Chapter 849

But he did not move.

It was as if that period was not an end, but a bottomless well, sucking in all his thoughts and senses, leaving him unable to return for a long time.

The office was deathly quiet, save for the low hum of the central air conditioning and his own heartbeat, which had almost stalled before becoming heavy once more.

Slowly, extremely slowly, he loosened his hand from the manuscript.

Then, as if afraid of disturbing some fragile dream, he used both hands to close the thick stack of papers with the utmost solemnity.

He leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes.

Yet there was no darkness before him.

In its place were countless images, clear enough to make his heart tremble, sweeping toward him with a roar, accompanied by the cold, crisp fragrance unique to the written word—

It was the boundless, endless snow that swallowed all sound, suddenly rushing into view after passing through a long tunnel.

It was Komako's face, reflected in the mirror under the dim, yellow light of the hot spring inn, a beauty so unreal it was breathtaking.

It was Yoko's voice, so clear it bordered on sorrow, as if it did not belong to this world, shattering above the fire in the snowy night.

The futile running about, the futile writing and loving—beneath all beautiful things flowed a cold, dark river named "futility" and "nothingness."

Miyagi Heyu's breathing became deep and labored under the washing of these memories.

It was not that he had never read excellent works of pure literature.

As an editor, he had chewed over countless texts, whether ornate, profound, or sharp.

But *Snow Country* was different.

Its words were not "written"; they seemed more like they had "condensed" out of an extremely cold, transparent void.

Every word felt as if it had undergone the most rigorous purification, stripped of all artifice, leaving only bone-like refined lines and the cold luster of jade.

There was no superfluous sentimentality, no overflowing description.

Teacher Natsume used only the most restrained brushstrokes to lightly outline the snow-capped mountains, the hot springs, the shadows in the mirror, and the light in the fire, and the scene came to life on its own, rushing toward him with a kind of desolate, fragile, fleeting beauty.

That was not a story.

It was an atmosphere, a state of mind, a vast, transparent "field" woven with language.

Once a person stepped inside, they were gently enveloped and permeated by that pervasive "sense of nothingness."

You could clearly feel the heat of love, yet simultaneously see the weakness and futility of that heat in a world of ice and snow; you could touch the vivid texture of life, yet also hear the cold echo of time passing and all things ultimately returning to silence beneath it.

Beauty and sorrow, life and death, reality and reflection, existence and nothingness... all these grand themes were handled with effortless grace by the author, dissolved into a single snowflake, a single sigh, a single fleeting spark of fire.

"This writing... it's truly too beautiful..."

A sound, barely more than a sigh, a very low breath, escaped Miyagi Heyu's throat.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on the closed manuscript, but his eyes remained unfocused, as if his gaze had pierced through the paper and landed on some unreachable far-off place.

He felt a rare, professional tremor rising from the base of his spine.

It was not fear, but... awe.

Awe that a boy of only sixteen could possess such seasoned and precise literary skill, constructing such a complete and profound aesthetic world.

He now completely understood the incoherent excitement and high praise of Gao Qiaochun and Xinyuan Xiangzhi.

No, their descriptions were not even enough.

This was not just "excellent"; this was almost... terrifying!

What Natsume Chikage had displayed with *The Devotion of Suspect X* was a narrative structure as rigorous as a precision clock and a surging power of logic.

Yet this *Snow Country* displayed the exact opposite extreme—it was a contemporary incarnation of the "mono no aware" and "yugen" spirit in Eastern aesthetics, the art of ultimate "negative space," a poetry so calm it was cruel, dancing beside the abyss of nothingness.

To reach such terrifying heights in both commercial mystery and serious pure literature, two fields that were worlds apart?

How could there be such a talented boy...

Perhaps... to call him a genius would be to belittle him.

One must remember, Natsume Chikage is only sixteen!

At sixteen, he could write these two works that could be called the pinnacle.

