Chapter 1 The Seventh Player's Restroom

A week ago, in the seventh contestant's restroom after the recording of the live segment "I'm a Writer, Feel Free to Roast" wrapped up.

Feng Bujue, who hadn't written a single word in the final round, was unsurprisingly eliminated. After chatting with the other contestants for a while, he returned to the restroom with a cheerful look on his face, drinking canned coffee. He was just waiting for the interview segment to end so he could take the subway home...

Before long, Oscar, along with two cameramen and a lighting and sound technician each, knocked on the door of this restroom.

Feng Bujue answered the door, and after they all came in, they began setting up the camera positions and arranging the lighting.

Oscar shook Feng Bujue's hand as soon as he came in, as if meeting a visiting leader, "Hard work, hard work, hard work..."

Feng Bujue said, "No, no, you've worked hard..." He paused for a moment and asked, "Eh? You still have to do seven interviews, right?"

"No, no, I'm only interviewing you," Oscar replied. "This is the director's rule; I'm responsible for interviewing the eliminated writers. The remaining six will have this part recorded by the editor or assistant director."

"Oh, oh." Feng Bujue nodded.

There were several pre-measured fixed camera positions in the restroom. The two folding chairs where the writer and host would sit during the interview were leaning against the corner of the room, and lines were drawn on the floor, precisely marking the positions where the chairs should be placed. The staff members worked efficiently for a while, and the preparations for the interview were quickly completed.

Oscar, holding a manuscript, sat opposite Feng Bujue, with his back to the camera, and said, "So... let's begin?"

Feng Bujue replied, "Okay." He was the one eager to go home, so naturally, he hoped to finish the recording as quickly as possible.

"When you received the invitation from the program team, were you nervous or... under pressure?" Oscar began asking questions according to the prepared interview script in his hand.

"No."

"Then did you hesitate?" Oscar continued. "After all, you're already an established writer. Didn't it feel strange to come to this stage to compete with other writers?"

"Compared to them, I'm just a nobody, so what's there to hesitate about?"

"Haha..." Oscar laughed. He picked up the portable player next to him, tapped it a few times, and placed it in front of Feng Bujue. The screen showed a previously recorded video. "At that time, why did you give this episode such a title?"

"It should be because I foresaw the subsequent developments..." Feng Bujue replied.

Oscar continued to ask, "Let's take another look..." He fast-forwarded a few scenes. "Why did you write that passage in the first round?"

"Why couldn't I write it?" Feng Bujue replied with a smile. "Just like you said at the time, the three keywords—war, hero, and character—are unlikely to have unexpected answers, so I wrote about a character that no one would have thought of."

Oscar nodded and advanced the progress bar below the player screen. "When the voting results were announced that round, what place did you predict you would get?"

"Last place, I guess..." Feng Bujue said. "I already said it was a bit too much of an overcorrection."

Oscar continued, "In the second round, I noticed that there wasn't a single word on your workstation."

"Because the outline was all in here." Feng Bujue gently tapped his temple with his finger.

"How many minutes did it take you to come up with that story?" Oscar asked.

"Actually... I only started making it up on the spot the moment you announced the answer." Feng Bujue replied.

"That's what I thought." Oscar laughed. "Haha... But to come up with something on the spot and still get second place shows that you're really good."

"This kind of thing wouldn't have such a good effect if I did it a second time," Feng Bujue said. "This time, it was because the audience hadn't seen my kind of bizarre approach before, so they were particularly impressed and gave me a lot of votes. If other contestants try to imitate me in the future, they might be unlucky."

At this moment, Oscar turned his head and made a gesture. The two cameramen paused the recording, and the sound technician also lowered the microphone. "Let me ask a personal question... Director Fei quietly chatted with you for a few words after the second round. What was that about?"

Feng Bujue obviously wouldn't mention the words "black box operation." He replied with a calm expression, "Oh, that time... He thought that if I kept doing things like this, I would definitely be eliminated, so he talked to me in advance about the resurrection match. Then we talked about Fight Club, Schubert, and topics like syphilis."

Oscar's mouth twitched a few times. He signaled for everyone to continue recording, and then he dragged the progress bar on the player again. "In the third round, did you really finish reading the whole book?"

Feng Bujue smiled triumphantly. "When you came in, I noticed... you hid my envelope in the inside pocket of your jacket, right?" He pointed to Oscar's suit. "Since you came prepared, you can try it."

