Chapter 43 The Fatal Blow They Imagined

At the Beijing People's Art Theatre, as Feng Yuanzheng walked into the room tucking a copy of the People's Daily under his arm, Song Dandan immediately slapped her thigh and laughed, "Speak of the devil, isn't Cao Cao here?"

Looking up in confusion, Feng Yuanzheng asked, "Huh? What's going on?"

"We were just talking about your student," Puy Cunxin prompted with a cheerful smile.

He Bing chimed right in, "He's all the rage right now! I read what he wrote, and man, it's got such a punch to it!"

Wrinkles of smiles instantly bloomed across Feng Yuanzheng's face, his complexion glowing with delight. Waving his hand, he modestly demurred, "Just a little trick, just a temporary little trick, hardly worth mentioning!"

"Look at him, trying to act all slick and pleased with himself!"

Teased by Song Dandan, everyone burst into hearty laughter.

"Stop putting on a fake facade; our colleagues in the creative studio are all singing his praises. Tell me, you guys, how does that kid manage to write with such incredible vitality?"

"His mindset and perspective are too unique; truly one of a kind."

"Isn't that the truth? That interview about destiny, so much dramatic flair."

"Right, right? Gather those pieces together and you've got yourself a fine play!"

"It's mainly that spirit. Without Fang Xinghe's disdain for everything, the result would just be an utterly mediocre, unfortunate adolescence. Only with that spine of steel does it pack such a punch."

"Your words right there hit home for me, truly spot on!"

"Hey, Xiao Feng, why don't you drop a hint to your apprentice and have him write something? If he can really pull it off, we'll stage it right here!"

Laughing and waving his hands, Feng Yuanzheng said, "No, no. I'm just a remedial tutor; who am I to dictate what he should write?"

"Boo! That's bad acting!"

"Right, completely insincere, terribly melodramatic."

And once again, the group dissolved into a fit of mirth and laughter.

In truth, the People's Art Theatre had never lacked good writers and playwrights, but the younger generation was practically severed, and never before had anyone under the age of thirty stirred up such a massive wave.

Talking about it now, it was treated both as a piece of novel news and as a latent source of anxiety for the future.

The times had changed, and the younger generation was running wild. Would they still be able to stage good plays that the masses loved and welcomed?

The speakers spoke without a second thought, but the listeners couldn't help pondering: a destiny-themed narrative from a youthful perspective against the backdrop of massive state-owned enterprise layoffs truly constituted a stellar story core. Did young Fang have the ability to write it, and would he even be willing to?

Lost in these rambling thoughts for a moment, Feng Yuanzheng chuckled wryly, feeling that thinking about this right now was simply too premature.

Fang Xinghe was still far, far away from the age of playing leading roles.

...

In the small courtyard of his home, the representative of the new generation was currently entertaining an uninvited elderly visitor.

"Boil some hot water; I brought my own tea leaves."

The current principal of Experimental High School reclined straight into Fang Xinghe's beloved old rocking chair and began looking around.

"You keep the courtyard quite tidy. How many square meters is it?"

Taken aback, Fang Xinghe replied, "Never measured it. Maybe two hundred?"

"More than that." The old man shook his head and suddenly stated, "I'll have them compensate you according to the highest standard later. You better start thinking about where to move."

"Huh?!"

Fang Xinghe was quick to react. "Is it really getting demolished?"

"September. You'll be living in the dorms by then, so it won't affect you much. If you need to sign any contracts or anything, tell them to come to my office to handle it."

Fang Xinghe's feelings were somewhat complicated.

Young Fang had grown up in this very place, and it was also here that he had bid a final farewell to his beloved mother. Now, people had changed while things remained, and soon, even the things would be gone...

A human life—just how many things must one lose before reaching the end?

He allowed his emotions to wash over him, indulging for a few seconds to savor the feeling thoroughly, until it finally subsided into complete calm.

His new piece had found an emotional core once again, and individual sentences were already beginning to surface in his mind.

With an air of nonchalance, he replied, "I don't want to live in the dorms. Are there any decent places near the school?"

Unsurprised, the old principal casually provided an answer: "There's a cluster of farmhouse courtyards right behind the school sports field. Living conditions are mediocre, but it's very similar to this place. If you want to live there, I'll help you get in touch."

