In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

The audience fell silent.

Zhou Guoqiang's hands were resting on his knees, his knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white. He secretly glanced at the leaders' faces and wiped away a cold sweat.

"But I don't blame anyone, because failing the exam was indeed my own fault." Zhang Yong looked at the students below the stage. "I'm not here today to complain, nor to show off. I just want to say one thing."

"There are more ways out for people than just the college entrance examination."

"Doing your job well is more important than anything else."

"All roads lead to Rome. The future belongs to everyone, not just college students."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a two-second silence in the audience, and then applause broke out.

The applause was more than three times louder than when Zhou Guoqiang was speaking.

Zhang Yong was not good at public speaking, and after saying these words, he prepared to leave the stage.

But a hand reached out in front of the microphone.

In the third row from the front, a boy wearing glasses stood up.

The top student, originally Xiao Wu from Class 1 of Senior Three.

Zhang Yong knew him. He was second in the entire grade that year, and although he was recommended for admission to the affiliated high school, he didn't go. He was always the face of the grade at school.

Before the college entrance examination, he mocked Zhang Yong in the corridor in front of a group of people, saying, "Like begets like, and a rat's son knows how to dig a hole."

Xiao Wu pushed up his glasses; his voice wasn't loud, but it could be heard clearly throughout the entire auditorium.

"Zhang Yong, I have a question."

Zhou Guoqiang winked at him from behind, and someone tried to stop him, but Xiao Wu ignored them.

"You published a novel in *October*, which belongs to modern literature. Many people believe that modern vernacular Chinese is far inferior to classical poetry in terms of aesthetics. What's your opinion?"

The subtext of this question is all too obvious—what you've written is nothing more than popular fiction, incomparable to true literature.

A buzzing sound filled the auditorium as students began to whisper among themselves.

Zhang Yong hadn't expected this turn of events, and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his vest.

But he stood in front of the microphone without moving.

The things that had settled down from writing Lv.4 were stirred up at this moment.

"When you talk about aesthetics, are you referring to form or content?"

Xiao Wu was taken aback, not expecting Zhang Yong to ask a question in return.

"If it's just a form—the tonal patterns and parallelism of a seven-character quatrain, no matter how exquisite, are merely a container."

Zhang Yong speaks slowly, pronouncing each word clearly. "Li Bai wrote 'Bright moonlight before my bed,' which is neither rhymed nor does it adhere to tonal patterns. Yet, for over a thousand years, everyone remembers it."

"Because he wrote down his innermost thoughts, which resonated with later generations."

"We all learned in our textbooks that when Bai Juyi wrote his poems, he would always read them to illiterate old men and women, striving to make them easy to understand and accessible to everyone."

"Bai Juyi's poems were the modern literature of his time."

"So form is just the shell, the core is people—the fate of workers, farmers, intellectuals, and millions of ordinary people, which can be recorded in writing."

"Passed down for thousands of years."

Zhang Yong glanced at Xiao Wu.

"Poetry and novels are not about one being superior to the other. They are tools. What you use them to contain determines their weight."

Xiao Wu froze on the spot, his eyes changing from provocative to blank. He slowly nodded, shrank back down, and sat back down.

Applause erupted from all directions.

At first, it was scattered, then it became more and more frequent, and finally the whole auditorium was clapping.

One girl stood up, then two, three, and a whole bunch of students in the back row stood up.

Zhang Yong's face remained expressionless.

He nodded and stepped down from the stage.

……

The speech has ended.

Students chased after the students in the hallway wanting autographs, but were stopped by the staff of the academic affairs office.

Zhou Guoqiang followed behind Zhang Yong, walking very fast.

"Zhang Yong! Wait a minute!"

He walked around to Zhang Yong's front, blocking his way, with a big smile on his face.

"That was excellent! Absolutely wonderful! Even the principal said it was brilliant!"

He lowered his voice and leaned closer.

"Come on, come on, I've booked a private room in the cafeteria and ordered a few dishes. Let's have a seat together, just the two of us, teachers and students!"

Zhang Yong politely declined.

"I won't eat, Director Zhou, dinner is ready at home."

"Don't be like that! It's rare for me to come back! The food's already ordered—"

Zhou Guoqiang reached out and put his hand on Zhang Yong's shoulder, patting him lightly several times.

He lowered his voice again, his mouth almost touching Zhang Yong's ear.

"Zhang Yong, let me be honest with you. If your next article is published in *October*, could you mention our Chuiyangliu Middle School in it? It's just a short sentence, and it'll make things easier for me with the district officials. Could you please help me out?"

Zhang Yong grabbed Zhou Guoqiang's wrist and removed his hand from his shoulder.

He flicked away non-existent dust from his shoulder.

"Director Zhou."

Zhang Yong raised his head and looked into Zhou Guoqiang's eyes.

"I have a good memory; I remember all the things you said before."

Zhou Guoqiang's smile froze on his face.

"What do you mean by 'a burden on students taking the college entrance exam,' 'go home and farm early,' and 'take up a spot and lower the school's average score'?"

"I remember every single word."

The air in the corridor grew cold.

Zhou Guoqiang's hands hung limply at his sides, and the smile on his face finally crumbled, collapsing little by little.

"You asked me to come back today, and I've come. Just to give my alma mater an explanation."

"But that's all."

Zhang Yong turned around and walked briskly toward the school gate.

Zhou Guoqiang stood still, his long shadow cast on the ground, motionless.

……

Zhang Yong got on his bike and didn't look back the whole way.

As soon as he turned onto Jinsong Road, he saw Grandpa Chen waving to Zhang Yong from the gatehouse.

"Zhang Yong! It's the phone! It's that young girl from last time! She hasn't hung up yet, saying it's urgent!"

Zhang Yong parked his car and ran to the gatehouse.

Wei Shuyun's voice trembled through the receiver.

"Zhang Yong, the Lida Auto Repair Shop in Tongxian called. They said if those three Dongfeng cars don't pay 3,000 yuan for repairs, they'll tow them away themselves."

"My dad is still in the hospital, and his blood pressure has just come down. I don't dare tell him... My mom said if all else fails, we should just give him the money."

"But you said that repairing those cars wouldn't cost three thousand..."

Zhang Yong gripped the receiver, an idea forming in his mind.

"Don't worry, the auto repair shop is closed now. I'll go check it out first thing tomorrow morning."

Zhang Yong hung up the phone and went straight upstairs.

Zhang Defa was eating a cornbread at the dining table when he looked up and saw that Zhang Yong's expression was off.

"What's wrong, son? Did you not do well today?"

"No, the speech went smoothly. It's just that Uncle Wei's three Dongfeng trucks need to be towed by the repair shop."

"I want to go to Tongxian tomorrow, Dad, come with me!" Zhang Yong pulled up a stool, sat down, and briefly explained the situation.

Zhang Defa slammed the cornbread onto the table.

"Go! Why wouldn't you go!"

He stood up and slapped his thigh.

"Old Wei gave us a lot of good stuff last time, so we have to help him out this time."

"I don't have any orders tomorrow, I'll take you there on Old Zhao's motorcycle. What repair shop? They're just trying to scam you..."

Zhang Yong picked up a cornbread, took a bite, and glanced at the control panel.

[Auto Repair Lv.1: Progress 96% (AFK)]

A major repair for 3,000 yuan?

It's impossible to spend it.

……