Rebirth 08: A Happy Life Begins in Elementary School

Chapter 122 A Letter from the South China Weekly

When Li Zhao returned home, Zhou Xiaoyun was frying chicken wings.

Li Changlin had just returned home and was sitting on the sofa, writing and drawing with a pen.

"What are you doing, Dad?" Li Zhao was in a good mood.

"I'm thinking about the store's situation. I'll ask you about some issues later."

"So proactive?"

"You bet. After our last chat, I realized there's so much to do." Li Changlin quickly wrote something in his notebook. "We can't just take things for granted. I've been hearing some rumors in the market lately, saying our shop's location is really good. A few of my friends were chatting and talking about what they would do if they were the owners. Damn it—they've thought about it more than I have."

Li Zhao smiled and said, "Dad, let's stop talking on paper and start doing something practical."

"Yes, we've contacted quite a few people."

"Does anyone else know that we bought it?"

"I don't know. I haven't told anyone. We'll see how it goes after we open. Anyway, we're just employees."

That's good, my mind is much clearer now.

Li Zhao walked into the kitchen, and Zhou Xiaoyun placed the fried chicken wings on the table.

"Oh, my son's back."

"Mom, the chicken wings are coated in batter and fried today, which is unusual for me."

"Yes, give it a try. You're probably tired of just frying them normally."

"Sure, it looks very appealing."

"Let the chicken wings cool a bit; lunch will take a while. Go to your room and play on the computer first," Zhou Xiaoyun said, turning to look at the soup pot.

Li Zhao sat down in the room, somewhat dazed.

The parent-child relationship shown in that exchange just now—wasn't it a bit too good?

Naturally, mutual respect leads to harmony and happiness.

Li Changlin didn't lie on the sofa and complain about being tired as soon as he got home, and Zhou Xiaoyun didn't cook with resentment. Neither of them asked Li Zhao any questions when he came back. In fact, one of them took the initiative to ask him questions, and the other took the initiative to make chicken wings that Li Zhao liked.

Li Zhao had mentioned coating fried chicken wings with flour when he was a child, but Zhou Xiaoyun dismissed it, saying it would cause "heatiness" (a concept in Traditional Chinese Medicine).

Not to mention, with only the soup and a stir-fry to finish, Zhou Xiaoyun actually let Li Zhao go back to his room to play on the computer!

In the past, the response would have been, "It's almost time to eat, why are you going back to your room?"

This scene was something Li Zhao could only imagine in his dreams in his previous life, and he would be in a daze for a while after waking up.

[The efforts to improve parents are showing initial results. Happiness +3, total 19]

This is only the beginning of the results?

Wouldn't that make them national role models for parents?

As soon as the thought came to mind, Li Zhao smiled.

Or perhaps he set his expectations too low.

Judging from his parents' current behavior, it's actually just a normal preference, only very different from the terminal illness he remembers.

Having never eaten coarse food, Li Zhao was already quite satisfied with just a bowl of normal rice.

That's not right.

As soon as Li Zhao logged into GG, all three of his friends sent him messages.

He Shuyao took a picture of the message Li Zhao wrote to her and sent it over, adding the sentence: This Great Emperor grants your permission.

However, her profile picture was grayed out, so it seems she went offline as soon as she got home, sent a message, and then logged off.

Chen Nian asked a bunch of questions about the store, but ultimately he rejected his own answer:

[Trade secrets, things I shouldn't have asked, my question]

Li Zhao replied to him: [I'll give you a lifetime free black card]

[real?!]

[Of course, it doesn't matter what my family plans to sell.]

[Awesome! Awesome! Awesome!]

[Aren't you going to study hard? This isn't a real holiday yet!]

[Just got home and wanted to play a bit]

That's what I said, but after posting that, Chen Nian's profile picture went gray.

And then there's Wu Weisong.

However, Li Zhao found it difficult to comment on what he posted.

It's a huge collection of papers on artificial intelligence.

Each one is quite long, and some are entirely in English.

The key point is that after he sent it, he didn't say anything.

Just sharing.

Li Zhao could probably understand what these kinds of people were thinking. He was very interested in the topic of artificial intelligence that the two of them had discussed, and he would probably go back and do some research on his own, and then send over all the information that he found interesting.

