Chapter 334: She

"I'll emphasize this again: you must return to the base before eight p. . If anything happens while you're out, call the hotel immediately."

"Understood!"

"Don't engage in pointless arguments, and absolutely no physical altercations or other uncivilized behavior. Remember, you're no longer just students—you represent the family's dignity."

"Understood!"

In the hotel corridor, Li Ye and the others stood in two neat lines, listening to Team Leader Zhou's endless reminders.

This time, the Lijiapo Broadcasting Bureau invited the Peking University debate team for a five-day itinerary; aside from the debate competition starting on the third day, they had also arranged several relaxed sightseeing activities.

Team Leader Zhou couldn't refuse these activities, since all four Peking University students and many accompanying personnel were traveling abroad for the first time—you couldn't lock them all in the hotel, or their resentment would blow the roof off.

"The sponsoring organization has provided a bus with a tour guide. Once outside, keep an eye on each other—don't wander off, and don't fall behind."

Seeing the group barely holding back their excitement, Team Leader Zhou finally waved his hand and said, "Departure."

Qin Yongsheng and the others immediately headed downstairs in high spirits, while Li Ye, Qiao Dapeng, and another staff member, Wang Xiaokun, lagged behind.

Because they were a separate group—their schedule today wasn't tourism, but attending the "Pan-Asian Youth Literary Exchange."

In Wen Rui'an's flamboyant words, it was the Lion City's martial arts novelists' gathering of the young generation.

Of course, Li Ye felt there was some self-aggrandizement here—after all, how many people write novels? How many could even make it to Lijiapo? How could this compare to Jin Lao's legendary Huashan Duel?

The three descended the hotel stairs, Wang Xiaokun holding a notebook, glancing at it as he said, "We walk left a hundred meters to the bus stop, take bus 54 for eleven stops, then transfer—"

Undeniably, the debate team's accompanying staff were extremely diligent—yesterday, Wang Xiaokun was assigned to accompany Li Ye and Qiao Dapeng, and he'd already asked for the full bus route that night.

Whether or not he was also tasked with preventing Li Ye from slipping away, Li Ye didn't know.

But Li Ye smiled and said, "Brother Wang, let's skip the bus. Lijiapo has too many rules and too many people—easily sparks trouble. Plus, I heard the buses here don't announce stops. Let's just take a taxi."

In Guangdong and the Nanyang region, taxis are called "de shi"—just a slight accent difference.

The price, however, is much higher than the bus.

Sure enough, Wang Xiaokun chuckled after hearing Li Ye: "I know taking a taxi's better! But our budget is tight, so Li Ye, let's just tough it out."

Only Li Ye could get away with this—if anyone else had said it, Wang Xiaokun might've snapped.

In the two days since leaving Beijing, everyone had marveled at the city's prosperity, but the one thing they took comfort in was that their Fenghua-brand clothing was no worse than what locals wore—even better.

All thanks to Li Ye—he'd secured sponsorship for the debate team, so his popularity within the delegation was sky-high.

"Brother Wang, we don't need to use public funds for this. I'm attending the exchange because of me—it should be my personal expense."

"How can you pay out of pocket? I've already applied for the money."

Wang Xiaokun was quite a stand-up guy—he patted his pocket, making his thin wallet slap loudly.

Li Ye whispered with a smile, "Save the money—we can buy souvenirs. I heard electronics in Lijiapo aren't expensive."

"..."

Wang Xiaokun glanced at Li Ye, squinted, and smiled shyly.

After all, everyone had fought hard just to get this rare overseas trip—surely there should be some small perks?

Workers sent to build projects in East Africa came back with a bicycle each!

Yeah, an authentic 28-inch bicycle.

In the 70s and 80s, those bikes cost less than a third of their price on the mainland.

The three took a taxi to the agreed literary exchange venue, the Raffles Hotel. After getting out, Qiao Dapeng and Wang Xiaokun were stunned.

"Holding a gathering here? Are Nanyang writers this rich?"

Li Ye shook his head slightly. "Some writers are rich, some are poor—but since it's not our money, let's not be polite later."

Raffles Hotel was Lijiapo's first luxury hotel; before the five-star hotels were built, it was almost the only option, and countless world-famous figures had stayed here.

Its accommodation fees, naturally, were astronomical.

Even someone like Li Ye, who didn't care about money, thought it was a bit extravagant to host a literary gathering here.

Inside the hotel, the staff were extremely courteous, leading Li Ye and the others to a large hall's entrance, then turning away.

Luckily, Lijiapo's staff didn't expect tips—if they had, the three might've had to shell out dozens of dollars just for walking around.

The three pushed open the hall doors, and a wave of noise surged out.

Inside the vast hall, dozens had already arrived, grouped into small circles, chatting animatedly.

Qiao Dapeng whispered, "Li Ye, are all these young writers? Some don't even look like it."

Both Qiao Dapeng and Wang Xiaokun were confused—nearly half the people here bore no resemblance to their idea of a "writer."

