Chapter Forty-Nine: Double Blessings Arrive

A silent afternoon. Outside the window, the wind sweeps yellow leaves, each one dancing in the air; inside, a young woman buries herself in her thoughts, smiling quietly to herself. In her hands, she holds a slip of paper—on it, the lyrics to the song "Ten Miles of Spring Wind Are Not as Good as You." After hearing Zhou Xuan sing it that day, Liu Yixue had specially asked him to write the lyrics for her. Zhou Xuan had taken great care, his handwriting elegant, strong, and graceful, the words striking straight to Liu Yixue’s heart.

Since yesterday, Liu Yixue’s mood had never been better—she felt as though she had swallowed honey, often breaking into silly smiles. Though the confession yesterday had not truly been a confession, and Zhou Xuan hadn’t given a direct answer, Liu Yixue knew he understood her intentions and had responded to them in his own way. It was this song that made his feelings clear to her.

Gradually, everyone began to notice that since returning from the essay competition, Zhou Xuan and Liu Yixue had grown closer. The two often discussed problems together after class—sometimes Zhou Xuan would ask the school beauty for help, but more often, she sought him out. To everyone’s amusement, they even managed to bump into each other at meal times, dining and chatting happily. Some said Zhou Xuan and Liu Yixue were already together; others claimed the school beauty was pursuing Zhou Xuan; still others insisted their relationship was purely academic. No one believed that last claim.

Regardless of the rumors, Zhou Xuan and Liu Yixue remained calm, focusing on their studies and working toward their shared goals. After Zhou Xuan’s string of accomplishments, everyone had come to expect him to win first prize in the essay contest. What truly piqued their interest, however, was the thousand-yuan prize he received, which sparked greater enthusiasm for essay writing in the class and pleased the Chinese teacher greatly.

Zhou Xuan and Liu Yixue now shared their meals, a routine that stirred envy among their classmates.

On Sunday afternoon, in the study of PE teacher Li Yunxi’s home, the sound of continuous typing filled the air. Zhou Xuan was at it again—in his previous life, he’d been a programmer, and upon returning, he naturally resumed his old trade. Yet, compared to those days, his income was now far better, fueling his passion and speeding his typing.

The first volume of "The Great Emperor Hongwu" from the Ming Dynasty, nearly 250,000 words, was finally complete.

Pausing, Zhou Xuan opened his email, preparing to submit his manuscript to several magazines. Fortunately, many major magazines and publishers now had their own email addresses; otherwise, he would have had to print everything out—a costly affair. Opening his inbox, he found several unread messages. One was from a magazine, responding to his submission of "The Love of the Hawthorn Tree," praising its vivid portrayal of love in a special era. They hoped to serialize it in "Novel Monthly," offering a rate of 120 yuan per thousand characters—much higher than the usual rate of 80 yuan for new writers, thanks to the chief editor’s personal connection to that era, which moved him to raise the fee.

Zhou Xuan read the message twice; it suggested he need not consider submitting to other magazines, as none could match their offer. The other two emails, as expected, were from different magazines, both approving his work—one offering 80 yuan per thousand characters, the other 100.

He calculated: "The Love of the Hawthorn Tree" was about 150,000 characters. At 120 yuan per thousand, the total fee would be 18,000 yuan. After taxes, it would be less, but still substantial.

Zhou Xuan downloaded the attached contract onto a floppy disk, planning to print it later. The contract stipulated submitting the manuscript in three installments, each of 50,000 characters, with the magazine serializing about 10,000 characters per month. As it was a monthly publication, the serialization would take a year.

Stepping out of Li Yunxi’s home, Zhou Xuan felt it would be best to move out and buy his own computer. Since Teacher Li had connections in purchasing computers, Zhou Xuan decided to ask for his help.

After printing the contract and sending it via post, Zhou Xuan went for a meal and returned for evening self-study.

Unexpectedly, in the first period, the homeroom teacher, Mr. Liu, called Zhou Xuan out, saying a teacher from Rongzhou College was waiting for him.

Zhou Xuan was puzzled; although he had just returned from the essay contest at the college, he didn’t recall knowing any teachers there.

Entering the office, he saw a woman in white, quietly seated. She wasn’t beautiful, but possessed a rare intellectual elegance. Wasn’t she the same woman who had been reading beside them yesterday? He and Liu Yixue had assumed she was a student, not realizing she was already a teacher.

Seeing Zhou Xuan enter, she stood and smiled, “Hello, Zhou Xuan. I am Yan Lanxi, music teacher at Rongzhou College.”

Zhou Xuan shook her hand. “Hello, Teacher Yan. We met yesterday, but I hadn’t realized you were a teacher. May I ask why you wanted to see me?”

Yan Lanxi glanced at Mr. Liu, thanking him, “Thank you, Mr. Liu. I’d like to speak with Zhou Xuan alone.”

Zhou Xuan and Yan Lanxi left the academic building, strolling outside.

“Zhou Xuan, may I ask, was the song you sang yesterday your own original composition?”

So she had come because of "Ten Miles of Spring Wind Are Not as Good as You." Zhou Xuan smiled, “It was an impromptu creation. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself in front of you, Teacher Yan.”

Yan Lanxi gazed at Zhou Xuan, smiling, “You’re too modest. It was beautifully sung; I was so moved I nearly cried. But you two middle schoolers showing off your romance—have you considered how the single people at the college feel?”

Zhou Xuan hadn’t expected this teacher to joke; he laughed, “Teacher Yan, you’re mistaken. We’re simply classmates, with a pure friendship.”

Yan Lanxi clearly didn’t believe him—having sung such a song, and it being original, who could believe there was nothing more?

She couldn’t help but admire Zhou Xuan’s talent; she’d heard he not only wrote excellent essays, but was also top of his class and had broken city records at the sports meet.

Yesterday, after hearing the song, she had called her best friend, Fan Yixuan, to ask if she’d ever heard it before. After humming a few lines, Fan Yixuan assured her it had never been published, and urged Yan Lanxi to buy the song if possible, as her friend dearly wished to sing it herself.

Getting to the point, Yan Lanxi said, “Zhou Xuan, would you be willing to sell me your song? What do you think of the price—ten thousand yuan?”

Zhou Xuan hadn’t expected his casual performance to attract a buyer, but this song was a gift for Liu Yixue, and paired with a corresponding novel, so he certainly couldn’t sell it.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Teacher Yan. I won’t sell this song,” Zhou Xuan replied.

Yan Lanxi was immediately crestfallen—she had come all this way for nothing.

She pressed further, “Why not? If you’re unhappy with the price, we can discuss it.”

Zhou Xuan smiled, “It’s not a matter of price. This song will never be sold.”

Seeing Yan Lanxi’s disappointment, Zhou Xuan continued, “You’re asking on behalf of your friend, aren’t you? Who is the singer? If the price is right, I can consider writing two new songs especially for them.”

“What? Are you joking?” Yan Lanxi, a top graduate of the Central Conservatory of Music, wouldn’t dare promise to compose two songs offhand. Zhou Xuan, a middle school student, was so bold? She felt like turning away and leaving.

Seeing her disbelief, Zhou Xuan smiled, “If you don’t believe me, then let it be.”