Chapter 61: Han Han: You're a madman, right?

High schools across the country are probably all the same; the last two periods in the afternoon are always self-study.

Fang Xinghe circled around, found Class 10 of Grade 10, swept past the front door, and went straight to the back door; sure enough, he quickly spotted Big Brother's figure in the very last row.

My brother is truly miserable.

All his former classmates and friends have advanced to Grade 11, happily continuing to play together, while he was held back to Grade 10, quietly scrutinized by a bunch of little kids...

When Fang Xinghe saw him, he was lying on the desk, staring blankly at a scrap of paper.

"Hey! Han Han!"

Fang Xinghe called out softly, waking Big Brother up—but not completely; he turned around dazedly, his eyes glazed and bewildered, having no idea who this person was or why he was being called.

【7】 "You are..."

"You are..."

"Come out and talk."

Fang Xinghe hooked his finger, raising the bag of fruit in his hand for the third time: "I brought fruit to see you."

"Who are you?"

Big Brother muttered while pushing his chair back, sauntering over in a careless manner.

With no teacher proctoring the class, the Grade 10 students in the back all turned their heads, whispering incessantly.

It wasn't gossiping about Fang Xinghe, but because Han Han was causing a stir.

Great, Big Brother is so flashy wherever he goes~~~

By the time Han Han walked out the door, Fang Xinghe pulled his mask down slightly, revealing his full nose and eyebrows, his eyes smiling.

"I came here specifically to see you; touched?"

"Damn!"

Han Han cursed loudly, so startled he almost jumped up.

Although only his eyes and eyebrows were visible, how could he not recognize him?

Ever since their first meeting, this scumbag had been like a nightmare, popping up from time to time to scare him—this time, he had even popped up right at the classroom door!

"No, why are you here?!"

"Go out and talk."

Fang Xinghe pulled his mask back up properly and left through the back door.

"Does your school have any small woods, rooftops, smoking corners, or other convenient places to destroy evidence?"

"Damn! What do you want to do?"

The rebellious good kid who had never fought was startled into alertness, his eyes full of wariness: "Let me warn you, Shanghai is very different from your place; the consequences of beating people up are extremely, extremely serious!"

Look how self-aware he is?

The word he used was "beating people up," not "fighting."

"Alright, look at your little cowardice."

Fang Xinghe mocked Big Brother shamelessly, feeling extremely happy.

"I came here to shoot an advertisement, I'm going back tomorrow; with nothing to do, I just happened to come check on you."

"Check on me?"

Han Han got excited again, clearly feeling flattered, his expression becoming even more awkward because of it.

"Th-thanks... really didn't expect someone like you to... uh, I'm not good with words, anyway, just thanks."

He saw it.

Big Brother's ability to express himself without thinking was indeed very average, as always.

But he was smart, knowing what the immediate priority was right now.

"Let's go, I'll take you to the place where they secretly smoke; otherwise, if you're discovered later, you'll be in big trouble."

Fang Xinghe asked with a smile: "Is my popularity at your school also very high?"

Han Han thought for a moment and replied: "Not 'also,' it's 'even more.'"

"Oh, then I really must thank you."

"No need!" Han Han rolled his eyes violently, furious, "It has nothing to do with me!"

Fang Xinghe discovered that Big Brother's thinking was very agile, grasping half-finished sentences with both accuracy and speed.

Also true; actually, racing requires extremely high mental acuity; being able to win a double racing championship at 18 and a half after starting late proves Han Han's inner talent is unquestionable.

This is a good thing; we can be more open during our conversation.

The smoking corner of No. 2 High School students was behind a patch of garden, squeezed between several rows of large trees and the school wall, very quiet.

With such a beautiful environment, not smoking a cigarette would be a bit of a spoilsport, so Fang Xinghe took out a pack of Red Pagoda Mountain, put one in his mouth, then held the box opening toward Big Brother, gesturing for him to take one himself.

Han Han looked troubled.

"I'm an athlete..."

"I'm a martial artist."

Fang Xinghe's expression of disdain was too mocking; Han Han gritted his teeth, pulled out a cigarette, and the first puff after lighting it made him cough violently.

