Literary critics are quite different from writers, and even writers differ among themselves. Success shouldn’t be judged solely by sales.
But a bestselling work always has its merits. It may not suit some readers’ tastes, yet it surely resonates with others. Taste is personal, and a bestseller proves it has an audience. As long as its values aren’t deeply flawed, Old Fu views market literature with an open mind.
Does *Teen Idol* have any issues with its values? The whole book radiates youthful positivity. Old Fu only wishes there were more such works; how could he criticise it?
With a sound message, sales become a key measure of *Teen Idol*’s excellence.
For a mere essay competition, Wen Ying’s *Teen Idol* is more than enough to qualify her as a judge!
Old Fu even thought the organisers were thoughtful, selecting judges from three generations, aligning with literature’s past, present, and future.
“The times have changed, I often sigh. Literature is tied to its era. Before the founding of the nation, our literature critiqued feudalism, awakening the spirit of an enslaved people. Countless compatriots suffered, their minds unawakened, and the call to revolution wouldn’t sound without literature. Thus, many familiar literary giants emerged to meet the era’s needs. After the founding, literature sang of the revolution’s hard-won victory. The nation developed through struggle, and literature bore the marks of hardship and pain. Individual and collective, all transformation required this step. The literary atmosphere remained heavy and serious, an era we witnessed firsthand. Literature’s future belongs to young writers like ‘Upstream Fish’. I don’t deny some young writers exaggerate adolescent woes for poetic effect. To them, a breakup feels like the world’s end…”
Li Mengjiao’s reading here made many, including Wen Ying, burst out laughing.
Old Fu’s words nailed much of today’s youth literature.
Class 16 had its share of early romances, with breakups that felt devastating. In Old Fu’s words, these were “forced poetic woes”. Some students felt personally called out.
But then Old Fu’s tone shifted. He didn’t criticise these young writers; his words brimmed with joy and hope:
“As I said, literature reflects its era. Why do young writers amplify adolescent pain? Because in their lived experience, that pain is paramount! Our nation is growing prosperous, its people no longer suffering. Material conditions improve, and the young don’t face the hardships of past generations. Their works, reflecting their lives, lack that old weight. This isn’t bad; it’s the best of times. We eat well, dress warmly, and young writers needn’t starve to create. The old heaviness is gone. Shouldn’t we applaud this? If anyone thinks essay competitions shouldn’t offer high prizes, I’d say their intent is malicious, misleading young writers to think they don’t deserve to earn from writing, reinforcing the stereotype of writers as ‘starving’. This dampens literary enthusiasm, and in time, the literary world will lack successors!”
Writing can earn money, and there’s no shame in it. It’s skilled mental labour, legitimate work, a clarion call of thought. If writers don’t deserve to earn, society’s wealth distribution is grossly unfair.
Li Mengjiao, reading aloud, wanted to clap for Old Fu.
No wonder Xie Qian stopped her from posting for Wen Ying. Even with her fanbase, she couldn’t match Old Fu’s impact!
Every point, whether Li Mengjiao considered it or not, Old Fu covered. Literature and societal progress are linked. Supporting Wen Ying, he elevated the article’s intent. Such content might seem dry, but Old Fu’s gradual buildup made even non-literary fans like Li Mengjiao nod in agreement.
When Old Fu ended by asking the literary world to show more tolerance and care for young writers like ‘Upstream Fish’, to let them grow into pillars of literature’s future, the article flowed like streams into a sea. Each word landed in readers’ hearts, sincere and never off-putting.
Li Mengjiao set down the paper, leading the applause, her hands red from clapping.
The whole class joined in.
This applause was for Old Fu’s approval, Wen Ying’s encouragement, and their own aspirations.
Blood surged from their hearts, coursing through their limbs, stirring their spirits.
Old Fu spoke of literature, yet it felt broader.
He encouraged Wen Ying, yet it felt universal.
Great writing touches everyone differently.
Strong youth make a strong nation. All present were young, and with more encouragement and care, less scolding and suppression, their futures held endless possibilities.
“Wen Ying, no one will dare criticise you now!”
Old Fu praised Wen Ying, but Li Mengjiao looked proud, as if she were the one praised.
Wen Ying laughed.
She said she didn’t mind criticism, but she wasn’t a masochist. No criticism was better.
Would anyone still criticise her? Wen Ying was curious if any critic had the nerve to face Old Fu’s iron fist!
As Li Mengjiao and classmates discussed, Wen Ying turned to Xie Qian.
“You knew Old Fu would publish this!”
“I didn’t.”
Liar!
Wen Ying now knew Xie Qian hadn’t gone to Shanghai that weekend. Lowering her voice, she asked, “How did you convince Old Fu?”
Xie Qian’s throat itched at the question.
Tell the hamster he read *Teen Idol* to Old Fu? No way, he had his pride!
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
Xie Qian denied it, and Wen Ying smirked, tempted to hum a tune.
Deny all he wanted; she knew he’d visited Old Fu!
Old Fu’s article, just a few thousand words, had no fluff or profanity, yet it felt like he’d hung the critics on a tree, slapping them left and right until their faces swelled like pig heads!
After its publication, the critics fell silent.
Some had sent articles criticising Wen Ying to newspapers. Those not yet printed could be withdrawn, but what about the ones already in print?
Critics argued with publishers in a panic.
The publishers didn’t care.
Old Fu wasn’t scolding them, and the papers would sell another wave!
Critics: … Damn, we might not be human, but you publishers are real dogs!
