Chapter 25: The World Outside Changes Because of Me

The next day, Mao Xiaotong went to school with a smile.

It was from this day on that she finally had her first friend.

Her desk-mate, Dou Dou, was a fanatical admirer of Fang Xinghe’s looks.

In truth, they didn't have much in common; their thoughts and personalities were worlds apart. But what did that matter? As long as they both liked Fang Xinghe, all girls in the world were potential friends.

The reason was simple, but simplicity did not make it incorrect.

To have someone to hold in one’s heart—that was, in itself, a profound kind of happiness.

That same day, Li Qigang called Fang Xinghe, practically howling into the phone: "It’s only been published for 24 hours, and the *Mengya* editorial office’s phones have been ringing off the hook!"

"Alright, I know."

Fang Xinghe replied, his reaction indifferent.

Yes, he had known for a while.

Since yesterday, his "Starlight Value" had been skyrocketing. By the time he went to bed, it had reached 1.7 million. When he woke up this morning and checked again, it was 2.85 million.

In a single day, he had gained half of what he had earned all of last month. The difference between having a work and having none was vast, just as the difference between a high-quality piece and a perfunctory one was immense.

His total fan count had also easily surged past 1.4 million and was still growing.

Sure enough, a face was all it took to attract fans, but keeping them required something that resonated more deeply.

Li Qigang was frustrated by his indifference and immediately announced another piece of good news.

"We sold at least 100,000 copies yesterday alone. The 500,000 copies we prepared definitely won't be enough; we'll likely need a massive reprint."

Fang Xinghe was less optimistic: "The places you can distribute to are very limited, aren't they? The audience size is finite, so don't let triumph turn into tragedy."

The old man was unconvinced: "The places we can reach are no fewer than *Zhiyin*!"

"Heh."

Fang Xinghe chuckled, devoid of any respect: "*Gushihui* moves two to three million copies an issue, and *Zhiyin* is steadily over a million. Don't try to punch above your weight, Editor-in-Chief Li."

Li Qigang was nearly pricked to the point of exploding; even if he didn't explode, he was flushed with anger. One could hear him grinding his teeth through the receiver.

"That was the past! Just watch how I surpass *Zhiyin* with this issue!"

Oh? So confident. Did they have some special promotional strategy?

Fang Xinghe felt a flicker of curiosity, but only for a moment—he couldn't even be bothered to ask.

He never wasted his energy worrying about things where he couldn't help or change the outcome; it only added to his own annoyance.

"Alright, then I wish you success. Anything else? I still need to return a call to Sister Yali."

"You brat! You’re the one who wanted to be famous, and now you’re the one acting all lazy. I really..."

*Click! Beep-beep-beep-beep...*

Li Qigang listened to the busy signal, feeling angry, bewildered, but eventually, calmed down.

The cause was not yet won; it was indeed too early to celebrate. So... he would wait until he had achieved it before taking the credit!

It was impossible not to brag; he enjoyed chatting with Fang Xinghe far too much.

On the other side, Fang Xinghe returned a call to Wang Yali.

"Sister Yali, what's up?"

"Can't I call you just to chat? Congratulations, your work is a huge success! Even though it's just an essay, the editors at our publishing house were stunned after reading it. There isn't one person who didn't praise it..."

She was truly a whirlwind, her words fast and dense.

After chatting for a long time, she finally moved to the point: "I have a very good friend at the *Beijing Youth Daily* who wants to interview you. Could you grant her an exclusive?"

Fang Xinghe countered, "How good of a friend?"

"A very, very good friend—the kind who shared clothes when we were little. She rarely takes outside interviews these days, but she made an exception because she’s particularly interested in you. I can guarantee she won't write anything detrimental, nor will she twist facts or take things out of context. Xiao Fang, you’re becoming famous too quickly; you need people you can trust in the media world..."

She went on for another long stretch, but this time, the information was incredibly valuable.

