16: Award of Excellence? First Prize?

In the studio, the lingering notes of classical music faded away.

Taking its place,

was the clicking sound of a magnetic axis mechanical keyboard.

Lin Que's fingers danced across the keycaps, moving so fast they almost left afterimages.

His eyes no longer held the gentleness belonging to "Jian Shen,"

leaving only the calm within the madness that belonged to the "Hell Dream Weaver."

On the screen, words poured down like a waterfall.

The first major climax of "the human world is like a prison," the Ghost Knocking incident, was taking shape under his hands.

[...Yang Jian was trapped in No. 7 Middle School, in that long-abandoned teaching building. He discovered a pattern: that ghost would knock on doors in a specific order.]

[Every knock meant the fall of a room, the death of a living person.]

[What was even more terrifying was that you couldn't open the door, nor could you make any sound in response. Once you responded, the next door to be knocked on would be yours.]

["Thump... Thump, thump..."]

["Is anyone there?"]

[From outside the door came the familiar voice of a classmate, filled with sobbing and pleading. Yang Jian covered his mouth tightly, his whole body shaking. He knew that whatever was outside the door was definitely not his classmate.]

Three hours, twenty thousand words, completed in one go.

Lin Que uploaded the ten freshly written chapters directly to Hongguo Novel Website.

This time, he didn't write any provocative titles,

he simply clicked publish calmly.

Because he knew that the content of these ten chapters itself,

would surely sweep across the entire internet.

After finishing all this, he let out a long breath and leaned back against his chair.

On the internet, the heat from "Don't Look Under the Bed Tonight" had only just begun to subside less than two days ago.

Ten minutes after the post, the review section for "the human world is like a prison" exploded again.

[Holy crap! Author, be a human being! I just crawled out from under my bed, and now you're making me afraid to hear knocking sounds?!]

[I live in a tenement building with poor soundproofing. Someone just knocked on the door next door, and I almost passed away on the spot!]

Now I'm hugging my dog and shivering; the dog is looking at me like I'm a complete idiot.]

[Analysis Post: The killing pattern of the Door-Knocking Ghost is too brilliant! This is simply unsolvable!]

A closed space, a countdown to death, and a rule-based malicious ghost that can't be fought! Is the author's imagination a black hole?]

[Stop analyzing, person upstairs! I suspect the author himself is a ghost! Otherwise, how would he know what a ghost is thinking!]

[Ten King of Gifts sent! Great Master author, I beg you, don't update anymore tonight. If you update again, I'm really going to die of exhaustion! But I still want to read it tomorrow!]

Lvluo, the editor at Hong Guo Net, felt completely numb as she watched the traffic curve on the backend turn steep once again.

The technical department's servers, which had just finished expanding, issued another warning of being overwhelmed.

Editor-in-Chief Hong Hu stood behind her,

looking at the wailing and howling in the comment section on the screen, and muttered to herself:

"He's not just writing a novel; he's creating a kind of collective anxiety..."

This storm soon spread from online to offline.

The next day, Wednesday.

Lin Que walked into the classroom and felt as if he were walking into a psychiatric hospital.

The atmosphere of the entire class was even weirder than during the last power outage.

Most of the students had heavy dark circles under their eyes, faces pale and expressions dazed.

Some people would neurotically check the bottom of their cups before drinking water.

Some people would subconsciously hug the walls while walking.

His deskmate Wu Di was even more of a case; he had directly stuffed his ears with two balls of cotton.

"Brother Que."

Wu Di's voice had a heavy nasal tone, sounding weak and listless.

"I had auditory hallucinations of knocking sounds all night. This morning when my mom came to wake me up, I almost picked up the desk lamp to fight her."

Lin Que suppressed a laugh and patted his shoulder:

"My condolences."

"Condolences my foot!"

Wu Di said with a mournful face.

"Now there are rumors all over school that you must never answer if you hear a knock, or the ghost will come for you.]

It's gotten to the point where no one dares to answer when the teacher calls roll in class. The whole class is like they're performing a mime."

Listening to this, Lin Que found it amusing.

This was exactly what he wanted.

To use a fictional story to pry at the order of reality.

This feeling was so wonderful.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the classroom door.

The Dean of Students walked in holding a red certificate, followed by a smug-looking Zhang Ya.

"Students, quiet down!"

The Dean of Students cleared his throat.

"Regarding the city-wide Qingyun Cup Composition Competition Semifinals held last weekend, the results are out!"

The eyes of the entire class turned in unison toward the honor roll in the Dean's hand.

Zhang Ya straightened her back even more, her chin slightly raised,

and shot a provocative sideways glance at Lin Que.

