Chapter 6: 0005 【Call to Arms and Cyberpunk】
The three of them returned to the dorm.
Only Liu Zhihong and Yang Hao were playing Chinese chess in the dorm room.
Xie Yang shoved his broken suitcase under the bed and asked his two roommates who were playing chess, "Where are the other three?"
"They went to the classroom to review," Liu Zhihong said, slamming a chess piece down. "Cannon-check, general!"
Yang Hao scratched his ears and cheeks in frustration.
Liu Zhihong sat on the edge of the bed, picking at his toes, and said smugly, "Hand over your chariot obediently so I can take it."
Chen Guiliang stood by, observing the two.
In his impression, Liu Zhihong and Yang Hao were like missing persons, completely disappearing after high school graduation.
After watching for a while, Chen Guiliang grabbed his clothes to shower, feeling a sticky discomfort on his body.
This dilapidated dormitory building had no private bathrooms; each floor shared one toilet and one bathroom (which also served as a laundry room).
There were no water heaters or bath heaters, so students had to fetch hot water from the boiler room.
Chen Guiliang didn't even bother with hot water; he had taken cold showers for three years in high school.
Even in the snowy depths of winter, it was the same.
Because hot water cost 2 mao per kettle, Chen Guiliang felt it was too much of a waste of money.
At this moment, someone was washing clothes in the bathroom and even greeted him proactively, "Chen Daxia, taking a shower!"
"How did you do on the exam today?" Chen Guiliang had forgotten who this person was, so he could only offer some bland small talk.
That person rubbed soap on his clothes and scrubbed for a while, "The exam went pretty well."
Chen Guiliang placed his bucket on the laundry counter and casually turned on the faucet.
While waiting for the cold water, he stripped off his clothes and pants, then shook his impressively large 'bird'.
The student washing clothes happened to look back and immediately felt inadequate.
After filling the bucket halfway, Chen Guiliang poured the water over his head.
Hiss!
Tomorrow was "Lidong" (Start of Winter), and the sudden rush of cold water was truly invigorating.
Chen Guiliang hadn't done this in nearly twenty years and found it quite interesting.
He didn't even buy shampoo, just rubbed soap all over his head. After scrubbing his hair for a while, the second bucket of cold water was already full.
Chen Guiliang shivered, this time too lazy to use the bucket, and just stuck his head directly under the faucet to rinse.
After finishing his shower, he was trembling all over.
It didn't matter if he caught a cold or fever from the cold; he could tough it out without medicine.
Left-behind children from rural areas were both 'cheap-lived' and 'hard-lived'. Like weeds growing in cracks in rocks, sunlight and water were luxuries, but give them a tiny chance, and they would survive.
Shoving his changed clothes into the bucket, Chen Guiliang shuffled back to the dorm in his slippers.
There was no hairdryer.
His wet hair was left to air dry naturally.
Xie Yang was currently lying on his bed reading "Zichuan", while Xu Haibo was reviewing for the liberal arts comprehensive exam the next day.
Chen Guiliang took out paper and pen, intending to write his submission for the competition.
Writing articles was something Chen Guiliang was quite good at.
He majored in journalism in university and interned at a major southern newspaper while still in school. After graduation, he covered social news and even worked as an undercover reporter for two years.
Because his articles were maliciously altered by the editor to incite social conflict, he angrily chose to resign and was introduced by a friend to work as an editor at a magazine.
Then, the traditional media industry fell into decline, and after only half a year as an editor, that magazine went out of business.
Next, Chen Guiliang joined a portal website.
But that portal website also gradually declined, and out of helplessness, Chen Guiliang switched to a gaming company.
In those years, the gaming industry was a wild frontier, and those who did well got promoted quickly. He first worked in the marketing department, then transferred to operations, becoming an operations associate director in three years.
The operations department of a gaming company, on the surface, held immense power, but in reality, couldn't make decisions on anything. And once a problem arose, they had to take the blame for the R&D and marketing departments!
Chen Guiliang, who had grown into a seasoned scapegoat, was finally fired by his boss over a major incident.
Middle-aged, unemployed, divorced—a double blow.
Chen Guiliang, having given up, took his post-marital assets and partnered with three friends to start a gaming business.
Full of ambition.
They lost everything!
Just as they were at their wits' end, a friend who was a middle manager at Shanda asked if they needed official authorization for "legend".
By paying Shanda 150,000 yuan monthly, they could freely modify it into a web game or mobile game. They could even legally run a private server, as long as the version didn't surpass the official one.
Because they entered the "legend" mobile game market relatively early, this game unexpectedly made them a fortune.
Then, they started making reskinned web games and mobile games, specifically for the Middle Eastern tycoon market—the kind like "Sultan's XX."
Including Chen Guiliang, all four shareholders achieved financial freedom.
With business success came internal strife.
There was a plethora of messy issues, which infuriated Chen Guiliang to the point of giving up, cultivating himself, and rekindling his literary dream, even going so far as to write two flop books on Qidian.
...
So, what should he write for the competition submission?
The initial rough review for the preliminary round was handled by the editors of "Mengya."
