086 The Mother-in-Law’s Rampage—Whom Did She Even Offend? Please Vote Monthly

“That Old Qian!”

At the breakfast table, Father Feng was reading a copy of the Wen Hui Daily when he suddenly shook his head and chuckled ruefully, “No wonder he insisted on giving me this newspaper earlier!”

The Feng family, parents and children alike, either had jobs or attended school, so they never bothered to subscribe to newspapers at home. Usually, there were plenty of papers available at their workplaces every day.

Just earlier, when Father Feng had returned from strolling in the front yard, he happened to run into Old Qian, who stubbornly pressed this Wen Hui Daily into his hands, urging him to read it carefully! Father Feng was hurried back to breakfast by his grandson Feng Liwen and hadn’t read it on the spot. Now, looking it over, he couldn’t help but laugh in delight.

“What happened? What’s Old Qian up to now? Did he contribute another article to the Wen Hui Daily?”

Mother Feng glanced up, wondering how long it had been since Old Qian last submitted anything to newspapers or magazines—he’d been absorbed in his research for ages. Why did he suddenly find time to write for Wen Hui Daily?

“Maybe he was provoked last time; Old Qian wrote a review for Xuemin’s work!”

“But he didn’t give Li Qingquan any face—he wrote a criticism!”

Father Feng handed the newspaper to Mother Feng, smiling wryly as he explained.

“Really?! Old Qian wrote a review for Xuemin?”

Now not just Mother Feng, but even the youngest Feng Jia You and the elder brother and sister-in-law who were eating breakfast looked up, astonished.

Whether it was praise or criticism, at Old Qian’s level, it hardly mattered. The fact that he bothered to write a review was already an honor, showing support for her son-in-law.

Just as in later times, even negative attention was attention—critics were fans too!

“But Old Qian’s criticism is a little too sharp, isn’t it? Did our Xuemin provoke him somehow?”

Mother Feng had been secretly pleased that Old Qian from the front yard would write a review for her son-in-law, and in Wen Hui Daily no less, which meant substantial influence. Even if it was critical, it proved her son-in-law’s work had caught Old Qian’s discerning eye.

But she hadn’t expected the critique to be so fierce—it was as if he had no regard for her Gu Xueqing’s feelings, mercilessly lambasting her son-in-law!

“Mom, what exactly did Grandpa Qian write?”

Feng Jia You was curious too; what had Grandpa Qian written to rile her mother, the wife of the ‘Horseman’ author, so much?

Cheng Xuemin was equally puzzled. Just a few days ago, Old Qian had told them face to face that Yanjing Literature had indeed published a major piece, and that ‘The Horseman’ was excellent.

So how had it suddenly turned into a harsh critique? And to infuriate his mother-in-law so thoroughly, Old Qian’s pen must have been razor sharp!

“No, I need to go to the front yard and have a word with Old Qian. Even if it’s criticism, he shouldn’t be so harsh—he ought to give new authors a bit of face!”

Unable to contain herself, Mother Feng stood up, ready to storm into the front yard and confront Old Qian.

“You… Actually, Old Qian isn’t wrong either. Xuemin, you should read it yourself—it’s not really criticism.”

Father Feng smiled wryly again, holding Mother Feng in place. “Besides, Old Qian doesn’t know Xuemin is the author!”

That was true!

Mother Feng realized Old Qian genuinely didn’t know that ‘The Horseman’ was written by her son-in-law. If he did, given they lived just next door, he would have praised her son-in-law to the skies, even in a review.

Ah! If only she’d known Old Qian would criticize it, she should have told him directly—her son-in-law Cheng Xuemin wrote it!

“Eh?! Xuemin’s ‘The Horseman’ isn’t trauma literature? Grandpa Qian has classified it as reflective literature?”

Feng Jia You took the Wen Hui Daily from her mother and read it together with Cheng Xuemin. After a quick glance, she exclaimed in surprise.

“Reflective literature?”

Cheng Xuemin was startled. Old Qian’s insight was truly sharp—someone had finally introduced this concept in a review of ‘The Horseman’!

In his previous life, ‘The Horseman’ had been regarded as the pioneering work of ‘reflective literature,’ not simply trauma literature like Liu Xinwu’s ‘The Class Teacher’ or Lu Xinhua’s ‘Scar.’

Its historical significance in literary circles was precisely as the founding work of reflective literature.

