I'm not a literary giant

Chapter 243 What Night Is This Tonight? (6000 words)
As dusk approached, a sudden downpour arrived. The rain curtain shrouded the city in a deep gray, and the dampness, carrying wisps of heat, rose into the air, blurring and distorting the magnificent buildings across the river in the rain and mist.

Ning Chunyan picked up Wang Zixu and sat in the Porsche, listening to him finish half of his story. She paused for a moment, then asked:
"She really told you not to contact her anymore? I find it hard to imagine a mother saying that."

Wang Zixu said, "Someone told me that because I choose happiness, I will have happiness. For her, completely severing ties with the life I represent is probably the optimal solution for happiness."

Ning Chunyan's tone was full of incomprehension: "What mother's best solution for happiness is to abandon her child? Unless that person has no heart."

After saying that, she nodded thoughtfully: "In this world, it's not surprising that people don't have hearts. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend your mother."

"It's okay, no need to apologize. I don't think it was offensive."

At that moment, he suddenly understood why Yu Hua wrote "Cries in the Drizzle." This stifling rain, instead of clearing away the turbidity, only stirred up the world, turning the river surface a hazy yellow, leaving people with seemingly no other option but to cry out.

In just half an hour, he recounted the whole story of his "reunion with his mother" to Ning Chunyan. In this version, he carefully removed all traces related to An Younan, so it can only be considered "half a story".

Even this half-finished story filled Ning Chunyan with sympathy, indignation, and a bellyful of nameless anger.

She rested her hands on her lap, her expression serious, her lips pressed into a thin, straight line, like two freshly cut, sharp-edged cookies, neat yet with a touch of childlike innocence.

“Hey, let me ask you,” she turned her head, “are you in a lot of pain right now?”

Wang Zixu smiled wryly: "'Pain' is a bit of a luxury for me."

Ning Chunyan repeated softly, "Extravagant?"

"For someone like me who has smashed through countless walls, 'pain' sounds like a sugar cube in an Americano. A person who is used to exploiting themselves has no right to talk about pain."

Ning Chunyan blinked: "Has anyone ever told you that you talk in a pretentious way?"

"No. Do I sound pretentious?"

"A little. A little pretentious." Ning Chunyan smiled, pursing her lips. "What's with this 'someone like me doesn't deserve to suffer' stuff? Who are you trying to impress with your cool act?"

"Huh?" When Wang Zixu said that, he thought it was a self-deprecating remark after ruminating on his grief, and he didn't think it was handsome at all.

Ning Chunyan cleared her throat, a few stray hairs falling across her forehead. She gently brushed them aside with her fingers, tucking them behind her delicate, white ears, and then solemnly cleared her throat again:

"Listen to me, normal humans are creatures who cry when they're hungry, hide when they're in pain, and chat with everyone to vent when they're unhappy—don't say anything, I know you don't, because you've never heard anyone care even when you cried from hunger as a child. But that's not right. You've heard of 'Wen Ai' (a term used to describe a kind of romantic relationship), right?"

Prince listened blankly, and when he heard the words "Wen Ai," his heart skipped a beat, and he subconsciously shook his head.

"You haven't heard of this? The Little Prince! The Little Prince became popular because of Wen Ai's use of speech therapy."

Seeing that Wang Zixu was still standing there in a daze, Ning Chunyan sighed:

"What I'm trying to say is that venting and expressing emotions are normal human emotional needs. If you have emotions, you should release them in time and not keep them bottled up inside. If you keep them bottled up for too long, you won't be able to do things well, and you'll become crazy."

The prince thought for a moment and found the whole thing utterly absurd. The words, "But I am the Little Prince," almost escaped his lips, but he quickly swallowed them back and said:

"But I don't know what to do. I don't know how to talk to anyone or who to talk to."

Is he going to open the window of romance and let Sakura or the poet use their own invented rhetoric to comfort himself? A doctor cannot heal himself.

