Chapter 46: Coming with Infinite Beauty

The ancients said: Good horses are common, but connoisseurs of horses are rare.

This phrase is commonly used in the industry to describe the relationship between editors and writers.

An editor, with keen insight, finds gold amid the chaff and helps the writer soar to greatness.

Once a writer achieves fame and success, they often repay the editor by helping them rise together.

In short: editors make writers, and writers make editors.

On the long train journey, Chen Xiaomi liked to rest her head against the glass, quietly thinking and gazing at the fields outside.

Her thoughts drifted with the fields…

She fantasized about the day when “Alive” caused a huge sensation in the literary world, and when “December” became a master under her guidance—then, whether in the editorial office or meeting colleagues, she would no longer have to tiptoe like an invisible nobody, but finally stand tall with pride.

She could finally casually boast: “I was the one who discovered ‘Alive’… I’m from the same hometown as December, and our relationship…”

Just mentioning it casually—would any colleague in the publishing house or peer in the industry dare not look at her with new respect?

If “December” was truly gifted and could produce another work rivaling “Alive,” she would have one foot already in the editorial hall of fame.

This journey, she had traveled thousands of miles south not just with dreams, but with ambition.

She had spent two grueling years at People’s Literature and wanted to break through, to advance.

Though aware of competitors like “Harvest,” Chen Xiaomi remained deeply confident.

Confident in People’s Literature’s unique, golden reputation; confident in her own ability; confident she could move faster than anyone else.

Gazing at her reflection in the train window, which bore a slight resemblance to Chen Zijin, she was also confident in her figure and beauty.

Though such thoughts were base and unseemly, it was undeniable: beautiful women always had an advantage wherever they went.

If the writer “December” happened to favor this type, she was confident she could subtly captivate him without even undressing.

As a daughter of the Chen family, proud as she was, she had no intention of offering herself physically—but she had no qualms about cultivating the image of a stunning beauty to ensnare him.

After all, he was the genius who wrote “Alive”—even if his appearance was unremarkable, he still belonged among the elite; she could afford to make a small sacrifice.

Along the way, Chen Xiaomi had considered every possible angle, even the desperate tactic of using her beauty.

This trip, she had burned her boats—she was determined to succeed.

Otherwise, returning home in defeat would only invite mockery from petty people like Zhou Chunlan and disappoint her chief editor and elders.

What kind of person was “December” really?

Was he truly a Chinese language teacher?

How old was he? Was he easy to get along with?

Would the sequel to “Alive” remain as brilliant as the first part?

These questions haunted her, circling endlessly in her mind.

Beneath her confidence, she harbored quiet worries.

She feared the writer of “Alive” was a sleazy, oily man, a high-level scoundrel—she worried she might fall into his trap and end up losing both her dignity and her mission.

After all, writers were notorious for their romantic charm, a tradition almost innate, making them impossible to guard against.

Yet even more than that, she worried about the quality of the sequel.

“Woo…!”

As the train’s arrival whistle sounded, Chen Xiaomi snapped out of her reverie and checked the time—it was just past nine in the morning.

From Jingcheng to Shaoshan, she had changed trains once, spending over thirty hours total—but since she rode in a soft sleeper, she wasn’t overly tired.

Packing her luggage, Chen Xiaomi glanced around, then walked gracefully with the crowd out of the train station.

“Miss, eat! Fresh dishes, only eight cents each!”

“Lady, need a place to stay?”

“Beautiful lady, are you visiting Shaoshan? Where to? I’ll take you…”

Faces surged toward her—varied and suspicious, many of them dangerous predators.

Chen Xiaomi ignored them, walking straight ahead until she met an old classmate.

“Xiaomi, sorry to keep you waiting—my motorcycle broke down, had to fix it. How are you? Tired?”

The man who came to meet her was around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, working in the Shaoshan municipal government; he and his wife had been her high school classmates, and they’d kept in touch over the years, close friends.

“It’s fine, I just got off,” Chen Xiaomi smiled.