At first, Cheng Xuemin had wanted to guide Feng Jia You to evaluate ‘The Horseman’ from this angle, but quickly abandoned the idea. The mainstream was promoting trauma literature; self-promotion by a novice author insisting ‘The Horseman’ was reflective literature would seem arrogant.

Just because you wrote ‘The Horseman,’ you think you can claim to be the founder?

So he refrained from steering Feng Jia You that way, deciding to let time do its work. Reflective literature would be recognized in due course, and someone would eventually propose the concept.

What surprised Cheng Xuemin was that the first to do so was Old Qian from the front yard.

The critique was sharp and incisive. But with Old Qian’s definition of ‘reflective literature,’ ‘The Horseman’ was established as its foundational work. Cheng Xuemin owed Old Qian a debt for this!

Even critics are fans, and Old Qian, as a ‘critical fan,’ had truly helped Cheng Xuemin, securing his place as the leading figure of reflective literature.

Wait and see! Once Old Qian’s review starts to circulate, it will spark a wave of ‘reflection,’ dispersing the heavy atmosphere of trauma literature.

After all, Old Qian was a titan of the literary world; his words carried far more weight than Cheng Xuemin’s own claims.

“Let me see too!”

Feng Jia Zhao, the elder brother-in-law, was eager to look, pulling at the newspaper to read.

“Old Qian! Old Qian! Qian Lao, Qian Lao, listen to my explanation, please!”

Was that Li Qingquan’s voice?

Suddenly, from the front yard came the voice of Li Qingquan, editor of Yanjing Literature. Father and Mother Feng were bewildered.

They exchanged glances—could it be that Li Qingquan had truly forgotten Old Qian, and only after seeing today’s Wen Hui Daily rushed over early in the morning?

“Let’s go see!”

Mother Feng was always ready for a spectacle, especially when it happened right at her doorstep—why miss out!

“You…” Father Feng wanted to stop her, but knowing his wife’s temperament, he could hardly keep her from going.

Truth be told, he wanted in on the gossip himself, so he followed.

Naturally, the rest of the family wouldn’t be left behind—Feng Jia You and Feng Jia Zhao joined in.

“Xuemin, let’s go see the commotion too!”

Feng Jia You dragged Cheng Xuemin along to the front yard.

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Not long ago!

No. 7 West Chang’an Avenue, Yanjing Literature’s office—Editor-in-Chief Li Qingquan arrived as usual.

Recently, Li Qingquan had barely had a moment’s rest. Since they published ‘The Horseman’ by Old Xu, their magazine’s sales had soared.

Now, with a new installment from Old Xu, Li Qingquan came to check the latest sales figures. He’d also arranged a lunch with Liu Xinwu, editor of ‘October,’ Li Shuguang from Humanities Publishing, and Zhang Guangnian from People’s Literature.

But just as he arrived, Team Leader Zhou Yanru burst in, shouting, “Li! Li! Bad news, Old Qian has criticized us!”

“Old Qian criticized us? Isn’t that a good thing?”

Li Qingquan’s face flickered with surprise, then lit up with joy.

Never mind whether it was criticism or praise; a review from Old Qian was a tremendous honor for Yanjing Literature!

Why was Zhou so frantic?

“Good or not, I don’t know. But Li, I have to tell you: he criticized Old Xu’s ‘The Horseman’!”

“I just want to ask—have you invited Old Qian to next Wednesday’s symposium?”

Li Qingquan’s eyelids twitched—he’d really forgotten!

“I’ll go to his house myself right now!”

Unable to sit still, Li Qingquan realized he could forget anyone, but not this grand master!

Though Old Qian never bothered to attend invitations, coming or not was his choice—inviting was their duty!

Besides, Old Qian already had some grievances against Yanjing Literature, for reasons unclear.

Now, forgetting to invite him to the symposium was a disaster!

“Give me the newspaper!”

He rushed out, then hurried back to grab the Wen Hui Daily he hadn’t read yet.

So, early that morning, he rushed to Old Qian’s courtyard, nervous and anxious, wearing a sheepish smile as he entered. He found Old Qian practicing in the yard and greeted him, “Old Qian, Qian Lao, practicing as usual?”

“Ah, isn’t this the chief editor of Yanjing Literature? Who are you looking for? If you want the Foreign Languages Bureau’s Old Feng, he lives in the back, not the front.”

