Chapter 19

Li Qigang didn't talk nonsense, flipped out Fang Xinghe's manuscript, and piled it in front of Han Han.

"Look."

The one on top happened to be *Another Day of Wanting to Grow Up*.

When he first started reading, Han Han was very cautious, but the more he flipped, the more relaxed he became, and the more he read, the more confident he was.

Until he finished reading, he let out a light laugh: "Just this?"

The speeding teenager's face glowed with strong self-confidence, his eyebrows raised high, his sitting posture was like a horse, leaning on the back of the chair and shaking the manuscript.

"The text is indeed smooth, but what else is special besides that? This kind of campus fresh style is quite in line with his age, but I was too lazy to write this kind of thing when I was in the sixth grade..."

"Don't be anxious."

Li Qigang smiled inexplicably, signaling him to continue reading.

"That's just a casual essay; not even three points of thought were used in it. You should look at the others."

"Heh!"

Han Han curled his lips, put *Growing Up* aside, and picked up the next one.

After seeing the title, his careless expression suddenly changed, adding a bit of solemnity.

It was the semi-final topic essay, *Knowing but Not Following, My Life Should Be Decided by Me, Not by Heaven—Reflections on Seeing an Apple with a Bite Taken Out of It*.

From the perspective of literary common sense, people who can write good miscellaneous essays may not necessarily be able to write good novels or essays, but the most basic appreciation ability is common, and there is no need to question the sensitivity to the text itself.

Therefore, Han Han could naturally feel the magnificent spirit coming from the whole title.

He subconsciously sat up straighter, lifted his spirit, and read carefully.

The room fell silent for a while.

Flipping to the last page and reading the last word, Han Han didn't speak for a long time, then suddenly raised his hand to rub his cheeks.

Li Qigang asked with a teasing smile: "How is it? Do you have a feeling of meeting a soulmate in high mountains and flowing water?"

"It's okay."

Han Han pursed his lips half-convinced.

"If I had received this topic, I could have written it too."

Although he said so, his voice was clearly much lower, and his eyes were a bit hesitant and drifting.

Can I write it that well?

Han Han was not sure; he felt in his heart that it was about possible, but he didn't have much confidence, intuitively thinking that the sublimation was a bit out of bounds.

So this was really not deliberately bragging, but a kind of cognitive blur of "I should be able to do it too."

"I also believe you can write it."

Li Qigang echoed, and his tone suddenly changed: "But *Peering at People in the Cup* is indeed not as good as *Knowing but Not Following*; the pattern is far behind. You still rely too much on instinct when writing things."

Han Han brushed his long hair irritably, wanting to refute, but finally didn't make a sound, just let out a heavy breath.

He is a person who wants face and doesn't want to argue hard without basis.

"Let's look again."

Muttering lightly, he put *Knowing but Not Following* aside and picked up the next one; this time it was *Damn Youth*.

Before starting to read, he moved his chair forward and no longer leaned on the back of the chair, but lay on the table, burying his head to read.

His shoulder-length long hair was scattered, covering his whole face, only his twisted eyebrows exposed in front of Li Qigang.

Old Li smiled secretly and lit a cigarette leisurely.

As an old friend of Han Renjun, he felt he had a responsibility to guide Little Han to a correct mentality; as for the method...

Isn't this it?

Not long after, Han Han finished reading the opening word by word, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable, and grabbed his hair hard.

'Damn, buddy, you really don't care about anyone...'

*Youth* only talks about two words: pleasing.

The opening paragraph calls himself "Laozi," scolding the predecessors of the pain school as impotent, and also killing all the post-80s generation in one fell swoop; the madness is exposed, and the edge is skin-piercing.

Looking further down, it gets fiercer and wilder.

Until the last paragraph, Fang Xinghe's writing style was like a thunderbolt from the sky, blowing Han Han dizzy and numb.

There was a phantom pain as if being run over by a mud truck, making people stop breathing.

"Holy shit!"

Little Han jumped up from the table, dumbfounded: "How dare he write like this?!"

"He just dares." Li Qigang spread his hands, "And he scolded happily, but I was on pins and needles and still had to give him a high score."

To be honest, Han Han also felt like he was on pins and needles.

How can he sit still?