Hahaha, this guy is really fun.

The wicked smile on Fang Gou's face appeared and vanished instantly, suddenly turning deep and serious.

"How does it feel to be famous?"

"It's just so-so; besides, I'm not that famous."

"Focus and response; which one do you dislike more?"

"..." Han Han was silent for a short while, "Response; it's too tiring."

"With this mindset of yours, you can't write a long novel well."

Fang Xinghe's confident tone stung Han Han; he suddenly turned his head to look back, while Fang Xinghe just leisurely blew out a smoke ring.

The heavy summer heat of midsummer formed a thick ring around the smoke ring; the lazy evening light passed through the left half, extracting a touch of crystalline tangibility, while the right half remained so ethereal it seemed likely to dissipate even faster.

Just as his thoughts were diverted and he wanted to confirm whether it would truly be so, he suddenly heard a clean, wicked chuckle: "You need greater pressure."

"Are you crazy?" Han Han found it incomprehensible.

"I could be, but I don't need to be."

Fang Xinghe shrugged indifferently and shoved blunt truths straight into Han Han's face: "You like focusing but dislike responding; the root cause is that your ability is insufficient, your heart is insecure and your spirit short, leaving you lost and unconfident.

This little pressure already makes you exhausted, which shows how mediocre your stress-bearing capacity is.

But your potential is far beyond this.

So it cannot be merely tired, not enough; it must be exhausted to the point of collapse, exhausted to the point of explosion, exhausted to the point of wanting to fuck everything over, compressed like a spring to its absolute limit, and then, with a momentum that says one cannot live without going mad, release all accumulated experience and feelings in one go; only then might you produce a good work that exceeds the normal standard..."

Han Han's face turned green then white, filled with anger, grievance, shame, and thought.

Finally, he asked a question that was very unrefined yet most correct.

"What does it have to do with you whether I can write a good work?"

"We are of the same year, not in age, but like the same cohort of imperial examination graduates in ancient times."

Fang Xinghe, in a leisurely manner, laid bare his utilitarian motives for him to see.

"The greatest imperial examination in history, do you know it?

That exam in the second year of Jiayou in the Northern Song Dynasty produced one famous general, three great literary masters, and nine chancellors all from the same list.

You and I both emerged from the first New Concept Essay Competition; under the media's intense hype, this competition has already acquired special significance, becoming a symbolized beacon.

We certainly do not deserve comparison with the greatest list in history, but the more talents that emerge from this competition, the higher the achievements they attain in the future, and the greater the influence they create, the more dividends each of us can share.

So I am not afraid of you being awesome; I hope you become even more awesome. Liu Jiajun, Chen Jiayong, Ding Yan... I hope they all go mad too.

Unfortunately, talent is something very subjective.

Having it does not mean it can be unleashed.

Even if unleashed, it does not mean it is unleashed well.

You are a person with very strong spring-like attributes; I specifically came to apply pressure to you, otherwise, if you release a new book behind me and produce a piece of trash, I would feel it is very meaningless."

Damn!

Han Han felt once again just how arrogant this surname Fang bastard truly was.

He was just short of saying outright, "I'm afraid you'll drag me down!"

But Han Han thought for a moment and realized it was indeed the case: now Fang Xinghe stood alone at the very front, while everyone else remained completely silent.

He instinctively explained for himself: "It's not that I don't want to speak; I just temporarily have nothing good to say. You all make noise; what does it have to do with me?"

Fang Xinghe looked at him with a smile: "But you swore on Dongfang. com that you would take me down."

"Damn! I didn't! That wasn't my original words!"

The sixteen-year-old boy's face turned red with anger, while the fourteen-year-old boy, cigarette in mouth, watched him go mad.

"That stupid reporter not only lied about my words but distorted them beyond recognition; I only said I fear no one..."

"Good, that's the spirit!"

Fang Xinghe immediately interrupted, not letting him continue explaining.

"Maintain your stance; when I accept interviews later, I will definitely clarify things for you."

"Eh?!"

Han Han was stunned, completely confused by Fang Xinghe's teasing, which made him soft then hard.

Could it be I misunderstood?

Is this super show-off actually a good person with a hard mouth but a soft heart?

