C9 I Was Mocked

Lee Qingxiang couldn't stop singing praises after she finished reading the rest of Fong Chao's manuscript.

Together, they hurried the flock of sheep toward the village.

As they walked, Lee Qingxiang peppered Fong Chao with questions about the future plot of "To Live."

In truth, a classic masterpiece like "To Live" isn't celebrated for its story alone, but rather for its profound contemplation of life that deeply resonates with its readers.

Additionally, the language of "To Live" is fresh and lively, making the mere act of reading its prose a delightful experience.

If Fong Chao were to recount the upcoming story, it would undoubtedly come across as dry and uninspiring!

After all, it's not a run-of-the-mill supernatural adventure novel!

So, after hemming and hawing, Fong Chao couldn't quite articulate his thoughts. Finally, he stomped his foot and said, "I'm just not good with words. I can't do it justice. Maybe you should wait until it's written down. How's that sound?"

"Hehe! Fong Chao, I'm seriously considering kidnapping you and forcing you to write novels for me at knifepoint. No writing, no food," Lee Qingxiang teased.

"Really? I must say, I've never encountered a reader as merciless as you," Fong Chao replied in jest.

They said their goodbyes at the village entrance.

Fong Chao led his sheep back home.

Once the sheep were secured in their pen, Fong Chao drew some cool well water to wash his hands and face.

"Chao, Aiqin stopped by earlier and brought us a small bowl of sweet dates. Come and have some," his mother said as she emerged from the kitchen next to the sheep pen, cradling a handful of plump red dates.

"Oh, these are from Mrs. Aiqin? Let me try them," Fong Chao said, picking a few dates from the bowl and popping one into his mouth. The dates were crisp, filling his mouth with their sweet flavor.

"Aiqin mentioned that you found and returned ten yuan to her. She's very thankful. Chao, you did the right thing. Ten yuan might be a lot, but if it's not ours, we shouldn't keep it," his mother remarked.

"Mom, you're absolutely right. What's for dinner today?" Fong Chao deftly steered the conversation elsewhere.

When he first spotted the ten yuan, he was indeed tempted to keep it for himself. Now, reflecting on it, he felt deeply ashamed, realizing that he didn't measure up to his mother, an illiterate rural woman, in terms of moral stature.

After lunch, Fong Chao retreated to his room to continue writing "To Live." Time flew, and before he knew it, it was already past two in the afternoon. He heard his family stirring; it was time to go harvest corn. It was a tough job—working in the stifling heat of the cornfield, with the risk of being sliced by the sharp leaves. Frankly, Fong Chao had no love for farm work. Yet, he couldn't just sit back and let his family toil while he lounged at home. He felt compelled to help lighten his parents' load.

With that in mind, Fong Chao capped his pen, closed his notebook, and carefully slid the nearly finished exercise book under his mattress. It was his prized possession. If anyone used it for toilet paper, it would be a devastating loss.

After a burst of determination, Fong Chao had managed to write over 17,000 words of "To Live." With a bit more effort in the evening, he could easily hit his daily goal of twenty thousand words.

Stepping out of his room, Fong Chao saw his family readying a donkey cart to leave. "Mom, I'll come too," he offered.

"Don't bother. Stay home and do your homework! And remember, you're cooking dinner!" his father interjected before his mother could respond.

Homework? Fong Chao had no intention of doing any more homework for the rest of his life. He was planning to drop out of school. Based on his previous life's trajectory, he knew that his academic pursuits wouldn't yield much. Now, with his extraordinary talent, he wasn't about to squander his intellect on pointless tasks. Why not just write novels and gain fame and fortune?

"Okay, fine," Fong Chao relented, shrinking back a little. His father's word was law, and he had high hopes for his son's academic success.

Fong Chao was somewhat daunted by the task of shucking corn.

So, he remained at home.

He returned to his room and continued writing for over an hour. By 3:30 p.m., he had completed more than twenty-two thousand words.

His mission for the first day was accomplished with success!

Fong Chao felt a bit dizzy from the effort, his arms and legs stiffening from the exertion.

In those days, without computers or typewriters, writing was truly a form of physical labor.

Fong Chao then went to the kitchen and boiled a pot of mung bean water.

Mung bean water was both thirst-quenching and cooling, making it an excellent beverage.

Once the mung bean water was ready, Fong Chao filled a cast-iron kettle to the brim. He then chilled the kettle with fresh, crisp well water.

With the kettle in hand and two large, coarse porcelain bowls, he headed to his cornfield.

Stepping out of his courtyard, he encountered Lee Laoen cycling toward him.

"Hey! Isn't that the great writer? Where are you off to?" Lee Laoen greeted Fong Chao with a grin.

Fong Chao was taken aback by the comment.

Why was Lee Laoen calling him a great writer?

Had Lee Qingxiang been spreading the word about his novel writing?

"Mr. Laoen, your words seem a bit sarcastic. I've never claimed to be a great writer," Fong Chao said, rolling his eyes.

Lee Laoen, propping himself up with one foot on the ground, chuckled and said, "I heard from Qingxiang that you're writing a novel. She's been singing your praises, saying your work is fantastic. Tell me, did you plagiarize someone else's work to impress my niece?"

It was indeed Lee Qingxiang who had spilled the beans.

Lee Laoen and Lee Qingxiang's father, Lee Shuguang, were brothers, so it made sense for her to share Fong Chao's writing endeavors with Mr. Laoen.

But Fong Chao was irked by Lee Laoen's insinuating tone.

"Mr. Laoen, you're mistaken. Why would I need to fool anyone? I'm writing to submit for publication, not to deceive Lee Qingxiang," Fong Chao replied, visibly annoyed.

"Haha! Kid, do you think I don't know what's on your mind? You've got your eye on my niece and you're looking to woo her! But take a good, hard look at yourself. How could your family ever match up to our Qingxiang? She may have only finished middle school, but we're planning on finding her a proper job in the county town! As for you, you're destined to toil away at home for the rest of your life! I suggest you smarten up and stop bothering Qingxiang! Otherwise, if I catch you engaging in any misconduct, don't expect me to be nice!" Lee Laoen told Fong Chao, his smile not reaching his eyes.

Damn!

It was as if the story from his past life was unfolding all over again.