“Yanzi already prepared dinner at home. Why don’t we go back first, eat something warm, you shower and rest, then I’ll take you to your appointment later?” the man asked.

Chen Xiaomi shook her head lightly: “No, my matter is urgent—I can’t delay. Take me there first.”

The man urged: “You’ve been on the train so long—you must be hungry. Let’s stop at a restaurant up ahead. I know it well, it’s on the way, won’t take much time.”

Chen Xiaomi was indeed hungry, but still shook her head.

Seeing her resolve, the man, familiar with her nature, said no more. He quickly secured her luggage, started the motorcycle, and asked: “Where to?”

Chen Xiaomi said: “Shaoshan No. 1 High School.”

“What? You’re going there?” the man exclaimed, surprised—he’d assumed she had some major business.

“Yes, to meet an old acquaintance,” Chen Xiaomi replied, not revealing the truth since she didn’t know what “December” was like.

The train station was some distance from Shaoshan No. 1 High School; after weaving through backstreets and shortcuts, it took over twenty minutes.

“Xiaomi, we’re here.”

With a sharp brake, the man planted his feet and stopped the bike.

“Alright, Yunfan, thank you. Go back to work. I’ll call you and Yanzi later.”

“Okay. When you’re done, call home—I’ll come pick you up.”

Chen Xiaomi nodded with a smile, watched the motorcycle disappear, then collected herself and walked toward the school gate.

But before she even neared it, loud shouting had already reached her.

“You’re just a gatekeeper! My son’s about to take the college entrance exam—he’ll be a university student, destined for a government job! How dare you stop me?”

“Pfft! You, a country bumpkin dog, think you can birth a university student? Dream on!”

“F*** you! Let me in! If you don’t, I’ll stab you to death!”

“Come on! Stab me! Right here! If you can’t kill me, your ancestors for eighteen generations are all spineless cowards! I’m over sixty—I’ve lived enough! I’ll trade my life for yours!”

“….”

At the school gate, Old Sun, the gatekeeper, was quarreling with a parent from the countryside—both furious, hurling insults without restraint.

Chen Xiaomi watched for a moment, then moved forward to cut through the chaos.

“Stop! Who are you looking for? Did you notify us in advance?”

Seeing her approach, the furious Old Sun pointed with his right hand and fired three questions at once.

“Hello, I’m here to see ‘December.’ I’m…” Chen Xiaomi prepared to introduce herself.

But Old Sun cut her off angrily: “It’s February! Where’s this ‘December’? Don’t come here causing trouble…”

After scolding Chen Xiaomi, Old Sun turned and grabbed the parent trying to force his way in—the two began shoving and shouting again.

Chen Xiaomi frowned, pulled out her work ID and official letter from her bag, and offered them to Old Sun, hoping he’d let her pass.

“No time! I can’t read! Get lost!” Old Sun had just been slapped by the parent—he was jumping up to retaliate, with no attention to spare for her.

Chen Xiaomi looked between the two, then turned away to find a public phone.

Though phones weren’t as rare as they’d been a few years ago, they were still scarce—she spent nearly fifteen minutes finding one.

She took out her phone book and dialed the English teacher’s home number.

“Hello, who’s calling?”

A woman’s voice answered immediately.

Chen Xiaomi recognized it at once—it was the same voice from previous calls:

“Hello, I’m Chen Xiaomi, editor at People’s Literature. I’ve arrived at your school gate…”

She briefly explained the situation outside.

Wang Runwen chuckled in disbelief—Old Sun, the gatekeeper, was the father of a school leader and indeed couldn’t read, but he was usually cheerful and kind to everyone.

“Wait at the gate. I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you!”

Having lived in the capital for years, Chen Xiaomi’s attire and bearing stood out sharply among the crowd gathered at the school gate—easy to spot.

Wang Runwen stepped out of the school, glanced once, and pinpointed her instantly.

She walked over and asked: “Miss Chen?”

“Hello, Chen Xiaomi.”

“Hello, please follow me.”

(End of Chapter)