Chapter 35 How could we possibly rob someone of their belongings?

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In the 1980s, educated young people who loved literature were given an honorific label: literary youths.

Among them, however, there were genuine literary youths and fake ones.

The former truly loved literature and the joy of letting their imaginations roam freely across its vast ocean.

The latter enjoyed the various benefits that came with loving literature—for instance, the elevated social status it could bring, or the chance to bask in the admiring gaze of beautiful female literary youths without spending a single penny.

Some had even come up with lewd, wolfish phrases such as “lust without restraint.”

Teacher Ke was a genuine literary youth, and her literary standards were quite high. Yet the works she had read were almost all serious or purely literary works.

Such works demanded a great deal from their authors, but their readership was equally discerning.

Some people said that this kind of literature was written by a small group of people for another small group of people. Those who understood it found it more and more flavorful the deeper they read, while those who did not were left feeling rather miserable.

Take “Moonlight over the Lotus Pond,” for example. Without a teacher’s explanation, how long would it take an elementary school student to appreciate its exquisite artistic conception?

Popular fiction was far more down-to-earth. A fifth-grader could read The Legend of the Condor Heroes and understand it immediately.

Online fiction went a step further in this regard.

It was no longer preoccupied with the beauty of its prose. Instead, it placed greater emphasis on describing the plot, aiming to construct vivid scenes in the reader’s mind and thereby kindle the desire to keep reading.

Thus, the moment Teacher Ke began reading Li Ye’s The Undercover, she was drawn in by his novel and original approach to description.

She was especially captivated by Gao Chao’s assassination of Li Haifeng in the first section.

“Li Haifeng extended a hand through the car window and tossed the pistol he had been holding onto the ground, signaling that he had given up resisting... He wanted to see exactly who was ambushing him.”

“Li Haifeng saw Yu Zecheng emerge, pistol in hand, moving with agility and vigilance. In disbelief, he asked, ‘You’re alone?’”

Yu Zecheng, fighting single-handedly, used the terror of death to force Li Haifeng to throw down his weapon and leave the car, where he would become helpless prey. Li Ye employed every possible technique to render the scene tense, suspenseful, and gripping.

The details of Yu Zecheng shooting three traitors, then touching each of their necks in turn to make certain their hearts had stopped beating, fascinated Teacher Ke even more.

There was no scene in The Legend of the Condor Heroes where someone killed a person and then felt for the victim’s pulse. Its characters were all martial arts grandmasters who could tell at a glance whether someone was alive or dead.

But The Undercover was different. It portrayed ordinary people in the most vivid and realistic manner.

Teacher Ke read page after page. Before she knew it, she had reached the final page. Only then did she suddenly come to her senses.

When she checked the time, it was already well past midnight.

“This novel... might actually be useful...”

A sudden flash of inspiration crossed Teacher Ke’s mind as she thought of a certain possibility.

Her thoughts rapidly expanded, and her mind began racing.

At times she frowned; at times she flushed with embarrassment; at times she sighed softly; at times she clenched her teeth. Before she knew it, dawn had arrived.

...

The following evening, after self-study, Teacher Ke asked Li Ye to come to her office.

Then she said to Wen Leyu, “Leyu, go outside for a while. I have something to discuss with Li Ye.”

Wen Leyu’s eyes widened abruptly. She looked at her mother without saying a word.

Teacher Ke sighed softly. “Li Ye and I have something serious to discuss. Go outside and keep watch by the door, all right?”

Wen Leyu looked at her mother suspiciously. Only after confirming that she had no intention of giving Li Ye trouble did she reluctantly leave the office.

Once Wen Leyu was gone, Teacher Ke began making small talk with Li Ye.

“Li Ye, I heard your grandfather was a veteran, and that your father was once a proud soldier as well. Is that true?”

“Yes, Teacher Ke. The elders in my family did serve in wars.”

“Then did any of your family members—or any elders you have come into contact with—ever work in intelligence?”

“...”

Li Ye looked at Teacher Ke and smiled. “No. They were all soldiers in frontline combat units. Why do you ask, Teacher Ke?”

Teacher Ke said, “Li Ye, I read the novel you wrote yesterday. It was truly wonderful... though there are still a few shortcomings...”

“Shortcomings?”

Li Ye was surprised. He had never imagined that Teacher Ke would summon him to her office late at night, close the door with such secrecy, and then discuss his novel with him.

“Yes, shortcomings.” Teacher Ke smoothed her hair and continued at length. “For example, your depiction of Yu Zecheng’s identity isn’t clear enough... and your portrayal of Zuo Lan is also rather vague...”

As he listened to Teacher Ke’s “corrections,” Li Ye was momentarily stunned. The shortcomings she had pointed out were precisely the sensitive details he had deliberately avoided in order to spare himself trouble.

“Of course, you can hardly be blamed for that,” Teacher Ke continued. “After all, you have never been in contact with professionals. If you had to imagine all the details yourself, it would naturally be difficult to portray them accurately.”

Li Ye replied modestly, “Yes, yes. I was inspired by Eighteen Years in the Enemy Camp when I wrote this novel. I simply imagined the rest. I was only writing it for fun, ha ha...”

Eighteen Years in the Enemy Camp was a spy drama that first aired in 1981. It had caused quite a sensation for a time and was an excuse Li Ye had prepared long ago as the source of his novel’s material.