Ning Chunyan rolled her eyes at him: "Am I human? I'm asking you, am I human?"

Wang Zixu was intimidated by her imposing manner and was momentarily speechless. Ning Chunyan looked at his expression and felt both annoyed and amused.

"You can talk to me, like today. You can also talk to Chen Qingluo. Don't let her usual demeanor fool you, she actually cares about you a lot."

Prince Xuxin was startled once again.

It took him a few seconds to calm his racing heart and he said in a low voice, "There's nothing you can do about it, it'll only cause you more trouble."

Ning Chunyan sighed: "We can't solve it, but talking about it will lighten the burden by half. It's true that it's not easy for a child from a single-parent family like you to understand such common sense. But it's also your mother's fault, not yours."

"Oh."

After speaking, Prince Xu fell into a daze again. Is this common sense? But if Sartre didn't exist, he would indeed be even more upset than he is now.

It took him a while to realize that Sartre never existed.

Ning Chunyan glanced at him, a fleeting blush crossing her face, then spoke with great patience, as if showing Mr. Snail the way home:
“My idol, the Little Prince, once said that physical contact is always more powerful than words in healing. If you really don’t know what to say… I can also mercifully hug you.”

Prince Xu looked at her in surprise, thinking she was joking.

Ning Chunyan's eyes were pure and focused, like two small, round black pebbles, sunk in clear stream water. She gazed at him as if watching peach petals swirling and falling on the water, her gaze clear and without impurity.

The prince thought for a moment, then said half-jokingly, "Okay."

Ning Chunyan readily opened her arms and said, "Come on."

Her generosity put Prince Xu in a difficult position. To say it was a joke now would be ungrateful and betray her kindness.

He could only shrink back, stiffly moving towards Ning Chunyan like a lump of iron through the gear shift lever. The latter took the initiative to pull him into her arms.

Then, as if soothing a cat, she gently rubbed the back of Wang Zixu's head: "Good boy, good boy, you've worked hard."

Rather than embracing an adult male, she was hugging a rather unruly giant golden retriever, or a young, straight beech tree.

Her arms formed a smooth, effortless arc, gently supporting Prince Xu—who consistently resisted resting his head on her shoulder—but it was harmless. Under her tender caress, the young beech tree branches seemed to soften in the afternoon sun, gradually drooping.

His tall frame had strangely shrunk in her arms, curling up into a small, hard shape, like the hard-shelled seed of a bean plant.

Twenty-six seconds later, the ceremony finally ended, and the two parted ways tacitly.

"Are you feeling a bit more relaxed?" Ning Chunyan asked.

Wang Zixu felt the answer was obvious; the contact just now had said it all: "No."

After saying that, so as not to disappoint the other party, he added, "My body is not relaxed, but my heart and mind are a little more relaxed."

This answer didn't score highly, but Ning Chunyan didn't mind. She simply pointed her index finger at his nose.
"Relatives are ordained by fate, friends are chosen by oneself. No matter what happens, friends should always be one of your options. Remember that?"

Prince Xu nodded.

Ning Chunyan suddenly said seriously, "Have you remembered?"

"Uh-huh……"

"talk?"

"remember."

"Hmm." Ning Chunyan nodded in satisfaction.

"By the way," she changed the subject, "what are your plans for the Chinese New Year?"

"What do you mean?"

Have you considered visiting your wife's family for the New Year?

The prince shuddered slightly: "...Wouldn't that be inappropriate?"

"Why not?" Ning Chunyan said. "No matter how long she's been missing, she'll still have to come home for the New Year, right? Isn't this a perfect opportunity to repair our relationship?"

She pressed further, "How did you visit her family for the New Year in previous years?"

Prince Xu replied, "We always go back to our own homes to celebrate the New Year with our own families."

Ning Chunyan was shocked: "You haven't been to her house? Not even the first year? What son-in-law doesn't visit his wife's family for the New Year?"

"My family situation...is rather unique..."

