DreamersGN 2rd place in Chapter 65?
2rd place in Chapter 65?
The morning sunlight, carrying a slightly harsh heat, pierced through the gaps in the curtains of dormitory room 404.
Jiang Bai groggily opened his eyes, his short hair slightly messy, and habitually called out to the system in his mind.
"Your Majesty, report to me on my empire."
[Ding! Popularity score is currently being tallied...]
[Yesterday's additions: +15,230.]
[Ding! Current popularity score: 43,580.]
Seeing that number had finally broken the 40,000 mark, Jiang Bai was so happy he almost rolled off the top bunk.
As the buzz surrounding Yu Zheng's costume photos for "Beauty's Rival in Palace" gradually died down, Weibo was once again dominated by celebrity gossip.
His popularity didn't stop growing; on the contrary, it continued to rise because of the blurry rehearsal video from last night.
Although the leak of the rehearsal video last night made him anxious all night, fearing that his roommate, who was a reincarnation of Leeuwenhoek, or his counselor, Lao Zhang, would discover something amiss.
But I must say...
Risk is often accompanied by huge profits.
"Forty-three thousand already..."
Jiang Bai rubbed his hands together, his mind racing with calculations.
He's almost a quarter of his goal: to get the [Charm Breakthrough Card] that can save his life and the [Stamina Breakthrough Card] that will allow him to one-punch a whiny person.
"Just appear on 'The Voice of China' again, and finish updating 'Swordsman'..."
"Dual SIM card activation is just around the corner!"
"Then, let's see who dares to lust after me!"
Jiang Bai happily rolled out of bed.
The moment my toes touched the ground, I stepped into a pair of shoes with an excellent feel.
Those were the [Lucky Versatile White Sneakers] that the system gave away as a prize.
After these past few days of abuse, including treading on the muddy playground and rehearsing dances, it should have become a "battle-damaged version of Iraq" by now.
But these shoes were still so white they shone, so white they were dazzling, without a single crease.
"Tsk tsk tsk."
Jiang Bai put on his shoes and stomped on the ground twice.
It has a moderate firmness, excellent breathability, and can also clean itself.
"A divine object!"
"This is simply a godsend for lazy people, a savior for the poor!"
"A shoe can be passed down through three generations; the person may be gone, but the shoe will still be there."
Jiang Bai made a decision: from now on, he would wear these shoes whether he was in military training, on a film set, or even taking a shower.
After all, this adds 10% to your luck.
What if you find money on the street?
After washing up, I carefully tidied up the blanket that I had miraculously pressed into a square shape.
Jiang Bai, along with the wailing new students, once again embarked on his journey across the playground.
A new day of military training has begun.
……
10:00 AM.
The sun was high in the sky, and the heat was intense.
The military training has entered a short break.
The freshmen slumped to the ground, some drinking water, others bragging.
Jiang Bai sat under the shade of a tree, watching the three Su Ze members being corrected by their instructors in the distance as they folded their blankets, and a contented smile appeared on his face.
And just as he was enjoying this rare moment of peace.
Thousands of miles away.
Kyoto.
The Writers' Association building, top-floor conference room.
In a conference room with its doors and windows tightly shut and the air conditioning blasting, the atmosphere was as tense as a sweet potato roasting oven.
Around the rectangular mahogany table sat five or six people who were not young.
Whether they have gray hair or wear thick-rimmed glasses, each of them is a prominent figure in the literary world.
At this moment, each person had ten printed copies neatly arranged in front of them.
These submissions are the final ten selected from tens of thousands of entries nationwide through the preliminary, semi-final, and final rounds of the "Red Bean Cup" competition.
Nowadays.
This will be their third and final confirmation to finalize the ranking order.
The air was filled with the scents of ink and tea, along with a faint sense of tension.
"Cough cough."
"Let's begin."
A slightly younger middle-aged man sitting on the left cleared his throat.
He is the head of the judging panel for this competition and also the person in charge of the Red Bean Cup.
"Thank you for your hard work, teachers."
"After several rounds of intense discussion, it's time to finalize the ranking of these last ten poems."
"As usual, to be fair and just, we'll read from back to front."
Everyone nodded, some drinking tea, others wiping their glasses.
The middle-aged man picked up the bottom manuscript and read aloud:
The tenth entry, "Ode to Spring Breeze," by Zhang Wei.