Han Han's momentum subsided; feeling somewhat guilty, somewhat annoyed, and also somewhat shy, he stammered: "Then, how do you plan to clarify?"

Fang Xinghe replied leisurely: "I will tell them that you didn't start trouble unilaterally; actually, we agreed long ago to clash on a novel, and the one with lower sales must call the winner 'Dad'..."

"Damn!"

Han Han's face, temporarily a bit round, suddenly changed color, his scalp prickling with rage.

"I'll compete with you on your dick!"

"So little confidence?"

"I..."

Young Master Han was almost choked to death; his pride prevented him from admitting it, but the truth was... who dares compete with Fang Xinghe on sales?

This bastard's female fans are spread across the entire country; just in our No. 2 Middle School, half the girls think about his new book every day; it is almost a guaranteed blockbuster.

Li Qigang was extremely optimistic about his new book, constantly fantasizing: if we at Mengya obtain the distribution rights, the first print run will be at least 500,000 copies.

Han Han knew all this, so he simply could not respond.

"I, I won't compete with you; I will just be myself!"

Hahaha, he chickened out, he chickened out~~~

Rarely seeing Big Brother chicken out even once, Fang Xinghe felt it was too entertaining; truly, the trip was not in vain.

But his purpose was not to bully people; having played enough, it was time to discuss serious matters.

"No more jokes with you; the wager can be dropped, but the challenge benefits both of us."

Fang Xinghe's expression turned solemn, and an intellectual yet calm aura swept over.

"Your days are not easy now; I heard Teacher Li say that Uncle Han even got so angry he laid hands on you, right?

In their generation, repeating a year is not merely a shameful matter; it also means the child's future is bleak and dark.

You refuse to accept it and want to prove yourself, so you must produce results.

But you lack confidence; stubbornness cannot solve the confusion in your heart; you can only take one step and see the next.

I indeed want to add pressure to you, but I also sincerely hope you do well; as long as we stick together, we can stimulate each other and squeeze dry the pocket money that junior and senior high school girls spend on HOT posters, Nicholas Tse cassettes, and Kim Sung-woo stickers."

Han Han looked at him with contempt: "Didn't you just slip out the word 'scam'?"

"No."

Fang Xinghe was not panicked in the slightest, his expression unmoving.

"I am the dream god of young girls. When a god earns a little pocket money from them, how can that be called a scam?"

"Holy crap, you're about to become invincible..."

Listening closely, one could even hear a sense of despair in Han Han's sigh; he truly felt this loser was invincible, both powerful and shameless, looking 41, not 14.

Moreover, he simply couldn't figure it out: "Must you really spend all that effort off-stage? Your articles are so awesome..."

"You have a good father," Fang Xinghe interrupted, "I do not."

Han Han fell silent immediately.

He had no face to say, "The re-examination qualification has nothing to do with my father."

After a moment of silence, he clumsily changed the subject: "How do we form a group?"

"I want to launch a plan. You announce your participation in an antagonistic stance, and use certain media to help build momentum."

"A plan?"

Such an obscure word... at the high school level, it was truly laughable.

But after Fang Xinghe began to explain, Han Han couldn't laugh at all, his mouth never closing again.

"Actually, there are a few people in our cohort with great potential, but for some consideration, they are too afraid to take a step forward; either they are waiting, or they have retreated.

I really dislike that.

Obviously, I have no right to demand anything from them, but 99% of things in this world can be solved with money.

I just took an advertisement, so I have a little money now; I can put out one million to provide an opportunity for all award winners of this cohort..."

Gulp!

Han Han swallowed hard, his expression shocked and bewildered, his eyes not knowing where they had drifted to.

"What... opportunity?"

"Self-funded book publishing!"

Fang Xinghe's voice echoed with a metallic clang, tasting slightly of rust in the throat; Han Han couldn't describe his feelings at that moment.

And Fang Xinghe's words were not yet finished.

"From now on, for all award winners, as long as they can produce a work, I will self-fund the printing of at least 10,000 copies for them to release onto the market.

I will cover the costs, they will keep the royalties, I will handle the promotion, and the fame will be their own.