He lifted his butt, walked to the window with big strides, and supported the windowsill with both hands to look at the distance.

The chair he bumped into made a sharp, sobbing sound on the ground.

Li Qigang didn't speak, neither criticizing nor paying attention, continuing to smoke comfortably.

And the frustrated Young Master Han took a deep breath for a long time, finally adjusted his mood, turned around and leaned against the windowsill, and stood there silently reading the last article.

*Sex, Violence, and Lies*

For the next ten minutes, the silence in the room was deafening.

After reading the last word, Young Master Han hung his head, plucked his chin, and stayed there for a long, long time, only recovering after a long while, his expression bitter and confused.

I am not as good as him.

Simple four words, stuck in his throat and turning back and forth, but he couldn't say them no matter what.

Shame, guilty conscience, entanglement, annoyance...

All kinds of unprecedented negative emotions repeatedly impacted that chaotic heart.

Li Qigang got up and walked over, took the manuscript from his hand, reorganized it, and hugged the boy's shoulders for the second time, saying lightly: "Let's go, go home."

Han Han went downstairs in a daze, got in the car in a daze, returned home in a daze, and locked himself in the bedroom.

Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling in a daze, the middle-school-syndrome teenager who was not convinced by heaven or earth felt for the first time in his life what is called talent crushing and wild impact.

He is still proud, but not confident enough.

What the hell is this monster?

By comparison, am I a bit... too weak, too pretentious, too floating?

Once reflection begins, it will not end easily.

In a trance, Han Han suddenly realized that he is now also a pretentious child trapped in the growing pains of adolescence.

The groundbreaking text in *Youth* flooded back into his mind; he annoyed himself and gave himself a slap, cursing while smashing the bed.

"Grass!"

"Really a cheap skin, throwing yourself up to find scolding!"

But regret is regret, he still forced himself to get up, sat at the desk, and began to imitate that *Youth*.

This is not surrender, nor is it cowardice; this is seeing the hunt and liking it, sympathizing with each other.

The article is indeed a bit interesting; I don't want to learn, let alone study; I just, just, uh... just appreciate it.

Having easily convinced himself, the middle-school-syndrome teenager began to peel the text, wilted, and could no longer be arrogant.

Fang Xinghe didn't know that the good big brother had been hit to the point of madness at this moment.

He was quite busy here, busy showing off.

In the eyes of these candidates, Fang Xinghe was extremely excessive; not only did he directly refuse the big pie that fell from the sky, but he was also so cool and light.

"I'm afraid now is not a good time to imagine where to go to college; I'm only 13 years old and have only achieved such a negligible little result."

The appearance bully was full of calm and restraint, not inflated or arrogant, but that light posture was more arrogant than arrogance.

"Thank you for your love, but unfortunately, I am not interested in the Chinese Department, even if it hangs the name of Peking University."

Teacher Wu and Chen Sihe looked at each other and shook their heads and smiled bitterly at the same time.

Forget it, the little madman denied both families at once, because literary special recruitment can only go to the Chinese Department, and there is no other possibility.

"It's okay, we're not in a hurry."

Old Wu decided to play a game of postponement and hurriedly stopped the topic: "You go to school well first, and we'll see in a few years; the situation is constantly changing!"

Fang Xinghe nodded and said goodbye politely: "Then I'll withdraw first, thank you again."

Old Wu and Old Chen watched Fang Xinghe walk toward Chen Danya, hands on hips, sighing in unison: "Sigh..."

I originally turned my heart to the bright moon, but the bright moon is too cold and doesn't look down on us.

Who can solve this pain?

Anyway, Chen Danya couldn't solve it; she just asked with a sense of proportion: "Don't you like Peking University?"

Fang Xinghe shook his head: "It's a professional problem, not a school problem."

"Oh."

Ms. Chen, who didn't quite understand, didn't talk about this anymore and said in a negotiating tone: "Little Fang, the reporters in our agency want to conduct an exclusive interview with you, is it convenient?"

"Of course." Fang Xinghe said casually, "Although I don't think the current interview has any meaning."

The reporter laughed when he heard this: "I heard Editor-in-Chief Chen praise you for being mature early, and it is indeed so. I am Wang Tong, a reporter for the *Xinmin Evening News*; let's find a place to sit down and talk slowly, okay?"

