Chapter 114: Setting Off
Zhao Yuyan understood why Yu Linna had specifically sought her out to discuss this. Intuitively, she sensed this wasn’t something Yu Linna would normally do.
“Why are you asking me this?” Zhao Yuyan asked, amused.
Why indeed? Yu Linna couldn’t articulate it herself. She simply wanted to understand how someone who had experienced the pursuit of dreams viewed the concept. Since Zhao Yuyan was successful in her own right, it meant she, like Nangong Ying, was someone who had “climbed higher.” She should understand the meaning of the word.
“Don’t worry about why. I just want to know what the word ‘dream’ means to you.”
“…Meaning? It holds a lot of significance. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have become a novelist.”
Zhao Yuyan poured tea, a nostalgic smile gracing her face.
“Zhao Yuyan, are dreams important to you?”
“Yes, very important.”
Without dreams to sustain her, she probably wouldn’t have chosen this path. It was precisely because of her dreams that she had come this far.
Yu Linna’s gaze dimmed. So, for her too, dreams were incredibly important.
“Would you do anything for your dream?”
“Absolutely.”
Yu Linna’s hands clenched, biting her lip to stifle a sound.
“Even betray someone, push your best friend into the depths of hell?”
Her heart tightened, her head bowed, concealing her expression. Had Zhao Yuyan looked closer, she would have seen the pain etched on Yu Linna’s face.
“Of course not. Even for a dream, you can’t do something like that. Dreams are dreams, but not at the cost of trampling on someone else’s freedom.”
At that moment, Yu Linna’s heart began to thaw.
Her clenched fists relaxed.
Zhao Yuyan’s journey hadn’t been easy either. She had debuted as a novelist a year ago, but she had published short stories before that, leading to doubts about her ability to write long-form fiction. Faced with skepticism, she had earned respect through hard work and talent.
She was called “Miss Air,” but few understood the struggles and efforts she had poured into reaching this point. Though she often missed deadlines, played games, and procrastinated, she was serious when it mattered. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have become a successful writer.
“Linna, you’re asking me this because something is bothering you, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. I’ve been troubled, haunted by my past, to the point of suffocation. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do, how to move forward. Now, I think I understand a little better…”
Nangong Ying’s appearance had thrown her into turmoil. She couldn’t comprehend how someone could go to such lengths for a dream. But she now realized that not everyone was like that.
Nangong Ying was an exception.
Nangong, you were so cruel. For your dream, you betrayed me, hurt me.
You made it impossible for me to trust anyone again, to ever have you back in my life.
But I still have to keep going. Even if I’m bruised and battered, I have to pick myself up and move forward.
Yu Linna stood up, a newfound clarity in her eyes.
“Linna, are you leaving?”
“I should go. I think I know what to do now. Thank you.”
“If you change your mind and want to join us, you’re always welcome.”
Zhao Yuyan knew Yu Linna was talented. If she wanted to enter their world, she wouldn’t refuse. Such talent shouldn’t be wasted; it should be allowed to shine.
Yu Linna didn’t reply, simply offering a small smile before taking her leave.
Nangong Ying’s appearance had been unexpected, but Zhao Yuyan’s words had given her a new perspective. She also recalled Tang Yumeng’s words that day.
Dreams were important, but not at the expense of others.
Everyone’s definition of dreams, their approach to pursuing them, was different. Yu Linna had once had dreams, then abandoned them. Now, she wanted to reclaim them.
Walking down the street, she looked up at the large screen on the building. It was now displaying a celebrity advertisement.
“Superstar newcomer Nangong Ying will be a guest on ‘Starlight Sparkle’ this weekend, revealing the hardships of filming on set and announcing the release date of her new movie! Don’t miss it!”
The screen played clips from Nangong Ying’s recently released film. Nangong Ying’s status was vastly different now. She was no longer an unknown actress; she was a rising star.
Looking at that face, Yu Linna clenched her fists. She had once dreamed of seeing her own face on television, of being recognized, of having her name known. Now, she didn’t need to prove herself with her face, to conquer others with her appearance.
She would use her own methods, her own strength, to earn her place.