"Then I'll have to trouble you."

"What trouble is it for me!" The old principal laughed heartily. "I'll just drop a hint to Liu Dashan, and he'll scurry over to sort it out in a heartbeat. When you move in this September, the house will be all spick and span for you. Want to bet on it?"

Good grief, another old fox. And are you people openly conspiring in front of me now?

As if you care that I'm only fourteen...

Too lazy to overthink it, Fang Xinghe simply gave up struggling and replied, "I don't care about that. I'm only responsible for paying."

School hadn't officially started yet, so Young Master Fang was still the boss here.

Understanding the sentiment, the old principal pointed at him with a mix of a smile and a scolding, "You, you're a born official! Do you really not want to make a sprint for Tsinghua or Peking University?"

Ha!

Ignoring the premise entirely, Fang Xinghe asked in a leisurely tone, "Where did you hear that I don't want to go to Tsinghua or Peking University?"

"Did I need to hear it from anyone? Can't I just tell by looking at you?"

Sporting an expression of all-knowing smugness, the old principal finally sighed. "Every morning you get up to practice martial arts and recite tongue twisters, and your room has a huge cabinet full of books on directing and acting. Is being a celebrity really that great?"

It wasn't a matter of whether it was great or not; it was a matter of how long one could live!

Having truly experienced the enhancement brought by Stardom Values, Fang Xinghe could not possibly abandon his star-studded path for any reason.

"What is it you actually came here for? If nothing, drink your tea."

Maintaining a polite distance with a faint smile, Fang Xinghe poured a cup of tea with hot water for his guest, while pulling out a bottle of AD Calcium Milk for himself.

For some reason, the AD Calcium Milk of this era simply tasted better than that of later generations.

Seeing his attitude, the old principal could only shake his head with a bitter smile.

Taking a couple of sips of tea to steady his mood, the old man suddenly delivered a verbal stab: "How does it feel to be cursed at?"

"Didn't really pay attention." Revitalized, Fang Xinghe's eyes brightened. "What, are the curses that severe?"

The old man was dumbfounded. "Wait, what kind of reaction is that?"

"I'm happy!" Fang Xinghe's face wore an expression of absolute certainty. "Can't you tell?"

"..."

Suppressing himself for a good long while, the old man scrutinized Fang Xinghe carefully before finally letting out a soft sigh of awe: "A genius... So this is what a real genius is like..."

With question marks filling his head, Fang Xinghe thought: *Hold on, what kind of wild fantasies are you running through your head?*

*Stop letting your imagination wander; normal geniuses genuinely do not act like this.*

"You wouldn't have come all the way here specifically to see me out of fear that my mental state would crack, would you?"

"Ahem, that's part of the reason..."

Perhaps feeling he had lost a bit of dignity, the old principal suddenly turned solemn. "Actually, I was more afraid that you wouldn't see through what's really going on beneath the surface."

"What's going on?"

"For instance, why has the education debate blown up to such a scale? Why are people arguing so fiercely over such a trivial matter?"

Looking exceedingly mysterious, the old man seemed desperately eager to pique Fang Xinghe's curiosity.

"How simple is that?"

Chuckling wryly, Fang Xinghe effortlessly laid bare the core logic.

"The fallout from the Asian Financial Crisis has lasted from last year all the way into this year. To ease employment pressure, achieve educational equity, and elevate the overall quality of the populace, universities have started a crazy wave of enrollment expansion."

Watching the old man's eyes grow wider and rounder, the little troublemaker deliberately slowed down his speech, squeezing the words out half a sentence at a time.

"So here's the question: with things done this way, what do the beneficiaries of the previous elite education think?

A massive influx of college graduates will rapidly dilute the value of all degrees, and in a few years, they'll use their vitality and demand for lower wages to challenge their job positions and social value.

Can they not be anxious about that?

Even successful people who aren't afraid of the competition feel sour inside—*I struggled through so much hardship and effort just to test into a university, and now you people can just waltz in whenever you want?*

I can't curse any specific person, but cursing a damn policy is fair game, right?

