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

Zhang Yong narrowed his eyes.

I thought to myself that Editor-in-Chief Zhou was indeed a master.

Having a confident author personally come to collect a rejected manuscript could completely destroy their moral compass.

Normally, rejected manuscripts are returned by registered mail. However, if a manuscript is somewhat well-known in the city, the editor will personally visit the manuscript to explain the situation.

You are welcome to come and pick it up in person.

It means: the publishing house won't keep your manuscript safe, and they won't even put a stamp on it.

"Did you call?"

"Just finished calling." Liu Jianguo's voice was full of triumphant satisfaction. "I called the reception desk of the international student dormitory at Peking University and got them to come down."

"When Chen Ping answered the phone, he was very polite—'Hello, Teacher Liu, what instructions do you have?'"

"As soon as I read out the results of the external review, he immediately became very unfriendly to me."

Liu Jianguo imitated a phrase from Chen Ping's broken Beijing accent.

"How could there be a problem with the external audit results? Who did the company hire? Which organization did they work for? I want to see the list!"

"I said, 'Professor Chen, the external review is a blind review, and the experts' identities are not disclosed within the publishing house; that's the rule. When will you come to pick up the article?'"

"He was panting heavily on the other end of the phone, like an old ox."

"Then he said, 'Comrade Liu Jianguo, give the phone to Editor-in-Chief Zhou, or Deputy Editor-in-Chief Lin will also do! I want to talk to him personally!'"

I said, "Editor-in-Chief Zhou has a meeting this afternoon, and as for Deputy Editor-in-Chief Lin, we don't have that person in our office. You'd better come directly to pick up the manuscript."

Zhang Yong smiled.

"And then what?"

"Then I just hung up the phone."

After saying this, Liu Jianguo laughed. It was rare for him to be so magnanimous. In the past, he would never have been the one to do such a thing. This time, he could be considered to have been valued by his superiors.

Zhang Yong listened as the other person rambled on about how everyone in the commune had been too afraid to even breathe loudly these past two days.

However, he thought of something else entirely. Zhou Deqing must know about Chen Ping's backing. He had turned a blind eye to Lin Xuechang's actions before, but this time he took direct action, which meant that Chen Ping's backing was weaker than Director Tao's.

......

International student apartments at Kyoto University.

Chen Ping locked the dormitory door from the inside.

The curtains were drawn tightly, and the lights in the room were off, except for the lamp on the desk, which emitted a yellow glow.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands supporting him on the edge.

"Let me go get it myself..."

He murmured and repeated what Liu Jianguo had said on the phone.

Let him go get it himself. Let him go to the front desk of the editorial department, give his name, sign his name, and take back what he wrote.

It's the same as returning the item.

Chen Ping stood up, walked to the window, and lifted a corner of the curtain.

The Weiming Lake outside was dark in the twilight. Several students rode their bicycles past the lake, their bicycle bells jingling.

He felt that this campus belonged to him from the very first day he returned to China.

He is a returnee from overseas.

Those who were sent abroad by the government in the late 1980s, graduates from prestigious universities in Boston, could simply attach that certificate to their resumes and return to China as rare talents.

When I returned last year, the dean personally shook my hand at the welcome meeting at Peking University.

"Comrade Chen Ping represents the highest level of our graduating class of international students—"

That day, he stood on the podium, with more than a hundred people sitting below. The flashbulbs were shining on his face, and he felt that he was radiant.

But now?

No!

We need to think of a way; if we just give up like this, all these years will be over.

……

The reception room of the international student dormitory only had one telephone, and it was an old-fashioned one with a dial pad.

Chen Ping went downstairs and dialed his hometown number in Baoding.

After four beeps, the other end answered.

"Feed?"

"Dad, it's me."

"Oh, Ping." Mr. Chen's tone softened. "What's wrong? Why are you calling at this hour?"

Chen Ping took a deep breath and recounted the whole story from beginning to end.

His voice was trembling when he talked about the external reviewers returning the paper.

"They said it was three external review experts, and they all rejected it. They said the standard I cited was the old version from 86, and it had been revised long ago in 89. They said my argument was invalid."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"So, what year are you using?"

"From 86! Internationally recognized!"

"Was it changed in 89?"

Chen Ping opened his mouth slightly, but couldn't say anything.

Of course he knows he should change it.

When he was looking through materials at the library, the 89 revised edition was placed next to the 86 edition. He glanced at the cover but didn't open it.

Because he felt it was unnecessary.

The 86 edition is the classic version; all textbooks use this version.

A novel written by a continuing education student is more than qualified to be judged by the standards of 86.

Who would have thought it would go straight to external review!

Who would have thought that Zhang Yong actually had new data from 89?

"Dad, that's not the point!" Chen Ping lowered his voice. The old man in the gatehouse was flipping through visitor forms next to him, and he didn't want anyone to hear.

"The main point is, Zhou Deqing told me to go get the manuscript myself! What does that mean? This is a blatant humiliation!"

"What about my reputation at Peking University? I publicly criticized Zhang Yong at the symposium! Now that his paper has been rejected, the whole department will know!"

"Dad, you have to help me think of a solution."

There was no sound from Chen's father's end.

"Could we try to find Old Chen?" Chen Ping asked anxiously. "Old Chen is related to our family. Although he's a bit far away, at least—"

"Old Chen retired last year."

Chen's father interrupted Chen Ping.

"Refunded?"

"I retired last November. You were abroad at the time, so I didn't tell you."

Chen Ping paused for a moment, then quickly spoke.

"Then... what about Professor Ji? Is Professor Ji still alive? He helped me with my paperwork for going abroad last time! My return from overseas studies and my ability to pursue a master's degree are all thanks to—"

"Old Ji will be here soon too," Chen's father interrupted him again. "It'll only be a year or two. He's too busy with his own affairs to take care of us."

"Besides, when Old Master Ji helped you back then, it was only because of your mother's relatives. He just mentioned it briefly, which was a favor he did for you."

"Even if they don't withdraw, they won't interfere with the affairs of a magazine."

Chen Ping gripped the telephone cord tightly, his voice finally breaking.

"But! But I've never been treated like this in my entire life!"

The old man in the gatehouse raised his head briefly, then lowered it again.

"I've planned everything out! First, I'll pave the way abroad, then return to China to work in a research institute, climb the ladder, and once I'm established, I'll help my family—I really have it all planned out!"

"Now look what's happened! Someone who couldn't even get into university wrote a lousy novel and slapped my face in the face!"

"How am I supposed to stay at Kyoto University from now on? How am I supposed to survive in this circle?"

"Dad! You have to think of something!"

......

Room 808, Jinsong Residential Area.

Li Guilan steamed several steamed buns today.

Zhang Defa was still not there.

"Your dad went to work overtime. The factory needs to ship a batch of goods, and he said he won't be back tonight."

Zhang Yong grunted in agreement, washed his hands, and sat down at the dining table.

Li Guilan brought out a steamer of steamed buns and a plate of pickled cucumbers. Then she sat down opposite Zhang Yong and rubbed some flour on her apron.

"Yongzi."

"Um."

"Your dad told me this morning before he left—"

"He can catch up with your uncle at Liuliqiao Long-Distance Bus Station at noon tomorrow."

Zhang Yong nodded without saying anything.

Li Guilan hesitated for a moment, but then opened her mouth.

"What's the plan for next, son? Should I cook a couple of dishes at home, or should we go out to a restaurant?"

......