Chapter 54

It was morning.

The Beijing Radio Station.

The grand hall on the top floor was packed with people, and many hosts and staff from various radio frequencies had come. All programs had given the green light for today's Mid-Autumn Poetry Competition.

Zhang Ye had a stomachache and was squatting in the toilet on the top floor. It might be because he had eaten too many instant noodles recently. Even the Instant Noodle Hero had his limits, and his intestines were rebelling. While squatting, he held his phone and went online, discovering that the Mid-Autumn Poetry Competition organized by the radio station was already being heavily promoted. Not only was the station's website buzzing, but advertisements had also been placed on some large forums and portal sites. Today was a public holiday, and most people were at home resting and celebrating with their families and friends. Midday was the perfect time for a family gathering and casual chat. With nothing else to do, listening to the poetry competition was a good choice. The radio station had chosen a great time to hold the event.

Online discussions were heated, with countless comments.

"Poetry competition? Great!"

"This is a must-listen!"

"The one held by the Tianjin radio station last year was excellent, with many good poems."

"Ha, this year it's even better. Haven't you seen that the teachers from the Writers' Association are all here? I bet at least one classic Mid-Autumn poem will come out of this."

Some had heard about the Twitter war from yesterday or knew Zhang Ye.

"Hey? Meng Dongguo? Xiao Hong Mushroom, the fairy tale writer, is also here? And Da Lei? The poet who looked down on Teacher Zhang Ye?"

"Ha ha! There's going to be a show!"

"Right, I remember Zhang Ye is from the Beijing Radio Station, right? Is the cultural frequency broadcasting it today? Will Teacher Zhang Ye also be at the scene?"

"Exactly, it's a perfect match!"

"Yesterday's argument, today's encounter—enemies always meet!"

"Will Teacher Zhang Ye also recite a poem? I'm looking forward to it!"

"I don't know, his name isn't on the list, only the people from the Writers' Association are!"

There were supporters of Zhang Ye's poetry, but more were fans of the teachers like Meng Dongguo, who didn't recognize Zhang Ye's literary talent!

"Still not convinced? Still talking about Zhang Ye?"

"Don't bother with those people. You can't reason with them; they just spout nonsense!"

"It's right that Zhang Ye's name isn't on the list. The teachers made it clear yesterday that this person is just a show-off. How could he write poetry? In such a grand setting, a live Mid-Autumn poetry competition, letting Zhang Ye on stage would be a joke. His poems might fool the uninformed, but the experts would just laugh. Letting him on stage would be a disaster."

"Ha ha, I bet Zhang Ye wouldn't dare go on stage!"

"Exactly, if you don't have the skills, don't take on the job!"

"I actually hope Zhang Ye goes on stage. Without a comparison, people can't see his true face. With so many teachers here, everyone can see what real poetry is. Zhang Ye's amateurish poems will be exposed, and the teachers can educate the younger generation!"

"Support!"

"What is Zhang Ye, anyway?"

"Such a person is just a show-off. I bet he won't dare go on stage today. Have you seen the sentences he used to insult people? A writer, a poet, shouldn't talk like that. He clearly lacks the demeanor of a writer. The teachers are right; he can't write poetry!"

Most of the comments were skeptical about Zhang Ye. He stopped reading and disconnected from the internet, then left the bathroom.

The important figures arrived last. As the poetry competition was about to start, some leaders from the station and invited guests from the Writers' Association were just entering.

Zhang Ye happened to meet them at the door.

Deputy Director Jia smiled and led them inside, "Chairman Meng, this is our grand hall. I remember you came here two years ago, right?"

Meng Dongguo, a fat man in his forties with a full head of hair, nodded, "Yes, I came once. That time was for a meeting. It's been two years since I last saw Director Jia. You still look great, no change at all. I'm not so lucky; look at these wrinkles."

Deputy Director Jia seemed to have a good relationship with him, "Ha ha, don't be silly. My hair is falling out. You still look great."

At this moment, a group of young women from the station saw them and rushed over!

"Teacher Meng! Are you Teacher Meng?" A twenty-year-old girl was very excited. She stopped her work of adjusting the external lines and rushed over, "I'm your fan. I really, really like your poems. My mother used to read your poems to me when I was a child. I grew up listening to your works. Oh, I'm so excited! Can you sign for me?"

Deputy Director Jia waved his hand, "The event is about to start."

Meng Dongguo said, "No problem, old brother. Signing won't take long. Come, little girl."

The girl got her signature and left happily.

Seeing how approachable Meng Dongguo was, several other young women and men came up for signatures.

Some even ran to the back, not caring if the leaders were willing, and found their idols and favorite teachers for signatures.

"Aunt Xiao Hong Mushroom! Can I have your signature? I grew up listening to your fairy tales, I really like you!" A young man said nervously.

