The air pressure in the classroom was so low it was suffocating.
Shen Qingqiu looked at the pairs of eyes below the stage, dimmed with anxiety, and sighed softly.
"The road may be crowded, but it's not the only one."
Shen Qingqiu changed the subject, pulling a beautifully printed poster from her lesson plan folder.
It was unfolded and posted on the blackboard.
The poster's background color is a deep, dark blue.
A golden roc is spreading its wings, ready to take flight and soar into the sky.
Above it was printed a powerful and vigorous inscription.
The 10th "Fuzhiyao" National Middle School Students Essay Competition.
"This is a literary competition spearheaded by the Central Committee of the Communist Youth League and jointly organized by seven top universities."
Shen Qingqiu pointed to the poster and said.
Lin Que stopped writing.
Support it as it sways.
Soaring upwards on the whirlwind for ninety thousand miles.
The name itself exudes an extraordinary aura.
"Some of you have probably heard of it."
Shen Qingqiu tapped her knuckles on the roc on the poster.
"The prestige of this competition is self-evident."
Those who achieve a high ranking may be admitted with lower admission scores through independent enrollment programs, or even directly recommended to the Chinese Literature Department.
For some students who are severely unbalanced in their studies, this will be your last chance to overtake others.
Admission without examination.
These two words are like a boulder that crashed into the calm surface of a lake.
For these high school students who are tormented by the combined science exam...
This is practically a get-out-of-jail-free card.
"Of course, since it's a nationwide event, it's naturally very difficult."
Shen Qingqiu changed the subject.
"Moreover, the competition format is extremely brutal."
It is divided into four stages: national call for submissions, regional preliminary rounds, provincial semi-finals, and national finals.
The process can take up to six months.
Without sufficient foundation and talent, you won't even pass the preliminary round.
"It can be said that those who make it to the end are all promising literary talents from all over the country."
After Shen Qingqiu finished speaking, she placed the registration form on the podium.
"If you're interested, come and get an application form. The deadline for the first draft is next Friday."
The classroom was buzzing with excitement, as many literature enthusiasts were eager to try their hand at it.
But very few people actually got up to get their watches.
Everyone is self-aware.
In a competition where gods clash, luck doesn't even apply.
Even if you polish a relatively good piece during the submission period and submit it to the preliminary round,
After the preliminary rounds, it's time for on-site essay writing—that's when it comes down to a real battle.
As Shen Qingqiu said, without a solid foundation, one will ultimately become cannon fodder.
Just as the students were whispering among themselves,
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor could be heard.
Lin Que stood up.
He walked unhurriedly across the aisle with one hand in his pocket, and stepped onto the podium, meeting the gazes of the entire class.
Shen Qingqiu was not surprised as he approached.
"Have you thought it through?"
Shen Qingqiu asked.
"I've thought it through."
Lin Que took the form.
"Since the road is right in front of us, there's no reason not to walk it."
Shen Qingqiu nodded.
Lin Que was very clear,
This is not just a road, but a springboard.
Since the regular tracks are too crowded, let's try a different approach.
He wanted more than just an acceptance letter.
Furthermore, they stand on the podium of the highest institution of learning, wielding the right to export civilization to the world.
After filling it out simply, I handed it to Shen Qingqiu.
"OK."
Shen Qingqiu put away the registration form.
"Prepare well. Submit your preliminary draft to me by next Thursday, and I'll revise it for you."
Lin Que nodded and turned back to his seat.
With Lin Que taking the lead, Zhang Ya hesitated for a moment, then went up and took a form as well.
Several other girls who usually did well in Chinese language also signed up.
...
In the office,
Shen Qingqiu looked at the registration form in her hand, which was signed with the name "Lin Que," and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
She picked up the landline on the table and dialed a number.
The phone was answered after two rings.
An old but vigorous voice came from the other side.
"Hello?"
"Chairman Gu, it's me, Xiao Shen."
Shen Qingqiu's tone became exceptionally respectful.
The person on the other end of the phone was Gu Changfeng, chairman of the Jiangsu Provincial Writers Association.
"Oh, it's Teacher Shen."
Gu Changfeng smiled and spoke gently.
"What, has that kid made a move?"
"yes."
Shen Qingqiu looked out the window at the figure lazily doing exercises in the crowd on the playground.
whisper:
"He just signed the 'Fuzhiyao' registration form."
...
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