Chapter 513

"Wait! Teacher Xia!"

"Don't jump to conclusions yet!"

Gao Gao Qiaochun was so anxious that his body leaned forward, and his speaking speed accelerated:

"Our 'Midnight Publishing House' cannot independently operate your pure literature work, but!"

"Behind us, is Xinying Publishing House!"

Uda Ayaka also nodded immediately, her beautiful face glowing again:

"Exactly, exactly!"

"Our Midnight Publishing House is a sub-brand under Xinying Publishing House."

"And Xinying Publishing House is one of the top comprehensive large publishing houses in the Japanese publishing industry!"

Her voice carried pride.

"Literature, social science, art, textbooks... they have involvement in various types of books, and their strength is strong."

"Especially in the field of pure literature, it is Xinying Publishing House's traditional strength and favorite!"

"They own top literary magazines, sponsor important pure literature awards all year round, and have close relationships with those high-and-mighty 'literary' big shots."

"As long as the quality of the work is solid, they are absolutely the best choice!"

Xin Xin Yuanxiangzhi also affirmed:

"Yes, Teacher Xia. If you need, we can act as recommenders to recommend you and your work to the veteran editors who are most proficient in the field of pure literature at the head office."

"Even, if the work is stunning enough, it is not impossible to recommend it directly to the editor-in-chief level person in charge."

Xia Xia Xia Mujun's eyes lit up.

"That's great."

"Then I'll trouble you."

At this moment, the printer stopped working.

Three complete manuscripts of "Snow Country" that still carried the residual warmth of the machine were neatly stacked on the table.

Gao Gao Qiaochun looked at the thick manuscript, and the slight regret in his heart for Xia Xia Xia Mujun turning to pure literature was finally overwhelmed by stronger curiosity.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his somewhat uneasy and expectant mood, and asked in as gentle a tone as possible:

"Teacher Xia... before formally recommending it to the head office, can we... read this work of yours first?"

He rubbed his hands, looking a bit embarrassed, but his eyes were earnest.

"If... if the quality is really as stunning as your previous work."

"When we report to the head office, we can also have more confidence, and perhaps we can fight for more veteran editors for you, or even the direct attention of the editor-in-chief."

"In that case, there might be a better starting point in publishing conditions, publicity resources, and even future royalty shares."

Xia Xia Xia Mujun nodded understandingly, a grateful smile on his face.

"Of course."

Although Gao Gao Qiaochun still couldn't help but regret—if this were a suspense mystery, that would be great, and he and his group would likely harvest another dazzling performance.

But he still couldn't help but ask the question that hovered in the bottom of his heart:

"Teacher Xia... can I take the liberty of asking you a question?"

Xia Xia Xia Mujun said frankly:

"Please."

Gao Gao Qiaochun weighed his words and asked carefully:

"Since you have already proven yourself in the field of suspense mystery with 'The Devotion of Suspect X'..."

"Why... did you suddenly turn to create pure literature?"

He paused, trying to make his tone sound just curious, not questioning.

"This 'cross-border' range... in the eyes of many people, is it a bit... too big?"

Xia Xia Xia Mujun seemed to have been prepared for this question.

His expression was natural, and his tone was peaceful as he explained:

"Actually, the concept of 'Snow Country' is a conception I have been brewing in my heart for a long time."

"Its state and demands are not quite the same as when I wrote 'The Devotion of Suspect X'."

He smiled slightly.

"Now that the mystery novel has been successfully shelved, I have completed a stage goal."

"So, I wanted to write the story that I have always wanted to write and that is closer to my inner expression."

"It's... fulfilling a wish."

"After all, even for me, I have a dream of writing pure literature."

His explanation was reasonable and reasonable, sounding more like the natural choice of a creator following his own heart.

Xin Xin Yuanxiangzhi and Uda Ayaka, who also had doubts, heard this and showed expressions of realization.

They had come into contact with many authors and knew deeply that many writers hid a "literary dream" deep in their hearts.

Pure literature is like a sacred temple for many writers.

It represents the ultimate tempering of language art itself, the serious questioning of human depth and existence essence, and the inheritance and exploration of **national aesthetic kernels, such as "mono no aware," "yugen," and "wabi-sabi."

It does not cater to the market, and even deliberately keeps a distance from popularity, pursuing the "retention value" of the work in the long river of literary history, and the "identity certification" of the author in the elite evaluation system of the "literary world."

Writing pure literature is regarded as a supreme pursuit of "artistic path," and it is the creator's practice of regarding literature as "skill approaching the path."

Its status is noble precisely because of its "difficulty"—difficult to write, difficult to be understood by the public, and even more difficult to obtain the recognition of that strict elite system.

But once successful, it will bring the ultimate glory as a "writer" that transcends commercial value.

At this moment.

The three editors were holding complex moods—curiosity, anticipation, a hint of scrutiny, and hidden doubts about "whether a genius can continue to create miracles in another completely different field."

They each picked up a copy of the "Snow Country" manuscript that still emitted the fresh scent of ink.

Their gazes fell on the beginning of the manuscript at the same time.

[Passing through the long county boundary tunnel, it is the snow country.]

No redundant descriptions, no deliberate sentimentality.

Only the spatial transition and isolation brought by the "tunnel," and the boundless, clear, and pure imagery carried by the noun "snow country."

However, within this absolute simplicity—

An incomparably clear, incomparably vast, and incomparably lonely picture scroll seemed to be slowly but irresistibly pushed before their eyes, their minds, and the depths of their souls by invisible giant hands from behind the words.

They "saw" it.

They saw the long, dim, seemingly endless tunnel walls retreating rapidly outside the train window.

They felt the somewhat stuffy air isolated from the outside world in the carriage.

Then...

The light came in.

The white light at the tunnel exit went from weak to strong.

Immediately after—

A vast, boundless, pure white that made one's heart palpitate occupied the entire field of vision.

Continuous snowfields, snow-covered mountains, frozen rivers, the whole world seemed to be wrapped in a thick, soft, cold cotton wool.

The air was biting, carrying the clean scent of snow.

Except for the monotonous sound of the train running, there was only this snow country left.

In the editorial department, there was only the fine air supply sound of the central air conditioning.

There were only the three people who were instantly dragged into another biting and beautiful world by an opening sentence.