Chapter 40: Exclusive Interview: I Have Wrestled with Destiny

After the commotion subsided, everyone went back to business as usual.

The County Education Bureau was the least significant presence. Aside from publicly announcing a reward of 5,000 yuan for Fang Xinghe and presenting a certificate of merit that no one bothered to look at, they spent the rest of the time just trying to get their faces in the shot.

President Fang had grown quite arrogant; a mere 5,000 yuan wasn't even worth a sideways glance from him.

In front of the cameras, Liu Dashan beamed, sharing the secret to cultivating Fang Xinghe’s talent—in four words: give him freedom.

"Ah, our Third Middle School has always shown great patience toward children with special talents. Ah, society now advocates teaching students in accordance with their aptitude, and ah, we have achieved that, and we have done it very well!"

It was unclear where he had picked up his habit of starting every sentence with "ah"—perhaps in Tokyo?

Since everyone present was essentially on the same side, the reporters only gave him a few disdainful looks and didn't ask any sharp questions. In truth, everyone knew the reality: was that really giving him freedom? It was because they couldn't control him at all!

The Experimental High School principal thanked Fang Xinghe for his trust in the school and then proceeded to boast as well. "Our Experimental High School, ah..." The little old man was glowing with excitement, truly acting like an old man recapturing his youth.

The only people with a real agenda were the propaganda officials, who wanted to turn Fang Xinghe into a public relations face for the county.

Fang Xinghe countered on the spot: "The idea is good, but do you have the resources? If you make a film, it will at most be shown within the county. What is the point of making such a big fuss? It’s a waste of time and money."

Being fourteen is great; you can talk back however you want. The propaganda official could only smile kindly and patiently explain, "The special interview won't just be broadcast in the county. After review, it can be sent to the provincial satellite station. We are a direct-administered county under Changchun, and many resources can be shared..."

Sharing was nonsense, but the application for approval was legitimate.

Fang Xinghe thought for a moment and decisively changed his tune: "Of course I am willing to support the county's promotional work. It’s just that my image was not very good in the past, and I made some mistakes. I was mainly afraid of affecting my hometown, which is why I haven't been willing to accept formal interviews until now..."

The group of county officials immediately applauded, clapping enthusiastically and vying to praise him.

"Young Fang is truly responsible!"
"A good child, it was our fault for not taking better care of you!"
"What mistakes? It’s perfectly normal for a young person to have a few minor issues."

The propaganda official also provided a guarantee: "Before I came, I specifically looked into your situation. Fighting is indeed wrong, but you had your reasons, and to a large extent, you were protecting weaker classmates. This is a form of chivalry, not malice. The county’s top leadership has specifically noted: it was our oversight and failure in duty that we did not care for a child who became an orphan at a young age. In the future, we will protect our own geniuses from unscrupulous media that only care about sales and ignore the facts. We will never allow them to talk nonsense and stir up trouble!"

Passionate, precise, and highly professional. While it didn't solve the underlying problems, at least the attitude was set to protect Fang Xinghe fully.

Fine, that was good enough; he hadn't expected much from them anyway.

Thus, Fang Xinghe "graciously permitted" the county station to conduct a joint interview with the Beijing Youth Daily.

The adjectives used weren't very flattering, but they were accurate.

By the time Zhao Chunhua arrived, the county station reporters were fawning all over her, but the lady still looked full of disdain. The current county-level local station was something even the farmers didn't like to watch, and their so-called reporters didn't even have press cards; their interview skills were far inferior to those of national media. Had Fang Xinghe not insisted, she would never have agreed to share the interview.

Fortunately, Zhao Chunhua hadn't brought a cameraman, a gap the county station filled. The interview was upgraded to include audio, video, and text, flowing from the superficial to the profound, proving more effective than initially anticipated.

Zhao Chunhua was a very stylish and slightly haughty woman, but her professional standards were high. She first handed over the gifts from Wang Yali—a pile of professional books—and then used that as a starting point to open the conversation.

"Fang Xinghe, do you like art very much?"
"Yes."
"Then how do you view the relationship between literature and other arts?"
"All art is connected to words at the subconscious level. Words can be the condensation of imagery or the divergence of concreteness. Art rises in this process of contraction and expansion, finally returning to our intuitive perception."
"Wow! That's a bit hard to understand. I need a moment to think about it, but it sounds beautiful just hearing it."

The two sat under a pear tree in the small courtyard. Staff moved over a square table. Zhao Chunhua scribbled away, while Fang Xinghe reclined comfortably in a rocking chair. Half of his face was bathed in natural light, glowing like jade, while the other half was hidden in the tree's shade, calm and peaceful. The cameraman, using the most basic compositional skills, captured a scene of unparalleled beauty.

Zhao Chunhua struggled to look away and continued her questions.

