Chapter 255: Li Ye: Unspeakable, Unspeakable

The wind in mid-May carried a hint of summer, sweeping through Jingcheng as if announcing the imminent arrival of the northern summer.

Several oversized parcels from Hong Kong, traveling thousands of miles, arrived at the Lone Soldier Literature Society of Jingda, making the students there feel the scorching heat of midsummer ahead of schedule.

"Whoa~ There's so much good stuff here! These tapes are in English too—Qiang really is a good friend; it's worth all the meals we've treated him to."

"Look, there's a photo of Mayumi! It's so big, so clear—Qiang remembered his promise to us."

"But… Gao Cangjian? Where's my Gao Cangjian?"

Li Ye watched his excited classmates and hesitated whether to remind them that, as future elites and leaders in every field, they shouldn't thank Qiang so extravagantly over such trivial things.

But then he recalled how Qiang had come north alone, trembling and timid, intimidated by Jingda students as if facing dinosaurs—and how he later warmed up to everyone, bonding seamlessly—and decided Qiang deserved this friendship.

Qiang was a poor kid, struggling from childhood in Hong Kong's underclass; his harsh experiences and repressed past had made him brash and somewhat extreme.

Qiang craved recognition and social warmth, but children with such backgrounds often became arrogant and reckless once they gained power.

Li Ye still remembered the shock and pride on Qiang's face when Jingda students asked him about his salary.

Qiang, having been warned earlier by Li Ye, didn't reveal his monthly salary of 3, 00 Hong Kong dollars; he just brushed it off with "private information."

Though the official exchange rate for Hong Kong dollars was lower than the RMB, the black market rate was higher, so its real value exceeded 3, 00 RMB.

In other words, Qiang's monthly salary equaled the wages of dozens of mainland workers.

But Qiang only acted proud for a few minutes before blending right back in with the Jingda students, showing no sense of superiority or putting on any "big man" airs.

Think of how, just over a decade later, the "second wives" in Pengcheng's villages earned only around 10, 00 Hong Kong dollars a month—but their character was infinitely worse than Qiang's.

During his time in Jingcheng, Qiang did his best to teach others everything he knew and humbly accepted their opinions—something Li Ye genuinely respected.

In this parcel, Qiang had included nearly everything that could pass inspection; the comic drafts requiring Li Ye and the others to review and finalize made up only a tiny fraction.

"Alright, everyone, divide the gifts first—hurry up, don't dawdle!"

"Yes sir! Our president is truly wise and generous."

"Go to hell! I just figured out you guys won't work hard unless you get fed first."

"Old Li, you're so right—here's a Mayumi poster for you; hang it above your bed tonight for some appreciation."

"Get lost! You're trying to make me lose sleep!"

"Hahahaha~"

Li Huai shouted, and everyone burst into laughter and teasing, playfully passing out the gifts.

Li Ye joined in, taking one small gift, then picked up the comic drafts to flip through.

Li Huai walked over to Li Ye's side, waited quietly until he finished one volume, then asked nervously: "How is it? Any problems?"

Li Huai would pass the leadership of the Literature Society to Li Ye in a few months; this draft of "Wangxiang Lone Soldiers" was his final exam, directly tied to his future.

"I think it's basically ready for finalization," Li Ye said. "But scenes 11, 17, and 21 need style adjustments—remove the softness from the Tang soldiers' depictions. Warriors who've fought for years in the Western Regions must be rough, rugged, and masculine."

Li Ye pointed out several spots, drawing everyone's attention.

But after reviewing them, everyone felt there was nothing wrong; many even said, "Looks great."

Especially several girls looked at Li Ye with strange expressions, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Li Huai immediately scowled and snapped: "Say it out loud—no gossiping behind people's backs."

Li Ye was the next head of the Lone Soldier Literature Society; Li Huai had been defending his status for months, harshly reprimanding anyone who spoke ill of him.