Yu Linna stopped by the tutoring center where she used to work. She had spent two years there as a teaching assistant. Back then, the owner, Zhou Xiaoqing, taking pity on her situation, had offered her the job. But after the incident with Chenghe, she had been forced to leave.
Standing at the entrance, watching the children playing inside, she felt a wave of nostalgia. She had once been one of them.
“Wow, it’s Sister Linlin! Why are you back?”
“Sister Linlin’s back! Everyone come quick!”
“Sister Linlin, where did you go? We missed you so much!”
“Sister Linlin, here’s my lollipop! Please come back!”
The children swarmed her, reaching through the gate, wanting to hug her, their small bodies unable to climb over. Yu Linna looked at these kids. She had once been exasperated by their antics, yet they seemed to hold genuine affection for her.
“Linna, what are you…?”
Zhou Xiaoqing, alerted by the commotion, had come to investigate. She was surprised to see Yu Linna, the girl she had let go two months ago. She shouldn’t be here.
But why was she…?
“I just came back to visit. Don’t worry, Sister Qing, I’m not here to ask for anything.”
She reached through the gate and patted a child’s head. The boy beamed with joy, jumping up and down, shouting, “Sister Linlin touched me!” eliciting envious cries from the other children.
Zhou Xiaoqing stepped outside, locking the gate, and gently herded the children back to their classroom for their next lesson. Looking at Yu Linna, the girl who had once worked for her, she felt a pang of sadness.
She had heard that Yu Linna’s life was difficult, subsisting on pickled vegetables and plain porridge. In the two years they had worked together, Yu Linna had never spoken about her family, but Zhou Xiaoqing knew they were struggling. Despite her hardships, Yu Linna had always been resilient, shouldering her burdens and working diligently. To make ends meet, she held multiple jobs, often having to leave early to get to her other commitments.
Only after Yu Linna left did Zhou Xiaoqing realize how important she had become to her. But it was too late.
“Linna, how are you doing now?” she asked.
“I’m doing well. Someone is taking care of me. Don’t worry. I’m really fine.”
She claimed to be fine, but Zhou Xiaoqing didn’t believe her. A girl so frugal she wouldn’t even buy herself ice cream couldn’t possibly be doing “fine.”
“And your family, how are they…?”
“…Someone is taking care of me, treating me well. That’s enough. Family… I never dared to hope for that. Forget about it. Sister Qing, how are you doing?”
“Well, the children were quite upset after you left, but they’ll get used to it.”
“That’s good.”
Seeing the children doing well was enough for her. Without her, they would continue to live, to learn, to thrive. She was merely a passerby in their lives.
If the incident with Chenghe hadn’t happened, she might still be teaching here, applying for a full-time position after graduating high school. But fate had other plans.
“Sister Qing, I’ll be going now.”
“Linna, where are you going? Do you have a place to go?”
“I didn’t before, but I do now.”
She smiled, turned, and walked away without looking back. This was probably the last time she would return here. There would be no more “afters.”
Back home, leaning against the door, an idea formed in her mind. Perhaps she would never become a celebrity, never reach Nangong Ying’s heights, never become as courageous as Ye Zhiyun.
But so what?
Her life was her own. She didn’t need to be a copy of someone else. She would always be Yu Linna, not a second Nangong Ying.
Chen Xi had said she had the talent to be a novelist.
She checked the deadline for the Wenqing New Talent Awards. Only a week remained. Producing a collection of short stories in such a short time was practically impossible. Yu Linna had already wasted too much time.
But…
She didn’t want to live a mediocre life.
She still wanted to chase her dreams.
Fame didn’t require becoming a celebrity, putting her face on display. As long as she could use her abilities to bring joy to others, that was enough.
She took a deep breath. It seemed her life wouldn’t remain calm after all. She remembered the time she had spent working for Chenghe, the repeated efforts that ultimately yielded no results. Perhaps this time would be the same. No matter how hard she tried, how much she struggled, she might achieve nothing.
But she still wanted to succeed.
So…
One more time. Just one more time. She would give it her all, expend all her energy, even if it meant failure.
Hard work didn’t guarantee success, but without hard work, there was no chance at all.
She opened Ye Zhiyun’s computer. This computer would be her new starting point. She typed a few words. From this day forward, she would set off once more.