So, many people don't genuinely believe that studying is useless; rather, the enrollment expansion has infringed upon their interests, so they are fanning the flames while knowing full well what they're doing.

Still others are riding the wave to promote their own ideas of quality-oriented education.

Those who instigate are malicious; those who tag along to make a ruckus are foolish—fifty-fifty, I'd say.

If you don't believe me, just wait and see. When massive numbers graduate in four years, they'll kick up another fuss!"

"You, you, you, you, you..."

Gripping the arms of the rocking chair for dear life, the old principal's hands had stopped trembling, but his lips kept shaking nonstop.

"Who told you this?! Has someone already talked to you?!"

"Is it really that deep?" Fang Xinghe displayed a trace of well-calibrated astonishment. "Does something so simple require someone to teach it? Isn't it something you can deduce just by reading the news?"

What a wicked bastard!

Shocked to a shade of ash, the old man slumped back into the rocking chair, his heart skipping beats in the most unhealthy way possible.

The headmaster felt thoroughly aggrieved!

He had come with good intentions to warn the brat, intending to act superior and establish the image of a seasoned veteran, only to be slapped right back by the punk instead!

Are geniuses really this absurd?!

*See, you're overthinking it again.*

*Normal geniuses truly don't act like this. It's just that President Fang used to be in this exact line of work, so analyzing underlying causes from public opinion trends is nothing more than professional competence.*

"Then..."

Seemingly still unwilling to let it go, the old principal probed further, "Do you also understand the situation over with Han Han?"

"Yeah, even simpler."

Nodding matter-of-factly, Fang Xinghe left no opening for the old man.

*You want to act superior in front of me? Did you pay for the privilege?*

In both his past and present lives, many people couldn't figure it out: Han Han's "Peeping at the Cup" was indeed impressive, but it was merely a single instance of being held back a grade—why on earth did it trigger that level of massive social discussion?

The truth was exceptionally simple—

The big brother had simply happened to be at the right place at the right time, becoming a detonating point that all sorts of demons and monsters exploited to make a fuss.

The fundamental reason remained the economic downturn compounded by university enrollment expansion, coupled with the public's extreme sensitivity toward education. Thus, as soon as the bad guys incited it, a wave swelled up instantly, making it look as though the entire society was agitated over Han Han.

Society was indeed agitated, but not for him.

The protagonist of an era is always the people. The person who accidentally stands at the very peak and attracts the gaze of the masses is usually merely a symbolic figure. Han Han was like this, Jack Ma was like this, and Fang Xinghe would be no exception.

The difference lay in this: after climbing to the peak and surveying the vast expanse, whoever could remain calm and clear-headed, truly discerning the inevitability of history and the masses versus the individual's contingency in an era, would be the only one qualified to exit the stage with a smile.

When everything is accomplished and one sweeps their sleeves away, it is the ultimate romance and the highest degree of untethered freedom for a Chinese-style hero.

Fang Xinghe couldn't quite manage that yet; his temperament could only support the first half—clear-minded and resolute in intention, then giving full rein to his agency to do some joyful things amidst his anger, rather than exhausting all his joy only to walk toward anger in a daze.

And Han Han at this moment hadn't figured out who was good and who was bad, not even touching the fringes of awakening.

Even next year, when *Triple Door* burst onto the scene and sold hundreds of thousands of copies, he would still be that string-pulled marionette.

This was the greatest difference between the two—not in their writing style, but in their core.

With a distant look in his eyes, Fang Xinghe remarked indifferently, "Han Han's father and his agent rode the tailwinds to muddy the waters, figuring out a way to drive the hype and help Han Han make a name for himself. They certainly timed it well, but at the end of the day, it was still just the power of the era—they simply happened to be there at the right moment."

The more the old principal listened, the more alarmed and furious he became. "You clearly understand everything, yet you still waded into those muddy waters?! You don't even need that kind of traffic to sell your books!"

The real reason was something Fang Xinghe couldn't articulate, but he could play the loyalty card.

With a look of unwavering determination on his face, the future Best Actor declared, "Han Han is my beloved friend and sworn brother-in-arms. How could I bear to let my big brother bear such immense pressure all by himself?"

"So you just started firing cannons everywhere?! Now your public image is charred black!"

