Chapter 228: It

Seeing Nakamura Naoto with Wen Leyu and Mu Yunning, Li Ye found it strange.

Mu Yunning immediately said to Li Ye: "This classmate Nakamura has something to say to you, the great writer."

Li Ye looked at Mu Yunning, savoring the implication behind her words.

But before he could fully grasp it, his girlfriend Wen Leyu cut in bluntly: "Just now, this classmate Nakamura told us a lot—"

"The general idea is that someone like you, a great writer, should long ago have replaced Li Huai and Yang Yu as leader of the Lone Army Literature Society."

"."

At these words, Li Huai and Yang Yu immediately shot hostile glances at Nakamura Naoto.

They weren't naive middle schoolers—they instantly understood Wen Leyu's meaning: this little Japanese was trying to sow discord between them and Li Ye!

Nakamura Naoto's face changed instantly, and he hurriedly protested: "No, that's not what I meant! I simply admire your novel 'North Wind Soaring' very much and only wished to express my respect as a loyal reader."

"Oh, and then?"

"."

And then? What does that mean?

Nakamura Naoto clearly wasn't accustomed to this way of speaking from decades in the future.

But he quickly seized the chance to change the subject: "Then I've had some questions lingering in my mind for a long time, and now seems a good opportunity to ask you, Li Ye—"

"For instance, why do your works repeatedly feature plots involving chrysanthemums? And why is your pen name 'Seven-Inch Blade'?"

Li Ye nodded indifferently and said: "The reason my works feature chrysanthemum-related plots is to respect historical fact—in Tang times, we were the teachers, and you were the students."

"As for the meaning of my pen name—it's simple. Do you know how long a bayonet's blade is?"

A cryptic smile appeared on Li Ye's face: "Seven inches long—twenty-three point three centimeters. It always draws blood when used on a man."

"."

At Li Ye's words, whether Nakamura Naoto, Wen Leyu, Mu Yunning, Li Huai, or Yang Yu, all were momentarily stunned.

Everyone had assumed a "cultured" writer's pen name must carry some profound meaning—never imagining it was so aggressively blunt.

Nakamura Naoto stood frozen for several seconds before stiffly asking: "Li Ye, then—whose throat will your bayonet pierce?"

"Of course, enemies and rivals," Li Ye replied matter-of-factly: "Such as those with ill intent, those who sow discord, those who commit wrongs yet refuse to apologize."

"I've learned. I hope we never become enemies or rivals. Farewell, Li Ye."

Nakamura Naoto bowed to Li Ye, then turned and walked away.

He felt deep hostility—not just from Li Ye, but from Li Huai and Yang Yu too.

【Damn it, how could those two women… truly disgusting.】

Nakamura Naoto believed he had acted with great subtlety, and given the flower people's kindness, they'd never easily suspect him of scheming—so why had both women simultaneously smeared him?

After Nakamura Naoto left, Li Huai said darkly: "If it weren't for his special status, I'd have spit on him until he was drenched."

Yang Yu said: "I heard our initial comic rights were sold to the chrysanthemum people—could it be connected to him?"

Li Huai replied: "Thank goodness we didn't sell them to him—that would've seriously offended Lan Hai. But does Lan Hai Publishing even have the capability to publish comics?"

Yang Yu smirked: "Whether they have the capability? That's something you should ask a certain great writer!"

"."

Li Ye looked innocent: "Why are you all looking at me? What's this got to do with me?"

Yang Yu grinned crookedly: "From what I estimate, this is almost certainly tied to you."

Li Huai nodded in agreement: "Yes, I think so too."

Beside them, Mu Yunning smiled sweetly at Li Ye and said lightly: "In my view, it's ninety-nine percent."

"."

How come you're all so smart?

………

Hong Kong, Lo Wu Customs Checkpoint.

Pei Wencong and A Min had been standing under the blazing sun for a long time; before them sat A Qiang, slumped on the ground like a mangy dog refusing to rise.

"A Qiang, how long do you expect others to wait for you? It's just a trip to the mainland. Where's the courage you had when you swung that watermelon knife?"

"Pei Wencong, I've served you loyally for years. When you were down and out, I never looked down on you. Now that you've finally made it, you're sending me over as a hostage?"

"What hostage? I'm sending you to negotiate business. No one in the company understands comics better than you—who else should go?"

"Why must I go to the mainland to negotiate? Don't you know how dangerous it is over there? Go look at those soldiers—they're terrifying!"

"."

Watching A Qiang repeat the same words for the umpteenth time, Pei Wencong's patience slowly drained away.

Pei Wencong was still a man with conscience.

Back when TaLang Literature Publishing had only a handful of employees, the three of them had walked this path together. He hadn't shared wealth with them, but he'd never mistreated A Min or A Qiang.

A Min, a high school student, had been pushed by Pei Wencong to constantly upgrade herself and now served as the company's second-in-command.

But what about A Qiang, who hadn't even finished junior high?

Just as Pei Wencong decided to support A Qiang for life, a call from Li Ye gave him an opportunity.

Li Ye asked Pei Wencong to find an excellent comic artist to travel to Beijing and discuss comic adaptations of "Wangxiang Lone Army" and "North Wind Soaring." Pei Wencong immediately recommended A Qiang.