Xiao Hong Mushroom was a bit overweight but dressed beautifully and young. She smiled, "Sure, where do you want me to sign?"

"Teacher Da Lei!" Someone else approached, "Your poems are always on my phone screen. Can I take a photo with you? Just one!"

Da Lei was a tall and strong Northeastern man with a heavy Northeastern accent. According to his profile, he was from Beijing, but perhaps he grew up in the Northeast.

"Of course! Come on!"

Signatures, photos.

The teachers from the Writers' Association were quite popular and surrounded. It's no wonder, as they were all well-known in Beijing. The radio station broadcasted their works sometimes, so the staff were familiar with them and some even admired them.

Da Lei? Meng Dongguo? Xiao Hong Mushroom?

Among the dozen or so people behind them, the fans' shouts seemed to indicate that there was also romance author Zheng Anbang?

Weren't these the people who insulted me yesterday? Hey, they're all here today, not a single one missing?

Zhang Ye glanced at them, memorizing a few faces. Suddenly, someone called him.

"Teacher Zhang Ye, oh, I finally found you. I've saved a seat for you. Our cultural frequency is in the middle back. I'll take you there," a young man who had just joined the cultural broadcast said.

"Okay, let's go," Zhang Ye followed into the hall.

Zhang Ye?

He's Zhang Ye?

Upon hearing this, Meng Dongguo, Da Lei, Xiao Hong Mushroom, and others all looked over.

Da Lei, who wasn't familiar with the situation, had no impression of the name. Only after seeing Meng Dongguo's expression did he remember and asked, "Which Zhang Ye? The one who writes so-called modern poetry?"

Xiao Hong Mushroom said, "That's him."

Deputy Director Jia confirmed, "Yes, what's the matter?"

Da Lei said, "He works at the radio station? I just found out."

Zheng Anbang said to Deputy Director Jia, "No problem, Director Jia. We talked about him online yesterday. He can't write poetry at all, and what he writes isn't literature. Chairman Meng, as a senior, said a few words to him, but he was quite不服气 (unwilling to accept it). He wasn't humble at all and even wrote a poem to refute it. What a mess! Chairman Meng and we, as seniors, tried to kindly guide him, but he didn't appreciate it, treating our kindness as a slap in the face!"

Deputy Director Jia suddenly understood and laughed, "Zhang Ye is new. His ghost stories are decent, but poetry... how can he compare to you all? Ha ha."

Meng Dongguo waved his hand, "Let's not talk about him, old brother. Shall we go in?"

"Let's go, the event is about to start." Deputy Director Jia and a few small leaders from the station led them into the hall and sat them in the front row.

People around looked at each other.

"Did you see Zhang Ye's Weibo yesterday?"

"Of course, I didn't expect them to meet today!"

"I think something is going to happen. Who doesn't know Zhang Ye's temper? Wherever he goes, there's always trouble. I hope they don't start fighting."

"It won't come to that, they won't fight."

"Scholars look down on each other. The people from the Writers' Association say Zhang Ye doesn't understand literature. With Zhang Ye's personality, he won't just sit there. He's the type who would argue with colleagues and even defy the station's leadership. I bet today won't be peaceful."

In other frequencies of the radio station, Zhang Ye was already very famous. Everyone knew him, so when they understood the situation, they felt a sense of impending conflict.

...

In the middle back of the grand hall.

Zhang Ye sat in his seat, with Wang Xiaomei on his left and Wu Datao on his right. He had a conflict with Wu Datao, so there was nothing to talk about. Wang Xiaomei was known for being quiet and didn't communicate much with Zhang Ye. So, Zhang Ye had no choice but to look at his phone.

Unfortunately, the signal was poor.

The hall's soundproofing was too good, blocking the signal.

Zhang Ye tried several times to connect to the internet and checked the Mid-Autumn Poetry Competition page on the radio station's official website. The competition had already started, with many listeners and people from all walks of life submitting their works. There were ancient poems, lyrics, modern poems, and original songs about the Mid-Autumn Festival. There were no prizes, but there was honor. Winning the top three would definitely boost one's reputation in the circle, so many people participated.

However, the quality of the submissions was not impressive.

"Moon, my moon, you are so beautiful..."

"Mid-Autumn Festival, every family eats mooncakes, one after another."

Zhang Ye almost cried. The voting had already started, but even the top-ranked poem was mediocre, with low quality.

The door of the hall closed.

The last bit of signal was cut off, and Zhang Ye couldn't go online. He put away his phone and thought about how to clear his name!

My poetry is bad?

My poetry lacks literary value?

This wasn't just a denial of Zhang Ye but also a denial of the literary masters in his world. Zhang Ye found it laughable. If this were his world, would Meng Dongguo and the others dare to question these things? They would be beaten to death!