Xie Qian was not one to easily show his emotions.
Whether he’d help Peng Guoqing was uncertain to everyone except Wen Ying, who had a hunch.
Even Peng Guoqing himself wasn’t sure.
By the weekend, Wen Ying, Wang Shuang, and Li Mengjiao went to Xie Qian’s house for tutoring, and Peng Guoqing shamelessly tagged along.
Zou Weijun was startled to see him. “Xiao Peng?”
Seeing Zou Weijun, Peng Guoqing acted as if he’d met family, pulling a gift box from his backpack, saying it was from his mother for Zou Weijun.
Mrs. Peng didn’t send anything extravagant, just two silk scarves, the latest from Paris. In her words, they were to accent Zou Weijun’s style for spring, perfect for casual outfit pairing.
Despite Mrs. Peng’s constant drama of catching cheaters or praying, her taste was impeccable. The scarves suited Zou Weijun perfectly.
In front of Zou Weijun, Peng Guoqing earnestly reflected on his past as a slacker, vowing to emulate Xie Qian and become a diligent top student in Rongcheng. Wang Shuang’s expression was constipated, with a hint of unease—Peng Guoqing’s slick moves and words felt eerily familiar.
Zou Weijun found nothing wrong with his words.
Learning Mrs. Peng wasn’t in Rongcheng to supervise, she invited Peng Guoqing to come over for meals often and ask Xie Qian about studies. “Help each other, progress together, right, Xiao Peng?”
Absolutely right!
With thick skin, dreams could come true.
Peng Guoqing looked at Xie Qian pitifully.
Xie Qian’s expression remained unreadable.
Peng Guoqing felt uneasy.
Even winning over Zou Weijun didn’t work?
He’d have to keep trying!
Li Mengjiao and Wen Ying lagged behind, watching Peng Guoqing fawn over Zou Weijun. Li Mengjiao rubbed her eyes. “This Peng Guoqing is weird. He’s only been here a few days, but why does it feel like I’ve known him forever?”
Do slackers either clash or click instantly?
Pfft, no way!
Wen Ying hit the nail on the head. “Because his style of talking and acting is just like Wang Shuang’s mum.”
Right, exactly!
Li Mengjiao had an epiphany.
Indeed, like Mrs. Wang—thick-skinned… er, super outgoing.
…
While Peng Guoqing tried to infiltrate Xie Qian’s group, the short story category of the essay contest’s third round finalists was announced.
“Song Chan?”
Wen Ying was surprised to see Song Chan’s name.
Zhang Guangzhen was puzzled. “Is there a problem? I’ve seen her work before; she’s submitted five or six pieces. Early ones were mediocre, but this one’s story is finally interesting.”
Mediocre was Zhang Guangzhen’s take on Song Chan’s writing.
If Song Foxiang heard that, he’d probably pick a fight!
Mediocre? Song Chan had published a book and won first prize in the New Concept contest!
But Zhang Guangzhen and the New Concept judges clearly had different standards. The “new” in New Concept meant refreshing prose, while Song Chan’s earlier submissions were showy, flaunting her literary skill.
The essay contest didn’t need such flair, just engaging stories!
Though Song Chan didn’t make it in the first two rounds, her foundation caught Zhang Guangzhen’s attention.
In the third round, she seemed to get it, dropping the pointless showmanship and focusing on story creativity, crafting a short story that impressed Zhang Guangzhen.
He didn’t know Song Chan was Song Foxiang’s daughter.
From a judge’s perspective, her new story deserved a finals spot. As for ranking, that was up to reader votes, and the contest was strictly fair!
Wen Ying’s question made Zhang Guangzhen doubt his taste.
“Don’t worry, I’m just asking. Elder Fu reviewed it, right?”
“Yes, Elder Fu didn’t reject Song Chan’s piece.”
If Elder Fu approved, Song Chan’s story indeed had finals-worthy quality.
After reviewing countless submissions, Wen Ying’s writing progress was unclear, but her judging skills had sharpened.
She read Song Chan’s piece twice, finding it genuinely good.
Song Chan’s time studying abroad seemed well-chosen. Staying under Song Foxiang’s wing, with a father planning her every step, would’ve stunted her growth.
A smooth life is a blessing.
If Song Chan wanted an ordinary life, the happier, the better—who’d choose hard mode over easy?
But as an aspiring writer, her life couldn’t be too cushy. Wen Ying wasn’t cursing Song Chan to suffer, but creation required life experience.
Without it, stories feel hollow.
From Zhang Guangzhen’s chosen piece, Wen Ying saw Song Chan’s progress.
“This one’s good. I agree.”
With all three judges in favor, Song Chan’s piece made the third round finals list.
When the list with author names and details was published, Song Foxiang was stunned.
“When did Song Chan enter the contest?”
Why didn’t he, her father, know?
Still, Wen Ying and Zhang Guangzhen picking her piece showed they had taste.
Song Foxiang strutted around the magazine office, brimming with enthusiasm, making Xiao Ni wonder what had gotten into “Old Salty Fish Song.”
Song Foxiang had his bursts, needing occasional prodding.
Seeing Wen Ying, he greeted her warmly.
As a junior, Wen Ying made him reluctant to drop his aloof, sage-like demeanor.
Wen Ying knew Song Chan’s finals spot was the cause but avoided deep chats with “Oily Song.”
Song Chan earned her spot fairly; if Song Foxiang bragged too much, it could raise doubts about the contest’s fairness!
Meeting Zhang Guangzhen, Song Foxiang was all buddy-buddy.
He dragged Editor Wan to join him in inviting Zhang Guangzhen for drinks. In a tipsy atmosphere, Song Foxiang steered the talk to Song Chan, hoping for praise. Zhang Guangzhen, not great with alcohol and slow to connect Song Chan to Song Foxiang, was brutally honest:
“Gifted? Nah, Wen Ying’s the gifted one. Song Chan’s all effort. Her earlier works took the wrong path, showing off with bookish flair, polished but contrived. I rejected several of her submissions. This one’s finally decent—clear progress, maybe a recent epiphany!”
Bookish flair?
Contrived?
Rejected multiple submissions?
Song Chan didn’t make it on her first try!
Pfft.
Editor Wan buried his face in crispy peanuts, too awkward!
Song Foxiang’s nose nearly twisted in anger.
