Xie Qian casually handed the folded five-pointed star to Wen Ying.
Wen Ying held the star, her palm heating up.
Good thing it was a ☆ shape, not a ? shape, or her palm would have been scorched through.
The male god was indeed a male god, flirting effortlessly!
Wen Ying murmured softly, “Why?”
Xie Qian did not answer, his face practically saying “You should understand,” and Wen Ying really did.
Because she refused Yuan Fenghui’s enticement, Xie Qian folded her a five-pointed star to commend her firm stance?
Xie Qian even said five stars could redeem a wish!
The one granting the wish would, of course, be Xie Qian himself.
So this was no ordinary five-pointed star; it was a wishing star itself!
No, that was not it. The point was, Xie Qian’s way of praising was just like a kindergarten teacher handing out little red flowers to coax children?!
Wen Ying could not tell if she was embarrassed or annoyed, probably both. Her face flushed red as she pocketed the folded five-pointed star and fled with the excuse of going to the toilet.
—Childish as it was, only a fool would refuse such a perk!
Though Wen Ying had not yet thought of what to redeem with five wishing stars, Xie Qian was a man of his word. Since he said it, he would fulfil the promise.
Using it to skip tutoring was definitely out.
Who knew when the next wishing star would come, collecting five just to skip class would be a waste!
Wen Ying ran off, but Xie Qian opened the newspaper again and reread the commentary from start to finish, his brows furrowed throughout.
The hamster was easy to coax, brightening with a bit of sunshine, big-hearted, and not one to hold grudges.
But he was not.
Fair criticism, Xie Qian could accept.
If it carried ulterior motives… why stand still and take the abuse?
Seniors should have the demeanour and cultivation of seniors. Criticising a contest was fine, but casually slapping a huge label on an underage girl? It was only because Wen Ying was big-hearted and easy to coax; if she got stuck in a rut and developed psychological shadows, would the veteran writer take responsibility?!
A writing contest with such fanfare, spending countless money and manpower—if the organisers were unwilling, Wen Ying could roll on the ground begging and still not become a judge!
Wen Ying had not originally wanted to be a judge; it was his suggestion.
He had not expected it to bring her such heavy criticism.
Xie Qian closed the newspaper, took out his phone, and called Jiang Xuekun.
