I'm not a literary giant

Chapter 22 This Little Fish Cares (Thanks to Da Men ZRR)

Ye Lan and Zuo Ziliang, one on the left and one on the right, squatted on the sofa in the KTV, with their cell phones placed on the coffee table between them, as quiet as a brick.

Cheng Xing sat alone, far away from the two of them, silently reading The Little Prince's script on his phone.

The KTV was playing "Reject pornography, reject gambling, reject pornography, gambling and drugs" loudly. The sound was very loud and the world was very noisy, but it did not affect his reading at all. He sat there quietly, like a stone Buddha.

Cheng Xing's draft had been sent to the speech therapists' group. The entire group was immediately immersed in a sea of ​​joy, with the screen filled with comments.

No one realized that this was a competition between the two bosses.

Zuo Ziliang lay on the sofa and said weakly:
"I told you, this bet is unfair. Not everyone has my ability to discern words. Our speech therapists may not be able to sense the subtle differences between two people's scripts."

Ye Lan stared at him, his eyes a little confused, and a little contemptuous: "If you can't feel the gap, then there is no gap, right?"

Zuo Ziliang said: “The gap between ‘not feeling the gap’ and ‘no gap’ is huge!

"The ability to discern text requires a certain level of aesthetic taste. It's like me and a professional photographer, both holding Nikon cameras, but the photos we take are completely different. The photos taken by others look like stills from a movie, while mine look like candid photos from 91."

Ye Lan crossed his arms and shook his head: "I don't know what you are talking about. I don't understand a word you say."

Zuo Ziliang sat up and gestured with his hands, trying to explain to her:
"The script of The Little Prince has a unique flavor. The difference between the two is like the difference between Oreo and Yueliyue. On the surface, they are both two black cookies with a lump of white cream in between, but if you don't take a bite, it's hard to tell the difference."

Ye Lan asked: "What is Yueliyue?"

Zuo Ziliang said: "It's a brand of knock-off Oreos. Haven't you tried it? I bought the wrong box last month. When I got home, I found out that it was Yue Li Yue."

Ye Lan smiled tastelessly: "I haven't eaten it. I've only bought Kangshuaibo."

Zuo Ziliang said: "Is there really a Kang Shuaibo?"

Ye Lan looked at his watch and said, "Ten minutes have passed."

Zuo Ziliang lay down dejectedly again.

Ye Lan raised her long-lashed eyes and looked at him: "What do you have to say?"

Zuo Ziliang waved his hand and said, "Wait a little longer. It's only 10 minutes, and many speech therapists haven't even finished reading the script yet."

Ye Lan raised the corner of his mouth in a nice arc, but it was very mean: "Well, wait a little longer, no rush, wait until he is completely dead before you rush."

Zuo Ziliang shook his head and said, "You asked the speech therapist to guess blindly. This is not a test for the little prince, but a test for the speech therapist's level. Except for the little prince himself, no one knows how much he had accumulated and how much he had thought about before he created the work."

Ye Lan took a sip of the sparkling water and then said, "I thought about such a vast content, but in the end no one cared. Well, it's also quite tragic."

Zuo Ziliang was so angry that he could hardly speak. He said, "It's not that you don't care... Even if you don't care, the speech therapists can't sense it, but our users will sense it, and they will vote with their feet."

Ye Lan said: "But this is just your subjective judgment, no one can disprove it. Zuo Ziliang, you have no scientific spirit."

Zuo Ziliang said: "You have no literary appreciation level."

Ye Lan acted as if he didn't want to argue with him.

In a flash, 30 minutes passed.

"It's over." Ye Lan said.

She stood up, patted her skirt, and stood up gracefully, like a princess who had succeeded in a palace fight.

Zuo Ziliang lit a cigarette, threw the lighter on the table, took a comfortable puff, and leaned back on the sofa, as if he was the winner.

Ye Lan said: "30 minutes have passed, and messages have been sent in the group, but no one has noticed that the script was not written by the little prince. Does this explain everything?"

Zuo Ziliang said: "This shows that our speech therapists have low appreciation level, lack independent thinking and questioning spirit. Other than that, it doesn't show anything else."

Ye Lan wrinkled his nose: "Zuo Ziliang, you talk like a loser. Although I don't know what the little prince is like, but if he is as conceited as you, then both of you are quite sad."

