Chapter 101: A Bit of Strength, But Not Much

Lu Cheng clapped his hands twice: "A bit of strength, but not much!"

Facing Lu Cheng's disdain, this time Xu Wenjie did not get angry.

Only because he was confident that this poem, even if not the finest, was still far beyond what ordinary people could compose.

"Hum, is bragging fun? In my poem, I liken the Stinky Gutter to the sea, yet the whole piece contains not a single word 'Stinky Gutter', fully meeting the elegant theme, and it even directly elevates to the motherland at the end."

Xu Wenjie patted the mud on his body: "Then tell me, what's wrong with my poem?"

Lu Cheng nodded slightly: "Since you want me to give you some pointers, I certainly won't hold back my teaching…"

Arrogant, too arrogant! Xu Wenjie took a deep breath, waiting for Lu Cheng's instruction.

Lu Cheng took two steps in place: "First, likening the Stinky Gutter to the sea fits the topic well, and I admit your observation is sharper than that of ordinary people.

But the diction is overly ornate, lacking any breath of life, and the ending forcefully elevates; one could say the whole poem is flashy but unsubstantial."

Xu Wenjie extended a finger: "You… are simply talking nonsense! What right do you have to criticize me? You could never write such verses in your whole life."

Lu Cheng said to himself: "That's irrelevant; a truly good poem should use emotion as the bond and life as the foundation. Life is the soil of poetic creation, emotion is the artistic elevation of life, and even the simplest words are sufficient."

Hearing this, Xu Wenjie suddenly froze there; the true essence of poetry is indeed so.

But he didn't want to admit Lu Cheng's words, lest he lose face.

"You say emotion is the artistic elevation of life; does that mean that when I ultimately elevate to the motherland, there's no emotion?" Xu Wenjie said, nodding.

"Also true, someone as coarse as you cannot appreciate such refined poetry. It's not that I look down on you; if you have the skill, write me a poem. If you can make the sentences coherent, I'll consider you capable."

Lu Cheng doesn't know how to write poetry, but to crush this despicable scoundrel's spirit, he had to produce that famous poem.

"Fine then, since you used the sea as a metaphor, I'll use the sea as an image."

Xu Wenjie narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow: "Follow me? Hum, trying to surpass the original by following the trend is even harder than composing a new piece yourself. I advise you not to do that."

Lu Cheng replied: "Thanks for the suggestion, but there's no first in literature, no second in martial arts. If I don't also write a poem about the sea like you, wouldn't it be harder to rank us."

Xu Wenjie thought it made sense: "Your words count for today; it's the first time I acknowledge you. Since my advice was useless and you insist on overreaching, then go ahead."

Xu Wenjie shrugged; he wanted to see how good a poem this young man could produce.

Lu Cheng didn't look at him, hands behind his back, head tilted upward, taking a step along the riverbank and reciting a line.

"From tomorrow onward, be a happy person

…

As Lu Cheng uttered the first sentence, Xu Wenjie was still unimpressed, thinking it was just plain language, nowhere near his own ornate diction.

But as he continued, Xu Wenjie gradually could no longer stay calm.

Until Lu Cheng finished, Xu Wenjie's soul seemed struck, trembling uncontrollably, though perhaps it was just the cold from standing in the Stinky Gutter.

He couldn't help muttering to himself: "Chopping wood to feed the horse, grain and vegetables? Such a vivid image, such a yearning life! Facing the sea, spring blossoms? Good words, good lines… Though each line is plain, it gives the best emotional belonging…"

Xu Wenjie involuntarily lifted his head, his gaze at Lu Cheng instantly changed—from admiration at first to jealousy soon after.

If he had written this poem, he thought he could die without regret.

But Da Hu, who was drinking soda, disagreed: "Lu San'er, your poem isn't good at all; it's not as good as 'Meteor in the Toilet'."

Lu Cheng laughed, patted his head, and when he looked down at Xu Wenjie in the gutter, he prepared to deliver the final lethal blow.

"Teacher Xu, to be honest, I'm not a poet at all; my true identity is… a sewage‑cleaning worker who never even finished elementary school."

Indeed, after hearing Lu Cheng's poem, Xu Wenjie's spirit was already dazed, and learning that the speaker was an uncultured sewage‑cleaning worker made him feel as if he'd been sat down in the mud.

He kept shaking his head lightly, his eyes blank and dazed.

"A sewage‑cleaning worker? Able to produce such life‑filled poetry? Someone who never finished elementary school, able to write lines about facing the sea and spring blossoms?"

