Chapter 515: The Center of All Attention

Wei Xiaozhu looked up at Dai Qing's eyes and saw tears—few in number, but crystal clear.

This made her involuntarily recall a line from Jin Yong's "The Legend of the Condor Heroes": "At the Wind Bell Ferry, our first meeting; one glance at Yang Guo, and my life was doomed."

Wasn't Dai Qing just another Guo Xiang?

Unfortunately, she too had fallen for Li Heng—someone she could never have.

Over the past year, though Dai Qing deliberately avoided him and kept her distance, as her closest friend, Wei Xiaozhu knew well: Qingqing had been silently watching him from behind.

One unbreakable rule was this: whenever Li Heng made a big splash in music, Dai Qing would go to the library the next day to read that day's newspapers and search for news about him.

If she couldn't find it in the library, she'd sneak off to roadside newsstands.

The old saying goes: if you stand by the river long enough, your shoes will get wet.

The more often she sneaked around, the more likely she was to be caught—and eventually, Wei Xiaozhu found out. Dai Qing, being straightforward, confessed everything to her best friend: she couldn't forget Li Heng.

If it weren't for Li Heng's recent pure music album, which made Dai Qing feel they no longer lived in the same world, she wouldn't have taken such a drastic step.

Hundreds of cameras kept clicking nonstop, relentlessly focused on Li Heng; reporters seethed with frustration—they'd walked right past the writer Shiyue for so long without recognizing him, and now they desperately wanted to capture him in their lenses as their exclusive prize.

Ye Zhanyan had come today, quietly hiding among the crowd with her friend. Zhao Menglong was beside her.

Seeing Ye Zhanyan staring fixedly at Li Heng, the center of everyone's attention, her friend Ye Lan couldn't help whispering: "Zhanyan, did you already know Li Heng was the famous writer Shiyue?"

With nothing left to hide now, Ye Zhanyan admitted plainly: "Yes."

Ye Lan asked: "Did you come to Shanghai last night just to see him?"

Ye Zhanyan replied: "Yes."

Ye Lan pouted: "So I'm not important, then? We've been inseparable since freshman year—am I really less significant to you than a single hair on him?"

Ye Zhanyan's eyes never left Li Heng's figure as she answered: "It's different. We've exchanged letters often. But him? I might not see him even once a year—maybe never again for five or ten years."

"Alright, you answered so sadly, I'll let you off this time."

Sensing her friend's low spirits, Ye Lan slipped her arm around hers and asked: "Was that why you broke up with your boyfriend last year and turned down Cambridge—because you fell for him?"

Ye Zhanyan answered again: "Yes."

Ye Lan asked: "Do you still love him?"

Ye Zhanyan paused, then glanced at Zhao Menglong beside her and answered firmly: "Yes."

Hearing that single word "love," Zhao Menglong felt as if a heavy hammer had struck his chest—his heart ached so badly he could barely breathe. Yet he bore no resentment toward Li Heng, for he understood: he and Li Heng were not even on the same level.

In his eyes, Li Heng now shone like the bright moon, while he himself was but a dim firefly—how could a humble, dust-covered firefly dare compete with the moon in the heavens?

Ye Lan asked: "You've been in America so long—surely you've met at least one man you liked?"

Ye Zhanyan frowned, then sighed: "Li Heng is the most poisonous love potion in the world. Once you fall for him, can you ever love anyone else?"

Ye Lan grew agitated, tiptoeing to take another careful look at Li Heng, forced to admit the truth, then asked: "If that's true, and you're so beautiful, why not try?"

Try?

Hah!

Didn't she want to try?

But last year, when she tentatively invited him to dinner, he said he'd bring wheat ears—then she knew: this man had no romantic interest in her.

Besides, she'd been in a relationship before. Though nothing physical happened, no kissing or intimacy, they'd held hands and shared years of emotional connection—her soul was no longer pure.

Would a man like him tolerate even a speck of dust? Could he accept someone like her, who'd once been in love?

After long months of self-torment, she decisively left Fudan, left China, and fled to America.

Seeing her friend fall silent, Ye Lan seemed to understand, and finally asked with concern: "If you can't have him, but can't let go—what will you do?"

What to do?

Her gaze settled on his tall, upright back, and a profound, unprecedented confusion washed over Ye Zhanyan.

Zhao Menglong had been listening to the two girls' conversation. Seeing Ye Zhanyan's state, he finally couldn't hold back: "Zhanyan, you've come all the way to Shanghai—try once more. Whether you succeed or not doesn't matter; don't obsess over cause and effect. At least you'll have been brave."

Ye Zhanyan pushed a strand of falling hair behind her ear and smiled bitterly: "How do you try without any emotional foundation? Do I just walk up and ask if he wants a mistress?"

Zhao Menglong trembled, unable to look at her again.