Even after the internet became the mainstream, traditional media still held the power to "call a deer a horse" and distort the truth—let alone in this era.

Cultivating his own people within major newspapers was a very, very important strategic move.

"Alright, I accept. How about after the high school entrance exams?"

"That works! You focus on your studies, good luck!"

The pace of society now was quite slow, and the diffusion of influence took time. The mere hundreds of thousands in sales for *Mengya*, concentrated among young people, didn't yet reach the level of a social sensation, so Wang Yali wasn't in a rush.

"Thank you, Sister Yali."

"I love how sweet-talked you are, haha!"

After a triumphant laugh, Wang Yali cunningly reminded him: "Don't give up on your connection at the *Xinmin Evening News* either. Having a foot in two major newspapers helps with balance, so those short-sighted dogs don't try to bully you for being young. Also, Wang Tong and Chen Danya are not as close as you think—not as close as I am with Chunhua. When the critical moment comes, you need to know which side to lean toward..."

"Yes, yes, I understand..."

Feeling both a headache and touched by her nagging, Fang Xinghe finally returned Chen Danya's call.

Among the many judges, there were plenty who liked and appreciated him, but the only ones who truly cared for him like a nephew were Wang Yali and Chen Danya.

Li Qigang was different; the old man was a bit utilitarian and a bit long-winded. He wasn't a bad person, but one couldn't truly confide in him.

Auntie Chen also wanted to discuss an interview; Wang Tong wanted to come.

Fang Xinghe was direct: "Sister Yali has already arranged for a reporter from the *Beijing Youth Daily*, so why not come together? I don't have time right now. Is it okay to schedule it after the entrance exams?"

"That's fine. We'll write two articles from different angles and publish them separately; that’s better for you."

She paused, then added, "My worrisome daughter—your little sister—cried so hard after reading your article. She even asked me why I hadn't brought you over for dinner. Your writing has a stronger emotional impact on young people than I initially anticipated."

"Because the emotions are real."

Fang Xinghe accepted the praise as a matter of course. The "Little Fang" of the story was indeed an angry, bitter child, but he hadn't known how to express it—which was exactly what the "Big Fang" excelled at.

"True, it is sincere and moving."

Chen Danya continued to heap on the praise, then asked, "The fact that you are an orphan is now known to everyone. Has the school or the local authorities made any gestures?"

Fang Xinghe thought for a moment and replied, "They probably haven't reacted yet. It needs to ferment for a while."

"That's true; official reactions are always a bit slow. But your popularity is already rising; looking at the momentum, it's even more fierce than Han Han's. Be careful from now on, don't make any major mistakes. There will surely be a lot of noise and even criticism in the coming period. You must be mentally prepared..."

"Mm, I understand. Thank you, Auntie Chen."

Fang Xinghe was not someone who wouldn't listen to advice; he took the goodwill to heart.

After hanging up, he considered notifying Teacher Zhong, but after a moment of reflection, he decided it wasn't necessary to report such a small achievement yet. He would wait and see.

He finally gave up on that idea and strolled off to school.

...

Compared to the relative quiet of the outside world, a craze had clearly broken out on the middle school campus.

Many were debating whose writing was better, Han Han’s or Fang Xinghe’s. On their home turf, Fang Xinghe was the clear winner, but elsewhere... it was actually the same.

The girls were almost overwhelmingly in support of Fang Xinghe. Although "Big Brother" (Han Han) had also posted a photo, it was best not to bring that out for comparison—it was too hurtful.

Even in Han Han’s stronghold, Songjiang No. 2 Middle School, he couldn't achieve a fifty-fifty split with Fang Xinghe.

Calling "Big Brother" a stylish, charismatic guy was no exaggeration, but that was as far as it went.

As for the words used to praise Fang Xinghe, they were endless: "Handsomer than Andy Lau," "Dazzling," "The most handsome young star since the Four Heavenly Kings," "Making the idols of the Peninsula look dull," "In the history of literature, only this person can be compared to Pan An"...