"Am I… still not as good as a sewage‑cleaning worker? I'm such a failure, such a failure, ah, heavens, why must brilliance and brightness both be born!"

Da Hu sat on the back of a bicycle, licking a soda bottle: "Lu San'er, he seems crazy, he's even talking about having children."

Lu Cheng wanted exactly this effect; a beating alone wasn't enough. A proud, arrogant scholar is like Ah Q— the more you beat him, the more he can use the Spiritual Victory Method to triumph over everything.

Instead, crushing him in the field Xu Wenjie excels at would completely defeat him, achieving a multiplied effect.

Lu Cheng staggered back to Hu Tong, where Chen Xianglan grabbed him from the doorway.

"Don't run around again! Come, let's go snatch cabbage with Mom."

Lu Cheng helplessly: "It's not Mom, we haven't finished snatching yet?"

"What? You're still hoping to finish snatching!"

Chen Xianglan pulled out a borrowed Tricycle flatbed: "The last batch was indeed snatched up, but a new batch just arrived; let's hurry, there's still time."

"It's not Mom, I love cabbage; the point is, even the best thing, if you eat meat every meal, it gets greasy."

Chen Xianglan rolled her eyes: "You still want meat every meal? You're so beautiful; you have to keep the Meat Tickets for two months, and when you save up for the New Year you'll need to buy meat‑filled dumplings."

"I didn't say I want meat every meal; I was just giving you a metaphor. That's called imagery, often used in poetry. I mean, we can't eat cabbage every meal, right?"

Chen Xianglan pushed him onto the Tricycle: "Don't spout those useless things; having cabbage to eat is already good— many places can't even get cabbage."

That's a solid truth; in many remote villages, let alone big cabbage, even finding wild greens or roots is considered good.

"Mom, you sit tight, the old son will go snatch for you."

"That's more like it…"

Dong'an Shichang was especially bustling today; when the first batch of cabbage arrived, the crowd could still line up and buy orderly, but many at the back left empty‑handed.

When they learned a second batch was coming, many feared missing out again, and a swarm surged, scrambling to snatch.

Lu Cheng rode the Tricycle at a gallop, his pedals nearly smoking.

"Hey, move aside, move aside, the brakes are broken…"

People on the outskirts turned back: "The brakes are broken, and you're still riding that fast!"

"Can't stop, hurry, get out of the way…"

Lu Cheng showed no sign of slowing, frightening many who hurried aside; the Tricycle barreled straight through half the distance.

The remaining crowd pressed forward, even those trying to move aside couldn't make space.

"Mom, you wait here to receive; I'm going inside," Lu Cheng spread his arms and shouted, "Hey, move aside, I'm covered in oil, don't get you dirty…"

Chen Xianglan pursed her mouth and smiled; she knew bringing Lu Cheng was the right move, and in no time she pushed to the front.

"Mom, continue."

"Hey."

They grabbed a carful of big cabbages; Lu Cheng pedaled hard at the front, while Chen Xianglan steadied from the side.

"San'er, wait until we deliver it home, then we'll come back to snatch."

"Huh? Still snatching? That's already a whole car, enough to eat."

Chen Xianglan gestured, "Not enough, not enough; while it's cheap, snatch more, otherwise when the year‑end approaches, vegetables will be especially expensive…"

"If it really doesn't work, send some to your brother; if it's convenient now, drop it at the station, write a letter to your brother ahead of time, and set a time for him to collect it."

"Alright, I know Mom loves my big brother the most."

Chen Xianglan gave a smack and said, "Do you have any conscience saying that? You only eat, you only drink! It's not like your big brother's situation is special."

"Hehe, I'm just teasing you, you got all worked up."

"I love you three all the same… Hey, look, I was just talking about writing a letter to your big brother, and Xiao Zhou is here."

Xiao Zhou is the mail carrier responsible for delivering letters in this area; Lu Cheng hadn't paid any mind, and at that moment the off‑duty Lin Qingyan ran over.

As usual, she exchanged a few words with the mail carrier with hope; even though she clearly had an extra letter in her hand, a trace of disappointment flashed across her face.

Lu Cheng guessed it wasn't a reply from her parents, and shouted, "Qing Yan sister, whose letter?"

Lin Qingyan turned around, "Oh, it's big brother's."

Big brother's letter? Lu Cheng could roughly guess its content; it must involve the Big Team secretary Qi Baoguo from Yushu Gou.

Could big brother, after reading the letter he left, have already begun taking action against Qi Baoguo?