156: The Senior in Red

"A—choo—!"

A world-shaking sneeze broke the silence,

shaking the fruit plate on the coffee table.

Wang Xiulian, who was curled up on the sofa watching TV, was startled,

quickly putting down the half-peeled fruit in her hand.

She immediately leaned over and pressed the back of her hand against Lin Que's forehead:

"What's wrong? Are you wearing too little?

I told you the air conditioner's draft is too harsh; natural air is much better for you.

Mom will go boil a bowl of ginger soup for you, put some brown sugar in it, and let you sweat it out."

"Mom, really, there's no need."

Lin Que rubbed his reddened nose and shrunk into the corner of the sofa with a helpless look:

"My nose just itched. Someone must be talking about me somewhere."

"Talking about you? I think you're catching a cold!"

Wang Xiulian wouldn't listen and stood up to rush toward the kitchen.

"This sudden change between hot and cold is when it's easiest to get sick. You wait, Mom will slice some ginger for you."

Lin Que watched his mother's bustling back, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

He reckoned that someone really was talking about him right now.

Calculating the time,

the bomb that was "fan jin passes the imperial examination" should have already exploded on the desks of those old scholars by now.

Whether they were cursing or praising him, that sneeze had been quite timely.

On the other end of the sofa, Lin Jianguo was unhurriedly peeling an orange.

Old Comrade Lin had been living comfortably lately;

ever since moving into this big house, his back had straightened up quite a bit.

"Young people don't get sick that easily. You're making a fuss over nothing."

He handed a slice of orange to Lin Que, his gaze never leaving the TV screen.

A social news segment was playing on the screen.

[Early this morning, two deceased individuals were found in an old staff dormitory building in this city.

According to the preliminary police investigation, the deceased were a young couple.

Due to their parents' opposition to their marriage and the influence of feudal superstitious thoughts, they met here for a double suicide...]

The camera shook, showing the police tape cordoning off that drab, gray tenement building.

The dim yellow streetlights hit the peeling exterior wall, making it look like a festering face.

Lin Jianguo chewed his orange, his brow furrowed into a knot as he let out a soft sigh:

"Young people these days.

For the sake of that so-called 'love,' they'd even throw away their lives.

Is it easy for parents to raise them this big? To just die like that... Sigh!"

Lin Que took the orange but didn't eat it, just twirling it in his hand.

"Dad, that's because they feel that love is greater than life."

"Greater my foot!"

Lin Jianguo threw the orange peel into the trash can.

"That's because they haven't gone hungry! Go hungry for a couple of meals and they'll know how valuable life is.

Dying for love... they didn't even look at how eerie that building is. Dying there, aren't they afraid they won't be able to reincarnate?"

The speaker was casual, but the listener was attentive.

Lin Que stared at the flash of reddish-brown bloodstains on the TV screen, his fingers pausing slightly.

Love is greater than life?

In this world of barren entertainment,

people's understanding of that extreme, obsessive love

seemed to stop at the self-indulgent sentimentality of "Romeo and Juliet."

They hadn't seen the hatred born of love, or the souls twisted by obsession.

When the chapter "The Fox Immortal's Medicine" was released a few days ago, many victims of cosmetic surgery loans suddenly woke up.

The comment section was full of 'scared me to death' and 'never dare to touch my face again.'

Fear, sometimes, is indeed the best vaccine.

Since everyone was talking about this news of dying for love,

he might as well add some potent ingredients to this vaccine.

"Mom, I won't drink the ginger soup. I'm going back to the studio to do some practice papers."

Lin Que stuffed half an orange into his mouth and stood up to leave.

"Eh? I just started boiling it! This child..."

...SOHO Future City.

Closing the door, it was eerily quiet.

Lin Que sat at the computer, skillfully opened the webpage,

and logged into the backend of "Hell Dream Weaver."

The book review section for "soul ferry" was still very lively;

everyone was still discussing the girl from the previous chapter who would do anything to become beautiful.

Lin Que didn't look at the comments and created a new chapter.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard,

the story framework quickly taking shape in his mind.

In the original story, this was a classic segment about waiting and obsession.

In Lin Que's view,

this story was tailor-made for those who constantly said, "we'll be together even in death."

Love to the extreme is a sin.

Lin Que typed out the chapter title: "Senior Sister in Red."

The sound of the keyboard echoed rapidly in the room.

He didn't write about fanged ghosts or scenes of blood flowing like rivers.

He simply wrote about a dormitory room that was forever unoccupied,

a red dress hanging in the closet left by someone unknown,

and the sound of high heels echoing in the hallway late every night.

["Senior, does this dress look good?"]

[In the mirror, that pale face had no features,

only a pair of red lips smeared with blood, opening and closing.]

["Do you love me? Will you love me forever?"]

["If you don't love me, then dig out your heart and show it to me..."]