“Your little ‘writing for fun’ may well put many professional authors to shame.”

Teacher Ke pondered for a moment before finally saying, “Actually, I could help you... help you fill in the gaps and omissions in your novel. I could also polish some of the rougher passages.”

“...”

Li Ye was genuinely astonished.

Before coming, he had imagined all sorts of possibilities. Perhaps they would discuss why he had not continued selflessly providing the entire class with more plentiful and original exercises.

Perhaps she would adopt the attitude of “I’m doing this for your own good” and tell him to keep his distance from Wen Leyu, warning him not to entertain improper thoughts.

But he had absolutely never imagined that Teacher Ke wanted to help him “complete” his novel.

Li Ye was silent for several seconds before slowly shaking his head. “Teacher Ke, have you ever considered that if we added and perfected the material as you suggested, the book might become too sensitive to publish?”

“...”

Teacher Ke’s eyes narrowed sharply. She stared at Li Ye in disbelief, momentarily unable to respond.

Was he really only eighteen or nineteen? How could he know about such subtle matters?

Or perhaps he had not written the book himself, but had received guidance from some expert?

After carefully considering her words, Teacher Ke said, “I honestly hadn’t thought of that. I assumed the situation had already improved considerably, so it never occurred to me.”

Li Ye watched her closely and caught a trace of shame and disappointment in her eyes.

He rapidly analyzed her intentions, eliminating one unlikely possibility after another.

After taking Teacher Ke’s identity and present circumstances into account, he suddenly understood.

Li Ye immediately said, “Actually, I was only worrying needlessly. Some of the ideas you mentioned are still very valuable, Teacher Ke. I’ll think them over when I get back and make use of them as soon as possible. Then... I’ll list you as a co-author. How does that sound?”

“...”

Teacher Ke was truly shocked.

Li Ye had already surprised her moments earlier, but his behavior now struck straight at her heart.

How had he guessed her intentions? She had not even told Leyu!

Teacher Ke could not understand how Li Ye had discerned what she wanted.

She had only arrived at this idea after reading Wen Leyu’s manuscript the previous night, and she had not told anyone about it.

To say it was a coincidence, or that Li Ye had merely blurted it out, would be to underestimate him.

Just look at how composed he was, and at the maturity in his eyes—maturity utterly at odds with his actual age. How could his words have been spoken casually?

A novel was not an academic paper. One could tack a long list of co-authors onto a paper after the first author, but novels rarely had second authors or joint authors.

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More importantly, she could not actually help him. The “shortcomings” she had imagined were things Li Ye no longer needed. On what grounds could she take credit for someone else’s work without giving anything in return?

What should she do? Should she agree? But wouldn’t that be... shameless?

“Then... all right. I’ll hurry and organize some material for you. You can see whether it will be useful. As for the co-authorship...”

Teacher Ke was still deeply conflicted. Her face flushed, and she did not give him a direct answer.

But Li Ye’s reaction was lightning-fast.

He immediately rose and headed for the door. “Then I’ll be going, Teacher Ke. If you have any material, just have Wen Leyu give it to me.”

Teacher Ke could only stand and see him out. “Oh... all right!”

When Li Ye reached the door, however, he stopped and waited for two seconds. Only after the light, hurried footsteps outside had completely faded did he open the door and leave.

After walking more than twenty meters, Li Ye passed Wen Leyu in the corridor.

The little mute had clasped her hands behind her back, her eyes flickering with unease.

Li Ye smiled. “It’s fine. Go on back. You still have class tomorrow.”

Wen Leyu looked at Li Ye, then hurried back. The moment she entered the office, she confronted Teacher Ke.

“Mom, how could you do that? That novel is Li Ye’s heart and soul. How can we take it from him?”

“...”

Teacher Ke remained silent for a long time before asking the stubborn, furious girl, “Leyu, do you miss your father?”

“...”

Wen Leyu reacted as though struck by lightning. Her frail body swayed several times.

Teacher Ke asked again, “Leyu, do you miss your brother?”

Wen Leyu quickly lowered her head so that her mother would not see the tears in her eyes.

Mother and daughter remained silent. After a long while, Wen Leyu finally said in a low voice, “In his last letter, Father told me... that he was doing very well and that you shouldn’t worry...”

“But I know he isn’t doing well. He wrote that letter with scrap paper and a pencil...”

“Ah...”

Teacher Ke let out a soft sigh and pulled her daughter into her arms.

Husbands and wives trapped in adversity always reported good news and concealed the bad.

The husband, separated from them by a thousand miles, did not know that his daughter had grown withdrawn and silent. Through her, he still hoped to encourage his wife to pull herself together and remain optimistic.

Teacher Ke spoke softly. “Leyu, you’re a big girl now. There are some things you should know. We need help, but fewer and fewer people are able—or willing—to help us.”

With a nasal whine, Wen Leyu asked, “But what does that have to do with Li Ye’s novel?”

“It does have something to do with it,” Teacher Ke said. “At the very least, it gives us a reason to gain entry, meet certain people, and exchange a few words with them.”

“A few words? Will that really help?” Wen Leyu asked doubtfully.

“It will!”

Teacher Ke’s answer was firm, though in truth, she was not so certain herself.

But Teacher Ke understood perfectly well that in their current situation, they had to seize even a single straw with all their might.

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