Chapter 030: Sample Copy

“Detective, Detective... Zhang Tan!”

Cao Yuchuan’s shout pulled Zhang Tan out of his long-buried memories and back to reality.

The classroom was as noisy as ever.

Back then, it was the third year of middle school; now it was the first year of high school. But who would have thought that more than a decade had passed? With a slight sigh, Zhang Tan murmured to himself, “How long will the cycles of spring flowers and autumn moons last? Who can know how much of the past remains? Last night the east wind came again to the little tower—and under the moonlight, the old homeland is hard to bear… The sentimental must laugh at me, for my hair has turned gray too soon.”

“Detective, sounds like there’s a story there?”

“There are plenty of stories.”

“Help me write a love letter.”

“No way.”

“Come on, do me a favor.”

“I don’t have time.”

In the end, Zhang Tan still didn’t agree to write a love letter for Cao Yuchuan. Such things were a bit beneath his dignity.

With that time, he’d rather write more martial arts novels and earn a bit more money.

He had already outlined the second part of “The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast”—“On the Run.” All that remained was to fill in the details. That wasn’t difficult for Zhang Tan, who had a way with words. Perhaps his imagination was a touch lacking, but with memories from the future as reference, his writing was still filled with wild flights of fancy.

The rain continued for two days, and the overcast sky lingered for another two; the playground remained wet throughout.

The students were all cooped up between the dormitory and the classroom, and Zhang Tan was no exception.

With no chance for exercise, he threw all his time into writing his novel. Occasionally, he would use his lunch break to attend music class with Zhu Yunfei, and he also joined the evening music classes for the music students. He had no intention of applying as an arts student, but he had suddenly thought of something.

If he were an arts student, he wouldn’t need such high academic scores. For arts students, the bar for general subjects was much lower, and the teachers were less strict.

“Should I really become an arts student?”

“Even if I don’t take music or art, I could apply for directing, photography, or screenwriting! The Beijing Film Academy, the Central Academy of Drama, the Shanghai Theatre Academy... I’ve always wanted to be a director. Making movies is so dashing—now that’s the pinnacle of an artistic life. I could easily take the arts student path from here!”

“I don’t believe it—when I become a famous novelist, a literary giant, if I apply to the Beijing Film Academy, would they really refuse me?”

“Thinking about it, there’s no need to waste time memorizing and cramming. As long as my general subjects are up to par for appearances, that should be enough, right?”

Having thought it through, Zhang Tan slung his guitar over his shoulder and strode off to music class.

Life continued like this for a week. He wrote thirty thousand words of “On the Run” and once again mailed the manuscript to the editorial office of “Tales of Today and the Past: Wuxia Edition.”

And then, his first school break since arriving at Shuangdun High finally came on the afternoon of September 28th.

There were three classes that afternoon, but Zhang Tan paid them no mind.

He was too absorbed in the issue of “Tales of Today and the Past: Story Edition,” October 2001, Issue 13. In the latter part of this magazine were the first two chapters of his debut novel, “The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast: Pursuit.” His pen name was printed in black and white—Tan Zhang.

That noon, when he went to the shop to mail his submission for “On the Run,” he found a reply from the magazine: a complimentary copy of the October issue.

Seeing his own work in print for the first time, Zhang Tan’s heart brimmed with joy.

Still, he restrained himself and refrained from showing off.

Deep down, he felt a bit embarrassed—it was, after all, plagiarized from someone else’s novel, even if those people were long gone.

“Keep a low profile, keep a low profile,” he told himself, tucking the magazine into his bag.

Looking outside, the gloomy post-rain weather was gradually clearing. Sunlight slipped silently through the clouds, restoring brightness to the earth.

Unconsciously, a month had passed since he came to Shuangdun High.

He had fled home at first, unable to accept his own rebirth. Now, he felt he had blended into this era—it was time to truly start living.

To embrace his family anew was the greatest gift Heaven had given him.

...

“Today the national team plays the UAE. Will we win?”

“We’ve already got three wins and a draw. Two more wins and we’ll qualify for the World Cup!”

“I believe this year, Milu will lead us to the finals!”

In the jostling bus, a few football fans were enthusiastically discussing the Asian World Cup Qualifiers. This year was the World Cup qualifying stage, and in May, China had made it through the group phase to the final ten of Asia. The ten teams were split into two groups, A and B. China was in Group A; the top two teams would qualify directly for the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup.

Currently, China had three wins and a draw in Group A. Their opponents were Oman, Qatar, Uzbekistan, and the UAE—not Asia’s strongest teams.

Because Korea and Japan, as hosts, qualified automatically, removing those two powerhouses from Asia meant that China’s Group A was not particularly strong. The prospects for qualification looked excellent.

This greatly encouraged Chinese football fans.

Even those who couldn’t watch the match because they were traveling thought of nothing else—their minds had drifted to Abu Dhabi, where China was playing away against the UAE that afternoon.

To be honest, Zhang Tan was not affected by the fervent discussion in the bus. Others might get excited about the national team, but he didn’t.

He had experienced the wild atmosphere of the 2002 Korea-Japan World Cup. He also knew the anger, sorrow, and confusion that swept the nation after the team returned home with nine consecutive defeats. Milu worked wonders, but whether China’s qualification was due to luck or strength, it would be the last glory days of Chinese football.

This was also the final gleam of the old Jia-A league generation.

Others might not know it, but Zhang Tan did. Last year, Yan Shiduo took office as the full-time vice chairman of the Chinese Football Association, which almost certainly signaled the arrival of the darkest decade in Chinese football.

“This fleeting joy is just a final flash before the end. Chinese football... sigh.”

Zhang Tan didn’t have much energy to waste on sighing over football as he rode the minibus from Shuangdun High to Hefei, which took about twenty minutes.

Once he arrived in Hefei, he took a cab to the downtown department stores, Shangzhidu and LePusen. In 2001, Hefei already had several supermarkets—Century Lianhua, Century Hualian, Jiajiale, Carrefour, Hymall, Yonghui, and so on—but people still preferred shopping malls.

LePusen and Shangzhidu were the best shopping destinations in Hefei.

Inside, Zhang Tan honestly had no idea what to buy.

He’d always been rather crude, and shopping for gifts was not his strong suit.

“Hmm, it seems Brain Platinum is really popular right now. Let’s buy that!” He thought Brain Platinum was just hyped up as a gift, its efficacy ambiguous, but at least it wouldn’t do any harm. It had been trendy for over a decade, and bringing some home would be good for appearances. “One for grandpa, for grandma and grandpa on mom’s side, for my parents...”

Brain Platinum was the gift for face; as for the rest, he put more thought into it.

“Dad likes to drink—buy two bottles of Moutai. Mom loves to look good—let the sales clerk recommend a few outfits... And a set of calligraphy tools for grandpa; he likes writing with brush and ink... My elder sister is in college, hmm, no need to buy her a gift, I’ll just send her some money another time.”

An hour later, having spent a full two thousand yuan, Zhang Tan left the mall laden with bags.

Returning to the station, he boarded the minibus to Gangji Town, suddenly eager to return home.