1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

The London Express was, after all, a tabloid with limited influence.

Initially, aside from readers of the London Express, few people noticed this story. Such a short and heartwarming tale was like a nice dessert, ultimately not worthy of being served at the main course.

However, gold will always shine, just as a pebble thrown into a calm lake will always cause ripples to spread outwards.

First, among the housewives buying newspapers, some were heartbroken for Johnsy's fate and wept for Behrman's sacrifice. Then, in the café, the gentlemen reading the newspapers discussed the unexpected ending. The story's reputation quietly grew through word of mouth...

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Professor Joseph of the Department of Languages ​​and Literature at University College London had just finished a lecture on Romantic poetry. As he was packing up his notes to leave, he was surrounded by several excited students.

"Professor! Have you seen the latest issue of the London Express?" A student wearing round-framed glasses asked excitedly, holding up a newspaper.

"There's a short story in it called 'The Last Leaf,' it's so moving!" another student chimed in, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

Professor Joseph adjusted his glasses, looking somewhat helplessly at the group of energetic students. He rarely read popular newspapers, feeling that their content was mostly fast food catering to the market and lacked genuine artistic value.

"A short story in a newspaper can excite you so much. Is it more moving than Shelley's poetry, or more dramatic than Shakespeare's plays?" he asked with a smile.

"Professor, this is different." The student who spoke first turned to a page of the newspaper and handed it to him. "You'll see when you take a look. Really, it won't take you long. We all cried while reading it, but we also felt... it's more than just touching."

"Yes, we were just discussing it. We felt that although the story was touching, it seemed a bit too coincidental. We were wondering if it could be considered a good work of literature, so we wanted to hear your opinion," a girl added.

Seeing the students' expressions, Joseph finally couldn't bring himself to refuse. He took the newspaper, his gaze falling on the headline.

"The Last Leaf," a very unique title.

He found an empty seat and sat down. The students quietly gathered around him, waiting for the teacher's opinion.

Professor Joseph initially read quickly; he had seen too many of these heartwarming stories, which simply presented hope in dire straits and the brilliance of humanity. But as he read on, his reading speed unconsciously slowed down.

When he read that Johnsy connected her life with the ivy outside her window, he frowned slightly, feeling that the plot was a bit too sentimental.

But when Mr. Bellman's "masterpiece" was revealed at the end of the story, even the well-informed Professor Joseph couldn't help but feel a great shock.

He closed the newspaper, shut his eyes, and remained silent for a long time. The students around him were so nervous they didn't dare to breathe.

"Professor... what do you think?" a student whispered, breaking the silence.

Joseph didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath, picked up the newspaper again, and carefully read the ending once more. This time, he wasn't looking at the plot, but rather at what lay hidden behind the words.

"This is a touching piece of work."

He finally spoke, but his voice carried an unusual seriousness: "But if you only see the emotion, then you are underestimating this author."

The students looked at each other, some not understanding what the professor meant.

Joseph pointed to the text in the newspaper: "Look, the story is set in Southwark, and the author specifically points out that it's an area where artists congregate, but also a poor neighborhood with low rents. What does that mean?"

He paused, guiding the students to think: "This means that artists like Johnsy, Sue, and Behrman the Elder are marginalized in society; their talent cannot bring them a decent life. Society only appreciates 'successful' art, while turning a blind eye to these creators struggling at the bottom."

The students suddenly realized that they had only felt sorry for the protagonist, but had not thought about the social issues behind it.

"That's not all..." Joseph continued, "Have you noticed that, apart from the three main characters, there are almost no other neighbors in the entire building? Johnsy is dying, and only Sue is taking care of her. Is this normal? Especially in a so-called 'community'?"

"This precisely reflects the indifference of London today. People live side by side, yet their hearts are separated by a high wall. The reason why Behrman's final sacrifice is so shocking is precisely because it is a rare flower blooming in a desert of human kindness. The warmer it is, the more it highlights the cold and cruel environment around it."

"Finally, and most importantly, why was Johnsy in despair? Was it solely because of pneumonia?"

Joseph's gaze swept over each student present: "It wasn't just because of pneumonia, but because she couldn't see any hope. As a young painter, she couldn't see her future, couldn't see a way out, so she pinned her life on a seemingly insignificant leaf. Behind this lies a reflection on the utilitarian values ​​of our time."

"When success and fame become the only standard for measuring a person's worth, those who are temporarily disappointed are easily trapped in a vortex of self-denial, and may even give up their lives."

His analysis captivated the students watching.

What they considered a "tearjerker story" was, like peeling an onion, revealed such rich layers and sharp critique under the professor's interpretation.

"This author... is truly amazing," a student murmured to himself.

"Yes, it tells the coldest story with the most heartwarming tale."

Joseph nodded. The author's writing style was very skillful; he did not make a vehement accusation, but rather concealed all his sharpness in the characters' fates and the details of the story.

It moves the reader and allows them to appreciate something deeper. To have such maturity in one's very first work is truly genius!

"This novel deserves a formal literary review."

Joseph made his decision: "It's not just a story, it's a mirror reflecting the ills of our time."

Upon hearing this, the students became excited. With Professor Joseph personally writing a review, this novel and its author were likely to become quite a sensation in London's literary circles.

Joseph wanted to see who this talented author was, and his gaze fell once again on the author's signature on the story.

Michel LeBlanc, and the London Express...

These two names together... why do they sound so familiar?

Professor Joseph frowned; he felt he had seen the name somewhere before. Suddenly, he remembered something, strode back to his podium, and began rummaging through a jumble of documents in his briefcase.

He quickly found a draft of a letter of recommendation.

Joseph vaguely remembered that it was not long ago that he wrote it for a student who had to drop out of school due to a family crisis. He recommended that the student try submitting it to the London Express, as he had a relationship with the editor of that newspaper, and as a small newspaper, it wouldn't be too difficult to get published.

This was a simple matter for him; he wouldn't have remembered it at all if he hadn't thought of it today.

The student's name was clearly visible on the letter.

Michelle LeBlanc.

Professor Joseph's hand trembled slightly as he held the newspaper. He glanced at the author's name on the newspaper and then at the name on the manuscript in his hand.

The expression on his face went from admiration to confusion, and finally to shock.

"It really is him...?"