That happened during the first monthly exam in Chuchuan's senior year... Well, after counting, it was about ten years ago.

Ten years, more than 3,600 days ago.

Chuli was very surprised that someone could remember something so clearly from such a long time ago - including how the weather was like that day, what happened, who had appeared, what those people said and did, and the expressions on their faces at that time... When the man told the story from a bystander's perspective, coldly and calmly, Chuli found that he seemed to have been easily substituted into the story.

A story that is really not a great one.

Ten years ago.

At that time, Zhouchuan, who was less than 17 years old, was well-known in high school because his father was a great writer. When students discussed Zhouchuan, they would always say: [The first class of Zhouchuan, his father is a writer, very awesome.]

But that's all.

Because the next sentence that follows will inevitably be-

[Hey, why didn't he inherit his father's genes at all? The composition is always so bad.]

That's it.

This boy named Zhouchuan, whose father is a famous writer. But after entering high school for two years, he got more than 40 times in the composition project with a full score of 60. It was not because he couldn't write essays well, but when other students wrote argumentative essays according to the "classic three-paragraph" taught by the teacher, Zhouchuan, the first top student, stared at the sentence "There is no limit on the subject matter except poetry" and crazily wrote one fable after another of 800 characters...

Because of this, his Chinese teacher once talked to him more than once, but every conversation was almost the same and futile, for example—

Chinese teacher: "Zhuchuan, the class representative complained to me yesterday. You are unwilling to memorize the deeds of the famous people I asked you to memorize and the deeds of the top ten Chinese figures that touched me this year. What's wrong with you? You can clearly use these when you write essays..."

Zhou Chuan: "...I know I definitely don't know how to use it, so what do I waste my time memorizing it?"

Chinese teacher: "What does it mean to waste time - take the last exam as an example! The composition of the last exam was that 'only strong inside can be perfect'. You put on good Edison, Yang Liwei and Sima Qian and other materials that can be used, why are you all in the story yourself?!"

Zhou Chuan: "The beginning is aligned, and the middle is an example of Edison, Yang Liwei, Sima Qian, and the end is aligned and focused on the topic - are you talking about Edison, Yang Liwei and Sima Qian?"

Chinese teacher: “…”

Chinese teacher: "I know you want to innovate, but no matter how old-fashioned the deeds of celebrities are, it is better than making up stories by yourself! Like the top ten Chinese people who touch China every year, they are all classic positive characters that are selected from thousands of miles away. Isn't it more vivid and lively than the stories you make up--"

Zhou Chuan: "If you are destined to be able to use the random arrangement and combination of these famous deeds, then what is written on the test paper is to make a fool of yourself? Why not just accept argumentative essays, please write argumentative essays."

Chinese teacher: “…”

Chinese teacher: "How do you talk to the teacher! Talk well! Can I decide what is printed on the test paper? I can decide what I really want to print on the sentence you said!"

That atmosphere, let alone printing the test paper, he even seemed to want to print the boy's forehead in front of him.

Zhou Chuan: "My little story has an beginning and an ending, and the characters are full. There is no nonsense from beginning to end or excerpts in the composition book... Isn't it better than your bunch of eight-legged essays?"

"What eight-legged essays! Zhouchuan! Don't talk nonsense! As long as you follow the routine, you can get a minimum of 43 and 4 points. Isn't it better than you now?" When the topic goes here, the Chinese teacher will always raise his voice. "Even if the language knowledge part is 90 points, you can get more than 80 points. You can easily get a 13 and 4 exam. What's wrong with this? Why do you have to go against the paper correction teacher? Do you still hope to meet a paper correction teacher who can appreciate your stories? After reading too much chicken soup! I will still hurt you - it's all for your own good? One more point in the college entrance examination, you still remember Senior Jiang Yucheng I mentioned, people step on 200,000 more than you?! It's still time to learn to write argumentative essays!"

“…”

“…”

"I see."

--I see.

Countless conversations end with such a stubborn answer by the boy.

However, only the Chinese teacher of Zhouchuan knew that the boy's answer was still perfunctory... Because in the next exam, he would always use those forty or fifty minutes to compile an 800-word short story that seemed to fit the design of the test questions-

As stable as Mount Tai, he continued to take his thirty points, which was pitifully few.

