C12 His Father Had Given in

Fong Chao was well aware that his father's intentions were for his own good.

Yet, oh Father! Do you realize that the son standing before you has changed? Within my frail frame resides a soul weathered by life's trials!

Fong Chao inhaled deeply.

His mind raced as he pondered various strategies to sway his father's opinion.

Hmm! Dad graduated from high school, so he must have some foundation in literary appreciation. If I show him my novel, surely he'll see its value, right?

But what if he remains unmoved and insists on confiscating my writings, forcing me to continue my education? What then?

Fong Chao was torn.

Just then, Lee Qingxiang, dressed lightly for the warm weather, entered Feng Chao's house and made her way to the courtyard.

"Fong Chao, have you been writing this afternoon? I'd love to read more of your novel. May I?" Lee Qingxiang asked, after having greeted Fong Chao's family.

"Don't stir things up, Qingxiang. I'm in the middle of reprimanding Fong Chao for this very issue! I don't want him to neglect his studies for some frivolous hobbies and end up failing to get into No.1 High School or university!" Fong Chao's father interjected before Fong Chao could respond.

"What? Uncle Feng, how can you think that way? Goodness! Haven't you read Fong Chao's novel? His writing is exceptional, and his storytelling is superb. I believe it's on par with the works of renowned authors I've read. You mustn't stifle his passion. If you hinder a potential literary master by pressuring him into college, it seems to me you'd be making a grave mistake," Lee Qingxiang exclaimed, astonished.

Upon hearing Lee Qingxiang's words, Fong Chao's father raised an eyebrow and scowled, skeptical of her high praise for Fong Chao. After all, Lee Qingxiang was just a kid herself.

What insight could a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl possibly have?

And seeing her dressed this way, coming to see his son, could it be that she harbored a little crush?

"Regardless, I still believe that Fong Chao's primary focus should be on his studies. Writing novels is secondary," his father asserted firmly.

"Uncle Feng, it seems you're biased against your own son! You might subconsciously believe that he's not cut out to be a writer, which is why you're so adamant about him giving up on writing. But you really need to think this through. Fong Chao's current grades aren't very good. With his performance, getting into No.1 High School is a risky bet! And college seems even more unlikely. Imagine if he spends years in high school and still doesn't make it to college, only to return to the village with nothing to show for it. What then?" Lee Qingxiang spoke with persuasive clarity.

"Humph! As long as he buckles down and studies, I refuse to believe my son can't make it into college! 'A thousand years of dullness can't withstand a thousand years of learning!' With enough effort, college isn't that difficult to get into!" his father retorted with stubborn conviction.

"Dad, are you saying I should prepare for an eight-year struggle? If I keep failing to get into university, should I just keep retaking the exam? Is that it? Keep retaking until I'm nearly thirty, then miss out on getting married and having kids? Is that what you want?" Fong Chao countered.

At that time, the college entrance examination was one of the rare escape routes for farm children to leave their agricultural roots behind. Getting into university often meant securing a stable job, changing not only their own destiny but also that of their entire family.

This is why many students, starting at seventeen or eighteen, would retake the exam year after year. Some spent nearly a decade trying and failing to get into university, ultimately having to return home in defeat. This cycle of retaking exams was referred to as the eight-year war.

Upon hearing his son's argument, his father was left without a response.

The story of the eight-year war college entrance exam repeaters was not uncommon; their village had its own example. One individual had repeated for nine years and hadn't even managed to get into a vocational middle school. Eventually, his family told him to resign himself to his fate and come home.

By the time he returned, he was a shadow of his former self, his mental state deteriorated.

Fong Chao was the only son in his family. If he gambled everything on the dream of university and ended up ruining his chances, he would also miss the opportunity to carry on the family legacy.

That would be a sin.

With a heavy sigh, his father shook his head and said, "Fong Chao, you're like a lost cause! I won't harp on about it anymore. Just do what you want!"

Since his son was determined to write a novel, he might as well let him be. Who knows? Maybe he'll write something noteworthy and actually become a writer. That could be a viable path.

"Thanks, Dad. I'll have Qingxiang review my draft." Fong Chao was relieved to see his father finally relent. It certainly hadn't been easy.

It was incredibly challenging.

"Hehe! Uncle Feng, I think you're making the right choice. You can't force kids to do what they dislike. It's better to support them in pursuing their passions," Lee Qingxiang remarked.

Together, they walked into Feng Chao's house.

The house, with its two rooms, was cramped, with low ceilings and tiny windows. A dampness lingered in the air, creating an unpleasant atmosphere.

For Fong Chao, who had traveled back from the future, adjusting to such a living space was still a challenge. His current goal was to earn enough money to build a larger house and improve his living conditions. Such a poor environment could really weigh on one's mood.

Lee Qingxiang, however, didn't comment on Fong Chao's living quarters.

Since there were no chairs, she simply sat down on the edge of Fong Chao's bed. She flicked her freshly washed, damp hair, and a pleasant scent wafted towards Fong Chao. It was clear she had used shampoo, a luxury not common in the countryside where most people used laundry detergent for washing hair.

"Fong Chao, I've brought you some draft paper," Lee Qingxiang said, pulling several notebooks filled with squared paper from her small bag.

Fong Chao's eyes widened in surprise. He was touched by Lee Qingxiang's thoughtfulness; she had even bought him the paper he needed. It was like receiving coal in a snowstorm.

Having finished writing in a math notebook, Fong Chao had been prepared to use the backs of old homework books to continue his work. But now, thanks to Lee Qingxiang, he wouldn't have to.

Given the current financial situation at home, he found it difficult to ask his mother for money just to support his writing.

"Thank you," Fong Chao said, accepting the stack of draft paper with appreciation.

"Don't mention it, haha! Think of it as a token of my appreciation for letting me read your work. After all, you can't expect to read for free, right? Here are six reams of paper, each with a hundred sheets. If you run out and need more, just let me know," Lee Qingxiang offered.

"Oh, okay."

Fong Chao then retrieved his hidden math workbook and passed it to Lee Qingxiang.

With a warm smile, Lee Qingxiang accepted it, patted the space next to her, and invited, "Have a seat."