Oscar smiled sheepishly, took out the envelope, removed the stack of A4 papers stapled together, and randomly flipped to one of them, reading, "He said with a proud expression, 'My foolish servant, your father is...'"

Before he could finish the sentence, Feng Bujue interjected, "Your father is a hunchback, your mother is a prostitute, your sister is mentally disabled, and you are fortunate enough to become a nobleman, which is my servant. What more could you ask for?"

Oscar was genuinely surprised and said, "Teacher Bujue, your memory is amazing." As if he couldn't believe it, he looked back and forth at the stack of papers in his hand, confirming that he couldn't see anything from the back, and then said, "It's more than enough to go on a talent show."

"Hehe... no interest," Feng Bujue said with a smile. He still seemed to be quite hung up on the novel in front of him, adding a comment, "The writing in this book is really good, but the plot is too clichéd and lacks highlights. In addition, a small part of the story is copied from Hemingway's *For Whom the Bell Tolls*, just changing the era and characters, and changing blowing up the bridge to assassination. While reading, I felt a bit of déjà vu, and when I saw the sentence 'No man is an island,' I understood. When this guy wrote to chapter 30, he basically didn't know how to continue, so he used a section of another book's plot, and then, after making up a rather dull story, he couldn't write anymore."

Oscar was stunned, thinking: So you not only finished reading it, you read it quite carefully...

"Could it be that you were just so... unwilling to write the final chapter of this book? Even if you just wrote something casually, you would have gotten some votes, right?" Oscar asked again.

"I'm particularly unwilling to touch other people's works, especially works that were abandoned midway," Feng Bujue replied. "This kind of novel gives me the feeling... like a child from another family. This child hasn't grown up yet, and the parents have abandoned him, throwing him on the street to fend for himself." He shrugged. "Now you want me, an outsider, to pretend to be his parents and raise him. I'm not going to do that. Since this child's parents don't cherish him, why should I bother? First of all, I'm not the same kind of person as these parents."

"Okay, I think I understand," Oscar continued. "Let me ask, what are your thoughts on being eliminated? Do you feel any regret? Do you regret your decision not to answer the questions in the third round?"

Feng Bujue couldn't possibly say that he was just playing around with the intention of being eliminated, so he scratched his head and decided to say a few polite words: "Well... I think it's great to be able to participate. Thank you to the editors of the program team for thinking of me, this small character. Regret... it's okay, no regrets. As for regretting... since I did it, I won't regret it."

This interview lasted about fifteen minutes. There were quite a few things to record, such as evaluating the performance of other contestants at certain moments, and some formulaic questions and answers.

Towards the end of the interview, Oscar looked at the manuscript in his hand. Most of the questions had been asked, so he operated the portable player. "Before asking the last question... I have a vCR here that was recorded when all the other writers first came to 'I'm a Writer.' It's a mixed-clip version, and I hope you can take a look at it."

…………

"A writer is..."

"A writer, huh?"

"Well... to me, it means..."

"A writer is..."

"Someone who uses words to build dreams."

"A job, and also a career."

"A disseminator of ideas."

"My life."

"It's very ordinary, yet extraordinary..."

"Means a road of no return? Haha... cut this part out."

"You say someone else's writing is bad here and bad there, but when you go to write it yourself, can you make everything good?"

"Because I like to write, I naturally persevered."

"Everyone starts from the same place, and we all pursue the same dream. But many people take detours, or... give up halfway. But I think that those who can persevere to the end will reach the same destination by different routes."

"I must always remind myself that I am a writer. This is not a talent show. We are professionals. We are here to show how a writer should be, not to let others tell us how to write."

"If anyone could really write, then what would we professional writers do?"

…………

Oscar continued, "According to convention, writers who come to our program must answer this question..." He paused for a moment. "Teacher Bujue, what do you think... what does the word 'writer' mean to you?"

After watching this not-so-long vCR, Feng Bujue suddenly felt that this was a difficult question to answer. "Let me think about it." He showed a very serious expression, which he had not shown throughout the entire recording process.

After a long silence, Feng Bujue finally spoke, "I've thought about it."

The sound technician moved the microphone closer again, and Oscar turned his head and gave the cameraman a signal. "Give a close-up here." He turned back to face Feng Bujue and said, "Okay, please speak."

Feng Bujue said, "To me, a writer is... someone who can use words to change the world.

As long as you firmly believe in this and be your true self, you can turn your dreams into reality."