Dad, Please Try a Little Harder

In Qian Quan’s mind, his father had always been a bit of a traditional intellectual: skilled in calligraphy, knowledgeable in Chinese chess, fond of drinking, well-read, and concerned with national affairs.

Throughout his upbringing, his father played the role of a serious and profound paternal figure rather effectively.

Later on, as Qian Quan grew older, particularly after he entered high school, his father began to change his approach to interacting with him. He ceased being a dictator and stopped issuing commands; instead, he tried to treat Qian Quan with a more egalitarian attitude.

He started to view him as a grown child capable of independent thinking.

All m all, Qian Quan had always held a sense of reverence and respect toward his father. After gaining access to this mysterious system, those feelings not only remained but intensified.

So, when the system notified him that his father had written such a work, Qian Quan’s immediate reaction was disbelief. Absolutely impossible!

It wasn’t that he doubted his father’s talent; on the contrary, based on a chance reading of his father’s diary, which he had stumbled upon on his father’s bookshelf, he knew his father was an excellent writer. Submitting articles to magazines? Not a problem at all.

But that title, that theme…

Not to mention, his parents were about to celebrate their 20th anniversary. Furthermore, based on occasional tidbits from his mother, his father did indeed have a first love back in his youth someone who had knitted him a scarf, done his laundry, and brought him water. They’d grown apart because his father went off to further his studies.

All these elements matched. If his father’s school recently got a new female teacher, and she happened to be his superior, then this definitely warranted further investigation.

Qian Quan was an avid reader himself. He enjoyed various types of novels-be they classics, best-sellers, or web novels. He wasn’t one to conflate fiction with reality.

However, this piece of work by his father had a title so incredibly eye-catching that it was impossible to ignore.

Even though art is higher than life, it still ultimately originates from life.

Some signs should not even exist!

Right now, acting hastily was out of the question. He couldn’t confront his father directly, nor could he subtly hint at it. He needed to read the content first and gather complete information before making any judgments.

Clickbait was all the rage these days, after all.

For instance, one of Qian Quan’s friends had once been duped by a headline that screamed, “Shocking! Nurse in Hospital Caught Exposed, High-Res Photos Inside!”

Upon clicking, it turned out to be an empty nurse station. Literally, all the nurses were gone.

Talk about misleading…

Returning to his father’s work, it might have been a clickbait title chosen out of the pressure to attract readers. Or perhaps it was fictional, based on other people’s experiences. If he acted rashly, the whole situation could become awkward for everyone involved.

Moreover, from what he had observed, his parents’ relationship had always been very stable, even harmoniously loving. Most likely, he was overthinking things because of the shocking contrast presented by the title.

Lastly, there was a new reward:

The writing skills of a best-selling author.

Qian Quan didn’t experience a strikingly apparent reaction in his mind, unlike previous rewards for Wing Chun, basketball, and driving skills, which had felt like real training and transformation.

It was possible that he had just been too mesmerized by his father’s work to notice any subtle changes in his cognitive abilities.

After all, the skill of writing was a subjective one, something that occurred quietly and gradually. As a famous female writer had said, it was about being able to precisely articulate what you see and think, without the struggle of words failing to express one’s feelings.

This could be easily verified-just write something and the difference would be clear.

In fact, ever since learning about Ding Linlang’s venture into online novel writing, Qian Quan had entertained the thought of writing himself. He had contemplated various genres such as martial arts, urban, fantasy, and even sci-fi.

However, he felt he wasn’t ready for ’’perfection” yet, and so he hesitated to write.

On reflection, the notion of a “perfect state” was but a self-deceptive paradox. By not writing, one could forever imagine themselves approaching perfection. But because there was no substantial work to show for it, this ’’perfection” was merely self-consolation; nobody could validate it.

Ask and it’s still being polished. When my work is unveiled, it will surely amaze you all.

So, what is perfection?

Qian Quan suddenly had an answer.

To immediately put pen to paper and write the story in my mind in its entirety. That is perfection.

An executed yet imperfect plan was better than ten perfect plans that were never acted upon.

This shift in mindset might have been one of the effects of his latest reward.

Qian Quan sorted through his thoughts and sent a message in the family group chat:

“Attended a school event in the capital city yesterday, visited Tiananmen Square and the Summer Palace. Didn’t get to the Great Wall, though. Let’s plan a family trip to climb it sometime.”

After a moment, his mother replied with a voice message, “What kind of school event?”

Qian Quan replied, “It was a student club exchange. Ask Dad if he wants to go to the Great Wall.”

Dad quickly replied: “Sure, haven’t you heard the saying, ’He who has never been to the Great Wall is not a true man’? I’ve been wanting to take your mother there.”

Mom agreed, “Let’s go when we have time, and invite Linlang and her family too.”

Qian Quan said, “That’s what I was thinking.”

Having sent the message, a weight lifted off Qian Quan’s shoulders.

Just as he was amused by this, a message from Ding Linlang popped up, jarringly startling him:

“Qian Quan, a boy has confessed his feelings to me.”

Qian Quan was shocked, “What???”

Rolling the clock back by half an hour, almost to the minute when Qian Quan’s high-speed train had left from Jinling South Station.

An event unfolded at Fudan University. A male student, in broad daylight, confessed his feelings to a female student.

The boy was from his second year in Economics, named Xu Congfeng, a local from Azure Bay. His father was a surgeon at a top-tier hospital, and his mother a high-ranking bank executive, a classic “tall, rich, and handsome” native of Azure Bay.

He’d had only two girlfriends in college so far, both of whom had pursued him.

This was the first time he was confessing his feelings.

And the girl he confessed to was none other than Ding Linlang.

“Before I met you, I didn’t believe in love at first sight. But the moment I saw you typing intently at your computer in the library, I was smitten. It was as if, in that instant, all the flowers in the world bloomed simultaneously.

“This is the first time in my life I’ve felt this way about a girl. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend immediately; all I ask is for an opportunity to take you out for dinner and to go shopping with you.”

Xu Congfeng’s carefully crafted confession was not empty talk. Indeed, he had first laid eyes on Ding Linlang at the library. He was truly mesmerized by her stunning beauty and her icy demeanor.

After snapping a photo, he gathered information about Ding Linlang’s class schedule to plan this confession.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe in love at first sight, and I already have someone to go out to eat and shop with. So, don’t waste your time here,” Ding Linlang curtly replied.

“Do you mean you already have a boyfriend?” Xu Congfeng persisted.

“No.”

“Then there’s still a chance for me.”

“There isn’t.”

“Who knows what the future holds?” Xu Congfeng said with a confident smile,

“I’m not one to give up easily.”

Ding Linlang paused and said, “If you want to take me out for a meal, you’ll

have to pass a test from my childhood friend first.”

Sensing that Ding Linlang was softening, Xu Congfeng quickly asked, “No problem, what’s the test?”

“Chess, basketball, or a one-on-one competition. Pick anyone; if you win against him, then we can talk about going out for a meal.”

Xu Congfeng paused. “Really? It’s that specific?”

After she had finished speaking, Ding Linlang immediately sent a message to Qian Quan..