I also continued to disdain the celebrity materials given by the teacher.

For formatting and relatively stable scores, the argumentative essay formats are of course still.

——And I don’t feel that there is anything wrong with me.

The Chinese teacher's hairline was several millimeters higher by him. Before menopause, he had a great hope to join the glorious typical image of "Mediterranean teacher wearing glasses"...

Just when Zhou Chuan thought that his entire high school career composition scores were "this should be the case", the turning point suddenly occurred: the first monthly exam for the third year of high school, the mock college entrance examination sealed the test papers, and the liberal arts and science classes exchanged the test papers to change the scores. In this case, Zhou Chuan's short story composition actually got a super high score of 58 in the hand of the Chinese teacher of the liberal arts class next door!

For a moment, the whole class was sensational!

Even Zhouchuan himself was a little confused.

After the monthly exam, Zhou Chuan's paper was specially asked to go over by the Chinese teacher in the liberal arts class next door. He read one by one in the four liberal arts classes he led, and then took time to copy it. The whole class was given a picture and asked everyone to copy it and study hard.

Completely all-star treatment.

The last composition test paper went around for two or three days, and finally returned to Zhouchuan - it was finally time for their own Chinese class to explain the monthly composition test part... At that time, Zhouchuan, who was still a teenager, looked at his fifty-eight-point test paper and said that he didn't expect or even look forward to what would happen, which was definitely fake.

...However, the final result was that nothing happened - his Chinese teacher was coming to the class with excellent essays of 53 and 52 points, but he only didn't mention the first word of his entire grade...

It was difficult for the young man Zhouchuan to explain his thoughts at that time. It may be confusion or hesitation. The word "why" appeared in his heart. At this time, he realized that even if he was disdainful to the teacher who was willing to teach argumentative essays on the surface, he actually hoped to be recognized in his heart.

However.

The first composition explanation class was regarded as transparent; in the second Chinese class in Liantang, everyone had collected the test paper and started a new round of questions, Zhou Chuan watched his Chinese teacher walk to his desk step by step, picked up his composition test paper, read it carefully, and then put it down-

He laughed.

Zhou Chuan will probably remember it all his life. At that time, he was sitting in the first row, beside the window, and the teacher stood under the window and showed a light smile at him, and said with a smile: "Hey, I don't think it's so good. I think you're not writing that well, why did you give him 58 points?"

His voice was neither high nor low, but it was enough for the entire quiet classroom to listen clearly to every corner of the classroom where he was doing the test. Some classmates stopped writing and looked up in surprise...

And for the young man Zhouchuan—

That moment.

anger.

disappointment.

The embarrassment of speechlessness and the feeling of being humiliated all surged up.

"You can use it to deduct tens or even twenty, and I don't care at all." The boy was stubborn, and for the first time, he pulled his composition test paper back from his Chinese teacher with almost rude movements, and put them into the desk drawer. He gritted his teeth and emphasized again, "Anyway, it's the same, what impact does it have on my total score ranking?"

That time, the super academic master of the monthly exam, Zhou Chuan ranked first in the whole grade with a total score of 25 points... It was also the last time he and his Chinese teacher discussed about composition.

Chu Li raised her hand: "The memory killing is paused. Teacher, I have a question: In this case, it is hard to imagine that Mr. Zhou Gu Xuan, as a literati, would ignore this situation... It is precisely because he is a literary creator, he has a basic judgment on the quality of an article. Why didn't he go to school for you to educate the Chinese teacher well?"

After the first literati finished speaking, he immediately saw Zhou Chuan showing a sarcastic expression: "It's such a good question - do you think the relationship between the father and son of the Zhou family is so harmonious that everyone in the literary world knows why?... Don't pretend I don't believe you haven't heard anything from Lao Miao or Yu Yao. If my old man was the one who would stand on my side at that time..."

The man paused. At this time, the two of them were walking to a nearby park. An old man and an old lady were dancing square dances in the square... The harmonious and cheerful atmosphere formed a sharp contrast between black and white with the indifference on the man's face.

Zhouchuan sat down next to the flower bed. The wind blew through it and brought the familiar fragrance of flowers from the night. His voice was almost blown away in the evening breeze with a hint of coolness.