Though most dressed neatly, many lacked any sense of refinement.

Crooked ties, unbuttoned shirts, pale faces, unkempt hair—none of them looked like "young writers"; they looked more like middle-aged uncles.

Some even smoked cigarettes. Though Lijiapo's smoking ban in 1984 hadn't yet reached its later, draconian state, it was still bold.

Li Ye glanced sideways at him and whispered, "You're wrong—the ones who look least like writers? Those are the real novelists."

Qiao Dapeng asked, "How do you know? Do you know them all?"

Li Ye slowly shook his head, offering no explanation.

In his past life, he'd interacted with many online fiction writers—they all looked exactly like this: carefree, unrestrained.

Because many in this group disliked socializing, often spending entire days lost in thought.

If you don't interact with people, why care what you wear today, what hairstyle looks cool, or what tie color attracts the opposite sex?

Only established authors, as their social circles expanded, gradually began to care about their appearance.

For example, Wen Rui'an and his group nearby had the unmistakable air of cultured men.

"Sir, please show your invitation."

Li Ye was about to greet Wen Rui'an when a young man in a suit stepped forward with a smile, blocking his path.

Li Ye handed over his invitation: "I'm here for the gathering. These two are my friends—we called yesterday to confirm."

The man's eyes lit up instantly: "Oh, you're Mr. Li! Welcome, welcome!"

Li Ye smiled and asked, "Thank you. Are you also here for the exchange?"

"No, I'm an employee of the Wu Group, handling logistics for this event."

The man extended his hand: "My name is Wan Wentao. Please give me your guidance in the future, Mr. Li."

Li Ye shook his hand, surprised: "Wu Group? Is the Wu Group behind this literary exchange?"

Li Ye's invitation came from a Lijiapo literary association—he had no idea the Wu Group was involved.

Wan Wentao said, "Yes. The Lion City Youth Literary Association has a close relationship with the Wu Group, so we're the sponsors."

Li Ye nodded silently, a doubt forming: Had he received this invitation and access to someone like Wen Rui'an because of his own merit—or because of the Wu Group?

Wu Jinyuan had never been close to Li Ye, yet always gave him an odd feeling.

But soon, his doubts vanished—Wen Rui'an and the others gave him confidence.

"Come, come, young brother, let me introduce you—"

Wen Rui'an pulled forward a young man and said to Li Ye, "This is Ding Qing, a disciple of Master Gu. He brought you a message from Master Gu: 'When we meet, we drink three hundred cups.'"

Li Ye stared at the young man who had ghostwritten for Master Gu three times, and asked, "Did Master Gu really say that?"

Ding Qing smiled. "He did. He's currently trying to quit alcohol—otherwise, he'd have come himself."

Li Ye understood. Master Gu hadn't said that because of him—he was probably just craving a drink.

According to the timeline, Master Gu had just over a year left. His health was already terrible, yet he couldn't give up the very thing that was killing him—his lifelong passion.

Regardless, with Master Gu's status, even saying "We should have a drink together" would instantly elevate any writer's reputation—whether bragging to fellow novelists or readers, it was unbeatable.

Other young authors weren't all unknowns either—most had at least one representative work that had stirred waves during the golden age of martial arts fiction.

Nearly everyone had read Li Ye's "Northern Wind Soaring" and "Lonely Garrison Gazing Home," and all had praised them highly.

The reason? Their creative roots all came from the main branch of the Zhong family.

They wrote in Chinese, their martial worlds were set on Shenzhou soil, and their codes of chivalry were rooted in Zhong family ethics.

You couldn't write about a hero fighting injustice in the jungles of Nanyang, could you?

Only cities like Lin'an, Jinling, and Chang'an—with their deep histories—could carry their dreams of the martial world.

In short, these people were the staunchest supporters of Zhong orthodoxy.

"Mr. Wen, have you heard any other reasons why the Wu Group invited everyone here?"

After chatting with everyone for a long time, Li Ye casually asked his question.

Wen Rui'an said, "I've heard rumors—the Wu Cultural Communications Company wants to pool our strength to expand into the mainland."

Li Ye asked calmly, "How exactly?"

Wen Rui'an replied, "I don't know the details, but everyone's interested in the mainland—it's our ancestral homeland. Hong Kong's film industry has already moved in. It's no surprise the Wu Group has this idea."

Li Ye finally understood.

This year's Spring Festival Gala, with Hong Kong and Taiwan singers performing on the mainland, had inspired and pressured Wu Jinyuan.

Hong Kong had already moved in to feast—while she was still dawdling, she couldn't even get a sip of broth.

If she could gather a group of young writers, consolidate copyright, and define creative directions, she might replicate the future's online novel industry—"capital as king"—and build a full pipeline from reading to film adaptation.

And right now, martial arts fiction on the mainland was at its peak—far easier than the future online novel industry.

Hmm. That woman Wu Jinyuan? She's aiming very high.