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

"What kind of help?"

Chen Yongjian lowered his voice and glanced in the direction of the office building.

"The headquarters has a quota for the assessment; each training site can only register two people. Including you, we only have three trainees in total. Although Liu Changhe is a chatterbox, his skills are passable."

"What I mean is, you and Lao Liu should apply together, and when the assessment comes, you can mentor him a little."

Zhang Yong understood that Chen Yongjian wanted him and Brother Liu to team up for the assessment. If both of them passed, he, as the coach, would be proud.

"Uncle Chen, I need to go back and discuss this with my dad."

Zhang Yong rubbed his hands together. "I'm only eighteen. I still have to listen to my parents in everything."

Chen Yongjian slapped his thigh: "Of course! Go back and tell them right away! But you'd better hurry, registration closes next Wednesday, or you'll miss this opportunity."

Zhang Yong nodded and was about to leave when Wei Shuyun jogged over from the other side of the field.

"What are you talking about? Why are you being so secretive?"

"It's nothing, Uncle Chen just told me to take a certification exam."

Wei Shuyun tilted her head and glanced at him, then nodded silently.

……

When Zhang Defa got home that evening, he hadn't finished get off work yet.

Li Guilan was cutting potato shreds in the kitchen, the knife making a loud thud on the cutting board.

Zhang Yong approached the kitchen doorway.

"Mom, I have something to tell you."

"explain."

"Uncle Chen told me to take the special driving qualification test. It's the first batch in the whole district, and registration will be open in the next few days."

Li Guilan paused for a moment while holding the knife.

"Special driving? What's that for?"

"It's one level higher than a regular driver's license. Once you get this license, you can drive any kind of car, and the salary is also higher."

Li Guilan put down the knife, wiped her hands on her apron, and turned around.

"You've only been studying for a few days? They're letting you take the exam?"

"Uncle Chen said my skill level is good enough."

Li Guilan listened with a smug look on her face, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly, but she forcefully suppressed it.

"Okay, Mom doesn't understand this. We'll talk about it when your dad gets back."

When Zhang Defa got home, it was almost nine o'clock. He smelled of diesel fuel and his face was covered in ash.

Li Guilan heated up the food and brought it to the table. While Zhang Defa was eating, she told him what had happened.

Zhang Defa's chopsticks stopped in mid-air.

"Specialist driving? Him? Old Chen would let him go?"

"Um."

"My God!" Zhang Defa slammed his chopsticks on the table. "There are hardly any people in the whole of Beijing who have that! Is Old Chen taking a liking to our son?"

Li Guilan scolded, "Keep your voice down, all our neighbors are asleep."

Zhang Defa lowered his voice, his eyes shining: "My Guilan, this is great news! With the special driving license in hand, the military and government agencies are vying for her; her monthly salary is equivalent to two months' worth of mine!"

"Uncle Chen also asked me to do him a favor, saying he wanted to mentor one of his apprentices," Zhang Yong interjected.

"Sure! I'll help you with anything, not just one!" Zhang Defa slapped the table. "I know Old Chen; he won't make things difficult for you."

"Sigh, forget about tomorrow!" Zhang Defa put down his rice bowl, stood up, and walked towards the door. "I'm going to the gatehouse to use the public phone to call Old Chen right now!"

Li Guilan shouted from behind, "Change your shoes! You can't go out in slippers!"

Zhang Defa had already shuffled downstairs in his slippers, the sound of his shoes hitting the ground echoing throughout the entire building.

Zhang Yong stood in the living room, listening to the sound of running footsteps fading away in the hallway.

He went back to his bedroom and closed the door.

The panel appears.

[Driving Lv.5: Proficiency 21%]

[Writing Lv.1: Fixed Progress]

My driving skills are good enough for now. There's still a week until the assessment, so I can take it then.

The most important thing now is writing.

Zhang Yong operated the control panel in his mind, moving the driver out of the idler position and switching to writing.

Driving skills have been removed from the AFK (away from keyboard) slot.

[Writing skills have been moved to the AFK (away from keyboard) slot; training is in progress...]

[Writing Lv.1: Progress 32%...33%...]

Zhang Yong lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Many ideas are popping into my head, and the previously vague narrative structure is gradually becoming clearer.

……

Five days later.

Zhang Yong sat at his desk, the panel displaying—

[Writing Lv.3: Progress 67%]

Lv.3.

Five days of offline writing is equivalent to 3600 hours of writing practice.

This amount of training exceeds all the exercises a Chinese literature major would do during their entire university studies.

Zhang Yong picked up his pen and wrote the first line on the manuscript paper.

The feeling of the pen tip gliding across the paper is different now.

The sentences flowed from my mind, passed through my wrist, and landed on the paper; the writing process was very smooth.

Zhang Yong wrote a novella called "The Ingenuity of a Great Nation".

Write the story of a middle-aged skilled worker who, after being laid off, starts by repairing bicycles on the street, gradually learns engine principles on his own, and eventually participates in the research and development of domestically produced cars.

The plot is fictional, but the technical details are all real.

He even wrote about the casting process of the engine block, the material selection of the crankshaft, and the evolution of the fuel injection system.

In his previous life, Zhang Yong had watched too many documentaries about major national projects. Combined with the writing skills brought by the system, he wrote 40,000 words in one go after putting pen to paper.

As I finished writing the last period, it was already light outside the window.

Sigh, another all-nighter.

He glanced through it briefly again.

The writing is not ornate, but the pace is fast and the amount of information is large.

Almost every scene advances the plot, and there's hardly any writer's block.

Zhang Yong breathed a sigh of relief and then put the manuscript into a kraft paper envelope.

Affix a stamp and write the mailing address.

Recipient: Editorial Department of October Magazine

……

in the afternoon.

The office of the October magazine is located outside the North Third Ring Road in Beijing.

The old man in the mailroom pushed a small cart, delivering the newly arrived manuscripts to the editing room on the second floor.

The manuscripts were piled high, some in brown paper bags, some in white envelopes, and some even pasted with newspaper—all sorts of things.

Liu Jianguo, the initial editor, sat behind his desk, with more than twenty small mountains of documents piled up in front of him.

He picked up the enamel mug and took a big gulp before pulling out a stack of papers from the brown paper bag.

"The Ingenuity of Great Craftsmen..."

Liu Jianguo turned two pages and shook his head repeatedly.

"This name is too straightforward and lacks any literary flair."

Liu Jianguo muttered to himself as he casually flipped through a few pages.

"Young people these days don't understand readers. 'Scar literature' and 'ambiguity' are what literature is all about. Why do they have to write about heavy machinery?"

"Why don't you go write instruction manuals for the processing plant?"

After Liu Jianguo finished complaining, he casually tossed the manuscript into the wastebasket labeled "Temporary Storage".

Anyone with eyes can see that the contents of that basket will be sold as waste paper in half a month.

Liu Jianguo lit a cigarette and tore open the next manuscript.

This is a long poem about dusk and wheat fields. The language is quite ornate and there are some rhymes.

Liu Jianguo read two sentences and his eyes lit up.

"This is good, it can be used as the title page."

Liu Jianguo drew a circle in the upper right corner of the manuscript and carefully placed it in the stack awaiting review.

The setting sun shone into the editing room, turning the dust on the windows golden.

Deputy Editor-in-Chief Lin Xuechang pushed open the door and came in.

He had just finished a topic selection meeting, his face showing signs of fatigue, and the tea in his enamel mug had gone cold.

"Xiao Liu, do you have any usable drafts today?"