"Then go to my room."

Fang Xinghe turned to lead the way, Chen Danya and Wang Tong followed behind, chatting in a low voice.

"Actually, the interview now really doesn't have much use; maybe you can suppress the manuscript and wait for *Mengya*?"

"Let's talk about it first; even if it's a draft, I have to master more materials than others, after all, you are the person Sister Chen likes!"

Chen Danya was very satisfied and smiled: "If necessary in June, I will apply for you again; what is yours is yours, no one will grab it."

Fang Xinghe interrupted: "What will happen in June?"

"You are smart!"

Chen Danya scolded with a smile, then explained: "Chen Jiayong got the guaranteed admission promise from Peking University, and now he is waiting for the admission letter. Once the matter is truly implemented, the relevant reports will follow immediately, probably in mid-to-late June."

Fang Xinghe immediately realized that the academic and media circles were really well prepared to use the New Concept to bring up a new trend in Chinese language.

He sighed from the bottom of his heart: "Good wind relies on strength, sending me to the blue clouds; this is the pulse of the era.

Thank you again for the energy and effort the teachers have put into middle school Chinese, making me see that the literary world today still has backbone, is still calling out, and is still doing things.

It is very inappropriate for me to say this, but I really have a few more respects for the teachers from the bottom of my heart."

Wang Tong's eyes lit up instantly: "This is a big mind and a high pattern!"

Chen Danya was dissatisfied and scolded: "Just a few points?"

Fang Xinghe insisted with a smile: "Three points is not small, five points can only be given to Sister Chen; me, my heart is high."

"Little person, big ghost!"

Chen Danya burst into laughter, clearly very happy.

But she didn't talk about herself at all, just said: "The teachers know your views, and they will surely be very gratified. After you truly enter the literary world, you can talk to them more; everyone has read your articles and has a deep impression of you."

Fang Xinghe followed this sentence with a joke: "You didn't mention whether it's a good impression or a bad impression; I think it must be mostly bad impressions."

"Hahaha! You child!"

Chen Danya couldn't help but laugh, then sighed: "You got such a head of red hair, and you still expect those old pedants to like you?"

Wang Tong smiled and smoothed things over: "Not really? I think except for a small number of people, the teachers mention Little Fang mostly with praise."

"The article is good!"

Chen Danya couldn't stop once she started praising, her eyebrows dancing.

"Essay competition, fighting for talent; Little Fang writes things so brilliantly, everyone feels happy when they see it. The Fudan principal wanted to make a decision to have him come as soon as he saw the article, but later saw that he was too young, so he gave up..."

Wang Tong immediately kept this sentence in his heart, and even felt that it could be used as the title of the interview manuscript.

What a good explosion point?

Subsequently, he also had doubts: How good are those articles to make so many people praise them?

Itchy, he couldn't help but ask: "Do you still have drafts of those articles? I want to see them."

Fang Xinghe shook his head: "No, the preliminary drafts are all at home, and the semi-final manuscript paper is not allowed to be taken out."

Chen Danya immediately rejected it for him: "Before the book is formed, it must be kept secret. Little Wang, wait until the anthology comes out to see it; it will be more touching to read it quietly then."

"Then it can only be like this."

Wang Tong was quite regretful, but there was no way, so he continued the interview.

"Little Fang, following the previous topic, let's talk about your views on the New Concept competition?"

Fang Xinghe pondered for a moment and spoke slowly.

"The motivation is good, the process is good, the result is not necessarily good, but it is ultimately an influential, meaningful, and pioneering attempt. As one of the beneficiaries, I will always cherish this competition experience."

"Wow, you really speak..."

Wang Tong exclaimed involuntarily, then got stuck there, not knowing how to describe it.

In the end, he only squeezed out a very pale sentence: "You are the teenager with the highest ideological height I have ever seen."

"Is that so?"

Chen Danya was extremely proud, looking as if Fang Xinghe was her son-in-law.

"Don't look at Little Fang's bad boy appearance; in fact, he has a lot of things in his brain!"

The whole interview revolved around this point, and finally confirmed this point, eventually forming a manuscript that Wang Tong couldn't wait to send out.

But it's not enough yet; he still has to endure, waiting for that wind.