Though A Qiang might not be an outstanding artist, he'd been obsessed with comics for years and had followed Pei Wencong through thick and thin—deserving credit even if not glory. So Pei Wencong wanted to give him "a fortune."

The northern patrons' fortune was overwhelming; even a drop of it could change A Qiang's fate.

But despite all his pleading, A Qiang only agreed to go to the mainland after much persuasion—and when they reached Lo Wu, he refused to cross after just glancing at the cold, rigid soldiers on the other side.

He'd once wielded a watermelon knife and never flinched at A Se, but those soldiers' eyes robbed him of even the courage to stare back.

Pei Wencong sighed, turned, and walked back.

"Fine! Since you don't want to prosper, I'll support you for life. I'll give you three thousand a month—do whatever you want!"

A Qiang trotted after him, disgruntled: "Why am I only getting three thousand? A Min gets five thousand now, and she gets the Mercedes—can't I drive?"

Pei Wencong had just bought a new Mercedes; the old secondhand one went to A Min. A Qiang had long resented this.

Pei Wencong replied coldly: "A Min might get ten thousand someday. You'll get three thousand. If you're unhappy, feel free to quit."

"."

A Qiang fell silent for three seconds, then muttered curses under his breath—about how only hardship was shared, never fortune, how the boss lacked loyalty, and so on.

Pei Wencong said nothing, walked to his brand-new Mercedes, opened the door, and got in.

A Min took the front passenger seat, leaving the driver's seat for A Qiang.

A Qiang walked to the car, reached for the door handle—but didn't open it.

This new car had shaken him deeply.

Once, he'd mocked Pei Wencong for being unimpressive, laughing he'd never own a Mercedes.

Yet now, Pei Wencong had already replaced his car.

And Pei Wencong had said that in a few years, he'd upgrade to a Rolls-Royce.

So what about him?

Three thousand a month was already higher than most white-collar workers—but when would he ever own his own new car?

And this three thousand now carried the scent of charity and pity.

"@#Am"

Suddenly, A Qiang turned and walked back toward the Lo Wu checkpoint, moving faster and faster, as if afraid he'd change his mind.

He passed through the gate, cleared customs, barely breathing as he walked past the stern soldiers, refusing to raise his eyes.

Once across, he saw four bald-headed men, one holding a sign reading "Huo Renqiang."

"These four guys—they look just like those soldiers!"

A Qiang forced himself forward, smiling nervously and waving: "Lei Men Hao, I'm Huo Renqiang."

"Hello, Mr. Huo. Welcome back to the embrace of the motherland."

". Hehehe"

A Qiang chuckled awkwardly and followed the four men away from the checkpoint, boarding a passenger-cargo vehicle bound for Pengcheng Railway Station.

At the station, he met a man named Zou Zhiguo, who led him onto a green-painted train.

Inside the hard-sleeper carriage, A Qiang couldn't help asking: "Mr. Zou, why aren't we flying? I heard it's a long way from Pengcheng to Beijing."

Zou Zhiguo glanced at A Qiang, coldly replying: "It's to let you appreciate the beauty of our motherland's landscapes."

"."

A Qiang didn't understand Zou Zhiguo's meaning—what scenery could you see on a train?

But soon he understood.

The train departed in the afternoon, heading north. By the next morning, they still hadn't arrived.

"Mr. Zou, how much longer until we get there?"

"Two more days and nights."

"Two more days?"

For the next two days, A Qiang stared out the window, confirming the sun rose on the right side of the train—he was still heading north.

A fish that has never left its pond cannot comprehend the vastness of rivers.

Hong Kong, from east to west, north to south, was so small.

A Qiang had never left Hong Kong in his life; his understanding of the mainland's vastness came only from words. Now, measuring it with his own eyes, the shock to his soul was overwhelming.

When they reached Beijing Railway Station and saw the two giant Chinese characters "Beijing," A Qiang finally knew he had truly arrived in Beijing—not some northernmost black city.

And this was only halfway.

The two of them stumbled out of the train station in the dark; Qiang followed Zou Zhiguo on foot all the way, nearly walking his legs thin.

"Mr. Zou, if we're not staying at a hotel, where are we going?"

"Don't ask. Just follow me."

"."

Qiang grew afraid again—it was pitch black, the streets nearly empty—what were they up to?

But eventually, Qiang followed Zou Zhiguo to a vast square, where many people had already gathered, all waiting in silent stillness.

Qiang had come to understand Zou Zhiguo's silent nature along the way; he decided to ask nothing more and simply see what the man would do to him.

Soon after, dawn broke.

Short as he was, Qiang stood on tiptoe to look around, but saw only a sea of crowded heads.

Everyone was silent, all gazing in one direction.

Qiang followed the crowd's gaze and saw a tall pole.

"Is this… a flagpole?"

Moments later, Qiang's guess was confirmed.

A red flag with golden stars rose slowly to the rhythm of stirring music.

In the eyes of everyone around, there burned an intense emotion.

It was faith. It was pride. It was heartfelt reverence.

Qiang had never seen such emotions on the people of Hong Kong—at least not this strong, not this universally shared.

"It's… terrifying."

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(End of Chapter)