But the girls just laughed uproariously, unable to contain themselves, leaving Li Ye utterly confused.

Finally, Bian Jingjing, who was close to Li Ye, said: "Li Ye, you keep saying Qiang's art is too soft—but we think he's copying your style!"

"Hahahaha~"

The girls laughed so hard they doubled over, making others join in.

Soft?

Fuck you, you're calling the future boss of this society soft? Is this some kind of rebellion?

Li Ye had been about to laugh too, but seeing their mocking glances, he realized he had to do something—otherwise, how could he ever command respect?

"Who's soft?"

"Crash~"

Li Ye "flew into a rage," swung his leg in a sweeping kick, and shattered the nearby table into three legs with a sharp "crack."

Complete silence. Utter, absolute silence.

Everyone stared dumbfounded at the broken table, then turned back to Li Ye with even stranger expressions.

Li Huai stood frozen for a long moment, then rushed to grab Li Ye's leg.

"Are you hurt? Are you hurt? How could you be so reckless? You might break a bone—we need to go to the hospital."

Li Huai's face was filled with panic; he'd laughed along a moment ago, but now the thought of Li Ye possibly injuring his foot bones made him frantic.

"What hospital? I know my own condition."

"Really not hurt?"

"Really not."

Seeing Li Huai so anxious, Li Ye felt a twinge of guilt.

He'd actually just used the moment to "intimidate" them—otherwise, if the label "soft" stuck to his forehead, how could he ever lead this group?

"Pretty boy" wasn't a compliment in the 1980s; "soft" was even worse.

If you walked into an office and the boss had heard a male colleague was "soft," he'd form a terrible first impression.

Zhao Mengsheng in "Flowers on the Mountain" was hated by countless viewers before he transformed into a true soldier—proof enough.

Bian Jingjing came over, embarrassed, and confirmed he wasn't hurt before saying awkwardly: "Li Ye, we didn't mean it—we were just joking. You're definitely not soft—you're handsome."

"Yes yes yes, handsome! Li Ye is handsome—but isn't that exactly what you yourself said?"

"."

"Hahahaha~"

"Li Ye, your kung fu's amazing! Did you train from movies?"

"Nope. Just rural street fighting from when I was a kid and got into brawls."

"You liked fighting? I never would've guessed!"

"Of course I did—I've long since turned over a new leaf."

"Eeeeyii~"

The atmosphere revived, but everyone's attitude toward Li Ye subtly shifted.

Li Ye was young; many had previously seen him as a "little brother." Now he was still a little brother—but clearly different.

"Alright, let me explain why these changes are needed."

Li Ye took the comic drafts and said seriously: "Though ancient China had figures like Pan An and Song Yu as ideals of beauty, applying such imagery to soldiers is utterly inappropriate.

Don't think these details are trivial—they may carry malicious Western ideological influence. Hong Kong comics are deeply connected to Japan, and Japan has been deeply infiltrated by the Lantern."

What Li Ye said was something only proven decades later.

In 1959 and 1960, Japan experienced massive protests known as the "Anpo Struggles," winning some equality between Japan and the Lantern.

Afterward, the Lantern realized Japanese "Showa men" still retained a trace of spirit, so it began a slow, boiling-frog-style ideological infiltration.

Eventually, Japanese boys learned what a "flower boy" was, and even developed all sorts of bizarre trends.

Later, this trend spread to Korea, where they amplified it fully, flooding the mainland with Hallyu and inventing a new term—x-pao.

Later, historians noticed that before 1960, Japan's red forces were strong; many young students carried Mao's Selected Works in their backpacks, worshipping him deeply.

But after the 60s and 70s, this vanished.

Those fiery young men, after securing limited gains for Japan, were skillfully castrated by the Lantern.

Yet no one ever asked: why doesn't Hollywood have so many x-paos?

So during Qiang's month in Jingcheng, Li Ye implanted in him a flood of ideas and corrected many habitual drawing errors.