There were too many submissions for them to read through, so the article had to grab attention from the beginning.
Chen Guiliang sat at the desk, thinking carefully, and suddenly his gaze fell upon the contents of a newspaper. It was an old newspaper from six months ago, spread on the window-side table as a tablecloth.
Front-page headline: Americans Invade Iraq!
Inspiration struck instantly.
Xu Haibo, sitting on the other side of the table, was originally reviewing for tomorrow's exam. Suddenly, he heard Chen Guiliang writing non-stop, and he curiously got up to take a look.
The more he read, the more surprised he became, to the point of being dumbfounded.
But he didn't dare to disturb Chen Guiliang's creation. Only after the article was finished did Xu Haibo suddenly shout loudly, "Everyone, come quickly and look, Chen Daxia's article is so awesome!"
"What the hell are you making a fuss about?"
Xie Yang, who was happily reading a novel, first cursed at Xu Haibo, then slowly sauntered over and began to read aloud:
"'A Call to Arms Against the American Invasion of Iraq.' The American ruler, George W. Bush, is by nature fierce and cruel, and his actions are tyrannical. In the past, he relied on his strength to bully the weak; now, he creates disaster to harm the people. He harbors the malicious intent of oil, secretly wielding global power. Outwardly, he claims freedom, but inwardly, he holds gluttonous desires..."
"As for Iraq, it is an ancient land of two rivers, an old nation of the crescent... Yet, the rogues of the White House fabricated false evidence of biochemical weapons, and spread empty words of uranium bombs... One hundred thousand lives became new ghosts, and a thousand years of civilization fell into the abyss..."
"In ancient times, King Zhou of Shang was tyrannical, and his armies defected at Muye; the Nazis ran rampant, and Berlin surrendered. Now, the American Empire's tyranny far exceeds that of Jie and Zhou, and its cunning surpasses even the Axis powers..."
"All those with blood and spirit are enraged. How can those with conscience sit idly by... Blood-stained dollars will eventually backfire; a crown woven of lies will surely fall into filth. The setting sun on the White House already shows the Canying of an empire; as the Stars and Stripes fall, justice can be awaited! Let this Speech be spread throughout the world, so all may know."
This kind of article was not uncommon.
Anyone with a decent foundation in classical Chinese could write it.
But in the eyes of a group of high school students, it was an astonishing and brilliant masterpiece.
After Xie Yang finished reading the article, he actually forgot to toss his hair to show off, and it took him a few seconds to say, "Damn it, how did you write it so awesomely?"
Liu Zhihong snatched the article and reread it, going through it twice before saying, "Son of a bitch, no wonder your essays always get full marks."
Yang Hao's personality was more introverted. He racked his brains for a long time, then gave Chen Guiliang a thumbs-up and said, "Chen Daxia wrote it too well, he'll definitely get first prize. He's practically the second Guo Xiaosi in our school!"
The second Guo Xiaosi...
Chen Guiliang found it awkward, feeling as if he had been insulted.
"I'm going to copy this article down!" Xu Haibo looked adoring, wishing he could publicize the article throughout the whole school.
High school students were still relatively simple; as long as you genuinely had ability, you could win their admiration.
Chen Guiliang ignored his roommates' compliments and sat there, beginning to conceive his second submission.
He had bought four copies of "Mengya," so he could cut out the submission pages and send in four different articles.
It was best not to touch miscellaneous essays, especially those that went against mainstream thought.
Who knew what kind of people were among the editors.
Even the famous writers on the final judging panel were more or less influenced by neoliberalism.
It wasn't that they were all traitors, but they had been subtly influenced, and the limitations of the era were evident. Didn't Yu Xiaogou exclaim how awesome Mo Sang's "Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out" was back then?
Chen Guiliang had no interest in debating with them; he just wanted to get into a prestigious university through the New Concept Writing Competition.
Debating was useless anyway, just a waste of ink.
Chen Guiliang had worked in southern media for several years and knew exactly what those people were like. He himself had once been one of them, only realizing the truth after his drafts were maliciously altered, prompting him to quickly jump out of that cesspool.
When China's economy takes off someday, and the West also declines, most people will naturally change their views.
Those who remain stubborn can be regarded as traitors and kicked aside.
Chen Guiliang glanced at Xie Yang, who was currently trying to quit his internet addiction, and picked up his pen to write his second submission: "My Cyber Home."
This was a cyberpunk short story, only about 5000 words, which could be expanded into a full-length novel at any time.
— — — —
(Organizing signatures to protest against the school makes people excited, while carrying bamboo shoots into the city to sell them makes people feel ashamed. There's a big difference between the two, and these are all experiences from Old Wang's own life. Unfortunately, more than ten years later, when old classmates reunited and brought up the matter of organizing signatures to demand computer fees back then, most of them had already forgotten.)
(Many of the first hundred thousand words of this book come from Old Wang's personal experiences, with the timeline deliberately moved forward by two or three years. Some parts were exaggerated during writing. Others were deliberately downplayed because reality was too absurd to pass censorship.)
(Thanks to the great patrons, Zhexian Qitian and Xuanyuan Qinghuan, for their generous rewards.)
