233: Chapter 233 The Three Top Scholars

On the other end of the phone, Ye Xi was stunned for a few seconds,

and then let out a sudden "pfft."

A burst of unrefined laughter came through the receiver, the kind of sound that only occurs after truly letting go,

completely washing away the musty air from their earlier conversation about "fan jin passes the imperial examination."

"Master Lin, are you allergic to romance?"

Ye Xi complained while laughing, her voice carrying a breathless tremor:

"When others go to Vienna, they bring formal dresses and scented candles, or at the very least, a few bags of tea from home.

But you? You want me to bring Lao Gan Ma chili sauce?

If customs finds it, tomorrow's international news headline will be 'Young Chinese Pianist Enters Country Carrying Biochemical Weapons.' Wouldn't that be incredibly embarrassing?"

"That's where you're wrong."

Lin Que leaned under the shade of a tree, watching a ginger cat stretch in the distance with a smile on his face:

"That's not just any seasoning; it's a preservative for the soul."

"A preservative?"

"Exactly. Think about it. A place like the Golden Hall is filled with tailcoats and evening gowns; even a cough has to be done with operatic finesse.

Stay there too long, soaked in flowers and applause, and it's easy to drift away, feeling like you no longer belong to the mortal world."

Lin Que switched the phone to his other hand, his tone leisurely:

"At that moment, you hide back in your hotel room and shove a spoonful of insanely spicy beef sauce into your mouth.

That spicy kick hitting the top of your skull will instantly tell you that you're still a mortal who feels pain, needs water, and sweats.

Isn't that more effective than any psychiatrist?"

The other end of the line went quiet for a moment.

Then came the sound of Ye Xi taking a deep breath.

"Alright, I'll listen to you."

There was a hint of solemnity in her voice, as if she were accepting a momentous task:

"I'll bring it. If I really go crazy in Vienna, it'll definitely be because I didn't bring enough chili sauce."

"Also, thank you, Lin Que."

"For what?"

"Thank you for not feeding me chicken soup for the soul, but giving me a spoonful of chili sauce instead."

...The afternoon passed without a word.

The entire class was plunged into a heavy, oppressive gloom.

The physics and chemistry teachers naturally knew the reason and didn't take it to heart.

At the dinner table, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.

Ms. Wang Xiulian acted out of character, not preparing any heavy meat dishes,

but instead cooking a pot of light millet porridge served with several refreshing cold dishes.

"You're back? Wash your hands and eat."

Neither of the parents mentioned the banner hanging at the school gate, nor did they ask about the 'emo' classmates at school.

Lin Jianguo even deliberately tuned the TV to the opera channel, humming along to the singing,

holding a newspaper while chatting about the recent pork prices at the market and tomorrow's weather forecast.

"I heard from your mother that green vegetables have gone up in price; I'll go to the morning market tomorrow to stock up."

"Yeah, buy more, I like eating greens too," Lin Que replied, lowering his head to sip the porridge, following his father's lead.

He understood perfectly.

Shen Qingqiu must have contacted the family.

That seemingly strict homeroom teacher was more observant than anyone.

She knew Lin Que was currently at the center of a storm, and what he needed most upon returning home wasn't excessive praise, but a sense of grounded peace.

This careful nurturing made Lin Que feel both helpless and a bit choked up.

He restrained all his sharp edges at the dinner table, dutifully playing the part of an obedient high school son, listening to his parents nag about trivial matters.

This was the real world.

No whispers of Cthulhu, no madness of Fan Jin,

only a bowl of thick millet porridge and the newly added white hairs at his parents' temples... In the dead of night.

The night wind of Jiang City carried a damp chill.

When the clock struck eleven, Lin Que confirmed his parents were asleep.

He went alone to his studio in SOHO Future City.

"Click."

He double-locked the door.

The curtains were drawn tight, and the last sliver of light vanished.

He sat down at the computer and skillfully booted it up.

He logged into the author's backend of Hong Guo Net.

As soon as the backend loaded, the screen was nearly engulfed in golden light.

The earnings notification bar was popping up windows frantically like a virus, a neat row of treasure chest effects,

exuding a simple and crude aura of wealth.

Each one represented Hong Guo Net's highest tier of tip

—the "King of Gifts."

Quantity: 101.

Message ID: [Eggplant King].

The gift message contained only two simple words: [I'm convinced]

Lin Que looked at the number and gave a light chuckle.

Although this Eggplant King had been scared witless in the livestream and had a foul mouth, his sportsmanship was decent.

This was not a small amount of money.

In this world, one "King of Gifts" was equivalent to one thousand Huaxia Yuan.

The other party had paid this hundred thousand Yuan in 'hush money' quite decisively.

"He's a good sport,"

Lin Que commented softly, casually closing the earnings page.

Right now, there were things more interesting than money.

He switched back to the Hong Guo Net homepage.

On the black special feature page custom-made for the "cthulhu mythos," the blood-red Sanity Zero counter was jumping frantically, so fast it even left afterimages.

Current number of people with Sanity at zero: [3,741,582]

Over 3.7 million.

This wasn't just a cold statistic of clicks.

It meant that in this world that worshipped absolute rationality,

over 3.7 million souls had stared into the abyss since the release, feeling that ancient, indescribable shudder.

The transmission speed of this mental virus was even faster than he had anticipated.

He clicked on the Hongguo Peak Rankings.

The rankings, originally dominated by various War God Mechas and Overbearing CEOs, had now been completely reshuffled.

Supernatural Suspense Chart Leader: "the human world is like a prison" — Author: Hell Dream Weaver.

Urban Legend Chart Leader: "soul ferry" — Author: Hell Dream Weaver.

New Book Potential Chart / Site-wide Trending Chart / Cthulhu Triple Top: "cthulhu mythos" — Author: Hell Dream Weaver.

Under the newly created "Cthulhu" section, although there was currently only one lonely book, it looked down upon all others with a sovereign posture.

Three works, three styles,

presenting a terrifying tripartite balance on the same platform, harvesting nearly half the traffic of the entire web novel circle.

Lin Que leaned back in his chair, looking at the massive number of contracted books on Hong Guo Net.

He casually clicked on the second place on the Supernatural chart.

It was a new book titled "Wasteland Long Night," and the author had an unfamiliar ID: [Steppenwolf].

Originally, Lin Que thought it would be another formulaic story following the trend of "the human world is like a prison," piling up stats and bloody scenes.

After all, since the book became a hit, he had had no fewer than three conversations with Hong Hu about plagiarism and imitations.

Imitators were as numerous as carp crossing a river, and Lin Que's response was always the same.

"Don't worry about it; the data will help us verify!"

He casually clicked on the first chapter, and as the scroll wheel moved down,

his fingers resting on the armrest suddenly stopped.

"...In the third year after the sun went out, we burned all the books in the library.

But I kept half a copy of the 'Classic of Poetry,' not to read, but because its paper was softer than the 'Encyclopedia,'

and when chewed and swallowed, it didn't scratch the throat..."

...