Chapter 84: Blossoming on All Fronts (Seeking Recommendations)

The sudden surge of happiness completely overwhelmed Zhang Chu; the speed of it all was simply astonishing! The show "Ultimate Challenge" had achieved a staggering viewership rating of 3.4%. This meant that, among the sampled households, 3.4% were tuned in to Sudong Satellite TV. Tens of millions across the country watched this episode, and it was only natural that Zhang Chu’s reputation skyrocketed by millions thanks to his self-introduction.

The phrase, “I am Zhang Chu, and I speak for myself,” was repeated by countless people, and with it, Zhang Chu’s name became known far and wide. His confident words gave people a whole new impression of a top-scoring student, and won the recognition of the youth, for he had voiced their very thoughts.

Television audiences tended to be older, but the online viewers skewed younger. When these young viewers heard his words, the screen was instantly flooded with comments, so much so that faces were obscured completely!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“So cool! Who is this guy, really?”

“Well said! I’m not Zhang Chu, but I want to speak for myself too.”

“Damn, he really has the confidence to back it up.”

“He’s been outshining everyone since he walked on stage. If he doesn’t become a champion, who will?”

“With that presence and eloquence, no wonder he’s a writer.”

“No way! I’m following his ‘Detective Sherlock’ right now, and it turns out he’s already published it? I have to buy it!”

In such a short time, they could only describe their feelings as shock and astonishment—no other words would suffice.

The phrase “speak for myself” was deeply imprinted in their minds.

…

Zhang Chu sat on the sofa, beaming with joy, while his parents were equally delighted.

“You really challenged every contestant, from the first to the last?” Chu Lan expressed her strong skepticism, “If they gave these questions to me, I could answer them too. The show’s producers must have made it easier for top students like you.”

“Why don’t you sign up and try, then? I have the contact info for the staff right here,” Zhang Chu encouraged her. Without experiencing it firsthand, it was hard to grasp how nerve-wracking it could be.

There were many questions where, even if you knew the answer, you might still fail to respond, let alone those you didn’t know.

Zhang Bowen looked at the mother and son, smiling, “You took all the prizes for yourself; the others must hate you.”

He returned home laden with prizes, leaving none for anyone else, and nearly set a record for consecutive wins in a single episode!

Unfortunately, he had declined the program’s invitation to continue recording future episodes. Otherwise, with the system’s support, no one could have stopped him, but what would be the point? He still had to go to Beijing for university and couldn’t possibly fly to Nandu every week just to record a show.

He saw himself pursuing a literary path, though for now, his writing was limited and not yet mainstream.

Taking advantage of a commercial break, Zhang Chu quickly logged into Weibo and found, as expected, his followers had exploded in number.

He thought for a moment and wrote a Gen-Z version of his self-promotional phrase—it didn’t bother him at all to pretend to be a member of the post-2000 generation.

“You only hear my stories, but you’ve never seen the roads I’ve walked. You have your way of living; I have mine. You might mock me for achieving nothing, but I pity your adherence to the rules… I am Gen-Z, and I speak for myself!”

This, in fact, was a template Zhang Chu created for netizens. With these two versions, he expected many people would imitate them.

To build momentum and expand influence, more people needed to join in. As long as someone wrote an imitation, they would remember the original.

The reaction online was swift. Though “Ultimate Challenge” had high ratings, many still didn’t watch TV. It was only after seeing Zhang Chu’s Weibo post that they discovered the catchphrase.

“Are Gen-Z kids always this bold? This millennial isn’t having it.”

“The 80s generation is sobbing in front of their phones. Life is tough—don’t point it out!”

“Isn’t anyone going to write a millennial version? Let those Gen-Z brats see who really controls the internet!”

“Now I really want to watch this episode. Where can I see the full version?”

“I thought you were speaking for Gen-Z, but turns out you’re speaking for yourself.”

…

That night, Zhang Chu became truly famous on the stage of “Ultimate Challenge”—not for defeating ten top students in a row, but for his self-introduction.

Many video bloggers uploaded that segment to their own spaces on Weibo, and related memes and GIFs began to circulate widely.

…

More and more imitated versions started spreading across the internet, sparking endless creativity among netizens.

“I’m a student, and I speak for myself.” “I’m single, and I speak for myself.” There were also versions for wild men, academic elites, leftover women, the inebriated, DOTA players, the overweight, Zhen Huan fans, fujoshi, interns, chefs, and many more.

Even universities known for their aloofness joined the fun; schools like Central South University participated with humor, further amplifying the trend.

…

Peng Deyuan had just finished working overtime and barely caught the last train home.

As a programmer, overtime was the norm, and spending all night at work was not unusual. Getting home at a little after ten was actually early—such is the price of a career that feeds on youth.

The once-crowded subway was now almost empty, with just a few people in the carriage.

Peng Deyuan pulled out his phone, put on his headphones from his backpack, and noticed that a blogger he followed had just posted a video. He was curious to see why it had received so many likes.

He played the video and saw a handsome, spirited young student standing center stage, passionately declaring his slogan about speaking for himself.

“Well said,” he thought, giving the video a like. He rested his chin on his hand, wondering why others could speak for themselves, yet he couldn’t write something similar.

With nothing better to do, Peng Deyuan began composing a programmer’s version of the catchphrase on Weibo. In his student days, he had a knack for writing, and now he scratched his head as he edited his words. Finally, he came up with a programmer’s manifesto.

Since no one he knew in real life followed him on Weibo, he wasn’t worried about embarrassment. After tagging Zhang Chu, he posted his creation.

“You only see me working tirelessly, but not the passion driving me. You have your nine-to-five; I have my all-nighters. You deny my present; I determine my future. You may look down on my existence, but I’ll prove whose era this is with my code! Coding is destined to be a painful journey, fraught with bugs and changes—so what? Even if it can’t run, I’ll code it beautifully! I am a code monkey, and I speak for myself!”

Among the many adapted versions, Peng Deyuan’s programmer’s manifesto quickly stood out online and spread widely—after all, programmers formed a large community.

All kinds of these manifestos began to flood the internet. Even signatures on QQ and WeChat were being changed to “I speak for myself!”