Now it seems effective—the draft only had a few minor deviations, easily fixable.

"So we must always confront these issues—promote the correct image of Chinese men: rugged, noble, refined—but never soft."

Li Ye didn't elaborate deeply to the society members, but some thought he was exaggerating. Still, after his display of strength, no one dared oppose him.

A few students looked worried and asked: "Li Ye, you're making this sound so serious—what about Qiang?"

Li Ye immediately replied: "This isn't Qiang's fault—he was just influenced by Japan. Besides, you all spent days with him—don't you know his character?"

"Yes yes, Qiang's still good—he listens, he's eager to learn…"

"Hey, I wonder when we'll see Qiang again? But we've accepted his gifts—we should send something back, right?"

"You're right. Let's discuss what to send him later."

……

"Ding ding~"

The sound of a bicycle bell suddenly rang outside the Literature Society room, and Sun Xianjin rushed in breathlessly.

Several comrades teased: "Hey Sun Xianjin, where've you been? If Jingjing hadn't snatched it in time, someone would've stolen Qiang's gift meant for you."

"Huh?"

Sun Xianjin paused, then excitedly said: "I just went to watch a fight—those people who kept coming here to argue have all gone to yell at Lu Gang now."

"Ah, so that's why no one showed up today! They found a new target?"

Because Li Ye had selected a poet and made bold remarks at the debate, several people had come daily to argue with him.

The Lone Soldier Literature Society stood united; over these days, they'd driven off wave after wave of opponents, growing bolder, eagerly awaiting more challengers.

Today's silence had made them think the opposition had given up—until now they learned it was Lu Gang they'd targeted.

This is going to be a spectacle—never thought Lu Gang was that kind of guy. But I heard there's a woman involved too; he just denies it.

"Denial doesn't matter—truth always comes out. I heard Lu Gang's chasing a girl from the Sociology Department."

"Duo duo duo~"

Li Ye tapped the table lightly and said solemnly: "Everyone, please be quiet and listen to me for a moment."

Seeing Li Ye's serious expression, everyone immediately stopped their gossip and obediently listened to his "instruction."

The new boss starts fighting at the slightest provocation—there are only so many tables in the Literature Society; we can't have them all with broken legs!

Li Ye said: "Senior brothers, senior sisters, you all enrolled before me and have experienced more. Can you guess what kind of suffering the girl in the rumors might be going through right now?"

"Lu Gang brought this upon himself—he deserves punishment. But did that girl really do anything wrong?"

"The school has never pursued the girl—that itself reveals the truth: she is the victim. She needs our tolerance and compassion."

"I think from now on, we should stop discussing that girl entirely—even stop talking about Lu Gang. Let time wash it all away."

"."

Yang Yu said: "Li Ye is right. I heard that when the neighborhood patrol caught Lu Gang, a girl had just left, crying. So she's the victim—we mustn't subject her to further humiliation or harm."

Li Huai also said: "No one is allowed to say such things again! When men make mistakes, don't drag women into it. The Literature Society won't tolerate this kind of attitude."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah—the president is right."

Everyone nodded in agreement, but many glanced again at Li Ye with strange expressions, feeling that today's Li Ye was shedding his "little brother" image and revealing a "big brother" demeanor.

And the girls sitting nearby—Bian Jingjing and others—looked at Li Ye with approval: "A few days ago, Lu Gang was still arguing fiercely with you, but now you're so generous and magnanimous—we truly admire you."

Li Ye: "."

【You guys say that, how am I supposed to feel?】

【I'm the one who orchestrated all this, you know?】

Li Ye wasn't magnanimous at all—he simply didn't want to harm the innocent, didn't want to destroy that girl named Xiao Xiang, so he didn't crush Lu Gang outright.

Although Lu Gang was stubborn, the school also wanted to downplay the matter, so they hadn't expelled him yet.