"Sometimes I think that it may be a perfect match. After graduation, my Chinese teacher has been posing as a genius student who has never given a 55-point composition. He is always a genius writer Jiang Yucheng who is in tune with the tastes of most people. He is more suitable to be the son of my old man."

Chu Li raised her head blankly and looked at Zhou Chuan.

Zhouchuan; "My friend's story has not been finished yet, and it is even worse behind."

First Lecture: "????"

Damn it's not over yet?!

Damn it, there are even worse things?!

Not good?...

As Chukawa said, the whole story is not over yet.

If you want to give these fragments of memories before you die in the future, if you look at the revolving lanterns of life, you will definitely have a strong competition on the day when you are ridiculed by the Chinese teacher at school during the day, "I think you are not so well written."

Because things didn't end with such bad tempers during the day.

When Zhouchuan returned home at night, he realized that the Chinese teacher had already communicated with Zhouchuan’s parents about things that Zhouchuan’s composition would always be non-mainstream: the reason was that he was worried that this time the composition would give Zhouchuan an illusion that “it was OK to write like this”, and then he made mistakes again and again.

So, after the young man came home from evening study, he didn't even have time to drink a sip of water, so he was called into his father's study and asked why he couldn't write the composition according to the teacher's request and was the most beneficial way for the exam.

Zhou Gu Xuan, when I was very loud, Zhou Chuan guessed that this was probably why the study was asked to be soundproofed during decoration - not to prevent people inside from being disturbed, but to prevent people outside from eavesdropping...

"Your teacher talks about the son of the old Jiang family next door all day long. Don't think he is much better than you - in terms of writing skills, how much worse is my son of Gu Xuan than him?! But they just write argumentative essays in a regular manner, relying on writing skills to achieve high scores. They can, why do you have to take the wrong steps?!"

"You Chinese teacher asked you to memorize composition materials, but the whole class will memorize them, but you won't memorize them - come here, come here, let me see if there are any thorns or reverse scales on your spine!"

"You Chinese teacher is difficult to do, do you know? A student asked him: Teacher Zhouchuan's composition is so bad, so why do we have to memorize the materials?"

"I'm embarrassed for you! The literati are proud, you are not a literati yet! Where does the pride come from?!"

At that time, Zhou Chuan didn't speak. He had answered similar questions hundreds of times, and he also heard similar questions and had a calloused ear.

At this time, he made a time machine with Doraemon and had the chance to do it again, and he would never do another action: his swaying eyes finally stopped on a stack of manuscripts on his father's study desk - the manuscripts were some of the colors had even turned yellow, from the neat font at the top to the messy middle, and then returned to neat...

Thick stack.

If we count from three hundred to four hundred words per piece of paper, then such a stack of paper should be conservatively estimated to have more than ten or two hundred thousand words... This is Zhouchuan's handwritten manuscript, the handwritten manuscript of the first novel - from the beginning of high school, in the era when electronic equipment was not so developed at that time, and some magazines took over the writing of manuscripts, the boy used his spare time during breaks, physical education classes, and Chinese classes to write his handwritten manuscripts one by one.

About three days ago, he handed them to his father for a review.

At this time, probably noticed the boy's gaze. Zhou Gu Xuan stopped talking, picked up the manuscripts, and threw them at the boy standing on the other side of the desk: "I read these manuscripts halfway, and the structure is scattered and imaginative. The most important thing is that the male protagonist has no great ideals except for the goal of finding his own scabbard and his father's whereabouts, and lacks practical educational significance-"

The boy watched the manuscript paper that had been neatly coded scattered and fell to the ground.

"If you have this time to write such meaningless things, you might as well think about how to write a formatted, high-scoring essay like exam-oriented education - it's hard to imagine that you have spent time on such things in the past few years... What is the meaning of literary creation? What is the purpose? What can readers get when reading? What do you learn? Your things may be sold, but they will always be positioned as a 'commodity'-"

The boy bent down and picked up the manuscript paper that fell on the ground.

"This kind of novel that is only for entertainment can never be called 'literary'." Zhou Gu Xuan's voice sounded very firm and disgusted. "If you want to write something, write it well. After the college entrance examination, I can even teach you how to create correctly, but now you don't waste your time and energy on such meaningless things."

juvenile:"……"

No one can bear the loss of being repeatedly disappointed with expectations twice a day.
To be continued...