Chapter 49

At that moment, the living room fell into an odd atmosphere.

Li Heng watched her calmly, effortlessly, studying her.

His gaze settled on her as if mocking her shamelessness.

He actually wanted to be magnanimous, didn’t want to cling to grudges.

But this bitch had always loved to humiliate him in front of Chen Zijin and Chen family relatives and friends with one sentence: “Our Zijin has been beautiful and outstanding since childhood—if she wanted, she could have had dozens of high-ranking officials’ sons and PhD students abroad; I just don’t know what you’re good for, why did she choose you?”

Is that even human speech?

Once or twice, he gritted his teeth and swallowed it for Chen Zijin’s sake. But after hearing it too many times, which man wouldn’t hold a grudge?

In her twenty-eight years, Chen Xiaomi had never endured such mockery.

She was so furious she nearly spat blood.

She racked her brain but couldn’t understand why, since last summer vacation—only half a year ago—Li Heng had changed so drastically.

The old Li Heng had been as docile as a lamb in front of her, never fighting back or speaking up.

He barely dared to look her in the eye.

Now, Li Heng’s words were sharp, and she realized she couldn’t outmatch him at all.

With roles reversed, trapped and helpless, she herself had become the lamb about to be slaughtered.

Just now, she even had a thought: if Li Heng had shown such incredible writing talent last summer, would she have stopped him?

The answer…?

She dared not give an answer, nor dare to think deeply toward it.

She realized human nature—she couldn’t even control it herself!

Unable to bear his brazen gaze any longer, Chen Xiaomi took a deep breath, straightened her head, and decided to try breaking her embarrassment through conversation.

She asked a question she truly wanted to know: “You’re only seventeen—how did you write this novel?”

Hearing this, Li Heng replied coolly: “Miss Chen, are you doubting me? Do you think a country boy like me couldn’t write such a work?”

Chen Xiaomi clenched her lips, silent—she did harbor doubts.

Or rather, not just her—if Li Heng’s age were made public, everyone would feel the same confusion, eager to uncover the truth.

But Li Heng wasn’t so easygoing; he shot back: “Then again, by ancient scholar-class standards, the Chen family counts as a high-ranking clan.”

And since Miss Chen is a top student at Renmin University, your eyes have always been fixed on the heavens—you’ve probably already forgotten the old saying: ‘Poverty breeds noble sons; humble homes produce high officials.’”

He took a breath and continued his blunt attack: “But you’re a highly educated intellectual—how could you ask such a stupid question?”

Hearing the word “stupid,” Chen Xiaomi’s temper flared again, her chest heaving violently.

But Li Heng wouldn’t give her a chance to retort; he pressed on:

“Wang Bo wrote the immortal ‘Tengwang Pavilion Preface’ at twenty-six—why don’t you question him?”

“Huo Qubing was undefeated at twenty-one, sealed the Wolf’s Lair, and was granted the title of Champion Marquis—should you dig up his corpse and put him on trial?”

“Frankly, in my view, age doesn’t define everything.”

“Don’t assume that growing older means growing wiser—just listen to yourself: Old Sun by the school gate is over sixty, illiterate, a complete fool, and still only knows how to curse.”

Chen Xiaomi was furious—she knew full well Li Heng was indirectly insulting her, avenging last summer, calling her a fool, saying she only aged without gaining wisdom.

Her right hand unconsciously gripped her bag, ready to stand and leave rather than endure this humiliation over “To Live.”

But another voice whispered in her mind: Endure! Endure! Just endure a little longer—get through this crisis first.

As Chen Xiaomi struggled internally, a noise suddenly came from outside the door.

Then came a knock, followed by a voice: “Li Heng, open up.”

It was the English teacher’s voice.

Li Heng didn’t hesitate—he stood and opened the door.

Outside stood two people: one was Wang Run.

The other was a man, around thirty-five or thirty-six, with a center-parted hairstyle, neatly dressed and composed.

Upon meeting, Wang Run introduced them:

“Li Heng, this is Zou Ping, editor of ‘Shouhuo’ magazine.”

“This is December.”

Before arriving, Zou Ping had never imagined the author of “To Live” was this young—still a high school student. He was stunned.

Chen Xiaomi had been hesitating whether to leave, but the moment she saw her rival, all her doubts vanished.

Her fighting spirit reignited.

Even if Li Heng had a grudge against her, he wouldn’t turn away money—she still had a chance.

“Hello, Editor Zou. I’ve been discussing publication with Editor Chen from ‘People’s Literature’—I asked the teacher to fetch you. Please don’t take offense.”

From the start, Li Heng abandoned all gentlemanly decorum, immediately setting the pace—aiming to provoke conflict between them.

After all, when the heron and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits.

He feared his rivals might strike a secret deal to save money, so he deliberately lit the fuse—giving them no chance.

Indeed, Zou Ping stared at Li Heng, then at Chen Xiaomi seated on the sofa, and instantly felt urgency.

He secretly wondered: Had Li Heng already reached an agreement with ‘People’s Literature’? Was there still a chance for him?

Before coming, “To Live” had shocked Old Ba, who was obsessed with the sequel and urged him to secure it at all costs.

After brief pleasantries and seating, once the English teacher refilled their tea, Li Heng said to Chen Xiaomi and Zou Ping:

“I’m a senior high school student, about to take the college entrance exam—time is short. I won’t beat around the bush. Shall we discuss the royalty first, or would you two prefer to read the next chapters first?”

Zou Ping was speechless again—someone who could write such a masterpiece was still a student, still worrying about afternoon classes.

How is this even fair?

To make the trip worthwhile and get a sense of the work, Zou Ping spoke first: “If possible, I’d like to read the manuscript first.”

“Of course. No problem.”

Li Heng was generous—he pulled out all the manuscripts from his backpack, several stacks, deliberately placing the first stack of the sequel right in front of Chen Xiaomi so she could read first.

It wasn’t favoritism—he did it to provoke Zou Ping, hoping he’d grow anxious and raise his bid higher than Chen Xiaomi’s.

Chen Xiaomi glanced at Li Heng, as if seeing through his scheme, but said nothing—she opened the first page and began reading intently:

“I’ve been beyond saving since childhood—that’s what my father said. The private tutor called me rotten wood, unfit for carving. Now I think they were right. Back then, I didn’t think so—I had money. I was the only heir of the Xu family. If I died, the Xu line would end…”

The gripping plot instantly captivated Chen Xiaomi, making her forget her grudge against Li Heng in moments.

As the novel’s suffering and sorrow unfolded, subtle expressions of worry and distress crept across her face…

Zou Ping, watching his rival lost in the book, grew impatient but had no choice—without the manuscript, he could only wait.

He pondered inwardly: The way his rival was so quickly absorbed—“To Live” must be excellent. He’d arrived too late, at a disadvantage—how could he turn things around now?

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(End of chapter)