Comrade Wang Jianguo still doesn't know that his daughter-in-law is not the person he expected. Naturally, Wang Zixu cannot take her back.

Ning Chunyan frowned: "So how did you spend the years in previous years? Just with your father?"

After receiving an affirmative answer, she sighed and shook her head:
"It's better to have a lively celebration during the New Year. If you encounter any difficulties, feel free to contact me anytime. I have plenty of free time..."

……

In the days leading up to the holiday, Wang Zixu attended a graduate school interview.

The result speaks for itself. Zhong Junmin was one of the interviewers, and although he didn't show a smile throughout the entire interview, Wang Zixu still felt that he had done quite well.

With the year-end approaching and things pressing, the most difficult thing for Wang Zixu was to go home and face his old comrade Wang Jianguo.

When he left Xihe, he didn't tell the old man the truth, lying that his work unit had sent him away for six months of training. The deadline had long passed, and the truth eventually came out.

From then on, Wang Jianguo refused to see him and would berate him incessantly whenever they met. Fortunately, his extreme nature prevented him from doing anything more egregious.

Several days have passed, and it's unclear whether the old comrade's anger has subsided. Regardless of how he characterizes that incident, he still has to go home for the year-end holiday, spending the entire vacation with the old comrade day and night. Hoping they won't tire of each other is simply impossible. He only hopes this Spring Festival won't turn into a mutual torture.

On New Year's Eve, Wang Zixu returned home. Wang Jianguo still didn't give him a friendly look, but traditional customs restrained him, so he didn't speak harshly to him. He just silently prepared a meal.

This old man was usually slovenly, but he showed a rare reliability during holidays. His house was spotless, and even the curtains were washed. He even prepared a room especially for Wang Zixu, with the sheets and blankets ironed perfectly.

Starting at 8 p.m., I received a constant stream of New Year's greetings via text message.

Zhang Cangnian and Xu Shichao from his former workplace sent him standard mass text messages; Lin Feng, on the other hand, carefully crafted a seemingly mass-sent but actually original blessing.

Ye Lan's text message was filled with emojis, making it dazzling; Zuo Ziliang's congratulatory message was two hundred words long, of which one hundred and fifty words were about "money" and "wealth"; then came Cheng Xing; followed by several members of the Wen'ai base—Yingjiang, Xinzhe, the poet, and Xiaoba;
Zhao Peilin offered his New Year's greetings and casually asked him to introduce him to girls; Lu Qingxuan, like a warrior, wished him success in his studies; Diao Yiwen's blessing was more down-to-earth, wishing him good luck in the New Year.

As midnight approached, Ning Chunyan sent a long, solemn essay, beginning with "To the gentle and kind Prince Xu," leaving the recipient flattered and unsure how to reply.

He was pondering his words when he noticed that at exactly midnight, Chen Qingluo's New Year's greeting text message had quietly arrived, containing only four simple words: "Happy New Year."

This was the shortest New Year's greeting Wang Zixu had ever received; if he didn't know her temperament well, he would have thought it was a mass text. He replied with "Happy New Year."

After replying to the message, Wang Zixu smiled happily. They were old classmates, and this was the first time they had exchanged New Year's greetings.

He then recalled Ning Chunyan's suggestion—to confide his pain to Chen Qingluo? That seemed unlikely.
He couldn't imagine how she would react. Given her black-and-white personality, he didn't know what she might do.

Besides, he was absolutely unwilling to show his vulnerable side in front of her.

The next morning, Wang Zixu got up with dark circles under his eyes. He had stayed up very late the night before, editing text messages for Professor Zhong, Director Mei, and others.

The adult world is just that dull. Even though many people probably don't care, we can't afford to be careless about these things.

Wang Zixu's family has few relatives; apart from one aunt, the rest have become distant.

The reason is that most of the paternal elders have passed away, and apart from the aunt, the kinship has long been weak; while on the maternal side, they are practically nonexistent.

Both father and son were alone, so every Spring Festival they could only look at each other in silence.

