Chapter 160: Misjudged (Second Update - Subscriptions Requested)

Right from the opening, this piece unexpectedly read like an autobiography, written entirely from the first-person perspective. First-person narratives have become increasingly rare in contemporary works.

Chen Yingsong frowned. He had no idea what a University of Toronto double-degree bachelor in religious studies and zoology could possibly have to do with a fantastic drift, but a writer's professionalism kept him calm and prompted him to continue reading.

After all, not every book has a remarkable beginning. Many works start off obscure and unassuming, only to become increasingly fascinating as the plot unfolds.

[The doctors and nurses in the Mexican ward were wonderfully kind to me, and so were the patients. Cancer patients or those injured in car accidents, upon hearing my story, would either hobble over or wheel themselves to see me, and their families came too, even though they could not speak a word of English, and I could speak no Spanish...]

What kind of story could possibly cause total strangers in a hospital to come and comfort the protagonist within it?

Chen Yingsong's curiosity was piqued. He knew the next segment would likely be "me" telling this story, and this first-person writing style further enhanced the story's authenticity, making readers dizzily imagine that it actually existed.

Everyone in the judges' room was reading with great relish, immersed in their respective works. It wasn't until Chen Yingsong finished the first chapter that he realized this was actually the story of an Indian boy!

"Good grief, who wrote this? They've got some serious nerve!"

There are quite a few Chinese writers who pen stories about foreigners, but very few who manage to pull them off well. After all, the cultural gap is right there, and unless one is a deeply rooted local, it is exceptionally difficult to write convincingly.

Chen Yingsong couldn't help but admire the author of *Life of Pi*. To dare take such a huge risk in writing about a foreign boy meant the work was either a masterpiece or a piece of utter garbage.

In the hands of many writers, foreign characters might wear exotic faces, but at their core they remained Chinese, operating entirely from a Chinese perspective. Aside from having names different from locals, their thoughts and actions were identical.

However, works written by truly formidable authors still exuded a distinctly foreign atmosphere. For instance, in the universe where Zhang Chu resided, apart from Eileen Chang, Lao She's work *Mr. and Mrs. Ma* had a purely British background, and Yu Dafu and Shi Zhecun had similar creations.

Of course, veteran writers such as Ye Shengtao, Ye Junjian, and Ye Yonglie had also written foreign-background books targeted at young readers.

Perhaps not many people knew that many stories about foreigners in primary school Chinese textbooks—such as young Einstein, Lenin dropping a vase, or Comrade Lenin standing in line at the barbershop—were actually written by Chinese people!

Returning to the matter at hand, since the story of Pi was set in India, Chen Yingsong inevitably had to judge whether the work truly possessed an Indian cultural ambiance.

Heaven forbid that, aside from the characters and locations, the story could be transplanted anywhere else and remain equally valid.

Accompanied by the protagonist's narration, the real story finally unspooled!

Pi's name—the meaning of the moniker Mamaji in Indian Tamil, and the finest swimming pool in Paris, Piscine—became "me"s name.

Under Zhang Chu's brush, the zoo belonging to "my" family formally appeared before Chen Yingsong, with all sorts of animals leaping off the page.

Just a few simple strokes could outline an animal's form, and combined with the memories in one's mind, a vivid animal persona emerged.

"The writing style is quite good—simple, practical, and very vivid."

Pi, living among animals, was happy and simple. This depiction was full of life while also concealing subtle clues.

Pi had a name, but the story concerning his name was not over yet. In Indian pronunciation, Piscine Molitor Patel sounded quite different. This gag was highlighted by Zhang Chu; many people mistook him for P. Singh, which sounded similar to a slang word for urine.

Through this simple description, Chen Yingsong saw an Indian boy, ridiculed by his classmates, successfully turning the tables under the guidance of science by utilizing pi—the non-repeating infinite decimal.

With a zoo at home containing not only various gentle creatures but also many temperamental carnivores, after his older brother Ravi made a mistake, their father led Pi, Ravi, and Gita to the zoo to give them a lesson one by one.

Tigers, Himalayan bears, sloth bears, hippos, orangutans, sika deer—it seemed every single animal possessed aggressiveness.

It was precisely this detailed explanation that made Chen Yingsong feel it was somewhat redundant.

If he knew this was still the result of Zhang Chu's heavy revisions and cuts, he would likely be astounded by just how many hundreds of thousands of words in the original text were spent describing these animals!

Even though Zhang Chu tried his utmost to avoid redundancies, he still had to lay the groundwork for what was to come—for instance, a tiger in a zoo tearing an animal that entered its cage to shreds not because it was hungry, but because the other creature had invaded its territory.

The description of animal trainers using brain power to conquer physical strength would give readers a sudden sense of enlightenment in subsequent chapters. Wasn't Pi taming Richard Parker a similar situation?

The more Chen Yingsong read, the more spirited he became. The protagonist Pi in the story actually became a follower of three religions. He wasn't well-versed in religions like Hinduism, but after reading Zhang Chu's description, he felt it must be precisely like that.

Red vermilion powder and yellow turmeric lumps inside sculptured and decorated conical rolls, vibrant flower garlands, the tinkling of bells, the fragrant scent of incense, oil lamps rotating in circles in the darkness, benevolent statues standing all around the temple granting blessings, brightly colored frescoes, Brahma, Shiva, Krishna, Ganesha, and so on.

With sincere strokes, Zhang Chu detailed the many crucial moments before young Pi's "drift." Not only Hinduism, but Islam and Catholicism were also part of Pi's faith.

The power of these faiths could help people overcome the trials of life, conquer inner demons, and be reborn!

The true drift had not yet begun, but in Chen Yingsong's mind, the image of a gifted, nature-loving young protagonist endowed with equal tolerance and enthusiasm for different faiths had already taken shape.

He glanced at Deng Yiming, who was patrolling the room, and called out, "Old Deng, could you come over for a moment? I have something to ask you."

"What is it?"

Deng Yiming thought something might be wrong with the submissions. These works had all undergone online screening, and entries suspected of plagiarism would have long been filtered out and eliminated by the system.

Chen Yingsong smiled and said, "Relax. Do we have any foreign exchange students or foreign friends participating in this essay competition?"

"As far as I know, no. They're all Chinese people. After all, this is Good Chinese Literature, and overseas Chinese aren't included in it for the moment."

"Well, that's strange then. The book I'm reading writes about Indian culture in exceptional detail. Of course, whether it's authentic would require an expert in Indian culture to verify, but I honestly thought it was written by an Indian or an overseas Chinese living long-term in India!" Chen Yingsong adjusted the reading glasses on the bridge of his nose and guessed, "Could it be someone who lived in India for a few years and then returned to China?"

Deng Yiming leaned over to look at the e-reader in front of Chen Yingsong. The words *Life of Pi* stood out conspicuously at the very top of the screen, and he instantly burst into amusement.

"Teacher Chen, you've really misjudged this one!"