But does stubbornness help?

Lu Gang's future was bound to be bleak.

He'd never get to kill that mainland student in the Lighthouse—he'd live a miserable life even on the mainland.

………………

Time passed quickly, and before long, it was June.

Li Ye sailed smoothly, reaping one small reward after another.

First reward: After a half-month-long debate selection, Li Ye finally stood out as the only first-year student from the Class of 1982—and the main debater.

Zhu Yong, who had been so confident, unexpectedly failed to make the cut—his moment was brief.

Second reward: The first issue of "The Lonely Soldier of the Homeland" was released simultaneously in over a dozen countries and regions, sparking intense enthusiasm.

When the news reached Jingcheng, it triggered even stronger reactions across several universities.

So writing and drawing could also earn foreign exchange?

As a result, not just at Jingda, but among all literary enthusiasts in Jingcheng, interest turned toward Huaxia's history—sparking a wave of ancient-style creation that even overshadowed the most popular poetry.

For a time, the name "Seven-Inch Blade" became a mixed blessing: more people loved him, but those who hated him hated him fiercely.

The third reward came from Sun Xianjin.

"Brother, brother—we're going on TV~"

Sun Xianjin burst into the Literature Society, waving his arms, his face flushed with excitement.

Li Ye was reading several classmates' literary works; seeing Sun Xianjin's state, he chuckled: "It's just TV—what's the big deal? You're not getting married, why so excited?"

Sun Xianjin froze, fell silent for several seconds, then sheepishly said: "Brother, Bian Jingjing's going on TV too—with me."

"."

"Hahaha~"

The surrounding classmates burst into good-natured laughter.

Though Sun Xianjin and Bian Jingjing hadn't officially become a couple, they were always together, and everyone often teased them—indirectly pushing their relationship forward.

Li Ye thought for a moment and asked: "You mean your comedy skit is going on TV?"

Sun Xianjin nodded eagerly: "Yes! Our performance during May Day was approved—we'll perform at the Great Hall next month, then on TV."

"Not bad, brother! You're heading for the summit!"

Li Ye patted Sun Xianjin on the shoulder, genuinely happy for his younger brother.

During May Day, Sun Xianjin and others had rehearsed a skit called "The Return of the Prodigal Son," based on Qiang's amusing experiences after arriving from Hong Kong.

Li Ye had given Sun Xianjin major creative help and knew the skit would succeed—but he hadn't expected it to reach the Great Hall.

Sun Xianjin, still under Li Ye's pat, asked confusedly: "Brother, what do you mean by 'reaching the summit'?"

Li Ye thought for a moment: "Everyone's life has a few peak moments—like climbing a mountain. You reach the highest point."

"But some people climb many mountains in their lifetime; others only reach the peak once."

"Then you're wrong, brother," Sun Xianjin said immediately: "On this path of comedy creation, I'm going to climb even higher peaks—the Great Hall isn't the end of this mountain."

What the fuck—are you getting too big for your boots?

………………

Don't get cocky. Cockiness invites a knife.

The next day, Li Huai summoned Li Ye to a Literature Society meeting.

At the Lonely Soldier Literature Society, Li Ye found not only school teachers but also students from other clubs.

Seeing Sun Xianjin sitting dejectedly in the corner, Li Ye walked over and sat beside him.

"Why so gloomy?"

Sun Xianjin stayed silent, just looked at Li Ye with a pouty, wounded expression—his lips could hang an oil bottle.

Beside them, Bian Jingjing whispered to Li Ye: "Li Ye, look over there—they're all from the Drama Society. They think they're more suitable for the Great Hall."

Li Ye paused, puzzled—it didn't seem right.

He'd seen Sun Xianjin's May Day performance—it was excellent. How could they replace them?

"They didn't say that."

Yang Yu leaned over and said: "We're just discussing how to make the performance the best possible—it's a big deal."

Li Ye leaned closer and whispered: "What's your opinion?"