Zuo Ziliang held a cigarette in his hand and said, "Van Gogh never found his sponsor, and Kafka never found his readers. Is this their sorrow, or the sorrow of the world?"

Ye Lan said unhappily: "No one is like us, offering a fair bet to Van Gogh and Kafka, right? Zuo Ziliang, you are really arrogant sometimes. You always think you are right." Zuo Ziliang was immersed in the smoke, his eyes blurred: "I am not right about everything, but I am right about this. History will prove that I am right, and the only one who can convict me is the Spring and Autumn Annals."

"Come on. Chun Qiu doesn't even know you."

Just as he finished speaking, the cell phone on the table rang crisply.

"Who?"

Ye Lan took a look and said, "It's Huang Da."

"What did Huang Da say?"

Ye Lan looked down at her phone and didn't answer him.

Zuo Ziliang stretched out his hand: "Give me your phone, let me see it."

Ye Lan shook his head: "He said he had something to report. Leave your phone here, and I'll type it for you."

"Is this necessary?!"

"It is necessary. It is very necessary. I want you to be convinced." Ye Lan raised his face and said, "I really want to fight for victory today."

Zuo Ziliang reluctantly held out his hand: "Then what do you want to ask him?"

A message popped up from Huang Da in time: [Boss, do you want to review the quality of today's script? ]

……

When the dinner ended, it was already past ten o'clock in the evening. The moon was cold and the streets were deserted.

A table of people came out of the office in twos and threes, all dazed and confused. Nine jars of aged yellow wine got seven of them drunk, which was very enjoyable.

Among the people at the table, Wang Zixu and Guo Ranran were almost the only two who were not drunk. The reason why I say "almost" is because Guo Ranran looked like she was drunk, her face was red, she couldn't stand steadily, and she kept pouring on Lin Feng.

Lin Feng was completely hanging on Wang Zixu. He had one arm on Wang Zixu's shoulders, his face was red, he reeked of alcohol, and he kept talking drunkenly to him with a big tongue.

"Brother Wang, after meeting you today, I finally understood what it means that there is always someone better than you. Chatting with you is like meeting a worthy opponent, it's such a pleasure. I've seen the literary world in Xihe, and no one is as talented as you."

The prince said hesitantly, "I'm still a long way from here."

Lin Feng waved his hands, patted his chest and said:

"Hey, what's wrong with you? We are the ones who are wrong! To be honest, those people in our Xihe literary world are worse than me. They have no interest in creation. What are they obsessed with all day long? Palace fighting, and this... Palace fighting."

Wang Zixu felt that he was really drunk and would offend others if he continued to talk, so he quickly interrupted him and said, "You've drunk too much!"

Lin Feng burped and said, "I drank a little too much today, but I am sober. I only said this to my brothers behind closed doors. What have I always believed? I! I always believed..."

Wang Zixu was afraid that he would say something fatal, so he helped him to a place where there was no one. Fortunately, the other colleagues were also sensible and left early, fearing that they would hear something and get stained with fishy smell.

Lin Feng said, "I have always believed that only people like you who are truly talented should be promoted to the literary world, and those rotten fish and shrimps should be driven away and told to get out. The literary world should be for writers, what are they talking about?"

Wang Zixu said with a hint of sadness: "I don't even know where the door to the literary world is, so how can I be praised for being there?"

Lin Feng could no longer hear what he said, but he was still chattering on the side:
"Really? You are such a talented person, but you are stuck here, working as a small clerk. I get angry just thinking about it. You should go to a bigger stage..."

Wang Zixu supported Lin Feng and looked at the dim light of the distant street lamp. At this moment, he seemed to be like Gatsby in "The Great Gatsby", looking at the green light across the river and stretching out his hand in vain.

The literary world? He didn’t know where the literary world was, and he had never been accepted by it.

When he needed recognition the most, the illusory literary world did not know him. He simply did not know such a person, and no one cared because no letters would be mailed to him.

At this time, it was not the literary world but literary warmth that opened the door to him.

Because he believed that literature was a lonely journey, he really faced complete loneliness. He chose to write every word alone, and be his own king in a corner where no one cared.

(End of this chapter)