Chapter 132: Cultural Ambition, Red Sleeves Add Fragrance (Subscription Requested!)

The English teacher’s hometown is not far from Shaoshan, about twenty li away, right along the main road between the county seat and Shaoshan.

Looking out the window at the golden rice fields, Li Heng suddenly got an idea and shouted to the driver: “Driver, stop here!”

“Kid, we haven’t reached Shaoshan yet,” the driver said, seeing his youthful face and assuming it was his first time there, kindly warning him.

“I know,” Li Heng replied.

“Screech!” The bus stopped.

Li Heng shouldered his bag and got off; Li Ran and Zhang Zhiyong followed, bewildered.

Li Ran scanned the surroundings: all he could see were rice fields, rolling hills, and a few thatched cottages.

“Li Heng, what are you doing? Why get off halfway?”

Li Heng pointed to a wooden house ahead on the right: “That’s the English teacher’s home. Let’s go take a look.”

Li Ran suddenly understood: “So we’re visiting her house? We should bring something.”

“Of course.”

The three found a small village store nearby, bought some candy and liquor, plus some fruit, spending nearly fifteen yuan in total.

In this era, this was an extremely luxurious gift.

Each of them carried multiple bags, walking in single file along the field ridges, and soon arrived at the English teacher’s home.

As soon as they stepped onto the threshing floor, they saw the old headmaster—the English teacher’s father.

Beside him stood a fashionable woman with big curls, presumably the English teacher’s second wife, whom she’d married in Changsha.

Seeing the couple, Zhang Zhiyong muttered under his breath: “Big Brother Heng, we might’ve come all this way for nothing.”

Li Heng had the same bad feeling.

Indeed, after greeting the old headmaster and the English teacher’s grandparents and chatting for a while, they learned she’d returned to Shaoshan two nights ago, had a meal, and left without spending the night.

Not seeing her, the three drank a glass of water and left.

“What now? No bus?” Zhang Zhiyong asked, slumping on the ground.

“Wait. A passing vehicle will come,” Li Heng replied confidently.

About five minutes later, a mid-sized bus drove toward them, packed with people; the driver didn’t stop.

Eleven minutes later, another bus came; no matter how they waved, the driver ignored them completely, kicking up a cloud of dust as it sped past.

“Damn it! So cocky just because you’ve got a vehicle?” Zhang Zhiyong, covered in dust, jumped up and cursed.

After cursing, the three kept waiting.

After about twenty minutes, a vehicle finally agreed to pick them up.

As soon as they boarded, Li Ran suddenly asked Li Heng: “Are you trying to bring your English teacher along again?”

Li Heng hadn’t planned it before, but after seeing the old headmaster and his wife, the idea returned:

“We all know each other. One more person makes it livelier. We’ll call and ask when we get to the city.”

Zhang Zhiyong was thrilled: “Hehe, now we’re four again! I was already missing one of you.”

Li Ran wholeheartedly agreed; last month, the four had traveled together, bonding deeply.

Arriving in Shaoshan, Li Heng immediately found a public phone and called the English teacher.

“Dong dong dong!”

The phone rang once and connected; a sultry voice answered: “Hello, who’s this?”

“Teacher, it’s me.”

“Li Heng? What do you want?”

“Teacher, I just went to your hometown and found you weren’t there. We’re heading to the Three Gorges—come with us? Chen Zi and Li Ran are waiting.” Li Heng cut straight to the point.

“Teacher Wang, come with us! We’ll have company. It feels incomplete without you,” Li Ran chimed in.

Wang Run thought for a while, then asked: “Where are you?”

Li Heng said: “West Bus Station. We just got off.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Wang Run made a firm decision: “Then go to the train station first. I’ll come find you.”

“Oh, okay! Okay!” Li Heng was overjoyed; after hanging up, he clapped hands with Li Ran and Chen Zi in celebration.

“Li Heng, I’m hungry. I’m going to find a restaurant and treat myself to a big meal,” Li Ran said.

“Sure, no problem. My treat.” With the English teacher back in the group, Li Heng was in high spirits.

Not long after arriving at the train station, the English teacher showed up. She wore a red shirt that accentuated her full bust, paired with casual pants and red shoes; her walk swayed with irresistible charm, radiating sensuality.