Old Qian continued his tai chi, not even sparing a glance.

He really had been forgotten by Li Qingquan, just as Old Feng and his wife had predicted!

In Yanjing, whenever a magazine or newspaper held a symposium or tea gathering, they would always invite Old Qian warmly.

But Yanjing Literature’s Li Qingquan, holding a symposium for ‘The Horseman,’ was about to start, yet still hadn’t invited him.

Yes! In ordinary times, if Li Qingquan forgot, Old Qian wouldn’t mind—he was above such petty concerns.

But with Old Feng and his wife living in the back, both insiders, why invite them and leave out Old Qian?

If Li Qingquan had sent the invitation early, even if Old Feng’s wife tried to stir things up, she couldn’t provoke Old Qian.

“Qian Lao, I’m here to visit you, truly!”

Li Qingquan dared not address him as Old Qian, switching to the more respectful ‘Qian Lao.’ He’d been overwhelmed with work, but that was no excuse.

“Visiting me?! You, Chief Editor Li, are so busy—can you really use an old man like me?!”

Old Qian kept practicing, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“I haven’t forgotten you, never! We’re holding a symposium for ‘The Horseman’ next Wednesday, Professor Ding will attend, and we hope you’ll support our new author!”

Li Qingquan flattered him.

“Ding Ling will be there?!”

Old Qian finally stopped, surprised. “Is this her first public appearance since her return?”

“Exactly!”

Li Qingquan grinned sheepishly.

Having Ding Ling attend the ‘Horseman’ symposium was beyond expectations. He couldn’t fathom why Ding Ling so fervently supported Old Xu, the author of ‘The Horseman.’

Did she know Old Xu’s identity? Li Qingquan checked Ding Ling’s connection to Old Xu—Cheng Xuemin—and found no link.

Nor did Ding Ling have ties to the Feng family.

So why did she champion ‘The Horseman’? Honestly, Li Qingquan was baffled.

Could it be that Ding Ling simply resonated with ‘The Horseman’?

“Who is this Old Xu, author of ‘The Horseman’? Ding Ling not only reviews him, but also attends his symposium?”

Old Qian asked again.

Wasn’t this odd? Ding Ling had only recently returned to Beijing, and hadn’t appeared publicly, staying low-profile while awaiting the restoration of her reputation.

Yet before any official recognition, she was already making waves—reviewing ‘The Horseman,’ attending its symposium, a complete shift from her usual modesty!

“Well… Actually, Qian Lao, you probably know the author of ‘The Horseman’!”

Li Qingquan glanced toward the back yard, tempted to reveal that the author lived right behind Old Qian.

“I should know him? Who is it?!”

“I’m getting old, my memory’s not what it used to be! Don’t play coy, Chief Editor Li—just tell me, don’t make me guess!”

“I’ll guess your uncle!”

Li Qingquan grimaced—if not for knowing Old Qian’s temperament, he’d have thought he was being insulted.

“Well… Considering the author’s wishes… he doesn’t want us to disclose his identity.”

“Go, go, go!”

Old Qian’s expression changed; if you’re not allowed to say, what are you still standing here for?

“Qian Lao, Qian Lao, please, hear me out!”

Li Qingquan pleaded, unable to vent his frustrations.

“How about this! Qian Lao, aren’t you curious who Old Xu, the author of ‘The Horseman,’ really is?”

“Aren’t you curious why Ding Ling supports ‘The Horseman’?”

“Come to our symposium, and I guarantee you’ll learn Old Xu’s true identity. You’ll be absolutely astonished, full of surprises!”

Li Qingquan’s eyes lit up as he saw Gu Xueqing, Mother Feng, coming from the back yard with her son-in-law and daughter—the author himself.

“I trust you about as much as a ghost…” Old Qian scoffed, then quickly added, “Old Li, you haven’t read today’s Wen Hui Daily yet, have you? Didn’t you see my review for Yanjing Literature?”

“Ah?!”

Suddenly the conversation shifted, and Li Qingquan was momentarily stunned, quickly realizing Old Qian was speaking for the benefit of the Feng family and promptly played along:

“Yes, yes! Not yet! I left in a hurry and haven’t read the paper. Did you write a review for us?”

“We’re deeply honored, deeply honored! Now you absolutely must attend our symposium!”

“Honor your uncle!” Old Qian cursed inwardly.

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