Xu Mang’s Work

The number of participants in the city-wide essay composition competition this year had reached an all-new high, thus, the workload for approving and scoring had also increased a lot. This time, the task was undertaken by the members of the city's Writers Association. 

Although they were nobody famous, they were still people who had a good grasp of literature and could at least judge whether the essay was good or bad.

Because the topics given were quite open-ended, each essay was carefully screened and read to find the relevant points that resonated with the titles. If it was passable, it would go to the next stage of review. Naturally, the works that were eliminated in the first step would be sent for reexamination.

The procedures were a bit cumbersome and tedious, but it was because of these procedures that made it worth it to the students who participated. It was their hard work after all.

"Hm! Not bad at all." An elderly man was reading a random student's article, and he nodded his head as he praised it. "This student has written extremely well, it's the best I've seen so far."

"Oh?"

"I'm very intrigued by this article. It was written from the viewpoint of an old pharaoh." 

A random young man from the office had bounded over to the older man's side, briefly glancing through the article, showing the same expression of the older man and probably even more exaggerated than him.

"This is more than just good!"

"It's just...it's perfect!" The younger man continued, "I dare to say this now, this will definitely enter the top ten!"

"Eh!"

"Don't simply jump to conclusions, this is just the beginning. You never know what will happen later on." The older man said with a smile. "You youngsters are always in such a hurry to complete your tasks. Be careful, you might not get a part in next year's titles."

"That's true!"

Having said that, the young man hurried back to join in the fray of work once again.

However, the quiet atmosphere didn't last for long. One after another, good news spread throughout the office. These were nothing more than just simple news of 'this essay is good', 'that article is even better', and so on.

There were also some strange ones, for example, 'how did this student get in as a participant'.

As time went by, everyone's limit had been reached. Most of the essays submitted were similar, and looking at all these repetitive essays was like recycling old bottles into new, or packaging old things in new wrappings. With such constant repetition, anyone would feel the weariness from reviewing them.

Of course, not every participant's work was like that. One of the participants was called Yang Xiaoman, and her work was well-received by all present. Although her writing style was similar to some others, the feelings within it were more delicate than most.

Reading her work, there was a sense of peace and healing from it, instantly washing away the fatigue from their body.

"Come to think of it, what was the name of the one sleeping that time?" One of the members of the Writer's Association suddenly asked.

"Something like...I think he was called Xu something."

"Xu Mang!"

"Yeah, that's right. It's him, Xu Mang."

Every member of the Writer's Association felt a sense of admiration toward Xu Mang, not because of his work, but because of his pure boldness. Being able to sleep so deeply in this kind of occasion, it was a first to be seen, and would probably be the last.

"Say...this student called Xu Mang, did he finish and submit his work during the competition?" The young man from before asked.

Yeah! Let's look at the kind of work this guy produced.

Very quickly, Xu Mang's work was brought in front of everyone. Firstly, based on impression, it was passable. His writing was not the most beautiful, but at least it was readable. In terms of his error in writing the characters, it was also satisfactory, nothing really special about it.

In terms of content…

The expressions of all who were reading Xu Mang's essay gradually changed to unreadable and their breathing also became laboured.

The title was 'Love And Fire', and there were no changes made to it. Under normal circumstances, it was hard to find resonating points that could connect properly for such topics. Since this displayed a lazy attitude by not making any changes...he was even too lazy to create a proper title, could the content be any better?

Perhaps it was because they were in an unknown territory, but everyone present paid more attention to the content. The title...it wasn't that important.

Because this had been written by Xu Mang.

The story was about a father and son pair, where the father was made of wood, and the son was made of metal. The son's life came from a small stove in his body, and this meant that the son needed to consume wood in order to live.

The father made a pinwheel toy for his son to play with, but the son ate one of its blades. The father didn't scold his son for it but instead continued to love and spoil him more.

The son continued to grow day by day, and the furniture and items in their home gradually dwindled down. It seemed as though the son ate whatever he could get his hands on and the father would just restore and repair the items that his son had eaten or broken. Finally, the father's speed at repairing the things could not keep up with his son's appetite.

There were only a few beams left in their home, but the son didn't hesitate to consume those either, and in the end, the house collapsed…

The father looked at the ruins sadly, sitting down at the side. The son was at a loss at how to deal with him because he was also sad, but at the same time, he was helpless and unable to control his appetite.

Then, thunder struck, and rain fell.

The father was snapped out of his daze and back to reality by that, and he realized that his son was gone. The rain fell heavily and the winds were howling, and the father was becoming more anxious as he still couldn't find his son. Suddenly, not far away, the father saw some smoke rising. 

It was his son.

The stove in his body had burnt out, and he was dead.

The father was devastated. He desperately dug through the ruins and found the pinwheel toy that he had made for him, the one with a missing blade.

At this time, the wind blew harshly, spinning the pinwheel. As the father watched the pinwheel spin, a thought came to him.

The pinwheel replaced the stove, and accompanied by the wind, his son lived once again…

The story ended here.

The people present were all deeply touched. Even though it was just a story told from beginning to end, the story lingered within their memories, leaving a deep impression, especially the ending. It wasn't the father sacrificing himself to save his son, although...it could have been written that way too.

However, it would obviously not be as ideal an ending as this. What was love? Love was not unlimited tolerance, endless spoiling, nor constant indulgence, which would only make the son take everything for granted.

In the end, the essay never defined what love was, but the members of the Writer's Association could understand the points from the content.

Love was an existence where giving and receiving were balanced. Only when you extinguished the flames of desire would you be able to gain true love.

"You guys...what do you all think of this?" The older man asked. "Compared to the other works, how does this measure up?"

"I don't know, but there is one thing I'm certain of...if this piece of work doesn't get first place, I will hang myself." The young man, who now stood beside the older man, said earnestly.

Everyone present unanimously agreed to this point.

"Eh! I heard that Xu Mang was expelled from his school!"

At this random piece of news from one of the members, it snapped everyone present back to reality, as though waking them up from a dream. The old man furrowed his brows and said angrily, "What kind of principal do they have, expelling a student like this? Is it because he was sleeping during the competition?"

The identity of this old man was not someone simple. He wasn't just the chairman of the Municipal Writer's Association, but he was also a representative of the People's Congress in the city. They were determined to promote the improvement of cultural literacy of elementary and middle school students in the city as well as to discover students with literary potential. And yet, now that Xu Mang had emerged, he had been expelled from school.

"You all carry on, I'm going to find Old He." The old man said, leaving after that one sentence.

The 'Old He' that the old man had mentioned was referring to the head of the Municipal Education Bureau. The two had a long standing friendship, and rumor has it that they had known each other for more than 50 years.

The other members of the Writer's Association couldn't help but laugh as they watched the old man storm off. He was already in his 70's but his temper was still so explosive at times. There must have been reasons for the principal to have expelled Xu Mang. The situation had spiraled off with such exaggeration, the online public opinions were all one-sided. It was most likely a completely reasonable action.

"Don't think too much about it, let's continue."

"Tell me, for real...has there been any other works that would surpass Xu Mang's?"

"Uh...there shouldn't be any. I felt that Yang Xiaoman's was the best until Xu Mang's essay appeared. Both are of high quality, but if you compare the two...Xu Mang's work was definitely marvelous on another level."

"I think so too."