In the following days,
Lin Que was living a life of misery.
The so-called "special training"
It was pure mental torture.
Every evening self-study session,
Shen Qingqiu locked the three of them in a small conference room for intensive simulation training.
"Title: Rain Outside the Window. Time limit: 40 minutes. No restrictions on writing style."
Shen Qingqiu threw the chalk stub away.
I sat down and started timing.
Zhao Zichen didn't say a word.
He spread out the manuscript paper and began quoting classical texts.
A confident smile played on his lips.
The pen tip moved swiftly across the manuscript paper, almost without pausing for a moment.
Rain is the tears of heaven and earth.
Su Shi chanted and strolled leisurely in the rain; that was magnanimity.
Li Qingzhao searched and searched in the rain, her thoughts filled with sorrow…
The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a soft, scratching sound, radiating the confidence of a top student.
Zhang Ya bit her pen, her brows furrowed.
It seems they are conceiving a poignant story.
She wanted to write about a girl waiting in the rain for her lover who would never return.
Rain is used to highlight sorrow, while the clearing sky after the rain symbolizes letting go.
This is the approach she's best at.
Lin Que lay on the table, twirling a pen.
Rain outside the window?
This question is too old-fashioned.
The beginnings of seven or eight horror stories instantly popped into his head.
For example, the woman in the rain holding a red umbrella but without a face.
For example, the rhythmic tapping of rain on the window is actually someone scratching it with their fingernails from the outside...
"cough."
Shen Qingqiu's cough sounded at just the right moment.
Lin Que looked over in response, and he saw a sentence in his teacher's eyes:
"You're dead if you dare to write ghost stories."
Lin Que sighed, pulling his wandering thoughts back.
Since I can't write about ghosts, I'll write about people instead.
He picked up his pen and wrote:
When the rain falls, the city becomes an isolated island.
Some people are waiting for the boat on the island, while others are building a bridge.
All I want to do is sleep on the island.
...
Forty minutes later.
Shen Qingqiu held up three essays for comment.
“Zhao Zichen, the poems you quoted were very accurate, and the parallel sentences were quite powerful. However,”
Shen Qingqiu pointed to one of the sections.
"Your rain is too 'literary,' it's all the emotions of the ancients. What about your own?"
What are you thinking about when you're in the rain?
Was she thinking of Su Dongpo, or was she worried about not bringing an umbrella?
Zhao Zichen was stunned for a moment, his face turning bright red:
"I...I'm thinking about when this rain will stop."
"Then write down what you want it to stop!"
Shen Qingqiu felt a sense of disappointment and frustration.
Why are Mr. Jian Shen's articles so moving?
Because he writes about the joys and sorrows of ordinary people, not just showing off his knowledge!
Zhao Zichen lowered his head and remained silent.
"Zhang Ya, this is a good piece of writing."
Shen Qingqiu's tone softened somewhat.
"Using rain to express parting, the emotions are very delicate."
But the ending was too tragic. After the storm comes the calm, shouldn't there be some hope?
Finally, it was Lin Que's turn.
Shen Qingqiu looked at the short essay of less than eight hundred words with a strange expression.
There were no quotations from classical texts, nor any sentimental tears.
The entire article describes a food delivery driver delivering food in the rain.
Because of the heavy rain, the order was overdue, and the customer started yelling at people on the phone.
The deliveryman didn't say anything.
After hanging up the phone, I parked the car on the side of the road.
He pulled a steamed bun, warmed by his body heat, from his pocket and took a bite while it was wet with rainwater.
The ending consists of only one sentence:
The rain was heavy, but he looked like he was enjoying the steamed buns.
"this……"
Zhao Zichen leaned over for a look and couldn't help but frown.
"This is too... too plain! And what's the depth of this idea? It's just about a food delivery guy, isn't it?"
Shen Qingqiu ignored Zhao Zichen and focused her complicated gaze on Lin Que's exam paper.
After a long silence, she said softly:
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