PSE - 22

On Monday, Director Zhao of the Cultural Bureau received an unexpectedly delightful surprise personally delivered by Xue Jing.

Early in the morning, before Director Zhao had even arrived at the office, Xue Jing had already been waiting outside his office for quite some time. At first glance, Director Zhao’s expression was sour, as if he wanted to roll his eyes all the way to the ceiling. But once he skimmed through the report Xue Jing brought him, his demeanor immediately brightened.

Fifteen minutes later, he held the folder in his hands, unable to put it down, repeatedly marveling and clicking his tongue. “Oh, Xiao Xue, this introduction you wrote is excellent!”

As he spoke, Director Zhao attempted to pat Xue Jing on the shoulder, but his arm rose heavily and landed very gently, as if afraid of disturbing his thoughts. He lightly brushed Xue Jing’s shoulder and asked, “You’ve written so much in just a week? And it’s so profound? Are you planning to expand the length?”

Xue Jing smiled and nodded obediently, like a model student looking up to his teacher. In reality, the bound text hadn’t taken a week; these twenty thousand words were churned out by him in a hotel room the previous day.

Outside, a sandstorm raged all day, leaving a layer of yellow dust on the carpet near the windowsill. Yet, Xue Jing was completely unaffected by the harsh weather and acrid smell, sitting at the desk typing away for twelve straight hours.

During brief breaks to rest his cervical spine, he didn’t eat, remaining glued to his laptop, drinking cheap tea bags while carefully refining his word choices and phrasing.

The last time he felt such an urgent need to complete a work was when Ha Yue bit his wrist.

That summer, with his right hand wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, he completed the first draft of Afternoon Rooftop in ten days.

His fingers were like clockwork, and immediately after finishing, he developed acute tendinitis.

Seeing Xue Jing nod, Director Zhao sighed half-heartedly, paced back and forth, then sat back behind his desk with some difficulty. “But our previously agreed price... it can’t go any higher.”

The content of the report was indeed excellent. From a personal appreciation standpoint, he wanted to do more for his junior, but matters within the bureau were strictly regulated. The fees that had already been set could not be increased—it was a rule.

“Ai.” Placing the report on the desk, Director Zhao sighed.

“Not hiding anything from you, this is how things are in our bureau. It’s called the Cultural Bureau, but after the system reform, radio, television, and tourism became the main focus. There aren’t any publishing houses operating in the city. The subordinate unit under our jurisdiction is just a community library.”

“Not afraid to be laughed at, but how big is that scale? It doesn’t even compare to a random Starbucks in a big city. The books are all donated by companies we begged for help.”

“So you see, even if you expand the length here, changing the word count, the submission will still be paid according to the price originally agreed upon with the Writers’ Association. We can’t quote by the word anymore.”

Though small, Sui City still had its share of literary circles, and Director Zhao attended many meetings. Over tea and casual talk, he heard plenty about how famous authors negotiated deals with publishers.

Literary agents weren’t yet a fully formed profession in the country, but the royalty ladder system had become an unwritten consensus in the industry.

He himself was cultured and believed that writers who poured their heart into their works deserved rightful compensation. Given the poor state of copyright awareness in the domestic market, he certainly needed to advocate more for authors. Unfortunately, this kind of escalating cooperation method didn’t exist in the Sui City Cultural Bureau.

The bureau was truly impoverished.

People aspire to higher places; without good treatment, there would be no good talent. This was why economically underdeveloped areas always struggled to retain a permanent population.

Over time, it created a vicious cycle.

After saying all this, Director Zhao adjusted his glasses, sighed again, stood up from his seat, and began packing items for an upcoming meeting in Lincheng.

Notebook, fountain pen, laptop, teacup, and goji berries were placed one by one into his bag.

He was certain that Xue Jing’s pending report was going to fall through. If his junior backed out, he’d have to quickly find another author who could take on the job. After all, temporary workers came and went, but the hard targets remained constant.

The Earth could function without anyone.

One failed commission shouldn’t halt the operations of the Cultural Bureau.

To his utter astonishment, just as he picked up his briefcase, Xue Jing said something that shocked him deeply.

Xue Jing said he wasn’t writing this for money. If the bureau faced financial difficulties, he was willing to waive his service fee.

Half an hour later, Xue Jing boarded the Coaster heading to Lincheng with Director Zhao.

Director Zhao had already submitted Xue Jing’s name for the conference on Tuesday, so it wasn’t exactly a forced addition. Going together, they could chat about literature and deepen their bond.

The two conversed happily in the car, filled with joy.

Especially upon hearing that Xue Jing intends to stay in Sui City to work on his new novel.

This time, Director Zhao, besides discussing Sui City’s cultural development, opened up and shared his experiences since he started working at the cultural bureau.

From the latest guidelines on literary and artistic creation to the petty rivalries among cultural workers.

Particularly when he mentioned the last time the Sui City Cultural Bureau hosted members of the Writers’ Association for a local research trip, which resulted in a huge scandal, Director Zhao became animated, narrating it so vividly that it rivaled the storytelling of the late Master Shan Tianfang, even Jin Zi was amazed.

Director Zhao, being of a certain age and frequently traveling for meetings, has limited energy. Coupled with Xue Jing’s enthusiastic responses, he became exhausted and nauseous before halfway through the journey, showing signs of motion sickness, frequently covering his mouth and nose to suppress vomiting.

After taking a motion sickness pill provided by Xue Jing, Director Zhao waved his hand, reclined his seat, and began to rest with his eyes closed. Xue Jing then took the opportunity during a fuel stop to switch seats and sit in the front passenger seat next to Jin Zhenliang.