Many people stared, swallowing saliva silently.

After greeting Li Ran and Chen Zi, the English teacher narrowed her eyes and, as she passed Li Heng’s ear, whispered a warning: “Look again, and I’ll gouge out your eyes.”

Li Heng rolled his eyes.

Teacher, you’re wrong! Don’t keep accusing me of staring!

You’ve got that much to look at—there must be at least eighty men sneaking glances around here, maybe a hundred. I’m just reacting naturally. What’s wrong with that?

Thanks to the English teacher’s connections, the train tickets they’d given up hope on were easily obtained—still hard sleepers.

After eating, as the four waited for the train, Wang Run shook her hair and smiled thoughtfully: “Plans never match changes. I never expected to run into that couple at home, or to be traveling with you again.”

Li Heng asked: “Teacher, didn’t the old headmaster tell you he’d come back from Changsha?”

The English teacher sneered: “I refused to communicate with him.”

Li Heng nodded and handed her a bottle of soda.

At just after eight p.m., the four boarded the westbound train and arrived at the Three Gorges the next morning.

Unfortunately, the weather turned bad—light drizzle fell, and a chilly wind blew; the four could only stare helplessly.

But Li Heng wasn’t idle. After finding a place to stay, he immediately called the magazine “Harvest.”

“Hello, who’s this?”

“Editor Zou, good morning!” Li Heng recognized the voice instantly.

“Is this Teacher Li?”

Zou Ping had been unable to reach Li Heng for the past month; calling Wang Run’s number went unanswered. He’d been frantic—now, suddenly, the call came, and he jumped to his feet in excitement:

“Teacher Li, you finally called! If you hadn’t, I was going to your hometown to find you.”

Li Heng apologized: “I’ve been traveling for the past two months, no fixed address. Sorry.”

Hearing “traveling,” Zou Ping asked curiously: “Where are you now, Teacher Li?”

Li Heng said: “At the Three Gorges.”

Zou Ping’s mind stirred; he gathered courage and asked: “Have you gotten new writing inspiration?”

Not bad—you’ve got the right instincts. He didn’t hide it: “I’ve been writing these past two months. I’ve already written tens of thousands of characters.”

It was true!

Zou Ping, who’d only been testing the waters, was overjoyed inside. He calmed himself and asked: “What’s the subject?”

Li Heng said: “Prose.”

“What? P-prose?” Zou Ping was stunned.

No—he was utterly astonished!

How old is he?

Just barely eighteen?

How did he jump straight to prose?

Zou Ping’s mind froze, unsure how to respond, but he couldn’t openly question it; he only asked anxiously: “How long will you stay at the Three Gorges?”

Li Heng paused, then said: “Depends on the weather. Probably one or two days.”

Hearing this, Zou Ping felt disappointed but pressed on: “Where’s your next stop? Have you decided?”

Li Heng said: “Dongting Lake.”

Zou Ping immediately made a decision: “Then I’ll wait for you at Dongting Lake.”

Li Heng roughly understood his intent—he was eager to check the quality of the new manuscript. He didn’t refuse: “Fine. We’ll probably arrive in three days.”

After finalizing the meeting details, Zou Ping broke the good news: “Teacher Li, congratulations! The standalone edition of ‘To Live’ has surpassed one million copies. As of yesterday, total sales reached 1,067,203.”

Over a million copies?

The number was staggering, completely unexpected.

Li Heng was delighted, his mouth nearly splitting his face.

He calculated quickly: each book priced at three yuan, with a 5% royalty—over a million copies meant he’d earn 160,000 yuan.

160,000!

A true fortune!

Li Heng’s head spun; the thrill surpassed even the sensation of having millions in future savings.

“Teacher Li, are you still there?” Zou Ping asked cautiously, hearing no response on the line.

“I’m here,” Li Heng replied.

Zou Ping asked for his opinion: “Should I give you the bank draft when we meet, or wait until you get to Shanghai for university?”

He was quite attentive—even knew where Li Heng planned to attend university.

For safety, Li Heng weighed the options and said: “No rush. Give it to me when I reach Shanghai.”

“Alright.”

Since phone calls were expensive, they exchanged a few more brief words and hung up.

