It seems the results are quite promising.

016 The results seemed quite promising.

In 2003, Guo Jingming’s "City of Fantasy" swept across the literary world, dominating bookstores everywhere. It was the next prodigy to emerge after Han Han’s "Triple Door," another youthful genius, a seedling bursting onto the scene. Yet in the small town of Creekwater, their names appeared for the very first time.

Lin Xia held "Below Zero" in her hands, moved and contemplative. Han Han was indeed a genius—this was undeniable. She looked at the sharp, seasoned writing of that eighteen-year-old boy, and then at herself, a thirty-year-old woman still crafting fairy-tale stories set in schools. Lin Xia couldn’t help but blush.

Yes, Creekwater was a remote town without even a proper bookstore. The only shelf in the local stationery shop carried just two educational guides like "Learn Like Wang One-to-Three." The "Below Zero" in her hands had been snatched from her cousin Liu Ai.

Lin Xia’s mother had five siblings: eldest aunt Xia Chunjiao, second aunt Xia Mengjiao—whose youngest son was Liu Ai—her own mother Xia Yaojiao, fourth aunt Xia Yuanjiao, and uncle Xia Zemiao. The eldest aunt had two sons, eldest cousin Chen Xian and second cousin Chen He; together, their names spelled ‘prominence’, but neither pursued academics. The eldest cousin left school before finishing junior high to make his way in the world, while the second cousin managed to get into a junior college and was now in his first year.

Second aunt’s family had three children: eldest Liu Xue, second Liu Hao, and the youngest, Liu Ai. All three were given names reflecting purity and clarity: Xue (snow), Hao (white), Ai (immaculate)—each evoking a sense of pristine whiteness.

Liu Ai was born five months after Lin Xia, but those five months meant he had to call her ‘sister.’ Though he rarely did, as a child he often protested about it.

Liu Xue was five years older than Lin Xia, currently in her second year of high school in the county. Liu Hao was two years older, attending the same junior high as Lin Xia, now in the crucial third year. The book "Below Zero" had been brought home by Liu Xue from the county.

In her previous life, Lin Xia hadn’t left the town before her junior high graduation; the county seat was already a ‘big city’ to her then. Now, having lived again, she was no longer the naive girl she once was.

“Xia Xia, Xia Xia, these articles are really well written. Do you have more?” Ren Jie patted her shoulder.

“Hey, they’re genuinely good,” Chen Na said, holding the manuscript and pushing her glasses up her nose. “This piece, ‘Girl, Don’t Cry,’ is unique. Even though it’s just a short opening, it reveals your style, your imprint. If you keep writing like this, you might really make a name for yourself in youth literature magazines.”

“That’s nothing. This ‘Cinderella’s Crystal Shoe’ is the real masterpiece. Listen: When two warm lips met, the world seemed blurred and distant. The ambiguous sunset slanted across Yining’s figure, her shadow entwined with Ouyang Xi’s. Leaves drifted lazily, and Yining could clearly see his long, thick lashes and the tiny mole on his wing of a nose.”

“And this: The sky slid past traces of birds, Yining sat alone on the hillside, gazing at the tranquil horizon, wishing time would stop.”

“For no reason at all, she liked him—liked him so much that, beside him, there was no distance.”

“Ah, Xia Xia! Your writing is wonderful. I love it. That ‘Don’t Run! My Prince’ pales in comparison to your ‘Cinderella’s Crystal Shoe!’” Ren Jie slapped the papers and pretended to be stern. “Comrade Lin Xia, I order you to submit this article. It will definitely get published!”

Lin Xia took the manuscript, hesitating. “Is it really true? Honestly, I think it’s rather ordinary, nothing distinctive.”

“No, trust me; you must submit it. This will definitely be chosen. I can’t believe you wrote three articles in one night, and they’re all so good!” Ren Jie immediately put on a plaintive expression. “Your ‘Time Like Water’ is great, but it’s too tragic. Can you change the ending, let Mo Si Shui and Qi Nian Hua end up together? Please!”

Lin Xia snatched the paper from her hands. “Big sis, didn’t I write you a comedy? Hasn’t it cured you yet? I’m casting a wide net—testing if I’m better at tragedy or comedy, at school romance or youth pain, or maybe fresh, inspirational stories.”

Chen Na shifted her gaze from the manuscript to Lin Xia’s face, offering a thoughtful suggestion. “If you can’t choose, let the market decide. What readers like is best.”

A single phrase woke her from her reverie!

School romance, youth pain, inspirational freshness—she truly didn’t know which to choose, but readers would decide and the market would weed out the rest.

In this era, as post-80s youth literature was about to make its mark, she—a freshman born in the 90s—should use her pen to write tender, unique insights that belonged to her alone.

To write the radiance of her youth.

“By the way, your ‘Girl, Don’t Cry’ is indeed unique and healing. Even I, who consider myself scarred and immune, felt warmth reading it.”

Chen Na came from a single-parent family; her mother had run off with another man, and she was raised by her father.

Back then, Lin Xia had exchanged a few words with her, but Chen Na’s sharp tongue and odd mannerisms were hard for sensitive adolescents to tolerate, and Lin Xia naturally kept her distance.

Lin Xia’s group was tightly knit, and if she didn’t like someone, the other three felt the same. Kids at that age were sensitive, and Lin Xia’s four friends were popular in class; soon, Chen Na was isolated.

Because of Lin Xia, Ren Jie lasted less than a week as Chen Na’s desk mate before complaining to their homeroom teacher. Chen Na wasn’t a stellar student, more average, and Ren Jie’s family had already spoken to the teachers; Chen Na was moved to the second-to-last row in Group Four, sitting with another quiet boy.

After that, Lin Xia never paid much attention to her.

At the time, Lin Xia was a leader among the kids; Ren Jie and the others loved to gather around her. Though her grades weren’t top-notch, she sometimes excelled and, with her creative ideas and playful schemes, naturally held a position in the group.

Looking at Chen Na’s delicate face, Lin Xia smiled. “Since you say it’s good, I’ll revise ‘Girl, Don’t Cry’ and send it to the magazine.”

“But you’ve only written a little?” Ren Jie asked.

“Hah, you don’t get it. If it’s chosen, I’ll serialize it, understand? Dummy!” Lin Xia shot her a mock-disdainful glance.

“You called me stupid? You’ve got some nerve. Yang Yanju, let’s get her!” Ren Jie rubbed her hands together in mock seriousness. “Watch my ‘Dragon Claw Technique.’”

“Nine Yin Skeleton Claw.”

“Six Meridian Sword.”

“Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms.”

“Hmph, behold my ultimate move—Pointy Fist!”

“Pfft, alright, enough fooling around. Class starts in two minutes,” Yang Yanju mediated.

“I’ll let you off this time for Elder Yang’s sake,” Jie said, thumb hooked to her nose in a gesture.

“You’re ridiculous. I won’t talk to you,” Lin Xia replied.

“You…”

“Miss Ren, please don’t speak to me,” Lin Xia said, enunciating each word.

“You…”

“Hmph!” Lin Xia turned away.

Behind her, Chen Na’s cool voice sounded. “Miss Ren…”

“What is it?” came the grumpy, still angry reply.

“Your nose is all scrunched up.”

“You, you all—waaah, bullying me together, I can’t go on—” Old Yang walked into the classroom, books tucked under his arm, and the noise abruptly ceased.