Chapter 32: The Final Verdict

June 1st, Children's Day.

Li Xiaolin, daughter of the esteemed writer Ba Jin, brought Fang Xinghe’s work to the hospital room. She read it to her bedridden, critically ill father, word by word, eventually eliciting a difficultly dictated but glowing praise from Mr. Ba Jin.

That very day, the *Xinmin Evening News* published the elderly master’s effusive commendations.

"I am currently battling illness, yet I find encouragement in all sorts of works. Today, hearing Xiaolin read Fang Xinghe’s work, I felt a sense of great delight, as if I had discovered a rare treasure.

What kind of praise does a middle school student's essay deserve?

One must begin with the spirit it conveys.

The mediocre 'submit to fate,' but we, the children of China, have always strived to 'defy fate and change our destiny.' This realization is excellent, and it is even better that a young person like Fang Xinghe can possess such insight.

Young people must have a spirit of resistance. I live in great pain and often speak of euthanasia, yet I frequently summon the courage to tell Xiaolin and the others: 'I am living for you all now.'

I am still resisting, perhaps not so firmly or bravely, but I am resisting.

You are not yet at my stage, so you must learn to resist even more; do not be intimidated, and do not stand still.

Fang Xinghe’s thoughts and words resonate with me across the river of time, and I believe they will resonate with you as well. I suggest everyone take a look.

From now on, I will frequently listen to Xiaolin read his new articles to me—one article for every one written.

At my current stage, nothing brings me more solace than the emergence of an excellent new talent in the literary world. My heart is stirred today, and my pain seems to have diminished slightly. Thank you all, and thank you, Fang Xinghe."

It was brief and unadorned, but this was Ba Jin—the Ba Jin who had been hospitalized and critically ill for so long.

Among the masters of modern and contemporary Chinese literature—Lu, Guo, Mao, Ba, Lao, Cao—Mr. Ba Jin was the only one still living; the weight of his words was immeasurable.

Furthermore, setting aside his political and literary standing, the elderly man’s personal character and virtue were deeply respected. A single word from him carried more weight than ten thousand from others.

Consequently, when the *Xinmin* published Mr. Ba Jin’s statement, public opinion was in an uproar. The specific reason for the clamor was that most people simply could not understand what Fang Xinghe had done to deserve such acclaim.

If you don't understand, you look again.

When the opinions of authority clash with one's own, people in this era are more accustomed to looking inward for the cause. Thus, many media figures and readers who had not originally read *Knowing Without Yielding*, or who had only read it cursorily and followed the trend of disparagement, began to re-examine the piece.

Whether one gives it attention or not leads to diametrically opposed conclusions. Soon, some began to take the lead in "self-reflection," while others stood up to "seek justice" for Fang Xinghe.

The next day, Yan Lieshan published a new article in the *Southern Metropolis Daily*, and he was quick to pivot.

He wrote: "I have always emphasized that Fang Xinghe is not wrong; the fault lies in the system. I have never said that Fang Xinghe’s writing was not worth mentioning. On the contrary, looking at the writing itself, Fang Xinghe’s level is at the forefront of the era and already possesses the aura of a master. My previous report did not expand on the literary aspect, leading to many misunderstandings. Now I want to state clearly—

Setting aside individual personality shaped by environmental influences, Fang Xinghe is the top-tier literary genius we have unearthed from among the students. This is beyond doubt. Any voice that questions his talent without discussing his influence is frivolous, arrogant, and disrespectful of basic facts. I view such voices as the noise of this era."

Song Zude, Liu Xinda, and others, who had been classified as "noise," immediately shriveled up in defeat.

However, reporters did not let them off the hook and immediately rushed to conduct follow-up interviews, asking questions that were quite embarrassing.

Liu Xinda cowered, responding vaguely: "I am afraid there is some misunderstanding here. The article a friend showed me turned out not to be Fang Xinghe's original text; I was misled by others..."

The reporter pressed: "So, do you admit that Fang Xinghe’s level is very high?"

"Uh... this... well... I haven't seen the real article yet..."

"I have it here. Do you need to see it now?"

"Ah? Ah... I have something to attend to, excuse me, please let me pass..."

Liu Xinda stammered and fled in a panic.

Song Zude, however, remained stubborn. He bit the bullet and replied: "When I read articles, I never care about the quality of the writing; I only care about its social impact! I have my own literary appreciation ability and standards. This is who I am: a literary critic who always dares to speak the truth!"

The reporter naturally did not let him go, continuing to press: "So, do you still insist that this is a piece of garbage middle school student essay?"

Song Zude began to break into a sweat.

If he insisted, he would be going against a master and surely be torn to shreds by the literary circle; if he didn't, was he supposed to apologize to a kid?

After much thought, he chose an extremely euphemistic way to concede.

"Whether it is 'garbage' depends on which angle you judge it from. Based on morality, literature, or the positive or negative impact, the conclusions will certainly be different. I think Mr. Ba Jin’s critique has its merits, but I also have my own perspective. In short, Zude is a poet responsible to society. By the way, would you like to hear my poem?"

Reporter: ???

Are you sick?

Of course not; this guy was just exceptionally shameless.

Unfortunately, being shameless didn't save him. Although the reporters didn't get any useful information, it didn't stop the group from becoming clowns in the public eye.

Once the new reports were published, these individuals were severely scolded, and the newspapers that had previously published their claims were also criticized. Many readers called to denounce them for being irresponsible, sensationalist, and of low quality, leaving the entire editorial office in disgrace.

This time, it seemed they couldn't get away without some internal disciplinary actions.

