Chapter 120: The Poetry Criticism Rally

Cheng Xiaoyu had not been having a pleasant time at school lately. Every morning when he arrived, he would find his locker pried open and stuffed with various photoshopped images of himself, along with notes saying things like, "Go eat sh*t, Cheng Xiaoyu!" Once, someone even sent him a letter that read:

"Your brilliant smile makes wolves hang themselves;
Your gentle cry makes chickens fly and dogs jump;
Your dashing stance fills the air with a stench;
Your nervous sweat spells doom for the lice;
When you don't dress up, you're uglier than a ghost;
When you do dress up, even ghosts are paralyzed!
How is my poetry, great poet?"

Cheng Xiaoyu was completely immune to such pranks; the damage to him was virtually zero. Yet, for some unknown reason, a sudden craze for writing poems to insult him swept through the school. At first, they were just posted on his locker or desk, and Cheng Xiaoyu would occasionally check to see if any had real literary merit before tossing them into the classroom trash can.

Later, these people started posting them on his class blackboard and even the school bulletin board. Cheng Xiaoyu couldn't be bothered to care; someone would deal with it eventually. Sometimes, he would even join the crowd, reading them with interest to see how they were written.

Fortunately, the students at Fudan High School were relatively cultured; they didn't use vulgarities or curse his family. Some were even quite eloquent, such as: "I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and extinction of species. Through countless millennia, only the stupidity of mortals is eternal. And the appearance of Cheng Xiaoyu has verified this."

Following this, the trend of insulting Cheng Xiaoyu at Fudan High escalated, and the Literature Club even raised the banner of poetic crusade against him.

There was even a version written in classical Chinese: "The nature of man, whether firm or weak, is endowed by heaven and cannot be forced. Even a sage does not blame a man for what he cannot do. Today, you have an aged mother at home and you cherish your degree. Fearing hunger and cold, you covet salary and rank, daring not to defy the poet, lest you face punishment. This is the common sentiment of a mediocre man, merely acting as an inept poet. Even a gentleman of the academy would pity your inability rather than demand the impossible. Yet it is not so; instead, you are arrogant and self-satisfied, without a shred of shame or fear, disparaging the virtuous to justify your own dismissal, merely to cover up your unspoken faults. To fail to act out of fear is the limitation of a fool; to use intellect to garnish one's faults is the bane of a gentleman."

That day, two more large-character posters with photoshopped pictures of Cheng Xiaoyu were posted on the bulletin board.

"Allow me to praise Cheng Xiaoyu. Ah, Xiaoyu, you are a genius! A great man! People gossip behind your back; they say you: 'Holding a clay rabbit in the concubine's palace—you don't look like a human being. The lamp won't light, the stir-fry isn't fragrant—you aren't good oil. Eating iron wire and urinating a large basket. Hanging more innards than a utility pole. Planting buckwheat in a sorghum field—a mongrel. Tadpoles following a soft-shelled turtle—acting like a grandson. A ship capsizing in the Huangpu River—courting disaster. A Pekingese running in a flock of goats—a bastard stray.' No! No! I don't want to hear it. How can they tolerate such talk about Xiaoyu? How much has Xiaoyu contributed to the history of China! Don't you know about Xiaoyu's self-sacrifice? Without Xiaoyu's departure, the Ming Dynasty wouldn't have had Zheng He; without Xiaoyu's departure, the Qing Dynasty wouldn't have had An Dehai or Li Lianying! Let us praise Xiaoyu! Let us pour the first cup of wine to Xiaoyu at every meal. Xiaoyu, come visit us in our dreams!"

Cheng Xiaoyu read it with interest. Many people around him chuckled, and he thought this person had a real knack for crosstalk. He looked at the next one, which was written with equal vigor:

"A piece of trash who stammers and can't even say a word clearly.
Learning to play with poetry without an ounce of ability.
Now let Daddy teach you a lesson, you child.
I don't really want to scold you, you brain-dead, stupid donkey,
But hearing your work everywhere makes me angry.
I really want to choke your neck and make you stop breathing,
So you can't recite any more of your sh*t-filled poems.
Your nightmare has just begun and will never stop.
Your poetry is as disgusting as a lump of moldy black feces.
I originally planned to bash you without using profanity,
But I discovered that scolding is also a way to show my talent.
I see you have no idea of your own worth.
The rice you eat is the newspaper we use to wipe our asses.
I know you need a roll of toilet paper right now,
Because today is the day you're on your period."

Cheng Xiaoyu found this one slightly amusing. A girl next to him was reading it aloud and asked her friend, likely not knowing who Cheng Xiaoyu was, "This guy is trending lately! Which class is he in?"

The girl she asked glanced sideways at Cheng Xiaoyu, who was standing behind them, and tugged at her friend to indicate someone was there. The girl clearly didn't get the hint and turned to look at Cheng Xiaoyu.

Cheng Xiaoyu didn't feel shy; he simply flashed a big smile and said, "Oh, I'm in Class 2, Senior Year." Then he turned and walked toward the teaching building.

