Chapter 16: The Judges “Infected” [Thanks to dear friend Xiao Aguo Xinmeng]

“Sit down, sit down!” Wang Yali seemed truly fond of Fang Xinghe—kind and warm, her eyes even radiating an overwhelming motherly affection.

In reality, she was born in 1970, so she was only about thirty years old.

She pulled Fang Xinghe to the bedside and sat down, then took a stool opposite him and launched into a long monologue.

“Ever since I read your three essays, I’ve been eager to come see you every day. But with the semifinal exams ongoing, Chen Jie and I, as judges, couldn’t just drop by to chat. Now that the exams are over, we rushed here. Honestly, there’s no pressing matter—just wanted to see you in person and check on your future plans…”

Her fiery, straightforward nature disregarded the usual caution of keeping things superficial at first contact, launching straight into a torrent of words.

Chen Danya was gentler, smiling as she praised him: “Little Fang, you’re really handsome. All the women on our committee wanted to see you, but Yuan Min and Teacher Tie were busy grading, so only the two of us sneaked away. On the way here, we overheard Zhaoyan and Qigang talking about how much you helped them.”

Teacher Ye chimed in cheerfully, “Exactly! We were so anxious we forgot about the notarization issue. Renjun knows many judges, and without Fang’s reminder, if Han Han had actually won an award, our credibility would have been seriously questioned.”

Seeing these three launch into a full-blown drama, Fang Xinghe simply smiled faintly and listened without responding.

Then Wang Yali asked, “Little Fang, you’re so young—how do you know so much about notarization?”

Realizing this was a good opportunity to clear the air, Fang Xinghe preemptively explained.

“My mother left me a small courtyard before she passed. My uncle tried to take it, and I almost set his house on fire. When the civil affairs department and my uncle came to mediate, they notarized the agreement.”

His tone was light and calm—it had been a long time, and having faced death once, he could speak of it with ease.

To the two ladies, however, this was undeniable proof of the hardships the boy had endured.

Writers are naturally emotional, and women doubly so; the two matronly women’s eyes moistened, their maternal feelings swelling.

“I’ve seen some people suffer, even met many with tragic fates, but seeing a child your age struggling to survive alone—it breaks my heart…”

“If that bastard causes trouble again, don’t fight him yourself. Tell Auntie, and I’ll help you deal with him! What kind of person is he?!”

Fang Xinghe didn’t get angry. He gently deflected and changed the subject.

“I heard this competition is taken very seriously by the universities—is that true?”

“Yes. The teachers are busy reviewing the Group A submissions. Unless something unexpected happens, we’ll decide on a few guaranteed admission spots today.”

“We’re determined to make this contest successful and influential. Peking University will definitely select one winner. You’ll find out who it is at the award ceremony tomorrow afternoon.”

Relieved by this news, Fang Xinghe relaxed. With Peking University’s cooperation, the competition’s foundation was assured.

And with newspapers and publishers promoting it relentlessly, the publicity would be maximized. It seemed he could now focus on preparing his novel.

Just as he thought this, Wang Yali asked, “Little Fang, your talent is exceptional. Have you considered publishing a book?”

Fang Xinghe pondered briefly, then nodded slowly, “Actually, I’m already writing one.”

“Really?” Wang Yali genuinely brightened. “A collection of essays might be published mid-year; the buzz will be huge. If you can finish your book smoothly, you’ll ride the wave.”

This woman was refreshingly direct and forward-thinking—no wonder she could be a director.

But Teachers Ye and Chen Danya were more cautious.

“The current book market might not easily accept young authors.”

“Fang should focus on his studies for now. Maybe it’s better to participate in a couple more New Concept contests before rushing to publish.”

“No worries,” Wang Yali said enthusiastically, “Just having Fang’s face on the cover would sell five thousand copies!”

Chen and Ye glanced at Fang Xinghe instinctively and then nodded in agreement.

“That’s true.”

“You know how to sell books—that’s a great plan.”

Wang Yali smiled proudly and asked Fang Xinghe, “When will your book be ready? Come find me then; I’ll make sure you get the best treatment.”

“Okay, thank you, Sister Yali,” Fang Xinghe replied, but didn’t specify when he would finish.

Just that one word—“Sister”—made Director Wang feel elated.

She laughed, a light, unrestrained giggle.

Meanwhile, in the judges’ office, laughter and shouts erupted as well.

Yu Hua stood waving a test paper, “How can this only get two points? Why just two points?”

He approached the Nankai Chinese department teacher who gave the low score and stared intently at him.

“Tell me, why did you give it two points?”

The teacher avoided eye contact and replied, “It’s off-topic.”

Yu Hua said nothing, showed it to Li Qigang, who didn’t think it was off-topic either. The teachers debated for a while and agreed it deserved a third prize.

Elsewhere, female authors were also arguing.

“Liu Lina’s level truly deserves a first prize!”

“I disagree!”

“She’s so good—I still remember her ‘Code in the Wind.’ Now I know my heart is a code; on that sophomore afternoon when he and the wind entered, the code got messed up. Those numbers became an inscrutable mystery even I can’t solve.”

Fang Fang sighed, “For a high schooler to write about such a secret, pure first love so beautifully—aren’t they truly gifted?”

“Her preliminary work was outstanding, I agree, but the semifinals are the semifinals. Giving awards arbitrarily is unfair to the other kids! Didn’t Ding Yan’s preliminary piece stand out? Their semifinal work was consistent!”

Tie Ning suddenly raised her manuscript, “Enough arguing! The first prize is out!”

Swish!

All eyes turned sharply.

Li Qigang was puzzled, “Since when do we have a first prize? And is there really a piece more talented than ‘Peering into the Cup’?”

Chen Sihe seemed to realize something, her eyes lighting up. “Is it Fang Xinghe’s?”

That name seemed to hold a certain magic. Upon hearing it, everyone dropped their work and gathered around.

“So many people—it’s hard to follow… Who will read it aloud?”

“I will, I will!”

Cao Wenxuan, a Chinese professor at Peking University, eagerly squeezed to the front. “I’ve done broadcasting and hosting; my Mandarin is the best. Don’t compete with me!”

Everyone agreed to let him read.

What followed was a remarkable scene: a group of writers and scholars listening to a professor reading a middle school student’s essay.

When he read the passage about “civilization’s contamination,” all the small noises in the room vanished.

At the line describing “children bitten who grow up deformed,” some shifted uncomfortably, as if something suddenly felt wrong.

When he reached “the fundamental reason why those of us wild children, uncarefully nurtured, ultimately become ‘some kind of thing,’” everyone furrowed their brows, their expressions grave and heavy.

These were people adept at unearthing meaning from words—who wouldn’t grasp the deep significance behind this?

The term “wild children” itself was a stark, symbolic characterization, and pairing it with “some kind of thing” was not only jarring but piercing.

Up to this point, the essay appeared straightforward but was, in fact, as sharp as a surgical blade, cutting into a commonplace yet often ignored reality.

A heavy atmosphere gradually “contaminated” the entire room.