Even just one of them would be enough to become a peak that many writers could not overcome in a lifetime, a "masterpiece" category that could not be reached.

Yet he, in such a short time, had conquered both peaks?

This talent is simply terrifying!

Miyagi Heyu's fingers curled unconsciously, his knuckles turning slightly white.

This reading experience of being "sucked into" a work body and soul was something he had rarely encountered in his many years as an editor.

He was no longer an editor reviewing a manuscript, but a pure reader, completely conquered.

This novel did not need "promotion" at all.

Those who understand will naturally approach it, trembling, and be deeply shocked by its magnificence and coldness.

What kind of waves will it stir up in the literary world?

To what literary height will it push that boy named Natsume Chikage?

Countless thoughts collided and echoed in Miyagi Heyu's mind.

In the end, all the chaotic thoughts converged into a confirmation that bordered on numbness, accompanied by the powerful and heavy beating of his heart, repeatedly striking his nerves—

Miyagi Heyu pulled at his hair in great annoyance, with enough force to almost pull out a few strands.

Why can't my publishing house publish pure literature!!!

If we could publish it, this *Snow Country* would definitely be a massive hit too!!!

Just thinking about having to hand over such an excellent work to the editors at headquarters made him feel resentful and angry.

He couldn't help but think about which guy would be so lucky to become Teacher Natsume's next editor!

One could even say.

He now even wanted to apply directly to transfer to headquarters and become Teacher Natsume's exclusive editor.

After all, Teacher Natsume is only sixteen and has already written these two extremely excellent works.

It is conceivable that in the rest of his life, he will definitely be able to write even more excellent works!

But he understood that in the short term, even if he applied, he would absolutely not be able to get promoted.

Even the editor-in-chief of his publishing house would absolutely not be willing to let him go.

Thinking of this.

No matter how annoyed Miyagi Heyu was, it ultimately turned into deep helplessness.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as if to replace all the frustration accumulated in his chest.

Then, he sat up straight, shaking his head repeatedly, as all the lingering shock and frustration on his face were restrained, replaced by a sharp, determined seriousness.

He picked up the internal phone on the desk, his fingers hovering over the buttons for a moment, wanting to contact a group leader he knew at headquarters, but after thinking about it, he ultimately did not press them.

Because it was too late now.

And if he dialed directly like this, he didn't seem like he would get much benefit either.

It was better to wait until the editor-in-chief came to work tomorrow and let the editor-in-chief take a look at this *Snow Country* first.

If the editor-in-chief introduced it, he thought it would definitely make this *Snow Country* more valued by headquarters.

And most importantly, he would think with the editor-in-chief then about how to hand this novel over to headquarters in a way that would secure the greatest benefits for himself and the branch.

Because handing over such an excellent work so easily made his heart ache!

The next day.

The morning light was faint.

Natsume Chikage and Natsume Ruri arrived at the Shibuya platform.

Just as they arrived.

Many commuting passengers noticed Natsume Chikage.

After all, he had an outstanding appearance and a clean temperament, making him quite conspicuous in the crowd.

But compared to this.

Even more people took the initiative to step forward, smiling to ask about and congratulate Natsume Chikage on his brilliant victory in yesterday's shogi match.

Most of them were young girls, their faces filled with admiration and a hint of shyness.

Natsume Chikage had no choice but to politely and awkwardly brush off these enthusiastic strangers.

Fortunately, there weren't many people, and after Natsume Chikage responded simply and thanked them, the crowd dispersed, with only a few gazes still secretly following him, and no one else came forward to disturb him for the time being.

He secretly breathed a sigh of relief and took out the shojo manga *Kimi ni Todoke* that his sister had given him from his bag and started reading.

Thinking that since he was already reading it, he might as well finish the ending.

And Natsume Ruri, who was beside him, seeing that her brother was becoming more and more popular, couldn't help but puff out her cheeks slightly, like a little pufferfish. ===== CHAPTER 850 =====