Not long after, a commotion broke out behind him. Cheng Xiaoyu looked back and saw Ji Yunyun, a member of the Disciplinary Committee, wearing her armband and tearing down the posters insulting him.

Looking at Ji Yunyun in her sailor uniform, her hair styled in a bob, her skin fair and her brows furrowed like a delicate beauty in distress, Cheng Xiaoyu felt a twinge of emotion. He felt he shouldn't keep ignoring her; at the very least, being friends would be a good choice.

Cheng Xiaoyu stood on the steps at the entrance waiting. Ji Yunyun approached slowly, perhaps preoccupied, and didn't notice him. When she passed by, he walked up and waved a hand in front of her. Startled, she glared at him before realizing who it was.

Cheng Xiaoyu withdrew his hand and smiled. "Thank you."

Seeing it was Cheng Xiaoyu, Ji Yunyun felt a pleasant surprise but stiffened her face. "This is what the Disciplinary Committee is supposed to do."

Cheng Xiaoyu didn't call her bluff—Disciplinary Committee members usually stepped down by the second half of senior year anyway—and replied with a playful grin, "Still, thank you."

Ji Yunyun felt a warmth in her heart. Some friends didn't understand why she liked Cheng Xiaoyu, not knowing that her father was an amateur poet who had influenced her since childhood. She loved classical Chinese culture, flowery obscure poetry, and melancholic romances. Even though she wasn't a talented writer herself, that didn't stop her from appreciating them.

In particular, literary girls like Ji Yunyun often had a tendency toward self-inflicted sorrow. Sweet love stories rarely moved them, but tragic, beautiful ones always hit the mark, leaving them weeping uncontrollably.

Cheng Xiaoyu’s indifferent attitude only made Ji Yunyun more attached to him. Most people are inherently fickle—what they can't get is the best. This was Ji Yunyun's subtle psychology. Of course, as a young girl experiencing first love, she was caught up in her own manufactured emotions, especially regarding Cheng Xiaoyu's poems, which she genuinely loved.

Feigning a casual attitude, Ji Yunyun asked, "They write all this messy stuff, how come you don't have any reaction? Aren't you angry?"

Cheng Xiaoyu walked upstairs beside her, laughing. "What's there to be angry about? If anything, I'm angry that their writing is so poor. They can't even insult people properly."

Ji Yunyun hesitated for a moment before asking, "What is your relationship with Su Yuxi?"

Just as they reached the third floor, Cheng Xiaoyu glanced toward Su Yuxi's classroom. "Why? Are you that gossipy too?"

Ji Yunyun blushed slightly, as if a secret had been discovered, and immediately defended herself. "I just noticed you have a good relationship with her and wanted to tell you that it's not just you receiving such letters; some girls in the school who are jealous of her are writing letters to insult her too."

Cheng Xiaoyu’s expression darkened. He said an "Oh," knowing that Su Yuxi wouldn't care and wouldn't even read those letters. He could handle being verbally abused by bored people, but he couldn't stand anyone trying to hurt Su Yuxi. Even a verbal attack was, to him, touching his reverse scale.

Seeing Cheng Xiaoyu's heavy tone, Ji Yunyun felt uneasy and forced a smile. "Don't take it too much to heart. There aren't many such bored people."

Cheng Xiaoyu didn't dwell on the issue but instead asked, "You manage the school broadcasting station, right? You read my poetry there last time."

A blush spread from Ji Yunyun’s ears to her cheeks. She nodded softly. "I'm a school literary officer, as you know. Of course I have the key to the broadcasting station."

Cheng Xiaoyu stopped, turned around, and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Can you do me a favor?"

Ji Yunyun felt as though she were being confessed to; her mind went blank as she nodded, her face burning with shame.

Cheng Xiaoyu withdrew his hands and put them into his pockets, showing a grateful smile. "Then thank you, Ji Yunyun. I'll definitely treat you to a meal after the college entrance exams."

Ji Yunyun hadn't even thought about what Cheng Xiaoyu wanted to do at the broadcasting station; the question lingering in her mind was: Why wait until after the exams? We’ve both already passed the art exams; our studies aren't that heavy! This weekend would be perfect. But she couldn't say her real thoughts, so she could only say, "You better not lie to me! I'm going to call you then!"

Cheng Xiaoyu held out his hand, joking, "How about a pinky swear?"

Ji Yunyun didn't realize it was a joke and actually extended her hand, blushing, to pinky swear with him. Cheng Xiaoyu was momentarily stunned, and could only admire the girl's simple innocence.

When they reached the fifth floor, Cheng Xiaoyu called Chen Haoran and Wang Ou out, telling them to take a simple drum kit (snare, bass, and cymbals) to the broadcasting station, while he went to move the electric piano from the music classroom.

He told Ji Yunyun to wait for him at the station, then hurried off.

Ji Yunyun didn't quite understand why Cheng Xiaoyu wanted to move instruments to the broadcasting station. Guessing he wanted to sing a song, she headed to the station, filled with bewilderment.