What does it mean to "try to steal a chicken only to lose the rice"? This was a vivid example.

Meanwhile, the "Pro-Fang" faction felt vindicated and, emboldened by their victory, launched a full-scale reckoning against the "Anti-Fang" faction.

Today, we settle the scores one by one!

It’s not to prove how great I am, but to tell others: what I have lost, I must take back!

In short: it was another carnival for the media.

Actually, no—it wasn't just the media having a carnival; reality at the Third Middle School was becoming increasingly restless.

Whenever Fang Xinghe dared to step out of the classroom, he was immediately surrounded by onlookers. Even if he stayed inside, it was no use; his small desk was stuffed full every day by beautiful girls.

Mostly snacks, followed by love letters.

The snacks had to be high-end items for the era; things like dried figs, fruit leather, or popping candy wouldn't cut it. The love letters were on scented paper, usually accompanied by photographs.

His classmates were constantly shocked—

"Holy crap, isn't that the senior from the second class of the third year?"

"Damn, isn't that the prettiest girl from the experimental class?"

"Wow, she's hot, and she's got it all!"

"Wait, even the 'old woman' from the second year next door is joining in? Keep dreaming!"

It is no exaggeration to say that "Handsome Fang" had almost captured all the pretty girls from the first year of middle school to the third year of high school in the county. It hadn't even been this intense when he first rose to power on looks alone. One could see just how dazzling his halo had become after receiving Mr. Ba Jin’s high praise.

When he went to the restroom, every teacher he met was all smiles.

The head teacher of Class 6, nicknamed "Black-Faced God," squeezed out a smile when he saw him: "Little Fang, coming to pee in person?"

Fang Xinghe: "..."

Just after the recess exercises, the head teacher of Class 1, known as "Tyrant Ruler," grabbed him and dragged him away: "Last time you charged into our class to fight, I didn't even punish you. It's time to pay back that favor, right? Come on, you're teaching our Chinese class this period!"

Fang Xinghe’s head was buzzing.

Finally, he had to use his ultimate move to escape.

"You'd better think about this carefully. If I lift a finger, the girls in your class won't study anymore; they'll just be sticking behind me waiting for a sign..."

The words were crude and improper. The "Tyrant Ruler" was so angry his mustache twitched, but in the end, he backed down.

"Get out, get out! You little brat, if you dare appear at our classroom door again, I'll break your legs!"

After returning, Fang Xinghe went back to his studies, but while he could control himself, he couldn't control Old Fang.

The teachers at the Third Middle School, annoyed by the situation, held a collective vote to select the most showy, shameless, and pretentious nuisance recently, and Old Fang was elected unanimously.

Whenever he had no class, he would wander around the school, never holding a lesson plan, but instead carrying the trilogy of *Family*, *Spring*, and *Autumn*, striking up conversations with everyone he met. There was no escaping him.

"Old Wang, I’ve been reading Mr. Ba Jin’s *Family* lately and have some new insights. Come, let’s chat!"

The music and art teachers were fine—they couldn't be too envious—but the Chinese teachers and head teachers were the unlucky ones; once caught by him, they were doomed.

And then, even more surreal was this: Principal Liu Dashan, annoyed by the teachers' complaints and feeling the impact was truly poor, stepped in to have a word with someone.

Fang Xinghe was full of question marks—wait, if you're not talking to Old Fang, why are you calling me over?

He arrived at the principal’s office in a daze, and Comrade Dashan was waiting at the door, all smiles.

"Sit, Little Fang, please, sit!"

*Tone it down, don't be so fawning, I'm only 14!*

It didn't work. Fang Xinghe sat there the whole time while Dashan paced around him, circle after circle.

The content of the conversation was even more bizarre. Dashan started with his own love for literature, recited a modern poem he had written to ask for Fang Xinghe's opinion, and finally, solemnly requested: "When your new book hits the market, please be sure to give me a copy."

Fang Xinghe, eager to escape, readily agreed.

"Sure, I'll give you ten copies then, all signed."

Brother Dashan was overjoyed; it was clear at least eighty percent of his sincerity was real.

This is 1999...

The Gen Z youth felt deeply moved. He still didn't fully understand everything happening recently, but it didn't stop him from feeling great.

The stability and joy of living solidly in this era, among real people, were hard to express in words. And weren't those troubles and disturbances just powerful evidence of how he was, in turn, influencing the world?

Thinking of this, his heart was full of joy.

However, he did not sink into this false glory. Whether others scolded or praised, envied or cowered, it could not affect the rock-solid will of the reincarnated youth.

Fang Xinghe submerged himself back into the sea of test papers, ignoring everything else, wanting only to quietly conquer the high school entrance exam.

Unfortunately, the total number of fans and Star Power points, which had been skyrocketing like he was on stimulants, along with a huge, unexpected surprise, still forced him out.

[Star Power Panel]

[Fans: 2.75 million]

[Star Power: 62.5 million]

[Star Brilliance: 3]

From the 1st to the 8th, in just one short week, not only was his total fan count approaching 3 million, but the Star Power he had exhausted had reached a new high.

But that wasn't the point; the point was... Star Brilliance!

An unexpected surprise always comes so suddenly.

Fang Xinghe’s mouth was twisted into a grin; the first thing he did every morning upon waking was open the panel to check the numbers.

Endure? He couldn't endure it at all.

Add points! Add points!

The final boost before the entrance exam starts today!

*********

Thank you all for your support, here are two chapters totaling 6,000 words.

Also, I do not recommend hoarding the book.