The Dean of Students posted the honor roll on the bulletin board and announced in a rhythmic tone:

"It's worth mentioning that the requirements for this competition were extremely high, and the First Prize position is vacant!"

Under these circumstances, Student Zhang Ya was able to win the Third Prize. This is very prestigious,]

and she is the pride of our No. 1 High School! Everyone, let's have a round of applause!"

Scattered applause broke out.

Zhang Ya's few followers immediately cheered loudly.

"Wow, Ya-ya, you're so amazing! Third Prize!"

"I told you, only positive energy articles like this can win awards!"

Zhang Ya smiled modestly, her gaze sweeping toward Lin Que once more.

The Dean of Students patted Zhang Ya's shoulder kindly,

then continued:

"Additionally, Student Lin Que from our class also received an Honorable Mention.

Well, although it's just an Honorable Mention, it's still a form of encouragement.

I hope Student Lin Que will keep working hard and learn from Student Zhang Ya,

writing more sunny and positive things."

As soon as he finished speaking, an uncontrollable burst of snickering erupted in the class.

"Pfft, Honorable Mention? Isn't that just a participation award?"

"I told you that sensationalist stuff of his couldn't make the cut. Now his true colors are finally showing."

The girl next to Zhang Ya didn't even try to hide her voice:

"Oh, don't say that about Student Lin Que.

Being able to get an Honorable Mention is already very good; it's the participation that counts.

Unlike our Ya-ya, who gets a Third Prize just by writing casually. There's still a gap between people."

Zhang Ya said "don't say that," but the smugness on her face couldn't be hidden.

"First Prize is vacant? The requirements for this competition are way too high."

Students in the back row discussed in low voices.

Wu Di heard them, and as if trying to save face for Lin Que,

he shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Since there's no First Prize, is it possible... that Brother Que's piece was written too well, and the judges didn't dare give it, so it's vacant?"

As soon as these words came out, the class went silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

The girl next to Zhang Ya laughed the loudest:

"Wu Di, are you even awake? That poisonous weed of his?

It's a mercy that the judges didn't give him zero. First Prize? You're dreaming!"

Zhang Ya's face turned from blue to red and back again.

She heard Wu Di's words and even thought that for a split second, but she quickly shook her head and dismissed it.

Faced with this blatant mockery,

Lin Que's reaction caught everyone by surprise.

He didn't even look up,

simply shifting into a more comfortable position and leaning on the desk.

This attitude left Zhang Ya's prepared sense of superiority with nowhere to go.

The victorious atmosphere she had carefully cultivated felt like a punch into cotton,

leaving her feeling stifled and frustrated.

Shen Qingqiu stood at the back of the classroom, taking all of this in.

Her heart was filled with mixed emotions.

This result was within her expectations, yet it gave her a sense of inexplicable loss and unfairness.

But when she saw Lin Que's indifferent look, she felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

He really didn't seem to care.

His world seemed to be running on a completely different track from everyone else's.

Just then,

the phone in Lin Que's desk vibrated slightly.

He glanced at it discreetly.

It was a text message from an unfamiliar number.

[Student Lin Que, hello. I am Li Yuanchao from the Writers Association.]

[Regrettably, due to many factors, your "firefly" ultimately received an unfair evaluation.]

[But I must tell you, it is the most shocking piece of writing I have read in the last ten years.]

[Please, you must persist in your own style and not be bound by those stagnant rules.]

[Your talent should not be buried.]

As Lin Que read the text, the corners of his mouth curled up silently.

Suppression from the Chairman of the Writers Association, and high praise from a university professor.

The ridicule of classmates, and the affirmation of a literary giant.

Interesting.

Just as he was about to put away his phone, the screen lit up again.

This time, it was a new email notification for his "Jian Shen" dedicated mailbox.

Sender: Xu Lan.

[Hello Teacher Jian Shen! Sorry to disturb you. Per the Editor-in-Chief's special approval, your first round of royalties has just been remitted to the account you provided, totaling 63,000 yuan. Please check it.]

[Additionally, the electronic version of the contract has been sent as an attachment. We look forward to your review.]

[We have already begun typesetting and are incredibly excited for the day "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store" meets its readers!]

Almost at the same time, another bank text message popped up.

[Your account ending in 3101 received 63,000 CNY at 10:15 on October 26, 2035.]

Sixty-three thousand.

That was just the initial royalties for the first twenty-one thousand words of "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store."

He remembered in his past life when he was still a minor screenwriter,

staying up for countless nights just for a short drama outline that paid three hundred per thousand words...

Recalling his thoughts, Lin Que's gaze slowly moved away from the transaction text.

He looked up and met Zhang Ya's eyes, which were full of contempt and superiority.

She waved the Third Prize certificate in her hand,

and silently mouthed two words to him.

"Trash."