Ye Lan gripped her friend's arm tightly, her eyes still tracing Li Heng in his moment of glory, her heart heavy: This was the power of a top literary giant! Without saying a word, merely by his identity, he had driven Zhanyan—once one of Fudan's Four Little Kings—to the brink of despair! It was terrifying!

Ye Lan thought with dread: If I ever faced Li Heng, I'd be reduced to nothing.

…

At this moment, Li Heng's charm and influence were amplified infinitely by the camera lights; his figure, surrounded by Jin Yong, President Sun, Professor Yu, and other university leaders, appeared towering and majestic.

At this moment, the university gate fell utterly silent—except for the laughter and chatter of Li Heng and his companions, only the flashing lights of cameras remained.

At this moment, faced with the extraordinary prodigy that was Li Heng, everyone fell silent.

All were replaying the moment Jin Yong had reached out to shake Li Heng's hand, the first words he'd spoken—Li Heng was Shiyue! Everyone was stunned into speechlessness by this astonishing identity.

It seemed no words could soothe the chaos in their minds.

How could one person be this powerful?

How could anyone be this extraordinary?

He appeared on the Spring Festival Gala, became an instant sensation, and swept away the Best Performance award.

He wrote books, producing immortal classics like "To Live," "The Bitter Journey of Culture," and "Bai Luyuan" in one breath—leaving readers breathless, forcing "Shouhuo" magazine to break industry norms and unprecedentedly offer royalty payments. Faced with this man, adored by millions of loyal readers, his critics were powerless, reduced to barking from the shadows.

And when he released a pure music album, he swept across China as an outsider, making masters like Wu Yili bow their heads. Later, he exploded beyond China, beyond Asia, reaching the entire world—earning pounds and dollars in Europe and America, piercing the hearts of fans in Japan and Korea, and gathering legions of celebrity admirers in Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan!

As Lin Qingxia said yesterday in a media interview: "At a friend's recommendation, I suddenly fell in love with pure music. Mr. Li Heng is truly extraordinary—he completely changed my perception of mainland Chinese music and musicians."

A journalist asked: "What was your previous impression of mainland Chinese music?"

Lin Qingxia thought for a moment and replied: "Stiff, outdated—maybe it was just my lack of taste. I couldn't appreciate it. But Mr. Li's compositions are truly beautiful; I got hooked immediately. For the past twenty days, I've listened to four or five of his pieces every night before sleeping."

Lin Qingxia admitted that due to cultural differences, she'd never considered listening to mainland music before. When her friend first recommended the pure music album, she ignored it. When the friend gave her the album as a gift, she reluctantly placed it at home to gather dust. Only when the friend recommended it a third time did she decide to humor him—she played it at home, and then she couldn't stop. It consumed her completely.

This was a microcosm of the album's reception in Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and worldwide: most initially rejected it, dismissing it as coming from mainland China, convinced it couldn't be good. Yet against all odds, it spread slowly through word of mouth, inching forward in a slow, relentless comeback—finally securing second place on the UK music album charts.

It has begun climbing the US Billboard charts too; though its ranking is still modest, the upward trend is unmistakable.

Tell me! Tell me! He's brilliant in writing, brilliant in music—how can anyone even find fault with such a man?

What fault could anyone possibly find?

Haven't you seen Jin Yong himself, the legendary master, travel thousands of miles just to visit him?

How old is Jin Yong this year? Sixty-four!

How old is Li Heng? Nineteen!

With such a vast age gap, Li Heng still won over Jin Yong, the revered master from Hong Kong—tell me, isn't that incredible?

All faculty and students at Fudan were convinced. When they saw Jin Yong reach out to shake Li Heng's hand, when they heard Jin Yong say he'd read "Bai Luyuan" four times, whether they knew Li Heng or not, whether they were close or distant—everyone now took pride in him.

Everyone took pride in the fact that Li Heng was one of Fudan's own!

Countless thoughts swirled, yet the university gate remained utterly silent…

Everyone stood frozen like statues, all eyes fixed on Li Heng, watching him move with effortless grace.

Watching Jin Yong take the initiative to pose for a photo with Li Heng.

Watching President Sun and the other leaders pose for photos with Li Heng.

"Holy shit! My uncle's here!" When Lü Guoyi saw his uncle step out of the third Mercedes and stand at the edge of the crowd, his heart shattered—his faith nearly collapsed!

His uncle was the most powerful man in their family, the source of his arrogance and bravado. Now he was reduced to a mere backdrop for Hengge, forced to stand at the periphery during photo sessions—damn it! How could he ever brag about this again?

Jin Yong had finally met Shiyue. Li Heng gave him an overwhelming impression:

First, he was young—unreasonably young.

Second, he was extremely polished, extremely confident.

Third, something strange—he felt an aura emanating from this teenager.

Even at sixty-something, Jin Yong felt as if he were speaking with an equal. This puzzled him deeply.

How could this be?

PS: Posting first, editing later.

This amount may not satisfy, but my fingers hurt—I'll rest now and continue tomorrow.

(End of chapter)