If they perform well later, publishing houses will naturally take over for reprints, and they could earn any amount of money.

If they sell poorly, then they can go back and practice more.

The benefit of doing this is that when we all gather together, we can completely absorb the heat generated by the release of the 'New Concept Essay Collection' and go even further, maximizing the anticipation of readers, judges, the literary world, and the education sector.

Mengya, Peking University, publishing houses, Xinmin Daily... all forces are willing to add bricks and tiles for us.

I have given this plan a name—

The common shout of the first cohort of New Concept award winners, the 'Strongest Voice of the Post-80s' Youth Literature Publishing Plan..."

Han Han had no time to consider too much and reflexively countered: "Then what if some people can't write a long novel? Do you think anyone can do it?"

"'Strongest Voice of the Post-80s' can also be the title of a magazine."

Fang Xinghe looked at his big brother meaningfully: "Long novels get published directly; short stories, essays, poems, novels, and miscellaneous writings go into the magazine. We only issue this one edition; I don't believe it won't sell."

"The money from sales..."

"Roughly divided equally according to the word count published. If we lose, it's on me; if we profit, you split it."

"Reviewing..."

"I can call on Chen Danya, Wang Yali, Li Qigang, and even Yu Hua."

"..."

Han Han painfully closed his mouth, his brain spinning wildly, but unfortunately, it was a complete mess inside.

He couldn't figure out what was wrong with this plan; it was too advanced, he just instinctively felt it shouldn't be that simple.

Finally, he found only the most obvious unreasonable point.

"You spend so much money, for what?"

"For what? For the excitement."

Fang Xinghe grinned, revealing snow-white teeth, smiling so brilliantly in front of Han Han for the first time.

"What's the point of pretending to be cool with a vegetable like you every day? I hope you can prove to the world fully—that I am not a vegetable at all; on the contrary, I am damn awesome!"

Han Han finally understood a bit: "And then, you prove to the world that actually, us who are so awesome are still just vegetables in front of you?"

"You've finally become a tiny bit smarter~~~"

As soon as Fang Xinghe's praise came out, seeing his big brother about to explode, he hurriedly coaxed him with another sentence.

"The opportunity is equal; I've given you the heat and built the platform. If you are not convinced, you are free to take me down. Let works speak; isn't that fair enough?

If I don't step forward, would anyone be willing to publish your new book?"

Han Han was instantly speechless.

Because indeed, no one would.

He had taken his draft to two publishing houses behind his father's back, and they refused to accept it.

After a long silence, he suddenly clenched his fist tightly.

"Fine, you damn well wait and see who crushes whom in the end!"

Very good, this momentum is finally right.

It seems his pressure is about to be maxed out, Fang Xinghe thought very happily: nice, we can look forward to a more restless, more angry, more struggling 'Three-Door' edition.

As a water army leader who had broken free from death, Fang Xinghe never feared anyone being stronger than himself, never feared anyone overshadowing him, and never feared the accusations, comparisons, mockery, and abuse from a mob of disorganized people.

Therefore, whether it was Han Han, Ding Yan, Liu Jiajun, or anyone else, if they eventually produced a work chosen by heaven and took away some of his starlight, he would only feel happy and ecstatic, without the slightest anger or jealousy.

Confidence is truly mysterious; in fact, Fang Xinghe did not dare to be certain that he could definitely grow to the height he imagined, because there were simply too many non-material factors to contend with, where pessimism far outweighed optimism, and the higher one climbed, the harder it became.

Yet he still did not envy others' strength, nor fear his own weakness.

Is this confidence?

Probably not.

Or perhaps, it is on the surface, but not at the core.

Then what exactly is the core? Fang Xinghe could not summarize it clearly at the moment, nor did he care that much.

Watching Han Han, who was excited yet solemn, pacing back and forth in agitation, he smiled gently to himself in his heart.

"Stretching time out, I may not necessarily become the Star River itself, but I sincerely hope that the stars adorning my side are all dazzling and magnificent."

"Then... bloom to your heart's content, my fellow students."

"I truly hope that the opportunities I provide can bring forth a brilliance that did not exist in my past life."

Thus, I suppose this can be considered a blessing for the era...