No sooner had the call ended than a figure appeared at the editor-in-chief’s office door.

Editor Liao asked: “Was that just Writer Shiyue on the phone?”

Zou Ping answered yes.

Editor Liao asked with concern: “He’s been gone this long—where did he go?”

Facing his superior, Zou Ping didn’t dodge the question; he recounted everything that had just happened in full detail.

For example, Li Heng traveled across half of China.

For example, he’s writing a new book.

After listening patiently, Editor Liao frowned: “You didn’t mishear? He’s really writing essays?”

Seeing the editor shared his doubt, Zou Ping felt inexplicably relieved: “I’ve confirmed it repeatedly.”

Editor Liao fell silent, then after a long while said: “Go buy two tickets. No, forget it—don’t worry about this anymore. I’ll take over.”

“Huh?” Zou Ping looked utterly bewildered.

He had firmly decided to latch onto this big, thick leg as his future golden editor opportunity—why was it suddenly being taken away from him?

Instantly, he felt deeply upset, but dared not show it.

Editor Liao noticed his odd demeanor, patted his shoulder, and said: “The credit still goes to you. You’ll still handle the December coordination.”

“As for this case, we’ll handle it as an exception—I have something personal I need to discuss with him.”

Hearing this, Zou Ping’s mood instantly brightened, his face breaking into a grin.

Seeing his expression, Editor Liao smiled too, then changed his mind again: “You’d better come with me—otherwise you won’t be able to sleep or eat in peace.”

Zou Ping scratched his head and forced a dumb grin.

Back in the office, Editor Liao closed the door, then picked up the desk phone and dialed a number.

After about half a minute, the call connected: “Zhao Yi, it’s me.”

“Uncle Liao, so early? What do you need?” Huang Zhao Yi hadn’t gotten up yet, hadn’t even opened her eyes.

“I’ve got news about the writer December.” Editor Liao spoke.

Huang Zhao Yi instantly opened her eyes: “Uncle Liao, are you busy? Let’s meet and talk.”

“Fine.” They arranged to meet at a café, then ended the call.

An hour later, Editor Liao appeared at a nearby café, glanced around the entrance, then headed toward a private table in the corner.

“Zhao Yi, you got here earlier than I expected.” Editor Liao sat down and started chatting.

“Uncle Liao, forgive me—I just got up.”

After ordering two coffees, Huang Zhao Yi paused for a long while before asking: “What’s his real name?”

Editor Liao had already anticipated this question: “Li Heng.”

Huang Zhao Yi pondered the name, then asked again: “Where is he now?”

“He’s currently in the Three Gorges. He’ll be at Dongting Lake in three days.” Editor Liao relayed what he knew.

Huang Zhao Yi thought for a while: “If I show up unannounced, will he be annoyed?”

This question stumped Editor Liao.

Because he had no idea what had happened between Li Heng and Zhao Yi.

He didn’t know the content of their letters.

He only knew Li Heng had suddenly stopped responding to her.

And Zhao Yi seemed to still harbor resentment over it.

Editor Liao suggested: “Then this time, appear as my assistant?”

Huang Zhao Yi shook her head: “I sent him photos.”

???

A row of question marks floated through Editor Liao’s mind. Though he knew she deeply admired Li Heng’s talent, he hadn’t expected her to be this forward.

So forward as to send photos.

This shattered his previous perception of her. They faced each other in silence, momentarily speechless.

Huang Zhao Yi smiled bitterly: “Does it seem unbelievable?”

Editor Liao asked: “What was Li Heng’s reaction?”

Huang Zhao Yi’s gaze drifted to the window: “He hasn’t contacted me since.”

Editor Liao silently sighed, but understood Li Heng completely.

After all, Li Heng was only barely eighteen, while Zhao Yi, despite her distinguished background, was significantly older—how could he possibly feel anything for her?

In fact, there was a miscommunication: Editor Liao didn’t know Li Heng had rejected Zhao Yi under the guise of being a married adult man.

And Huang Zhao Yi didn’t know Li Heng was barely eighteen.

Bound by status and face-saving, Editor Liao couldn’t ask about their correspondence. Huang Zhao Yi naturally wouldn’t elaborate either.

So, in a sense, they were talking past each other, without true exchange.