Yang Yu smirked, lowering his voice: "You're asking the obvious—of course we back our own, not the truth."

Li Ye nodded: "That's more like it."

Since Sun Xianjin was a member of the Lonely Soldier Literature Society, and his skit was deeply tied to the society, Li Huai and the others treated it as their own matter.

"Alright, everyone's here. Let me briefly explain the situation."

"So today we're discussing: should we keep the original team, or bring in students with more performance experience? Please speak freely."

After the teacher spoke, Li Ye realized this wasn't what Bian Jingjing described—this wasn't the Drama Society coming to steal the spotlight, but a genuine discussion.

At this moment, negotiations between Huaxia and Great Britain over Hong Kong were at their most critical juncture. Though the Iron Lady had stumbled on the Great Hall's steps, Great Britain's momentum remained strong.

Thus, this skit based on Qiang's story had acquired special significance.

"Our Drama Society has more experience, but we greatly admire Sun and Bian."

After the teacher finished speaking, someone from the Drama Society spoke up.

Jingda students didn't waste time with false modesty here—they objectively stated their strengths: not arrogant, but not humble either.

But for Sun Xianjin and Bian Jingjing, this felt deeply unfair.

Li Ye wasn't angry—this kind of thing was common in the 1980s. When it happened, you fought for your place; getting angry was useless.

When everyone had spoken enough, Li Ye raised his hand.

"May I ask, teachers and classmates—on what specific grounds do you feel the original performers aren't good enough? Or what exactly do you think you can do better?"

Everyone fell silent, whispering among themselves.

Li Ye had just pointed out something obvious.

Everyone only talked about their own strengths, never their opponents' weaknesses. That might avoid offense—but wasn't it just wasting time?

You only improve if there's a flaw. If there's no flaw, why the hell change anything?

Finally, someone stepped forward to offend.

"Let me speak first. The original performers did well enough, but the actor playing Qiang speaks Cantonese very inaccurately. People from Guangdong have a distinct accent when speaking Mandarin, so I believe—"

"Also, the actor playing Qiang was extremely nervous during the May Day performance—he clearly held back. What about the Great Hall?"

Sun Xianjin's face fell—he never imagined his "rising comedy star" persona was the biggest flaw.

Li Ye listened calmly, then addressed each point one by one.

"I think everyone misunderstands—or hasn't grasped what this skit is trying to express."

Li Ye, too, began to offend.

"The reason Qiang's actor speaks Cantonese inaccurately is because this is a comedy—exaggerated accents create maximum humor. We need to use humor to soften the skit's political edge."

"In today's environment, if we performed a serious, professional play, wouldn't people misunderstand us as deliberately making a statement?"

Li Ye ignored their astonishment and continued: "And as for Qiang's actor being nervous and stiff—that's exactly right! When Qiang first arrived from Hong Kong, he was nervous and stiff!"

Li Ye said seriously: "I was the first person to meet Qiang. When he first came, he saw everyone around him as Red Warriors."

"Ask the classmates and teachers who knew him—he took at least a week to gradually adapt to our warmth and change his wrong assumptions."

"."

After Li Ye finished speaking, a teacher spoke up: "You're right—I felt that kid was scared. When I asked him what he feared, he wouldn't say. But when he returned to Hong Kong, he was completely different."

"Yes, yes—he was so timid at first, spoke to us cautiously, terrified out of his mind."

"That's true! So Qiang's journey—from fear to warmth—isn't just a personal change, but a full acceptance of us? That meaning is huge…"

「.

Sun Xianjin froze.

Before Li Ye arrived, he was certain he'd be replaced—he always took time to warm up on stage, needing a minute or two to calm his nerves.

But now, looking around, wasn't he the perfect choice to play A Qiang?

"Brother, when you helped me write the script at first, did you already picture all this?"

"Cough, cough—can't say, can't say."

(End of Chapter)