Yu Linna was finally on her way again.
Chapter 115: Burning Little Linna
The day after returning to her father’s company, Ye Zhiyun was far from happy. She initially thought her father had called her back for actual negotiations, only to discover it was a ruse to introduce her to the son of a Chinese-American business tycoon.
This tycoon had brought his son along for the project discussions, and Ye Zhiyun’s father, seeing the son wasn’t much older than Zhiyun, decided to use this opportunity to play matchmaker. In other words, Ye Zhiyun had been tricked.
“Seriously, Dad? You’re trying to sell me off? What kind of father does that?”
Whenever Ye Zhiyun was alone with her father, she glared at him, her displeasure evident.
“It’s called networking. Young people should connect with other young people. Besides, that designer also has a daughter. I’d love to meet her if I get the chance. Zhiyun, you’re all young. Take this opportunity to interact. You are the next generation of leaders.”
Despite her annoyance, her father had a point. In this era, networking was crucial. Future collaborations depended on these connections. Ye Zhiyun sighed in resignation.
“Fine, but I’m telling you upfront, I’m not interested in that guy.”
“Hahaha, don’t worry, I’m not planning to give you away that easily. If I really wanted to marry you off, would I have waited until now? Relax, my dear daughter, I’m not going to sell you.”
“Good. I don’t like him anyway.”
She had only ever been interested in one man, but that was in the past. Now, she had no interest in men whatsoever.
She just wanted to finish this work quickly and return home, to her real home, to see Nana.
She wondered how Yu Linna was coping alone. She had left money, so it shouldn’t be a problem.
“Speaking of which, Zhiyun, didn’t you spend eighty million on that girl? When are you letting your old man meet her? What kind of girl has such power, making my shrewd little businesswoman willingly get scammed?”
“Oh, don’t worry, that day will never come.”
“That hurts your old man’s feelings…”
Ignoring her father, Ye Zhiyun gazed out the window, homesickness washing over her.
She wondered what Yu Linna was doing.
If Ye Zhiyun knew what Yu Linna was up to, she would be surprised. Yu Linna wasn’t following Ye Zhiyun’s advice to eat properly. What was she doing?
She was writing.
In the quiet room, illuminated by a desk lamp, the glow of the computer screen reflected on her face. The only sound was the clicking of keys. Her slender fingers danced across the keyboard, never ceasing. Occasionally, she paused for a few seconds, grappling with a thought, then resumed typing, filling the screen with Chinese characters.
With only five days left until the Wenqing New Talent Awards deadline, she had been in this state for two days straight, writing from morning till night. Not daring to waste a single moment, she had prepared a box of instant noodles, eating them whenever hunger struck, finishing within five minutes. She had endured harder times, subsisting on instant noodles during her years of poverty. This was nothing.
She had never written fiction on a computer before. Though she kept a diary, creating a story was a first. Yet, her thoughts were clear; she knew what she wanted.
She practically lived in the computer room, typing day and night, unable to stop. She slept only three or four hours a day. While she managed to endure the first few days, by the third, she had a splitting headache, her mind blank. But looking at the manuscript on the screen, the black and white text, she gritted her teeth and continued typing. By the fourth day, she was numb.
After all, she had endured worse hardships.
During her working days, she had often slept only three or four hours, juggling multiple jobs, sometimes as many as six in a single day. Those times had been incredibly difficult, but to afford a decent meal, she had no choice. How many nights had she spent gnawing on stale bread, gazing at pictures of delicious food in books, then at her empty wallet, tears of helplessness welling up? Back then, she yearned for a good meal.
Years of hardship, of relentless work, had given her hypoglycemia, making her prone to fainting if she missed a meal. Due to malnutrition, she hadn’t grown much, wearing the same clothes from the age of eleven or twelve until she met Ye Zhiyun.
If someone asked her why she was pushing herself so hard now that she no longer had to worry about food or clothing, wouldn’t it be meaningless?
She would simply reply, “Because of a dream.”
Nangong Ying could do it, Fang Jiangning could do it, Ye Zhiyun could do it, Dai Wenqian could do it, so she could too.
She remembered, remembered the child within her who held onto a dream.
She was someone who refused to settle for mediocrity. Her heart held a yearning, a desire to soar.
