Chapter 33

As everyone knows, an author cannot distill their own central theme.

Zhou Shuren surely didn't think that much about it back then either.

Next to a jujube tree is another jujube tree; I wrote the first one and forgot the second, is it really so strange to add a sentence?

That is why textbooks are best served by articles from dead authors.

Because the dead tell no tales.

And so, Zhai Da, without any preparation, was forced to begin an impromptu over-interpretation.

"This passage expresses the author's disdain for worldly standards, and a warm, powerful core."

"This part hits the theme, showing that the author has a tiger in his heart, sniffing the roses."

"This is a parallel structure with double-rhyme, which is just showing off; don't learn it, you won't be able to."

After about seven or eight minutes, Zhai Da finally completed the task Ding Rong had entrusted to him.

He let out a long breath and looked down, only to find the room deathly silent...

He felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment...

Immediately after... thunderous applause erupted in the classroom.

Everyone wore an expression of disbelief...

Perhaps they were truly surprised by the quality of the prose, but more so, it seemed, by the fact that a peer could express himself so fluently and confidently on the podium.

Just like a speech...

Yes, that’s the word.

Among high school students, there is a special "dimension of merit"; because few can speak in public without getting nervous, they consider "giving a speech" to be an extremely shining virtue.

Yang Fan clapped, but his eyes were somewhat dull.

Chu Xiang pursed his lips, saying nothing.

Fan Junwei clapped the loudest, even though he hadn't understood a word.

Lin Shuyao’s eyes rippled, her expression quite complex.

Even Wu Yue cracked the door open and poked his head in, grinning foolishly as if he were the one in the spotlight.

"Wu Yue! Are you a hamster? Get out!"

——————

Zhai Da’s Chinese mock test score of 130 was actually nothing special at Maofang Middle School; you could find plenty of students at that level in the key classes.

But that 68-point essay was truly a bit explosive.

Coupled with the fact that Ding Rong, unsure of herself, had sought the opinion of other Chinese teachers in the teaching group early on, and with the unanimous praise from her colleagues, this article began to...

Circulate throughout the entire grade.

Not necessarily to learn or imitate, but to let their own students feel the brilliant writing, perhaps to spark some inspiration and let them know that high school students can also write good text.

In Class 11, Lu Siwen sat bolt upright like a Teletubby receiving a signal, her eyes shining.

"I hide the rose behind my back; the wind rises, the flowers fall; from now on, I gift the flowers to myself, riding a horse toward freedom."

On the podium, the key class Chinese teacher couldn't stop praising this passage; in a cultural wasteland like Maofang Middle School, it had been a long time since such pleasing text had appeared.

Of course, he naturally didn't mention the name, only saying it was written by a student from another class.

Lu Siwen immediately struck an Ultraman-like pose, raising her hand high.

"Lu Siwen, do you have a question?"

She was probably the teacher's favorite student: good grades, cute, and well-behaved.

Her family was also very powerful; every holiday, a driver would come to the door with gifts.

Lu Siwen’s eyes glowed: "Teacher, was this written by Zhai Da from Class 8?"

In the key class, many people had a question in their hearts: Class 8? A regular class student?

The middle-aged male teacher said in surprise: "How did you know?"

He hadn't mentioned it on purpose, but there was no need to make up someone else.

Lu Siwen said proudly: "We are pen pals, he is teaching me how to write!"

The middle-aged male teacher hadn't actually met Zhai Da in person, so he just smiled: "That's great, your own essays still have room for improvement."

In a single day, Zhai Da became a little celebrity on campus.

Once again.

Ever since he fainted during the second mock exam, it seemed he would steal the spotlight every few days; the matter of "being confessed to by Lin Shuyao" hadn't even been settled yet, and now there was a new legend.

Even those students who buried their heads in study and never participated in gossip had heard the name "Zhai Da" time and time again.

For a time, he was the talk of the school.

Zhai Da didn't pay attention to the commotion; except for Chinese class, where he had to listen carefully because Ding Rong kept making eyes at him, he spent all his time concentrating on copying.

Over two hundred words, two mandatory modern Chinese texts along with their corresponding test points—all were already memorized by heart.

One day... this efficiency was terrifying...

And he keenly realized that if the [Young Girl] and [Old Man] were to combine their strengths, it would probably be even more exaggerated.

He would probably be able to take off right where he stood within a month...

Sure enough, no matter how much effort it took, getting Lu Siwen's pen was worth it.

Although for now, it was only "temporarily owned"...

But I didn't say when I'd return it~

On the way home from school, Zhai Da didn't run into Lu Siwen again; he was a bit afraid she would block him at the overpass again.

This made Zhai Da breathe a sigh of relief; having used "writing a novella, need a fountain pen for inspiration" as an excuse to get it, he ultimately had to give her something in return. Lu Siwen only agreed because she wanted to see what he wrote.

He had to think of a way to write something for her to stall for time; now that his study efficiency was so high, squeezing out some time was doable.

Just consider it paying the public grain.

Returning home, Zhai Da saw Ms. Yu busy in the kitchen.

Although he already knew via text that he was coming home for dinner today, he still asked curiously: "Off work so early today?"

In the kitchen, Yu Xiaoli was chopping pork ribs, hand rising and blade falling, the kind of force that made the cutting board jump.

"Don't mention it. The factory had taken a big foreign trade order from Japan, prepared for a long time, but for some reason, it fell through two days ago."

Zhai Da paused as he took off his shoes.

Yu Xiaoli complained to herself: "The factory had been preparing for this order for a long time, now it's all for nothing. There won't be many orders for the next half month, I reckon I'll be able to come back and cook every day."

Although the salary was only that much, there was performance pay after all; with more orders in the factory, Ms. Yu would get a bit more in her pocket.

If there were no orders, it was just a dead salary of a thousand-something yuan.

If there were no orders for a long time... the factory might even go under; after all, the textile factory had been struggling for several years, at the level where it would cool down the moment the catheter was pulled.

A Japanese foreign trade order...?

Although he couldn't be 100% sure, why did Zhai Da feel like it was those two Japanese men he’d sent in by reporting the gambling den?

"Uh... in this situation, there should be a breach of contract fee, right?"

"That's for the factory leaders to consider, but I reckon it won't be much. The people running the business are all on their knees begging for deals now..."

Yu Xiaoli began to console herself: "Forget it... people have their fate, factories have their fate. The textile factory has been around for so many years, it's had plenty of bad luck, there shouldn't be any big problem."

Zhai Da smiled stiffly.

I was just mocking that the textile factory would go under sooner or later.

Did I actually cause it to go under?

However, no matter how hard things were at the factory, Yu Xiaoli didn't skimp on the family's food; while she nagged Zhai Da about being fat, she never held back when cooking.

Two people, three dishes: braised pork ribs, stir-fried spring greens with pork cracklings, and stir-fried bean dregs—all things Zhai Da loved to eat.

Especially the stir-fried bean dregs, only found in the northern parts of the province; one bite and it was full of salty fragrance.

As for cooking skills, Ms. Yu wasn't as good as a restaurant chef, and among all mothers, she might not be the top-tier one.

But the taste of home.

Isn't in a spoonful of salt, a pinch of sugar, or a few grains of scallion...

It’s actually just in the mother's fingertips.