That sense of suffocation crawled out bit by bit through the words.

It wasn't the kind of scary that made you scream,

but the kind that made you feel like someone was blowing cold air on the back of your neck, made you feel like the closet door wasn't fully closed,

and made you feel like there was a pair of eyes staring at you from under the bed... a chilling cold.

In this era that championed science and dismissed ghosts and gods as superstition, Lin Que used his words to tell them:

What is more terrifying than ghosts and gods is the obsession in the depths of the human heart that refuses to let go even in death.

Three thousand five hundred words, completed in one go.

Checking for typos, he clicked publish.

After doing all this, Lin Que leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.

If "The Fox Immortal's Medicine" was a lesson for those with appearance anxiety,

then this "Senior Sister in Red" was a bucket of ice water for those 'love-brains' who treated dying for love as romantic.

Wake up.

In reality, there is no turning into butterflies, only livor mortis.

He refreshed the backend.

Less than five minutes after it was posted, the comment section had already exploded.

[First!]

[Holy crap! Dream Weaver Great Master, do you live inside the evening news? I was just watching the news about the double suicide, and you've already updated?]

[I'm out, my closet door is moving...]

[Don't say it! That red dress in my closet just gained its freedom!]

[I originally thought that couple was quite touching after seeing the news, but after reading this chapter... I suddenly feel that being alive is pretty good.

That kind of love where you have to be entangled even in death is just too suffocating.]

Lin Que closed the screen with satisfaction; this was exactly the effect he wanted.

He closed the Hong Guo Net page and switched to his email.

Compared to the chilly winds over there, the email inbox here seemed much more "alive."

An unread email lay quietly at the top, the sender being Xu Lan from the Xinchao Magazine Agency.

He clicked it open.

The words were filled with respect; he could even imagine Xu Lan sitting upright and formal while sending the email.

[Dear Teacher Jian Shen:

Pardon the intrusion. First, I'd like to report some good news: all the layout and finalization procedures for the physical book of "the ferryman" have been completed.

In view of the explosive response to "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store" and the heart-shaking final chapter of "the ferryman,"

the agency has discussed and decided to set the initial print run at "S+ level," with a first batch of one million copies.

The Editor-in-Chief asked me to convey his respects to you.

Additionally, if it is convenient,

we would like to ask you to personally write a preface for the physical book.

Readers are very much looking forward to hearing more from you about this work.

Finally... although we know you've just finished and need a rest,

everyone in the agency, and even the entire literary world, is eagerly awaiting your next work.

Do you have any new plans?

Editor Xu Lan]

S+ level initial print.

One million copies.

In this era where physical publishing was increasingly declining, this number was simply astronomical.

It seemed that the "living towards death" ending had indeed stunned Wang De'an.

Lin Que's fingers lightly tapped the tabletop.

The preface was easy to write.

It was nothing more than further elevating the core of "the ferryman,"

talking about life and death, love and responsibility, using a compassionate tone

to give the readers a bowl of warm chicken soup for the soul.

This was the persona of "Jian Shen": gentle as jade, profound and transparent.

But what to write next?

"the ferryman" was popular,

but in essence, it was still a healing novel with a touch of fantasy, and its audience skewed younger.

If he wanted to truly gain a foothold in that serious literary circle controlled by old scholars,

just healing wouldn't be enough.

He needed something.

Something that looked harmless,

but could actually shatter the worldview of adults.

Lin Que's gaze fell on the bookshelf; it was empty,

except for a few dull physics books.

This world was too hard.

So hard it only had steel and concrete, only formulas and theorems.

The adults here were all too much like adults.

They cared about numbers, about stocks, about houses,

but forgot to look up at the stars.

An image suddenly jumped into Lin Que's mind.

Golden wheat fields, a tamed fox,

and that little boy who lived on asteroid B612 and only owned a single rose.

In this world without fairy tales—or rather, a world where fairy tales only belonged to kindergartens—

this philosophy book disguised as a fairy tale would definitely be a heavy-duty bomb.

It wasn't just written for children;

it was even more so for those who used to be children.

Using the simplest language to tell the loneliest story.

This was very "Jian Shen."

Lin Que pulled over the keyboard and began to reply to the email.

[Editor Xu:

I have read your letter. I am overwhelmed by the S+ level initial print and thank the agency for its trust.

The preface is attached, titled "A Love Letter to the Living."

I hope it can serve as a full stop for this book about ferrymen.

As for the new book... having seen too much of the world's busyness and anxiety lately, I suddenly want to write something simple.

If "the ferryman" was a medicine to heal pain, then for the next book, I want to write a dream.

A dream about roses, about taming, and about parting.]

Writing to this point, Lin Que paused.

At the very end of the email, he typed a line:

[This is a fairy tale written for adults.]

Click send...