It was a bit hyperbolic, but compared to the "rainbow farts" (excessive flattery) of later generations, it was standard fare—plenty of variety, but lacking in original flair.

Unexpectedly, no one called him the "Hanamichi Sakuragi of China."

Perhaps it was because Fang Xinghe possessed both looks and talent, and couldn't be associated with that "idiot" persona.

In short, he hadn't managed to piggyback on the traffic of *Slam Dunk*, but he had single-handedly created the "Fang-style" traffic.

The trouble with being too handsome also existed. For instance, the male student body was sharply divided; those who admired him were truly steadfast, while those who disliked him were truly resistant.

"Damn, isn't it just because of a face? If you only look at the writing, he’s miles behind you!"

A good buddy was huffily championing Han Han, quickly drawing support from all the roommates in the dorm.

Of course, their support wasn't entirely sincere; it was more likely born of jealousy—why did the cute girl in their class, who was usually indifferent to them, worship and yearn for a stranger with such adoration?

*Damn you, Fang! Die!*

"Exactly, if he didn't have that face, what would he be?"

"I read his essay; it was just 'okay.' The prose is very rough, nothing to chew on."

"The girls in our class are so funny."

"Aren't women just superficial? Fang Xinghe looks good and knows how to act; stupid women just fall for that."

"Anyway, I don't think he's that great; he's just really good at acting cool."

Han Han remained silent, hunched over his desk, poking at his scratch paper. His eyes were somewhat dazed.

His friend nudged him, asking in a low voice, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Han Han drew a heavy line, the ballpoint pen tearing through the paper. Looking closely, the page was filled with four words: *Knowing but not yielding.*

The process of imitating *Youth* and *Sex* had not been pleasant. The more he imitated, the more he felt the gap. Han Han had been tormented for the past two months, but conversely, he had gained a deeper understanding of the spirit of "knowing but not yielding."

His friend glanced at him with a strange look, wanting to say something but stopping himself, finally leaving only a sigh.

*The ministers are determined to fight to the death; why has Your Majesty already decided to surrender?*

*Fang Xinghe... is he really that good?*

...

Fang Xinghe wasn't necessarily "that good," but *Knowing but Not Yielding* had indeed transcended the model.

However, the impact varied from person to person.

The degree of emotional impact any piece of writing could produce depended entirely on three factors: the audience’s aesthetic level, the degree of resonance with their experiences, and the synchronization of their values.

For aesthetics, take *Dream of the Red Chamber*.
For experience, take *Siddhartha*.
For values, take *Tiny Times*.

In his essay, Fang Xinghe had categorized teenagers. One type was the happy, carefree, mindless fools; these people had low resonance and low synchronization, so they wouldn't be deeply moved by *Knowing but Not Yielding*, nor could they quite "get" his brilliance.

But those children who had been hurt—high resonance, high synchronization—worshipped Fang Xinghe almost like a spiritual mentor. That kind of identification was something outsiders found hard to understand.

The problem was, the readers who could see the article first were mostly only children in cities; few had truly been hurt, many were just "groaning without an illness," and even more were carefree and happy.

The composition ratio of these three groups grew larger in that order. Fang Xinghe only reaped the benefits from the first, verbal adoration from the middle, and forgetfulness from the latter.

Actually, this was a good thing; it proved that the teenagers of his country weren't living in dire straits on a large scale.

Fang Xinghe’s attitude toward this was casual—capture as many as you can now; those you can't capture now, you'll get eventually.

*Youth*, *The Big Novel*, *Essay Collection*—he had plenty of good cards to play; he would cover all bases sooner or later.

Letting everyone argue for now was perfect for accumulating heat and attracting external attention.

Otherwise, how would he break out of the niche?

The confident mastermind of the "water army" immersed himself back into his studies, while the outside world, just as he had expected, changed with every passing day.