Chapter 009: Yu Na

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"The Four Great Constables Shake the Northeast" is one of Wen Ruian's early martial arts works, and its style closely resembles that of Gu Long. Among the five grandmasters of the genre—Jin Yong, Gu Long, Huang Yi, Liang Yusheng, and Wen Ruian—each has his own distinctive approach.

Jin Yong’s novels often unfold in grand, sweeping scenes with well-rounded characters, and are especially noted for their delicate and profound exploration of emotions. Gu Long, on the other hand, captivates readers with his concise language, enigmatic style, and strong individuality. Huang Yi’s writing is majestic and imaginative yet maintains a meticulous structure—complex but clear. Liang Yusheng’s prose is meticulous and precise, perfect for beginners or those who savor a slow pace; among the five, he is also the most naturally gifted.

As for Wen Ruian, his style is more varied. Some of his works are reminiscent of Gu Long, while others lean towards Jin Yong. He weaves between illusion and reality, producing a prolific body of work that is always generous in content. However, he has a habit of leaving stories unfinished, often digging holes he never bothers to fill, resulting in many works with unsatisfying endings. Wen Ruian is bold—he dares to write lengthy passages even when there’s little substance, creating masterpieces and disappointments in equal measure.

Zhang Tan cannot replicate Gu Long’s bizarre style or his flights of imaginative fancy. But when it comes to retelling, he is more than up to the task. His writing tends toward simplicity, echoing Jin Yong to a certain extent, always using straightforward strokes to lay out the story with ease.

If one were to describe his literary style, it would be "concise." He avoids embellishments, refrains from empty flourishes, and shuns poetic interludes or splitting a single sentence into a dozen lines.

Some martial arts writers enjoy penning lines like: “He came… holding something in his hand, three fingers gripping it… nonchalant yet cautious… black as amber, a crystal bottle… he never drinks from it… but… there are exceptions… when cooking, he does add a little.”

Zhang Tan would simply write: “He came to buy soy sauce.”

Of course, Zhang Tan prunes and refines the main narrative, keeping only the essence. However, he pays special attention to detail. In his mind, the adaptations of the original works into films and television are vivid, so from the grandest battle scenes and landscapes to the subtlest facial expressions, he adds his own descriptions.

As a result, readers can immediately sketch out a rough impression in their minds.

"If only I could afford a laptop," he mused, "I’ve written barely three thousand words and my wrist is already sore." After a whole evening, only three thousand words—Zhang Tan was not satisfied.

If he wanted to submit his work, he’d need at least ten thousand words so readers could get a real taste of it.

"Hmm, classes start tomorrow. Seems like there’s no military training—we’ll just go straight to lessons. Anyway, I have no intention of aiming for college entrance exams. I’ll try to write more during class. Making money is my top priority."

Lights out. Time to sleep.

...

The next day, Zhang Tan woke to the noisy chaos of the dormitory.

He glanced at the electronic watch he’d bought for three yuan at his bedside: 7:10 a.m.

“Hurry up, Zhang Tan, don’t be late!” Zhou Yu, tall and a little awkward, had delicate features and a timid, almost effeminate demeanor.

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"Got it." Zhang Tan leapt up from bed, nearly snapping the wooden slats beneath him. "What a lousy, hard bed—hardly comfortable to sleep on."

"Do you sleep on soft beds at home?" Zhou Yu asked.

Zhang Tan paused. It seemed he also slept on a hard bed at home now, but before his rebirth, he’d grown used to a Simmons mattress. "Yeah, a soft bed," he replied.

"Soft beds aren’t good for you, especially when your body’s still growing."

"True." Zhang Tan nodded, climbing out of bed. "Do you know what my wish is?"

"What?"

"To wake up every day on a fifty-thousand-square-meter bed, surrounded by two hundred maids..." As he dressed and grabbed his toothbrush and mug, Zhang Tan gestured grandly, daydreaming about the day he'd be so rich he’d be troubled only by his wealth. "Go away, you damned piles of cash, stop pestering me!"

The washroom was packed—first-year students from the tile-roofed dorms all squeezed in together.

Used to living alone, Zhang Tan was uncomfortable with so many people around. "Sigh, finding an apartment to rent off-campus should be a top priority!"

"For now, the dorm isn’t too bad, still clean. But give it a few days—once the socks and shoes start to reek, I’ll be poisoned for sure... but come to think of it, how did I survive this the first time around?"

"Truly spoiled now."

By the time he’d washed up, it was already 7:20. Zhou Yu and Wang Feihu were urging him to hurry. In a short time, the three had begun to feel like a little group.

They quickly made their way to the main road where, in twos and threes, students hurried towards the two breakfast stalls.

One sold steamed buns with soy milk, shumai, spicy soup, and buns stuffed with mushrooms, vermicelli, pickles, and meat.

The other sold fried breakfast foods—fried dough sticks, sesame balls, spring rolls, rice cakes, lion’s head meatballs, along with tea eggs and soy milk.

Both stalls also sold the locally produced Fengda yogurt.

"Four mushroom buns and a yogurt, please."

"That’ll be two yuan."

"Here you go."

The buns were steaming hot in his hands.

The yogurt was icy cold, tasting just like he remembered.

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This yogurt was produced by the Fengda Group—affordable and the freshest you could find locally, since the factory was right in Shuangdun Town. Every morning before dawn, a seasoned worker would pedal his tricycle from the factory, bringing the freshest yogurt to Shuangdun High School, selling it to breakfast stalls and the corner shop inside the school.

Back in the day, Zhang Tan loved this yogurt most of all, drinking Fengda yogurt for three whole years.

Later, when he went to study in Hefei, he still sought out Fengda yogurt, but those good days didn’t last. Around 2007, the Fengda Group sold its yogurt business to the Baidi Group, and the Fengda brand disappeared. Still, both Baidi and Fengda were Hefei-based companies, so whichever made the yogurt, it was still a taste of home.

The taste of home.

"Delicious."

Climbing the familiar stairs, he reached the second floor of the left teaching building; the first room at the corner was Class 5, Grade 1.

The building was bustling—each class was already distributing desks and benches by student lists. By the time Zhang Tan got his desk and bench, it was past eight.

The homeroom teacher for Class 5, Yu Na—who happened to share her name with the celebrity Yu Na—finally arrived.

"Students, I am your homeroom teacher, Yu Na. Please bring your desks and benches inside and find a place to sit. We’ll rearrange the seating later."

When it came to choosing a seat, Zhang Tan didn’t hesitate. He carried his desk and chair straight to the back, second-to-last row, near the back door and window.

It was his habit—back in college, he always picked seats at the back.

But the very last row was against the wall, and the whitewash could easily get on your clothes—no good. The second-to-last row, though, was inconspicuous, right by the door and window—fresh air, easy to slip out after class, and on occasion, a passing beauty might exchange a smile.

A perfect spot.

"Alright, now that everyone’s found a seat, please quiet down," Yu Na stood at the podium, her delicate face still visibly shy and youthful.

With her call, the once noisy classroom gradually quieted.

Zhang Tan looked up at Yu Na.

"Teacher Yu Na, we meet again."

———

Thanks to "Night Shadow_" for the reward of 1888 Qidian coins, and to Willing to Be a Goddess, Little Foxy, Speak Properly, Master Fan Yi, Little Meow, Ye Tianlong, and Entering the World to Remove Dust for their support.

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