However, for Prince Xu, this actually freed him from worldly troubles, allowing him to devote himself entirely to his career.

On the first day of the new year, one should naturally devote limited enthusiasm to boundless creation—Wang Zixu took out his notebook, placed it on the coffee table, and began writing.

He currently has no new book plans and is working on a script for Wen Ai that has been shelved for a long time. He had been preoccupied with the publication of "Fire in the Stone" some time ago, which put the scriptwriting on hold for a long time.

Strangely, when I picked up the pen again, my proficiency increased rather than decreased, inspiration came in abundance, and my libido was even more plentiful—if the concept Zuo Ziliang mentioned really exists.

Less than half an hour later, with his brain and laptop just warmed up, Comrade Wang Jianguo rubbed his sleepy eyes and strolled out of the bedroom.

"Happy New Year," the prince said in a perfunctory manner.

"Happy New Year." Old Wang's voice was hoarse from just waking up.

In previous years, Comrade Wang usually slept until noon before getting up for the New Year, but for some reason he got up so early today.

"What are you doing?" Old Wang walked over, slipping on his slippers.

Wang Zixu reached out and closed his notebook: "Work."

Old Wang's temple throbbed, and a deep line appeared on his lips as he turned down: "What kind of work is this during the New Year?"

“You have to write often to keep your skills sharp,” Wang Zixu explained briefly, then waved his hand, “Never mind, I’m not doing it anymore.”

Old Wang's lips twitched nervously a few times, and he looked like he was about to utter some harsh words. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he ultimately swallowed the words back, only letting out a snort through his nose, sarcastically saying:

"Hmph, if you hadn't quit your job, why would you be working on your computer during the Chinese New Year?"

Upon hearing this, Wang Zixu was both amused and exasperated: "Dad, I did it voluntarily..."

"Voluntary?" Old Wang's voice suddenly rose, carrying a cynical tone that seemed to know the truth. "Isn't it because they haven't made any money? If they had a secure job with a guaranteed income, would they need to 'voluntarily' work overtime?"

Prince Xu leaned back wearily into the sofa, raising his hand and waving it weakly in the air, as if trying to shoo away invisible mosquitoes. This gesture clearly declared: to avoid spoiling the joyous atmosphere of the New Year, this topic was to be left at that.

Old Wang ultimately couldn't forgive him. He walked past him with a cold face and said in a low voice, "Change your clothes and dress presentably. We have guests coming later."

Prince Xu asked in surprise, "What kind of guest are you meeting?"

"Old Zhang next door," Old Wang said, "we've made arrangements. He'll come to our house for lunch, and we'll go to his house in the evening."

The prince was slightly surprised, but then felt a sense of relief. For Old Wang, with his solitary and unruly nature, to maintain such harmonious neighborly relations was a great improvement.

“If Lao Zhang comes, don’t talk to him about your work.” Wang Jianguo remembered something and turned back to remind him, “His son has recently made a fortune again. We don’t need to be on par with others, but at least we shouldn’t lose face.”

Wang Zixu felt a wave of helplessness wash over him: "Dad, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

Wang Jianguo's eyes flashed sharply, his warning clear. Wang Zixu wisely swallowed the rest of his sentence, deciding not to bother explaining further.

Just after eleven o'clock, the Zhang family arrived early. The son, Zhang Wei, carried two bottles of fine wine and two cartons of good cigarettes, while the daughter, Zhang Xixi, held a large and exquisite fruit basket. Before they even arrived, a series of auspicious greetings poured in.

Since he was eight years old, Wang Zixu's house had never been so bustling with noise. He was a little at a loss for what to do, so he could only follow suit and bow, muttering some auspicious words to suit the occasion.

Before he could even lower his hand completely, Zhang Wei grabbed it enthusiastically: "Brother Wang! I'm so glad to see you again!"

Old Wang cast a surprised glance at him. Wang Zixu was still bewildered when Zhang Wei impatiently explained his purpose:
"I'd like to schedule an exclusive interview with you. Would that be convenient for you?"

