Chapter 216: Is There Such a Thing as Good Fortune?

After Li Ye's first debate, the debate format suddenly became wildly popular at Beijing University overnight.

People didn't need fancy venues—just arrange a few tables in two rows, set up a judge's stand in the middle, and the debate could begin.

Suddenly, debates raged fiercely between classes, grades, and departments.

This was an era when social thought was most vibrant and the cultural fever had just begun; everyone poured their conflicts between tradition and modernity, doubts about old and new ideas, hopes and confusions about the future into the debates.

Yet Li Ye, once called the "Number One Debater," gradually began selectively participating in debates after a few brilliant performances, citing "limited professional knowledge," leaving many who wanted to "defeat" him frustrated.

Others thought he was avoiding conflict, but Li Ye simply didn't want to waste time on meaningless arguments.

For example, debating "the necessity of communes"—in a few months, communes would become history; what was the point?

Or when the opposing team consisted entirely of top philosophy department students—why not just run? Don't you know their specialty?

Besides, Li Ye was juggling multiple tasks now: running two novels simultaneously, preparing for the Fenghua clothing brand's promotion, squeezing out scraps of free time just to deepen his bond with little sister Wen Leyu!

At seven p. ., Li Ye and Wen the younger sister were studying in the library.

The lunch box between them was filled with various fruits Wen Leyu loved, but over half an hour had passed and she hadn't eaten a single piece.

Because a few days ago, news came from Hong Kong: the prize-winning submission campaign for "A Song of Ice and Fire" had begun.

After Li Ye told her, the little girl immediately got fired up, working fourteen hours a day to fully complete the task Li Ye had given her.

Li Ye nudged the lunch box and said, "Don't rush so much—nobody's pressing for drafts. Eat some fruit, take a break, don't exhaust yourself."

Wen Leyu remained unmoved, replying offhandedly, "My dad always says: never fight an unprepared battle. Just because they're not pressing now doesn't mean we can slack off. You'd better hurry up and write your original draft too! I'm almost done translating my part."

"How are you so fast? Don't be so competitive!"

Li Ye couldn't help letting out a sigh.

Seeing Wen Leyu's demeanor, he remembered the ultra-competitive writers he'd encountered back in his past life writing web novels.

When Li Ye first started writing, things were fine—except for that feathered bastard, everyone was relatively calm: four thousand words a day was passing, six thousand was exemplary, and sometimes there was even time to enjoy life.

But later, a bunch of greenhorns from Feilu Country showed up, spouting nothing but foreign jargon.

They churned out ten thousand words a day like it was nothing, fifteen thousand was just a casual stretch—and they completely overwhelmed Li Ye and many veteran writers.

Li Ye, helpless, tried to catch up, but seeing their constant ten-thousand-word updates, he could only roar in fury—"I will not coexist with the competitive bastards!"

And now Wen Leyu was showing signs of being a competitive beast—how could this be?

Do you want to work me to death?

"Little Yu, want a peach?"

Wen Leyu said nothing.

Li Ye had no choice but to pick up a halved peach and hold it to her lips.

Wen Leyu instinctively bit into it, chewed a few times, then realized something was wrong.

She quickly glanced around and, seeing no one had noticed Li Ye's intimate gesture, shot him two furious glares and yanked the lunch box over to her side.

"I'll take it back to the dorm and eat slowly. You get back to writing."

"Alright, alright! Let me think about how to write it."

Li Ye stared painfully at his Chinese draft.

【Daenerys was ordered by her brother to wear only a thin veil, revealing her voluptuous, fiery figure before the chieftain of the Dothraki tribe, Daenerys Karro—curves everywhere, red dots glowing.】

Give this passage to Wen Leyu to translate?

Why not just hand her a hand-drawn comic of a famous teacher's action scene for appreciation?

In the end, Li Ye crossed out the passage and planned to add a simple note after receiving Wen Leyu's English draft: "Dragon Mother's figure is extremely alluring—translator, imagine and translate freely, and do not write less than five hundred words."

But the moment Li Ye crossed out the passage, he saw Wen Leyu's small head leaning over.

"What was that long sentence you just crossed out?"

"Oh, I originally wrote that Daenerys smiled shyly after meeting the barbarian chieftain Daenerys Karro, but then I realized it was wrong—she could accept this political marriage, but she felt no joy, let alone shyness; inside, she only felt suppressed resentment."

Li Ye spoke with perfect seriousness, successfully distracting Wen Leyu from discovering the truth.

Wen Leyu gave Li Ye a suspicious look before saying, "You're right—Daenerys's fate is tragic, but shouldn't her future improve?"

Li Ye shook his head. "I haven't decided yet. I'm still thinking."

Li Ye couldn't reveal that Dragon Mother would eventually die—whether in the original novel or the adapted TV series, she died in the end. He wasn't sure if changing it would ruin a classic into second-rate trash.

But clever Wen Leyu had noticed the hesitation in his tone.

"Li Ye, Daenerys's ending isn't good, is it? Are you going to use the tragic-writing technique to torture readers?"

Tragic literature moves readers more deeply; many world classics contain tragic plots, and the trauma literature popular in the 1980s was saturated with tragedy, causing many readers to curse authors as cruel, even abandoning books halfway.

Li Ye was astonished by Wen Leyu's sharp intuition, but still shook his head and denied it: "No, I really haven't planned the plot yet—it's too early! Let me think slowly."

"Then think carefully. I don't dislike tragedy—you're the author, you decide."

Wen Leyu lowered her head and resumed translating, but Li Ye, observing her constant snacking, realized her mood had clearly been affected.

A twenty-year-old girl with such a kind heart was heartbreaking.

"How about we stop writing for today? Let's go practice bayonet drills?"

Wen Leyu lifted her head, thought for a moment, and said, "Fine, bayonet drills are okay."

They packed up and left, but just as they reached the library entrance, they saw Sun Xianjin and Jin Peng approaching.

"Li Ye, your fellow townsman is looking for you urgently—I guessed you'd be in the library."

"Thanks, Xianjin."

Li Ye thanked Sun Xianjin and turned a serious gaze toward Jin Peng.

If there weren't something important, Jin Peng wouldn't come looking for him at this hour.

"Let's go outside," Jin Peng pulled Li Ye aside, then added to Wen Leyu, "Miss Wen, if you're free, you can come too."

So Wen Leyu followed Jin Peng to the side.

"Big Peng, has something serious happened?"

"Not serious—it's our commercial that's had an issue."

"What?"

Li Ye exclaimed, "How could our commercial have an issue? It doesn't violate any rules or laws!"

Jin Peng said, "Two hours ago, Master Wang from Beiyingchang called me—he said our commercial footage was used in a propaganda film about the new era, airing tonight at nine, and it's almost time."

"I asked why they didn't inform us ahead of time—he said they didn't even know if it would air, so they didn't pay attention.

I asked if they used Fenghua Clothing's logo—his answer was vague, clearly they used our film without permission.

Our clothes have just started mass production and haven't been distributed yet—if other factories copy our designs and rush to market, our losses will be huge."

"One broadcast won't make copying easy, and we still have the original commercial—what's the worry?" Li Ye asked, "Which TV station is airing it?"

Jin Peng frowned. "Channel One. Apparently, they've already aired it once—can we even air ours again? This completely ruins our plan."

Li Ye looked at Jin Peng, then at Wen Leyu.

Wen Leyu blinked and murmured, "Is there such a thing as good fortune?"

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