The coffee arrived. After the server left, Huang Zhao Yi asked: “His new book is essays?”

Editor Liao said: “I’ve only heard rumors—I haven’t seen the content.”

Huang Zhao Yi asked: “Uncle Liao, do you think it’s promising?”

Editor Liao thought for a moment, then shook his head: “Hard to say.”

He added: “But Li Heng’s talent is undeniable. He might deliver an unexpected surprise. That’s why I’ve decided to go myself.”

He looked at her.

After a long silence, Huang Zhao Yi finally replied: “I won’t go. I’ll wait for his new work at home.”

Editor Liao nodded.

After finishing their coffee, they parted ways.

Before leaving, Huang Zhao Yi had wanted to ask Editor Liao to get her a photo of Li Heng—to see what he looked like—but remembering his rejection and his concern for his image, she swallowed the words.

…

For two days, light rain fell over the Three Gorges, and Li Ran dragged Zhang Zhiyong around the small town in wild abandon.

But Li Heng, aside from reviewing local county annals, went nowhere—staying in the hotel, focused entirely on revising his manuscript.

For “A Bitter Journey Through Culture,” he did not copy Yu’s words verbatim.

Though Yu’s prose was exquisitely beautiful, its flaws were equally obvious.

For instance, the style was overly ornate, lacking natural, fluid expression.

Though “A Bitter Journey Through Culture” established the standard for cultural tourism through its blend of culture, history, and sentimentality, Yu overlooked deep exploration of culture’s essence.

Though widely regarded as a rare classic in Chinese literary history and holding an extremely important place in contemporary literature, these flaws limited the work’s depth and breadth, causing some readers to rate it poorly.

Li Heng, with his rich reading experience and decades of life experience, decided to retain the strengths while improving the weaknesses.

Especially in exploring culture’s essence, he put in real effort.

He not only visited the sites in person to observe and reflect, but also studied local documents and annals, plus the 140+ reference books and notes left by Zhao Jing, and his own two-lifetime experience—he was now fully prepared, his wings fully grown.

Li Heng could confidently say: his words were not only more beautiful, but also elevated in literary and cultural depth, reaching a new height the original never achieved.

Of course, he meant no disrespect to Master Yu. On the contrary, in terms of pure literature, he still admired him greatly.

What he was doing now was merely building upon the master’s shoulders—removing excess, adding cultural depth, elevating the work to another realm.

Originally, “A Bitter Journey Through Culture” consisted of a preface, afterword, and thirty-seven essays, totaling over 230,000 characters.

But after Li Heng’s revisions, he estimated the final length would reach around 320,000 characters.

It was a monumental undertaking, carrying the ambition of his rebirth.

He planned to drain every ounce of his knowledge, pour his heart and soul into this work, making it more dazzling, more brilliant.

To give it a higher historical standing in literary history.

Though he had already stunned her multiple times, watching him relentlessly overhaul the original, Wang Runwen, the English teacher, still couldn’t calm her heart as she gazed at his meticulous profile.

She had thought him a genius, believed his prose had reached perfection—but each revision made his words even more refined and vivid, his progress unmistakable. She felt she had encountered a monster.

Perhaps—yes—he truly was a prodigy. Not of this world.

As the English teacher thought this, she secretly rejoiced, feeling the honor of witnessing history, witnessing a miracle.

Outside, the rain kept falling, tapping against eaves and corners with a tinkling sound.

Though the window was open, the room remained stiflingly hot. When she saw sweat beads gathering on his forehead, about to drip onto the paper, Wang Runwen, lost in the literary world, didn’t think—she leaned forward slightly and instinctively pulled out a handkerchief to gently wipe his brow.

But in that instant, her fullness nearly pressed against Li Heng’s left arm—softly, faintly, the touch clear and tender.

The air trembled.

One looked up, the other lowered her eyes. They gazed at each other in silence for a moment, then silently returned to their tasks.

The English teacher wiped his forehead clean, then gently brushed his neck as well—her movements always tender, delicate, utterly unlike her usual sharp “Get lost!”

The room was quiet, save for the patter of rain and the soft “shush” of the pen on white paper.

After finishing, the English teacher returned to her original posture, watching him write, occasionally glancing at his profile, her heart serene.

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(End of Chapter)