funbook-pk Chapter 2 Guo Jingming Helped Me Become an Artistic God
Chapter 2 Guo Jingming Helped Me Become an Artistic God
After my spirit level increased to 17, the problems in dance class decreased day by day.
Yesterday my spins were off-center, but today I can stand still. A few days ago my gliding steps were unsteady, but today I've caught up with the rhythm.
The way Teacher Sun looked at him changed.
In previous classes, she looked at him like he was a monster who deserved to be beaten to death. After a few classes, her gaze softened and became, "Not bad, he's made some progress."
Later on, she stopped saying anything and just nodded at him occasionally as a sign of approval.
I no longer embarrass myself in basic dance classes, but the problem of making a living still exists.
The cafeteria at the Affiliated High School of Beijing Dance Academy only serves students one meat dish per meal.
Three or four pieces of ribs, or a few pieces of chicken, as precise as if weighed on a balance scale.
The rule that practitioners need to maintain their physique has its reasons, but Li Si'an can't stand it.
In his past life, he was a carnivore who couldn't live without meat, and he didn't even like eating a purely vegetarian breakfast. Now, he's given just a few pieces of meat at every meal, like feeding a cat. After eating like that for half a month, his mouth felt bland.
I can't live like this anymore. I have to earn money to improve my life.
How can I make money? By copying songs? Even if I copy them, I won't find anyone to buy them. Nobody will trust a 15-year-old kid.
Copying movies and writing screenplays are all based on the same principle.
After much thought, I realized that writing is still the most reliable option.
Didn't all the protagonists in those online novels I read in my past life do the same thing after they transmigrated?
Being a plagiarist is a path already paved by countless reborn predecessors; there's no need to pioneer it yourself.
However, there's no internet for writing online novels now. Writing a traditionally published long novel would take too long, and his limited memory wouldn't be enough to support a long novel.
After his Spirit was increased to 17, his memory improved a lot, but it was not yet at the level of photographic memory. He could remember the main idea and key details of the articles he read, but he could not repeat them word for word.
Then he'll have to submit articles to magazines for now. The process is short, and the money comes quickly—a few hundred yuan a piece, enough for him to eat braised pork for several months.
In her past life, when Li Si'an was in high school, she would buy a copy of "Zhiyin" magazine at the newsstand at the station before taking the bus home every month and read it all the way back.
He knew the articles in "Zhiyin" magazine all too well—unfortunate women, unfaithful men, sensible children, always beginning with "If it weren't for that accident," and always ending with "tears blurred my vision."
After reading so many, he could guess what the next paragraph would be even with his eyes closed.
In 2007, the "Zhiyin style" became popular on Tianya, and he followed along for several days.
Later, I casually searched for the manuscript fees of "Zhiyin" and found out that this magazine had been famous for its high manuscript fees since the late 1980s.
He earned 100 to 300 yuan per thousand words, and one article could cover his living expenses for several months. At the time, he didn't take it to heart; he wasn't cut out for writing anyway.
Things are different now. He has stories from decades in the future in his mind. It would be a waste not to use this advantage to make money.
On Wednesday evening during self-study, Li Si'an sat in the last row by the window and took out draft paper and a fountain pen from the drawer.
He selected a post he had seen on Tianya in his previous life.
The girl was switched at birth and grew up in a poor family. Later, her biological parents came looking for her, only to find out they were wealthy. However, she had already developed a deep bond with her adoptive parents and ultimately chose to acknowledge both of them.
It's melodramatic, full of conflict and tear-jerking moments, perfect for the magazine "Zhiyin".
The title he wrote was: "Young girl in the prime of your life, what made you burst into tears when faced with the choice between two sets of parents?"
He himself found the title amusing, but there was nothing he could do; Zhiyin magazine just loved that kind of thing.
He wrote 1,500 words during the two-hour evening self-study session. He continued writing during Thursday's evening self-study session and finished the rest.
In the last paragraph, he also wrote a touch of warmth—the adopted daughter eventually recognized her biological parents, but she would return to her adoptive parents' home for holidays, and the elders on both sides would call her "daughter".
This is the approach of "Zhiyin" magazine; tragedy alone is not enough, there must be that kind of "smile through tears".
On Friday at noon, he dropped the envelope into the mailbox at the school gate.
The remittance slip arrived two weeks later on Friday afternoon. I opened it: sample magazine, remittance slip—three hundred and twenty dollars.
His monthly living expenses are 200 yuan, and this article is worth a month and a half.
From that day on, the cafeteria became an alternative for him.
He usually eats lunch and dinner on the street near the South Gate, ordering braised pork, sweet and sour pork ribs, and Kung Pao chicken in rotation.
