Chapter 42: Talent Is Not a Shortcut

Zhou Quanyi returned with a face covered in dust, but Jiang Zheng, lost in thought, failed to notice.

"Fourth, do you want to go out for a walk?" Zhou Quanyi asked.

Jiang Zheng shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Then I'll go out for a bit," Zhou Quanyi said, and left the room.

Jiang Zheng opened his mouth as if to say something, but remained silent.

After breakfast, he sat idly in his room, not even in the mood to write.

A while later, Jiang Zheng picked up his phone and started playing with it. He didn’t feel like writing or doing anything else; playing with his phone was just a way to kill time.

He had the habit of saving drafts, so even if he didn’t write for several days, he could still keep up with his updates.

While he was browsing, Jiang Zheng suddenly noticed someone requesting to add him on WeChat.

The WeChat name was “Riding the Wind and Chasing the Moon.”

He was puzzled—who was this person? He didn’t recognize the name.

He checked the person's Moments and profile, but still couldn’t figure out who it was.

Jiang Zheng didn’t want to carelessly add strangers, but he was also concerned that it might be a friend or classmate, and it would be impolite to reject them outright.

After some thought, Jiang Zheng accepted the request. If it turned out to be a stranger, he could always delete them later.

“Hello.”

A message soon arrived.

Jiang Zheng replied, “Hello, may I ask who you are?”

“We probably don’t know each other. I just added you at random online,” came the reply from Riding the Wind and Chasing the Moon.

Jiang Zheng froze. Since they weren’t acquainted, he might as well block and delete them; there was no reason to keep them.

Just as he was about to do so, another message came through: “But since you accepted, maybe we can chat. If you have anything troubling you, you can tell me. After all, we’re strangers—there’s nothing to worry about.”

These words gave Jiang Zheng pause. He did have things weighing on his heart, but no one to confide in.

Perhaps it was easier with a stranger.

“I suppose we could, but I don’t have anything troubling me at the moment. If you do, you can tell me,” Jiang Zheng replied after some thought.

Although he wanted someone to talk to, he wasn’t naive enough to trust a complete stranger.

These days, online scams were everywhere, and their tricks were ever more insidious—it was wise to stay vigilant.

“I don’t really have any troubles myself. Since neither of us do, let’s leave it at that. If you ever need to talk, send me a message and if I see it, I’ll reply,” the stranger wrote back.

Jiang Zheng raised his eyebrows. He had expected the other person to lament about not being able to sell tea from their grandfather’s plantation, but they didn’t.

Of course, that didn’t mean Jiang Zheng trusted that the person wasn’t a scammer.

It was still possible they were playing the long game.

After a moment’s thought, Jiang Zheng typed, “I really don’t have any troubles, but I’ve been pondering a question.”

“What question?” Riding the Wind and Chasing the Moon asked.

“I want to achieve my dreams, but I don’t want to take shortcuts. I want to work steadily toward them. But now I have some shortcuts available—should I take them or not?”

Jiang Zheng decided to rephrase his dilemma.

“What shortcuts are you referring to?” the stranger asked.

“Let’s just call them talents,” Jiang Zheng replied.

Before long, a message appeared: “If you have talent, why not use it?”

“I believe success should be built step by step. Taking shortcuts doesn’t feel right,” Jiang Zheng wrote.

“That’s a bit ridiculous, forgive my bluntness. I think you’ve misunderstood the meaning of shortcuts. You think having talent is a shortcut, but that’s a mistake. One’s background and talent aren’t things one chooses. If you’re born into privilege or have great talent, does that mean you must behave like an average person to avoid taking shortcuts?

A real shortcut is taking dishonest or underhanded measures to achieve your goals. Talent and background, in my view, are not shortcuts.”

Reading this lengthy response, Jiang Zheng fell into deep thought.

He soon typed, “But you can’t deny that people with talent and background do have an easier path to success.”

“No, no!” the stranger refuted.

Then another message followed.

“It depends on your definition of success. Whether it’s easy or hard depends on your standards. For example, if you can run five thousand meters but set your success standard at three thousand meters, of course it’s easy. If you set your standard at seven thousand meters, it becomes difficult.

If you think success comes easily, it’s probably because your standards are too low.”

Jiang Zheng stared blankly at these words, his eyes gradually brightening.

It was as if something suddenly made sense to him.

His argument with Tao Luna yesterday had clouded his thinking.

He’d begun to believe that using the skills granted by the system was akin to taking shortcuts, making success seem effortless and easy.

Did that give him the right to criticize Tao Luna?

Now, Jiang Zheng understood.

The system’s skills were, in essence, innate talents—though perhaps an abundance of them.

Having many talents didn’t automatically make success easy.

Everyone’s idea of success is different. The ease or difficulty of achieving it doesn’t depend on how talented you are, but on the goals you set for yourself.

Ultimately, regardless of how you define success, as long as you walk the path step by step, whether it’s easy or hard is beside the point.

Tao Luna chose to sell herself, to use some less-than-honorable means.

That was the real shortcut.

Having talent is not.

Jiang Zheng felt enlightened; a clarity dawned within him, dispelling the gloom that had weighed on him since last night. He felt light and unburdened.

“Thank you, I understand now. I was being a bit stubborn,” Jiang Zheng replied.

“As long as you understand. Any other questions?” the stranger asked.

“Not at the moment,” Jiang Zheng answered.

“Then I’ll get back to work. Talk another time,” came the reply.

After that, there were no more messages.

Jiang Zheng looked at Riding the Wind and Chasing the Moon’s WeChat profile and hesitated, but didn’t delete them.

He still didn’t fully trust this stranger, but their words had convinced him they were probably not a scammer.

Besides, they had just helped him—it would seem rather ungrateful to delete them immediately afterward.

Ignoring the WeChat conversation, Jiang Zheng pondered.

Perhaps he ought to raise his own standards for success.

Before he got the system, he was just an ordinary person; the standards he once set for himself now seemed somewhat low.

The stranger’s words had awakened him, prompting Jiang Zheng to reconsider his own definition of success.