Wang Zixu suddenly realized that he was a self-media writer specializing in books. Zhang Xixi, standing beside him, playfully slapped her brother's arm.
"Brother! Why are you in such a hurry? We haven't even eaten yet! Look how scared you've made Teacher Wang."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Zhang Wei quickly apologized with an undisguised eagerness on his face. "Professor Wang is a literary celebrity now. I've been thinking about him day and night, afraid that you'd be too busy to book a class. I've been so rude, so rude."

The sudden warmth between the brother and sister completely baffled Old Wang.

He stared at Wang Zixu with suspicion and uncertainty, his eyes filled with silent questioning: "What... what have you been up to outside now?"

The prince humbly avoided his gaze.

The luncheon lasted quite a while, and the dishes and glasses gradually became a mess. Comrades Lao Wang and Lao Zhang, drunk and flushed, grew louder and louder, and suddenly slapped the table and laughed, creating a lively atmosphere.

Zhang Xixi, unable to hold her liquor, left early and was now lazily nestled in the old fabric sofa in the living room. She wore a soft, dark-colored, tight-fitting turtleneck sweater that perfectly outlined her full and flowing curves, like a plump, ripe fruit hanging heavily on a branch.

She tilted her head slightly, listening to her brother Zhang Wei talking excitedly in a low voice, occasionally pursing her lips and smiling softly, her fingertips unconsciously twirling a strand of hair that had fallen down.

Prince Xu found an opportunity, got up, and slipped onto the balcony to light a cigarette.

The early spring sun hung high, its rays dazzling, yet stingy with any warmth it offered. The bare branches of the trees in the yard still stretched stiffly into the cold air, as if still frozen in the lingering chill of winter.

He took out his phone, and the screen lit up. It was a text message from Lin Feng, reminding him that he, as the vice chairman, had to attend the New Year's gathering of the Xihe Writers Association tomorrow.

He replied briefly with "Okay." His gaze had barely left the screen when he glanced casually through the gaps between his fingers holding a cigarette, and he froze instantly.

A girl's figure suddenly came into view without warning.

The girl was wearing a white woolen beret and a warm-looking white down jacket. The thick fur trim around the collar made her small face look even more delicate.

A section of light-checkered woolen skirt peeks out from under the down jacket, paired with thick black tights and round-toed ankle boots, creating a stylish yet adorable look.

She seemed to be clutching a piece of paper in her hand, tilting her head slightly, looking around at the building number with a somewhat bewildered expression, like a lost little animal.

That figure... looked so familiar it sent a chill down his spine.

The prince suddenly flicked his wrist, and the burning ash fell in a flurry, almost causing the phone to slip from his hand and fall to the ground.

“No…right?”

The girl looked down to check the note, then, as if she had finally found her bearings, she started walking straight along the internal path of the residential area, eventually disappearing into the doorway of Wang Zixu's apartment building.

The prince stood frozen in place, stunned for a full half minute. It wasn't until he felt a burning pain in his fingers that he snapped back to reality, stubbed out his cigarette, shuffled back into the house in his slippers, and practically staggered as he opened the door, bringing in a blast of biting cold air.

Startled by the cold wind, Old Wang looked up, his face flushed, and asked through his blurry, drunken eyes, "What's wrong? Why are you all in such a rush?"

"It's nothing." Prince Xu rubbed his eyes hard, his heart still pounding in his chest.

Maybe I misread it...?

"Tuk, Tuk, Tuk."

The clear and restrained knocking shattered any remaining hope.

Wang Zixu rushed to the front door and yanked it open. An Younan stood gracefully outside.

The chilly air made the tip of her small nose red, like a touch of rouge. Yet her clear eyes held a deliberate calmness and aloofness.

"Happy New Year," she said in a clear voice, but deliberately maintained a polite and distant distance. "Nice to meet you. My surname is An, and I've come to wish you a Happy New Year."

(End of this chapter)