"This poem is metrically perfect and uses traditional imagery. It should be fine as a top-ten goalkeeper, right?"
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the judges present.
The elderly men glanced at the entries and nodded slightly.
No objection.
"Standard and reliable, nothing special."
"Pass."
The ninth entry, "To This Boy," by Li Hua.
"Modern poetry is characterized by its delicate emotions. Although it may appear somewhat immature, its strength lies in its sincerity."
"agree."
No objection.
"Eighth place, 'The Snow of That Year'..."
"Pass."
The process was very quick.
After all, it went through several rounds of selection, and everyone knows the rankings of the lower-ranked candidates, so there's not much controversy.
Soon, the remaining seven works were all selected.
The atmosphere was fairly harmonious.
As the competition for the top three intensified, the atmosphere suddenly became somewhat tense.
The middle-aged man picked up the third manuscript, raising his voice slightly:
"Third place, 'To the Future,' by Wang Le."
"This poem is magnificent in its style and exquisite in its word choice, showing the style of a master."
"Does anyone have any objections to placing it third?"
An elderly professor wearing glasses pushed up his glasses and pondered for a moment:
"Actually, this song is about the same level as the one that came in fourth place."
"However, 'To the Future' has a higher theme, so third place is well-deserved."
Others echoed his sentiments.
"agree."
I agree.
Without any surprises, third place was decided.
"Okay, third place confirmed."
The middle-aged man put down his manuscript and took a deep breath.
His hand reached for the last two remaining manuscripts.
That was the battle for the championship and runner-up in this competition, and it was also the most controversial part.
His expression stiffened, and a hint of embarrassment and helplessness flashed in his eyes.
He raised his head, looked around at the judges, and slowly began to speak:
"Next... is second place."
"Draft work: 'Seeing or Not Seeing'"
"Author: Li Bai"
The words fell.
A deathly silence fell over the conference room.
The judges who had previously just mechanically nodded and said "agree" now seemed to have nails in their butts, making them restless and uneasy.
Their gaze lingered on the manuscript, which contained only a few lines of text. Their eyes were filled with admiration, amazement, and... deep regret.
at last.
An elderly poet with gray hair couldn't hold back any longer.
He took off his glasses and sighed heavily.
"well……"
"Let me tell you what's on my mind."
"This song, 'Seeing or Not Seeing,' is full of spiritual energy and profound Zen meaning."
"Silent love; quiet joy... Such sentences are the work of a master!"
"Isn't ranking it second a bit unfair?"
"I think it's much better written than the first place one... cough cough, it's much better written."
This sentence was like lighting a fuse.
The other female judge next to her nodded in agreement, looking clearly unwilling to accept it.
"yes."
"This is a literary competition; it's a contest of talent."
"Whether you see me or not, I am there, neither sad nor happy..."
"This kind of penetrating, soul-stirring power."
"To be honest, I got goosebumps when I read it the first time."
"It's good enough to be included in textbooks."
"The result is only a silver award? If word gets out, the readers will probably gossip about it."
The other judges didn't speak, but they all nodded silently, clearly acknowledging this view.
We're all involved in literature; who doesn't have a sense of right and wrong?
Mistaking pearls for fish eyes and garbage for treasures—it's unethical!
The middle-aged man in the main seat watched this scene with a wry smile.
How could he not know that "Seeing or Not Seeing" is good?
He got goosebumps when he read it the first time!
but……
He shook his head helplessly, stretched out his finger, and tapped on the "first place" manuscript that was on top of the table.
The tone was meaningful:
"Dear teachers, please be careful with your words."
"Literature is certainly important, but serving the people... is also a form of writing."
"Don't forget who wrote this first place."
"And don't forget, what the author of this poem's last name is."
Upon hearing this...
The judges present seemed to have been doused with cold water and instantly wilted.
Yes.
Some things are more powerful than talent.
For example—Dad.
"Alright, since everyone knows the answer, let's not dwell on it."
Seeing that everyone was silent, the middle-aged man quickly seized the opportunity, picked up the manuscript of the "first place" award, cleared his throat, and read aloud:
"Then, I hereby declare..."
"The first prize-winning entry in this year's Red Bean Cup—"
"My Father, the Secretary!"