Chapter 137: You Insolent Whelp, You’ve Gone Too Far! (4/10)

On the subway, Zhang Chu’s new roommate, Yang Ling, was experiencing the notorious congestion of the Beijing Metro firsthand. Even though it wasn't during peak commuting hours, it took him several stops before he could finally pull out his phone.

He held Zhang Chu in high regard. Over the years, the Chinese Department at Peking University hadn't produced many writers; a freshman like Zhang Chu, who arrived with such fame, was a rare exception. It was much like a breakout, immensely popular young actor suddenly enrolling at the Beijing Film Academy—a true standout among the crowd.

"Darn, I forgot to swap follows with him!" Yang Ling said, feeling annoyed. His roommate was a major influencer; if they followed each other, it would be a huge bragging right to share with his high school friends. But their meeting had been too brief—Zhang Chu was busy unpacking, and Yang Ling had to rush his father to the airport, so the thought never crossed his mind.

After checking Zhang Chu’s Weibo, Yang Ling muttered, "The 'Little Cannon' is firing again. Wonder who he’s targeting this time..." While he wasn't a saintly person, he felt a pang of sympathy for the person Zhang Chu had tagged. He imagined that poor soul’s name would now be forever linked to this parody version of *Jiang Cheng Zi*.

"Brilliant! Ha ha ha! Su Shi is probably turning in his grave," Yang Ling commented enthusiastically, adding a "like" for good measure.

Previously, netizens were still celebrating the one-word poem *Life*, earnestly analyzing its profound nuances. Yet, in the blink of an eye, Zhang Chu had stirred the pot again with a poem that felt strangely familiar. Anyone who had finished middle school had been forced to memorize Su Shi’s *Jiang Cheng Zi: Hunting in Mizhou*, and as modern citizens, they were constantly bombarded by TV commercials.

What kind of chemical reaction would occur when the two were combined? Zhang Chu provided the answer. Almost every netizen who read his post was brainwashed by the jingles within; it was practically toxic!

"Oh my god, I managed to memorize this poem after reading it once. Mom doesn't have to worry about my studies anymore!"

"Cure kidney deficiency, sugar-free—I think I know what he's getting at. Teacher Zhu Ziqing is entering middle age; he really does need a boost!"

"Zhang Chu, you've provided my comedy for the year. Su Shi is going to visit you tonight."

"If you've got the guts to rewrite *Hunting in Mizhou*, why don't you try his *Ten Years of Life and Death* next!"

"How much did Adidas pay you? I'll double it for Xtep!"

"Sigh, why did Zhu Ziqing have to ask for this? It’s one thing to lie through his teeth, but now he’s been immortalized in a poem. I feel strangely sorry for this middle-aged man who needs so many supplements."

"@Zhu Ziqing, for your kidney deficiency, make sure to choose Jiuzhitang—the Six-Flavor Rehmannia Pills are waiting for you!"

"What did Watermelon Frost ever do to you? Keep your hands off the Fruit Jelly!"

"Honestly, Sanjin Glucose is actually pretty good. I drank it all the time as a kid."

"So talented!"

...

Zhu Ziqing, the man tagged by Zhang Chu, had seen the poem immediately. Since poetry and criticism had always been closely linked, he suddenly felt at a disadvantage engaging in a war of words with such a brash young upstart. The kid wasn't even planning to make a career in the poetry scene, so no matter how harshly he criticized him, it wouldn't sting. Worse, he had now become the laughingstock.

Zhu Ziqing rubbed his waist, then touched his thinning hair, trembling with rage at Zhang Chu’s poem. He looked at the comments below—almost all of them were mocking him. He slammed his hand onto his computer desk with a loud bang. Newton once said that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction; Zhu Ziqing finally understood this deeply as his right hand turned bright red, and he yelped in pain.

"This brat is too insolent!"

Zhu Ziqing dared not show his face online anymore. He used to be the one giving praise and criticism, acting as a self-appointed guardian of contemporary poetry. Unfortunately, this time, few people supported his view. One couldn't dismiss a poem just because it consisted of a single word. What was wrong with a concise poem? Wasn't life itself a web? Even the current actions of Zhang Chu and Zhu Ziqing were merely thin threads within that very web.

...

Zhang Chu hadn't given Zhu Ziqing's words a second thought; he had simply dealt with a minor annoyance. He was currently staring blankly at his phone, watching an unfamiliar number from Beijing's "010" area code that had called him twice. He had been receiving constant calls from rental agents, and since his information leaked so easily, he assumed this was just another agent and hung up immediately.

"How incredibly persistent! Their work ethic is just too much!" Zhang Chu silently blacklisted the number. These telemarketing calls were infuriating.

Meanwhile, in an office building at Peking University, Yan Liu, the Dean of the Chinese Department, stared at his receiver in a daze. Not only had the call gone unanswered, but he had also been blacklisted! He found it hard to accept—he had taken the initiative to call a student, only to be blocked! This kid really had some personality.

"Professor Ma, look at this kid—he didn't even answer the phone. Should I ask his counselor later?" Yan Liu said with a bitter smile to the white-haired man sitting on the sofa. Zhang Chu’s old Jiangdong number was deactivated, and now his Beijing number had blocked him; he was at his wit's end.

The man in the office was none other than Ma Qiwei, the editor-in-chief of *Poetry Magazine*! He was a huge fan of Zhang Chu’s poem *Life*, which had appeared in the *Southern Weekly*, and he wanted to publish it in the upcoming issue of his magazine. Ma Qiwei was a guest professor at the PKU Chinese Department, so he had come directly, hoping to chat with Zhang Chu in person. Perhaps as people aged, they grew to cherish talent; in his eyes, a talented person like Zhang Chu had to have a bit of character—without it, they were just like smooth stones, incapable of writing anything extraordinary.

"Let me try calling him. Surely the boy hasn't missed his registration?" Ma Qiwei picked up his phone and dialed the number Yan Liu had just given him. To everyone's surprise, it was answered after only two rings!

...

Although Zhang Chu had changed his SIM card, he hadn't changed his phone, so all his contacts were still saved. Seeing the name "Ma Qiwei," he answered immediately. "Professor Ma?"

"You brat, why did you blacklist your own department dean? Unblock him immediately so he can reach you if there's anything important," Ma Qiwei scolded him with familiar, kindly authority, momentarily forgetting his own purpose.

"That was the Dean? I thought it was a telemarketer. I'll fix it in a second. Professor Ma, did you need me for something?"

"I read your interview in the *Southern Weekly*. If you're going to publish new poetry, why didn't you choose our *Poetry Magazine*?"

Zhang Chu suddenly realized that Ma Qiwei was here to settle the score. He apologized profusely, "I just didn't think it through at the time. Next time I write a new poem, I'll definitely give it to you!"

"There won't be a next time!"

Zhang Chu’s heart skipped a beat; was *Poetry Magazine* going to blacklist him too?

But Ma Qiwei changed his tone, continuing, "There won't be a next time because you are going to publish *Life* in our magazine this time."

Feeling as though he were on a rollercoaster, Zhang Chu breathed a sigh of relief and agreed instantly. "No problem at all! Feel free to publish it!"