For the latter half of the journey, Director Zhao snored loudly in the car. Xue Jing stayed awake, chatting with Jin Zi to help keep him alert.

Most long-distance drivers appreciate someone to talk to, to keep boredom at bay, as drowsiness can easily spread in the warm, confined space, affecting driving safety. Jin Zi was no exception.

He wasn’t very educated, and the leaders he usually drove rarely engaged in conversation with him.

Moreover, apart from everyday chit-chat, the discussions about politics, culture, and ideology were often beyond his comprehension, even if he listened attentively.

Initially, when he saw Xue Jing sitting in the front passenger seat, he was a bit afraid of saying the wrong thing or not being able to keep up with the literary man’s topics.

But as they chatted, Xue Jing’s warm and friendly demeanor quickly eased his nervousness, especially since the topics Xue Jing inquired about were very familiar to him.

This Mr. Xue plans to stay in Sui City for two or three months to write, and staying in hotels would be too expensive. He intends to rent a place in a densely populated residential area and also buy a used car for commuting between the wind power plant and the city center, as taking taxis would be inconvenient.

“What type of car are you looking for? A sedan or an SUV? What’s your budget?”

“There’s a large used car market near the High-Tech Zone. I can take you there later?”

Xue Jing rarely drives in Ji City, as his schedule is very flexible, not requiring him to work nine-to-five. So even when he needs to go out, he always avoids the rush hours.

He prefers taking the subway or buses to his appointments, allowing him to leisurely observe the passersby.

The summer after graduating from university, his debut novel earned over seven million in royalties from publishing and reprints. After paying taxes, he spent six million on a 2017 Bentley Mulsanne.

The car’s long wheelbase made it cumbersome in the traffic-heavy Ji City. Apart from the 6.8T engine’s ability to scare birds off trees within a hundred yards upon starting, Xue Jing saw no other benefits.

Moreover, most Bentley owners hire professional drivers, enjoying the comfort from the back seat.

Hiring a driver was his parents’ preference.

Not to mention the operations of Xue Lianwu’s company, the Xue household employs people to cook, clean, garden, and even shop at malls for Feng Yun.

Xue Jing hasn’t reached that level of extravagance; he’s not disabled and doesn’t need a chauffeur, so the Bentley has been gathering dust in his garage.

Times have changed, and he no longer flaunts wealth as he did when buying luxury cars. More importantly, no car, no matter how luxurious, could impress Ha Yue.

So after a moment’s thought, Xue Jing said, “Preferably one that can carry some animals.”

“Animals? How big? Are you planning to keep some dogs here?” Jin Zi laughed. Many in Sui City keep dogs, but they’re usually mixed breeds for guarding homes, not pedigrees.

There are many Tibetan Mastiff breeders, but those dogs are too fierce, used for guarding pastures.

Xue Jing couldn’t tell Jin Zi that he was considering the weight of two pigs, so he smiled and corrected himself, “Slip of the tongue, I meant goods. Not sure about the exact weight, but around three to four hundred pounds.”

He didn’t yet understand why Ha Yue wanted to raise pigs at home, but whether for fun or food, there would come a day when the grown pigs needed to be sold.

Moreover, pigs, like humans, eat grains and might need veterinary care.

An electric tricycle certainly couldn’t carry adult pigs.

“Then go for a Ford F-150, it can haul up to a ton. I’ll post on my social media to see if anyone has one for sale, or a dealer can help us find one from out of town.”

After deciding on the car, Xue Jing gradually steered the conversation towards housing.

He first asked Jin Zi where he lived and about the surrounding environment. Learning that Jin Zi didn’t recommend the area of his own bungalow, Xue Jing expressed genuine curiosity.

“I see, so this area is part of Sui City’s old residential district? I guess it might be hard for me to fit in. Your neighbors must be long-time acquaintances?”

Xue Jing’s words carried a hint of unnoticed grievance.

Jin Zi immediately shook his head, “Mr. Xue, don’t think that way. We locals aren’t that xenophobic. It’s just that the area has adobe houses, cold in winter and hot in summer. With winter approaching, you’d have to deal with heating yourself—buying a boiler, fueling it, and buying coal. It’s a lot of hassle. Too much suffering.”

“There are actually quite a few empty houses in our area. The better-off old neighbors have moved away with their children for retirement. Only those of us without prospects still live there with our parents.”

“Oh, by the way, the person who drove you on a tricycle last time is my neighbor, my sister Ha Yue.”

As he spoke, Jinzi grinned at Xue Jing with an attitude full of pride. “But my sister is different from us. She’s not unsuccessful; she’s, she’s...”

Jinzi had initially wanted to say that she voluntarily returned to Sui City for her mother’s illness and was known in their neighborhood as an extremely filial daughter.

But just as the words were about to leave his lips, Jinzi swallowed them back down. He was warm-hearted, but when it came to dealing with people, he had his own set of principles. Even though Teacher Xue in front of him didn’t seem like a bad person, he shouldn’t bring up Ha Yue and Aunt Zhao’s private lives as a topic of conversation.

Illness, after all, was a private matter. Many people were reluctant to let outsiders know that there was a patient in their family.

Seeing Jinzi’s hesitation, Xue Jing silently tapped his fingers on his knee while patiently prompting him, “Mm-hmm, go on. She is...?”

Soon, Jinzi’s words took a sharp turn along with the route ahead.

“She’s Sui City’s top scorer in the college entrance exam! She’s always been an excellent student, haha.”