"Between reputation and loyalty..." The wicked Fang raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint welling up within him, "Naturally, my own gratification comes first."

The conversation could no longer continue.

Truly, not a single additional word could be tolerated.

The old man felt that chatting about serious matters with Fang Xinghe would sooner or later anger him to death.

From start to finish, not a single sentence was the truth!

Yet, from another perspective, a Fang Xinghe like this was also reassuring enough, eliminating any need to worry about him collapsing in his youth over mere petty storms.

"Whatever, I can't be bothered to advise you."

With complicated feelings, the old man rose in indignation and turned to leave on the spot.

Before departing, he dropped his final remark: "Actually, I was originally rather uneasy about Liu Dashan—his foundation is too shallow, and he's too prone to making a fuss over you. But looking at it now, I was just worrying for nothing.

Since you approve of him, hurry up and produce results. Whether Liu Dashan can hold onto his position as the principal of Experimental High School doesn't depend on me; it depends on how much influence you wield."

Shortly after the old man left, Liu Dashan called, his voice sounding somewhat nervous.

"Xinghe, did Principal Zhang have any instructions?"

Casually, Fang Xinghe replied, "He told you to help me set up a courtyard behind the school sports field. The rest was just idle chatter."

"Good, leave it to me!"

Extremely prompt and without an ounce of superfluous talk, Liu Dashan said, "Aside from making the house look bright and tidy, do you have any requests for the furniture?"

"None."

Surveying the main room, Fang Xinghe only looked; he had no intention of taking any single piece with him.

After a brief gaze, he said softly, "It's just a place to stop by."

"Alright, I guarantee delivery before the start of the semester."

"I'll pay you back for the money later."

"Psh, what are we even talking about? Why use our own money when there's school funding? Don't even mention labor costs; aren't school staff members like me supposed to serve you students in the first place?"

Look at that—how great an attitude, how pliable a posture!

Fang Xinghe didn't understand politics much, but he understood human nature.

Liu Dashan's position as principal was precarious. Wasn't his shortcoming a lack of authority to win people over?

Our boy had it, and in ample supply.

He didn't expect Liu Dashan to offer any grand assistance; as long as he handled the logistics, minimized trouble, and whipped the little eagle chicks at home into shape, that was quite enough.

A chief of staff serves the president, so why shouldn't the person serving me be worth a principal?

Just wait. Once my book hits the shelves, your time to shine will arrive.

...

Hanging up the phone, Fang Xinghe began extracting information from the newspapers.

Sure enough, once the three articles in the *Beijing Youth Daily* were published, those stinking flies finally caught the stench, reacted instinctively, and immediately launched a frenzied counter-attack.

Criticisms were pervasive, appearing every single day from the first day right up to the present—there was only ever fiercer, never most fierce.

The dark tide surged, and towering billows crashed down.

The two core southern master penmen, Big Bear and Red Bell, published articles in succession, executing a fine coordination.

Big Bear's focus was primarily on questioning Fang Xinghe's "qualification to speak."

"I am not stopping people from speaking; I simply hope that anyone who opens their mouth can use their brain beforehand to determine whether they possess the qualifications, the ability, and a true independent personality and progressive ideology to speak on such an issue that is both unrelated to them and far too momentous."

Meanwhile, Red Bell's central theme was to romanticize media professionals and forge a united front.

"We media professionals, who have remained active on the frontline of public opinion and guarded the fortress of justice for years, have been verified by the vast readership, trusted by intellectual groups, and weathered rain, snow, wind, and frost. Only because of this do we possess the public credibility to criticize erroneous policies.

This is both our responsibility as media professionals and a right for which we have obtained widespread permission.

If one day we are arbitrarily cursed and lose the freedom to criticize simply because of our correct criticisms, our populace will gradually plunge into despair amidst the collapse of democracy..."

Though its lethality was somewhat lacking, its煽动性 (instigative power) was exceedingly strong, directly nailing Fang Xinghe to the opposite side of freedom.

Following that, in the Thursday edition of *Defend-Difficult Weekend*, Lieshan published an article for the third time. Abandoning all courtesy, he officially opened fire, blasting Fang Xinghe to absolute smithereens.

This was the fatal blow they believed they had struck.