The cafeteria's rule of only providing one meat dish per meal was no longer relevant to him.
Throughout 1993, from May to December, Li Si'an published seven articles in Zhiyin magazine, roughly one per month.
When I was writing the fourth article, the editorial department sent a letter saying that the payment had increased from 100 yuan per thousand words to 200 yuan per thousand words.
During the summer vacation, he wrote several more stories for "Teenagers". They were the kind of angst-filled literature about youth, the love-hate entanglements between boys and girls, misunderstandings, missed opportunities, regrets, and growth.
He read too many of Guo Jingming's magazines in his past life; he could write an article in one night. The payment was low, but it added up over time.
He didn't use a pen name when submitting his work to "Teenagers and Young Men," but instead used his real name—Li Si'an.
By the end of summer vacation, he had saved more than two thousand yuan.
Without much thought, he took his savings to Caibai Department Store and picked out three of the cheapest gold rings to make up ten grams. Back at his grandfather's house, he closed the door to the small house and absorbed the rings.
Current level: 2
Upgrade Required: 100 grams of gold
Available attribute points: 2
He put both attribute points into Constitution. In the spring, his Constitution was 11, and after eating well and training a lot during the summer vacation, it naturally rose to 12.
Adding 2 points, it's now 14. I didn't feel anything when it was added, just a warm current flowing through my body.
But things changed after school started.
He's grown taller, his shoulders have broadened, and he's wearing a size larger clothes. Liu Yang says he's "grown up like an inflating balloon."
One evening in mid-October, he was taking a shower in the bathroom when he inadvertently glanced into the broken mirror on the wall.
His shoulders have broadened, his chest and abdomen are more defined, and even his penis has been upgraded from "good enough" to "something to show off".
He looked at himself in the mirror for two seconds and smiled. He'd wondered if all the effort to improve his physique had been wasted, but now it seemed it hadn't.
However, the physical changes were only one aspect. What truly made him famous at school was something else entirely.
The magazine "Teenagers" is frequently read by students at the Affiliated High School of Beijing Dance Academy.
They would flip through the pages while waiting for food in the cafeteria, or while lying in their dorm rooms. The stories of youthful love were exactly what these fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girls loved to read.
Nobody reads "Zhiyin" magazine, but almost everyone owns a copy of "Teenagers and Young Men".
An article by Li Si'an was published in the September issue of a magazine, signed "Li Si'an". Someone saw it and it spread throughout the class.
"Someone in our class published an article in Teen Magazine."
Who is it?
"Li Si'an. The one—the one sitting in the last row."
At first, only people in that class knew. Later, other classes found out, and then the whole grade knew.
In the 1990s, students who could publish articles in magazines were extremely rare in an arts-focused vocational school.
The girls at the Affiliated High School of Beijing Dance Academy have seen plenty of good-looking boys—this place is never short of good-looking people—but there are very few who are both good-looking and good at writing.
Moreover, he writes the kind of angst-filled youth literature. The missed opportunities, separations, and reunions between boys and girls—those bittersweet stories that leave you sighing by the end.
Girls aged fifteen or sixteen are most susceptible to this kind of thing. After reading it, they will discuss it, and after the discussion, they will want to find out what the author looks like.
Then they discovered that Li Si'an was exceptionally beautiful.
He already looked a lot like Takuya Kimura, about 70-80% similar, that's just the way it is. After returning from summer vacation, he grew a lot taller.
His shoulders have broadened, he's grown up, and his facial features are more defined than before. He has a youthful look mixed with a touch of ruggedness, making him stand out in a crowd.
It was as if the protagonist from his own novel had appeared in real life.
Being able to write well and being handsome—these two qualities combined are not just a matter of one plus one equaling two, but ten.
I don't know who started it, but by October, the name "White Horse Talent" had spread throughout the school.
It started when a few girls were chatting privately and called him that, saying that he was handsome and fashionable, a prince charming, and that he could write articles that could be published in magazines, a talented man. So they called him "Prince Charming".
As it was passed around, it became a public nickname.
People would stare at him when he walked down the corridor, and people would offer him their seats when he went to the cafeteria. During class, the girl from the next class would lean on the windowsill and look inside—she was looking at him.
The title of "school heartthrob" fell naturally on his head. The girls in the school used a magazine, his face, and whispers throughout the autumn to force this title upon him.
Li Si'an's attitude towards this nickname was that she seemed indifferent on the surface, but secretly she was pleased.
In his past life, he was of average appearance and never enjoyed this kind of treatment.
Sometimes when he's walking on the playground, if he hears someone behind him whisper, "That's him," he'll unconsciously straighten his back a little.
There's no way around it; even a forty-year-old man can't resist vanity.