"The *Mengya* magazine editorial office has received many letters from your readers. According to their feedback, many readers mentioned your status as an orphan and feel heartache for you. Do you have anything you want to say to them regarding this?"

"No need to feel heartache for me." Fang Xinghe didn't even hesitate, immediately offering a dismissive response. "I'm living very well."

But in reality, how could you expect fans not to feel for their idol? The stronger the idol is, the more the fans want to fill in the blanks with their own fantasies. There was no helping that. Fang Xinghe didn't need to act; he just had to display his true personality, and the rest could be left to the fans.

"You are very open-minded, but there is a sense of anger in your writing. Do you hold resentment?"
"Resentment toward what?"
"For example, your father?"
"No resentment."
"Really? But he was very irresponsible."
"I removed him from my memory a long time ago."
"Unbelievable. Honestly, I can't quite grasp that..."

Zhao Chunhua shook her head repeatedly, finding it hard to believe, and even tried a different angle: "Then have you ever thought that as your fame grows, it is very likely he will return to your life?"

"I've thought about it. I'd be delighted."
"Ah?! Then how do you intend to handle it?"
"Work hard to make money—the more, the better. When he hears the news and comes back to find me, I’ll break his legs, drag him to kneel before my mother’s grave, and then throw a million yuan in his face and tell him: 'The debt of giving me life is settled here.'"
"Hiss..."

Zhao Chunhua gasped. Having worked on the front lines of interviews for years, she had truly never encountered someone like him.

"Then..." she swallowed, "what if he sues you? What if he goes around ruining your reputation? Or what if he harasses you for more money?"

Fang Xinghe curled his lips slightly, revealing a look of subtle, pleasant anticipation.

"Then I'll break his other leg."

Zhao Chunhua was speechless for a long moment. It was clear that she hadn't expected this, nor could she quite accept it. When she finally recovered, she went back to the previous question: "But you just said you don't resent him."

"Resentment is an emotion. I have no emotions toward him. Breaking his legs is something I should do for my mother, and I promise I will do it very calmly."
"Not even for yourself?"
"Correct."
"Even though you have suffered so much because of it? You know, most readers believe that the reason you became like this is because you were hurt too deeply and too painfully before."

Fang Xinghe laughed哑然.

"As I wrote in my essay, this is destiny. At the time, I didn't have the ability to resist, so fate shaped me into who I am today. Is becoming who I am today a bad thing? No, it is neither good nor bad. It is simply not a matter that can be summarized by 'good' or 'bad.' If a person becomes who they are because of good or bad encounters, and they are successful, they thank the good past; if they are doing poorly, they blame the bad experiences. Is that correct?"

Zhao Chunhua instinctively replied, "Of course not. We should fairly thank those past experiences, whether good or bad; it is the sum of everything that has fostered who we are now. Only emphasizing the good or the bad is too one-sided."

A beautiful answer—she was a perfect conversational partner. But Fang Xinghe shook his head. "No, I neither thank nor blame them; I just let them quietly settle in my memory. I do not live in the past; I only look toward the future."

"Wow!" Zhao Chunhua exclaimed again, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. She was being unprofessional, but in the current environment, it didn't seem strange.

"Many people have emphasized to me that you are particularly mature, but you are even more mature than I anticipated. I don't understand, how do you do it? I mean, facing destiny so calmly?"

"When I am facing it, I am not calm." Fang Xinghe smiled gently, correcting her phrasing.

The cameraman hadn't felt the brilliance of the previous words, but now he felt the brilliance of the image. He thought to himself: *Fang Xinghe is truly handsome as hell when he smiles.*

But the handsome youth was stingy; as soon as he smiled, he stopped, quickly returning to his calm demeanor.

"In the moment things happen, no one can avoid having emotions, and I am no exception. It’s just that I don't let myself wallow in those emotions. Literary types love to use emotions to define destiny—good, bad, tragic, painful. Is there any meaning in that? No. Emotions only affect decision-making; they bring no benefits. I view destiny in only two ways: that which is insurmountable, and that which can be countered. When facing what cannot be resisted, I accept it as an objective reality. When facing what I can still struggle against, I work hard to smash it. If I succeed, it’s exhilarating, and life is elevated. If I truly can't smash it, then I accept it as a new objective fact to settle into my life, at least with a clear conscience."

"A fantastic way of thinking! For example? Could you give an example?" Zhao Chunhua was so excited that her cheeks were slightly flushed. This topic was too surprising. She felt this way, and she assumed future readers would too.

Fang Xinghe raised his eyelids and looked at her. It was a subtle movement, but for some reason, Zhao Chunhua caught a hint of a subtle smile in his eyes. It was a composure that said, "I knew you would ask this," a composure completely at odds with his age.