How disheartened she had been, filled with hope only to be met with disappointment time and time again.
Accompanying Nangong Ying to the singing competition, she had been eliminated in the preliminary rounds, while Nangong Ying went on to win the championship.
She tried acting, thinking it was a fresh start, but remained a background extra.
She auditioned, believing it was another opportunity, only to have Nangong Ying snatch the leading role.
She met Chenghe, thinking it was her chance. With Nangong Ying’s encouragement, she signed the contract, hoping to take flight. But it ended in another devastating failure, betrayed by Nangong Ying, almost forced into a compromising situation, driving her to the brink of suicide at the train station. If it hadn’t been for Ye Zhiyun, she might have actually left this world.
So many attempts, so many failures.
She had even believed she would never have a chance to climb higher.
But she refused to give up. She wanted to try again.
Even if it meant more pain, even if it meant another failure, she wanted to try. Because her heart still held a dream, a dream of soaring to greater heights.
Yu Linna’s world had narrowed, oblivious to the changing day and night, the bustling world outside. There was only the screen, her fingers, her consciousness detaching from her body.
How much time had passed? One day? Five days? She couldn’t recall.
She had lost track of time.
All she knew was that she had to write this story.
She had never written a story before, never shared the stories within her heart. But this time, she would take that brave step.
She was so tired, so exhausted, so hungry, wanting nothing more than to stop. But…
Seeing the characters on the screen increasing, she gritted her teeth and continued typing. Gradually, her fingers went numb, fatigue forgotten, but her head grew hotter, her body burning. She had heard that when someone was “in the zone,” their inspiration flowed fiercely, everything else fading away.
She didn’t know if this was what it felt like, but seeing the growing number of words on the screen, she assumed it was. She never expected to experience such a surge of inspiration while writing.
She grabbed a bag of ice from the freezer, placing it on her head to cool her feverish brain. She knew her body wasn’t healthy, that in normal terms, she was ill from exhaustion.
But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t give up. She had to keep writing.
The story in her heart had to be brought to life, had to be shared. She had to tell the story of the male and female protagonists, convey her feelings to others.
“How much longer…”
Her voice was hoarse, her body dehydrated from insufficient water intake, her system strained from days of instant noodles. She felt like her body wasn’t her own anymore.
Sometimes, giving everything you have to something was incredibly difficult. But it was often in those moments that memories were made.
Nothing came easy. To gain something, you had to give something. Without effort, there were no results.
This was Yu Linna’s first attempt at writing a story. She didn’t know if she could do it well, having never tried to create and share a story before. When Chen Xi said she had the talent, she hadn’t believed it.
But even a sliver of hope was enough. She wanted to try again. Just once. Just one more chance… to let her fly again.
(“Get lost, foreigner! This isn’t for you. Here’s some money, buy your own food!”)
She didn’t want that kind of life anymore…
(“You’re useless anyway, might as well just marry someone.”)
She would prove she wasn’t worthless, that she was capable.
(“A fatherless, motherless brat dares to fight me? Get lost, gweilo!”)
Even though she had no family in this world… she wanted to fill that void in her stories.
Having suffered for most of her life, she hoped for a different kind of existence. She remembered Ye Zhiyun’s kindness, the eighty million she owed her.
She would repay her, bit by bit.
(“Linna, I’ll protect you from now on. I’ll always be by your side. Here, have some ice cream.”)
That ice cream had been the sweetest she had ever tasted, yet also the most bittersweet in retrospect. The memory, so beautiful, so poignant.
Nangong Ying, her best friend.
Once upon a time.
Now, it was just the past, a memory.
She had to let it go.
She had to move on.
Her parents had given birth to her, then disappeared. If she never found out where they were, so be it. Yu Linna would embark on her own journey, towards higher, farther places.
Wait for me, Zhiyun. I will reach for the stars.
As her fingers typed the final line, they came to an abrupt stop…
[“I didn’t get to say… I love you. Where are you going? Don’t leave me…”]
The story ended. A novel of over one hundred thousand words, finally complete.
She had spent seven days writing her first novel, a total of one hundred and ten thousand words.
But her work wasn’t over. She still needed a title and a pen name…