Whether Li Zhao looked at it or how much he looked at it, Wu Weisong didn't really care.

He was simply using this sharing feature to prioritize and filter the information based on its importance.

Even if Li Zhao doesn't reply, it won't affect their subsequent communication.

This situation is especially common after starting work, which Li Zhao calls sharing-based communication.

I'm sharing a song with you just to demonstrate my taste and express my current thoughts. It's fine if you don't listen, but I'd be very happy if you did listen and shared your opinions.

However—this was the first time the two had communicated after adding each other on QQ, and Wu Weisong didn't even say hello before jumping straight into this phase.

Thankfully, I was talking to Li Zhao; someone else would probably have categorized Wu Weisong as a "strange person" and ignored him.

Li Zhao logged into his email again. The previous article, "Urban Village," had already been published. He wondered if it was because email wasn't very popular yet, but the South China Weekly was processing it much slower.

Hmm? There's also a letter from the South China Weekly?

Li Zhao clicked on it—"A letter from the editorial department of South China Weekly to the respected Mr. Sikoudao".

This title—it both thrilled and gave Li Zhao goosebumps.

The letter gets straight to the point, stating its purpose: a communication letter initiated by the editorial department of South China Weekly, without any official endorsement, not for any event, but purely out of the editorial department's curiosity about Sikoudao.

Therefore, the letter was not very formal and was even full of energy.

Everyone in the editorial department gave themselves pen names and took turns asking questions of Sikoudao.

The first two questions were relatively restrained, asking why Si Kou Dao chose South China Weekly and how he views his current influence.

The rest was pure gossip. People were curious about who Four Knives belonged to, guessing that Four Knives belonged to a university professor, asking when Four Knives would consider showing his face—and one person even asked Four Knives why he wanted to remain anonymous.

Ah—you guys are nothing like the official response.

Li Zhao smiled.

These editors have a pretty strong sense of realism.

The most interesting thing is that, after writing a letter full of questions, everyone backed down at the end, reiterating that the letter stemmed from the editorial department's curiosity, not an official interview, and that they would definitely keep Sikoudao's response confidential, and—

"We were just asking for fun, you are free to not respond, and we will not have any objections to your lack of response."

The main theme is rebellion.

It was indeed difficult to answer, as too many questions were raised based on Si Kou Dao's identity, which Li Zhao couldn't reveal now. He could only summarize it in one sentence: "The existence of a pen name is simply to focus on the content itself and to better voice my opinions. Since I've come to this point with you all through a pen name, let's continue our communication in this way."

Yeah, so old-fashioned.

Why choose South China Weekly? Your publication has sufficient influence.

How do you view your current influence? It's all the power of knowledge.

However, there is a good question that we can use.

"I noticed a blog called 'Linjiang Guancheng,' and this person is quite active on the Haijiao community. Their analysis of your articles is very insightful. There are rumors that Linjiang Guancheng knows you. I'm curious if that's true?"

The account "Linjiang Guancheng" is very helpful for Li Zhao to leverage the influence of the pen name "Sikoudao".

Whether it's a closed-door disciple or a close friend despite the age gap, Linjiang Guancheng respects the senior, Sikoudao, and therefore will not reveal who Sikoudao is. Instead, he will continue to be active in the literary and planning industries on Sikoudao's behalf.

Isn't it beautiful?

As for the various speculations that will arise at that time, let them speculate.

The more accurate the guess, the better for Li Zhao.

Anyway, he's overlooking the city from the river, not a four-knife-wielding man.

Therefore, in response to this question, Li Zhao specifically wrote the answer at the end of the document: We do know each other, he is an interesting young man, but he does not want to reveal his identity, and please respect his wishes.

Today is Thursday noon, and there are still three and a half days of holiday until next Monday.

But looking at the three grayed-out avatars on GG, Li Zhao did feel a little pressured.

Try doing some old entrance exam papers from New Taipei First Senior High School.

In the days following the graduation exams, Li Zhao began his first serious exam preparation of the semester, aside from the national English competition.

Time always flies when you're reviewing.

In three and a half days, Li Zhao did five sets of practice problems. Then, feeling unsatisfied, he did a few more elementary school math competition papers. After that, he wrote five essays in one go, only stopping when he was completely exhausted.

Conclusion: Elementary school is still elementary school; if you can't get first place, you're doomed.