Immediately after, the youth narrowed his eyes slightly, and his aura changed instantly, like a leopard ready to pounce, filled with a desire to attack. Zhao Chunhua suddenly realized that Fang Xinghe was about to say something extraordinary.

Yes, Brother Fang was ready to vent.

He had waited for this day for too long. However, he didn't intend to vent aimlessly, and he didn't even intend to start from the perspective of education, talking about studying, grades, or his top score in the high school entrance exam.

What is the point of putting grades out there and preaching about studying? Real marketing masters never follow the opponent's rhythm because haters don't use logic, internet trolls have no integrity, and public intellectuals have no shame. If you start venting within their framework, you will never solve any problems.

Therefore, Fang Xinghe didn't even intend to curse anyone directly. Mentioning the names of those scum public intellectuals and garbage writers in his first interview would be giving them too much credit—you bastards, are you even worthy? You aren't. Mentioning a single word would lower his own stature.

President Fang was ready to open a new battlefield, combining his own experiences to launch a high-altitude, saturation-style strike.

Amidst Zhao Chunhua's nervous anticipation, and under the cameraman's close-up lens, the youth sneered and gave a brilliant answer that was both breakthrough and subversive.

"Examples? Many. Take the current wave of layoffs; this is a destiny that ordinary people cannot resist. What should normal people do? Don't rush to argue about right or wrong; drawing conclusions is the function of history. Don't think about turning back; what has happened cannot return to the moment before it occurred. Don't expect anyone's salvation; others' sympathy cannot sustain you for your whole life. Don't drown in anger; being calm is more conducive to thinking. Don't stay in place; look forward and move forward."

"These are all simple truths, but the media world has failed significantly in this matter. Some media figures, with unknown motives, are criticizing policies and targeting the collective, outputting only emotions without any reason. I particularly dislike their nonsense because it leads people who are already angry to wallow in negative emotions, even becoming resentful of heaven and others."

"At this juncture, what is the point of recklessly exaggerating the tragedy, cursing madly, and peddling anxiety? This only delays the time for laid-off workers to save themselves and steers them toward passivity. What they really need is to discard those redundant negative emotions as quickly as possible, accept the facts, and immediately start saving themselves."

"Move! Go set up a stall, go move bricks, go drive a motorcycle taxi, go to the south to work in a factory, or even group up to work abroad. Anything is better than standing still and shivering. Act immediately. Working hard doesn't guarantee a return to your original quality of life—that is indeed difficult—but if you take action, you won't slide completely into despair."

"Those media figures curse back and forth all day because they get paid for it, and if they curse brilliantly, they become famous. We ordinary people can't do that; we have to be proactive and pragmatic. Once we follow our emotions, we are just dipping buns in our own blood to feed the scum who stand by and talk without feeling the pain."

"How fragile are people in desperate situations? If you add one last straw to them, they collapse immediately. If you pull one straw away from them, they might hold on, and the future will be a vast ocean. Some current media figures only do the work of adding straws because it makes them look independent, sober, moral, and conscientious. But true conscience is to quickly remind them: 'Wake up! Don't drown! Survive first, and when you are fed, you can curse slowly. By then, I will join you in cursing!'"

"When I realized I had no one to rely on and was about to die, I immediately found a classmate who was often bullied and told him: 'We have to fight back. If you are afraid to move, I will. From now on, I'll protect you, and you treat me to dinner.' How did I survive after becoming an orphan? There was government relief and help from the school, but more than that, it was the meals and the money I earned with my own fists."

"Most importantly, I crushed every dog that dared to mock me, test me, manipulate me, or bare its fangs at me. I used blood to turn myself back into a wolf, eating meat in big gulps while feeding them shit. And what was the result? Now I am living with great spirit, while those things that yapped and barked have whimpered and fled back to the kennels where they belong."

"So, I am not the kind of person who stands by and talks without feeling the pain. I have fought my own destiny."

*Holy shit!*

At this moment, Zhao Chunhua wanted to curse out loud. She was so excited that the tip of her pen, which was writing furiously, almost sparked. This was supposed to be a routine deep dive, but who could have imagined it would yield this level of response?

Sharp, insightful, logical, positive, wild, rebellious, and full of explosive points, yet essentially so simple.

*Damn, he's only 14! Have I lived my 30-plus years in vain?*

Zhao Chunhua, while doubting herself, was contributing "Star Value" to Fang Xinghe. Looking at the fluctuation, he was already at the level of a core fan. It made sense; who wouldn't like a handsome, wild, and deeply thoughtful youth?

Zhao Chunhua even secretly made a resolution: from now on, whoever speaks ill of Fang Xinghe, I will scold them to hell!

So, how are die-hard fans born? She had vividly demonstrated the process; now, only the final step remained.