Chapter 45: A True Warrior

This is a business negotiation, not a matter for sentiment. Zhang Chu was striving for better terms for himself, convinced that his work, "Sherlock Holmes," was not something that could be acquired for merely 800 yuan per thousand characters.

“How about this: I’ll report to the editor-in-chief and then give you a reply, alright?” Liu Qiao had initially thought Zhang Chu, being young, would be easy to sway, perhaps with talk of ideals and dreams; yet he was entirely unmoved.

Zhang Chu agreed to her proposal, “Let me know once you’ve come to a decision. I happen to have little time to write these next couple of days anyway.”

He was quite pleased not to settle on a price just yet. "Sherlock Holmes" had become a sensation among mystery enthusiasts, its reputation soaring, and its position on the contest leaderboard steadily climbing.

It seemed now, in these final two days, not only was the top ten within reach, but perhaps even the top five! As long as he could break into the top five, he would win an award—even third prize would bring substantial prize money and exposure, granting Zhang Chu a strong position in negotiations with Age of Mystery Magazine.

In contrast to the popularity of "Sherlock Holmes," Zhang Bowen’s piece, "The Fundamental Method of Deduction," was languishing. Though it too featured Holmes in the modern era, the female Watson had sparked polarizing reactions, and its votes were lackluster—only now creeping into the thirties!

…

The next day, the weather was merciful—neither torrential rain nor merciless sun. Thick clouds shielded the light, and a gentle breeze drifted by.

On the athletic field of Jiangcheng Experimental High School, students from both the first and second years were seated, clad in crisp white short-sleeved uniforms, fanning themselves or waving sheets of paper, waiting in patience.

Beside the podium, Zhang Chu was a bit nervous. Though he could speak fluently before a camera, this was his first time addressing an audience of one or two thousand.

“In a moment, just share some of your study experiences with the juniors,” Principal Liu Chengzheng, dressed in a shirt and beaming with pride, said. Not only were reporters from Jiangcheng TV present, but even those from Jiangdong Satellite TV had their equipment set up below the stage.

For the school, this was a rare chance to shine!

He hadn’t forgotten how, at the education committee meeting two days prior, the envy in the eyes of other school administrators filled him with satisfaction.

Drawing a deep breath, Zhang Chu gathered his courage and stepped onto the stage empty-handed.

Instantly, nearly two thousand pairs of eyes focused on him. The once noisy field fell silent.

“Dear juniors, greetings. I’m sure you all know me—after all, my name is on banners both inside and outside the school. Today, I’m not here to impart study tips or to ladle out soul-soothing chicken soup; I believe you’ve heard those enough times already.”

A smile curled at Zhang Chu’s lips. “I’m here to reveal reality. Mr. Lu Xun once said that true warriors dare to face the bleakness of life and the blood that flows. Are you ready to be true warriors?”

His unconventional opening roused the drowsy first and second-year students; spurred on by a few enthusiastic peers, they shouted loudly, “We’re ready!”

“First, congratulations to myself. The annual epic disaster film, ‘The College Entrance Exam,’ has now finished its run nationwide, and I’ve managed to kick countless people off the single-log bridge. Perhaps you think the exam is a bridge for those without connections to transform into the tall, rich, and handsome, or the fair, rich, and beautiful, and ascend to the peak of life.

But let me tell you, reality is always cruel. Four, five, six years from now, you will realize that all your efforts today are, frankly, useless!

What determines your fate isn’t knowledge or education, but mostly your drinking capacity, connections, courage, parents, looks, or perhaps whether your village is slated for demolition.

For most, exam scores merely decide which city you’ll play video games in.”

Tao Zhixin’s face turned pale; all his prior reminders had gone to waste—what on earth was Zhang Chu saying?

Liu Chengzheng grew anxious; was it truly wise to speak like this?

Yet the students below were visibly stirred, as if Zhang Chu had voiced their innermost thoughts. Some even applauded in approval.

The field grew lively; none had expected the top scorer to be so candid and humorous, so different from the flashy, pretentious figures they’d imagined!

“But you should still aim for good results. After all, the internet is faster in big cities, you’re less likely to disconnect mid-game, and there’s air conditioning,” Zhang Chu added with a grin, satisfied with his speech—the rapidly rising reputation score was the best proof.

Reporters from both city and provincial television were grinning ear to ear; this top scorer was indeed interesting.

“I’ve said before: if you’re gold, you’ll shine someday; if you’re stone, you’ll never shine, no matter where you go. But what if that stone is a diamond or a gem? Even if you’re gold, someday you’ll be spent.

Many say study hard and you’ll improve daily, but I’ve never seen a coal miner become the mine owner simply by digging faster and harder.

Believe me, life doesn’t offer only one path—the college entrance exam. There are many roads.

When others oppose you, stick to your dreams. But don’t imagine the whole world is against you; after all, you’re a nobody—the world isn’t concerned enough to oppose you.”

For the problems you can’t solve today, don’t fret; chances are, you still won’t be able to solve them tomorrow.

Zhang Chu grew more animated, giving examples: “I have a friend who, during senior year, woke up at six every morning, went to bed at eleven thirty every night, memorized vocabulary even while eating, studied diligently—so guess what happened?”

“Did his grades improve a lot?”

“Did he get into a top university?”

“He worked so hard, surely he achieved something!”

“Hurry, tell us what happened!”

“Such suspense!”

The students were all curious, eager to know the fate of Zhang Chu’s friend.

“He was hospitalized with nervous exhaustion before the exam, and ended up having to retake it,” Zhang Chu said, recounting a true story from his previous life.

Judging the moment was right, Zhang Chu then advertised himself: “Finally, one important thing—your senior’s novel, ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ is participating in the Holmes-themed writing contest. If you have time, please cast a vote.”

The field erupted in laughter; no one expected Zhang Chu to slip in so much personal content during his speech.

Though his words were sharp and seemed to dampen their hopes, stripping away unrealistic fantasies, they also inspired a true courage to face the harsh world.

The antidote proved effective: for the sake of fast internet and air conditioning, they must get into a good school!

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Ten thousand bookmarks now—a bit better than “Literary Superstar” at the same stage, though the recommendation votes and rewards are lacking, with the top hundred on the fan leaderboard not yet filled.

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