Chapter Nine: The Language Teacher’s Praise

At six o'clock on Sunday morning, Zhou Xuan woke up right on time. After washing up, he continued his routine with a run.

Having been given a second chance at life, Zhou Xuan understood the importance of health. No matter how much money one had, if the body failed, it was all meaningless. In his previous life, he had often heard news about IT workers collapsing from exhaustion due to overwork, which made him even more attentive to his own well-being. That was why, even as a programmer, he never pushed himself too hard. Of course, that's also why he never rose to the top of his field—he simply didn't want to exhaust himself, believing that as long as he had enough money, that was enough.

And so, the entire morning and afternoon slipped by as Zhou Xuan was absorbed in drafting and revising his essay.

His classmates noticed Zhou Xuan's seriousness and realized he was genuinely intent on participating in the essay competition this time. Some couldn't help making sarcastic remarks, but Zhou Xuan was too immersed in his writing to care. Once his essay passed the preliminary round, they would see how immature their assumptions had been.

His deskmate, Zhuo Lian, stood out for her support, encouraging him to write well and to prove those who doubted him wrong.

The city-wide essay competition this time had no restrictions on theme for the preliminary round—it encouraged originality, creativity, and topics close to everyday life. There were three “no limits”: no restrictions on style, genre, or length.

Zhou Xuan was delighted with these open guidelines, which allowed for complete creative freedom—be it a story, an essay, or an argumentative piece.

After some thought, he decided to write an essay titled "The First Snow of Nineteen Ninety-Two."

During the Spring Festival of 1992, NC County saw the only snowfall Zhou Xuan had ever experienced since his birth. The snow began to fall at dusk and continued through the night. By morning, several centimeters had accumulated on the rooftops. Zhou Xuan and his little friends were overjoyed, rushing out to build snowmen and have snowball fights. The world was a vast expanse of white, and for children who had never seen snow before, it was an unforgettable joy—they played wildly all day long.

After a day or two, the sun came out and the snow began to melt. Water dripped from the rooftops, leaving icicles that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. That was Zhou Xuan’s earliest impression of snow.

By nightfall, Zhou Xuan had finished his essay. After completing it, he even shared it with his deskmate Zhuo Lian, who, after reading it, gave him a big thumbs up and praised his writing.

Zhou Xuan was well aware of his own level; among junior high students, his essay was certainly among the best.

Early Monday morning, Zhou Xuan took advantage of the break after the self-study period to bring "The First Snow of Nineteen Ninety-Two" to his Chinese teacher, Ms. Chen.

On the third floor, Zhou Xuan found Ms. Chen just about to head home for breakfast, so he hurried inside.

"Good morning, Ms. Chen!"

Ms. Chen saw Zhou Xuan, manuscript in hand, and thought to herself that he hadn’t come to her for quite some time. She wondered what it could be about. "Zhou Xuan, what’s the matter?"

Zhou Xuan handed over his essay. "Ms. Chen, I heard about the city essay competition and want to give it a try. Could you take a look and give me some feedback?"

At his words, Ms. Chen's expression darkened. "Zhou Xuan, right now your priority should be to focus on Chinese and improve your grades, not to chase after unrealistic things."

"Ms. Chen, if my writing improves, won’t my Chinese grades improve, too?" Zhou Xuan explained earnestly. "I understand your concerns, but I really am determined to study hard this time. Please believe me—I'm working on my other Chinese subjects as well, and I promise I’ll surprise you on the next exam."

"Are you being serious?" Ms. Chen was aware of what had happened that week; Zhou Xuan's attitude in class had indeed changed, and she also remembered what he’d said at the office door Sunday night. Still, she found it hard to believe him entirely.

"I am! I promise!"

Leaving the office, Zhou Xuan hurried off for breakfast—duck noodle soup, his favorite. In his previous life, after going away to college and work, he’d rarely had it. Even when he did, it was never as authentic as in NC County; elsewhere, it was always watery and bland.

While Zhou Xuan was savoring his noodles, Ms. Chen was sipping her porridge and reading his essay.

"The First Snow of Nineteen Ninety-Two?" she mused, intrigued by the title.

In Tianfu Province, snow in the basin was a rare event. With the greenhouse effect growing more severe, snowfall across southern China had become almost unheard of. The fact that Zhou Xuan chose to write about the 1992 snow showed he’d put in real thought.

As she read on, Ms. Chen’s initial expectations turned to delight. She forgot all about her breakfast, fully absorbed in the essay.

A few minutes later, she finished reading. She was at a loss for words to describe how good it was—at least, compared to the work of a first-year junior high student and to Zhou Xuan’s past writing.

In her view, this essay could easily score over fifty points on the college entrance exam.

Thinking this, Ms. Chen couldn’t help but feel pleased. Clearly, Zhou Xuan had put genuine effort into this piece. As for the possibility of plagiarism, she found it impossible—there were hardly any students in the entire junior high with this level of writing, so where could he have copied it from?

The second period of the morning was Chinese, and Ms. Chen entered the classroom with a rare smile. She mentioned the essay competition again, urging those interested to submit their work as soon as possible.

"Here, I want to give special praise to our classmate Zhou Xuan. I’ve read his essay, and it’s truly excellent—it’s sure to make it to the next round! I hope everyone can learn from Zhou Xuan and work hard to improve their writing!"

Zhou Xuan hadn’t expected Ms. Chen to praise him in front of the class. It seemed his essay had exceeded her expectations.

Suddenly, he felt the curious gazes of his classmates, which left him speechless. Wasn’t it just an essay?

His deskmate Zhuo Lian whispered, "Zhou Xuan, how did your writing improve so fast? You were just average on the last two quizzes—only a little better than me!"

Though she’d already read the essay and thought it was excellent, hearing the teacher’s public praise made her realize it was even better than Liu Yixue’s, who was known for her writing in class.

She was eager to know how Zhou Xuan had improved so rapidly. If there was a secret, perhaps she could learn from it and improve just as quickly.

Zhou Xuan chuckled at her teasing. "Well, it was just the beginning of the school year—I wasn’t used to things yet, so I didn’t perform at my usual level!"

Zhuo Lian rolled her eyes. "We haven’t even left the county, and you’re already 'not used to it'? Who are you trying to fool?"

Suddenly, Zhou Xuan remembered a saying he had once come across. With a straight face, he asked, "Zhuo Lian, do you want to know why I improved so quickly?"

"Of course!"

"Remember this: Read more books and newspapers, eat fewer snacks, and get more sleep."

"Uh…" Zhuo Lian was taken aback. Reading and eating fewer snacks made sense, but more sleep? Did sleeping also improve writing skills? In dreams, perhaps?