234: Chapter 234 Still Waters Rippling

The screen's glow reflected in Lin Que's eyes.

That newcomer called [Steppenwolf], his writing was like unpolished sandpaper.

When writing about "eating books," he didn't use any flowery language;

he just clumsily described the astringent taste of paper pulp that wouldn't dissolve in saliva, and the spasms of a scratched esophagus when swallowing it hard.

If it were an editor from before,

they would have deleted this pile of "nonsense" long ago and replaced it with the "ding" of a system notification in a typical power fantasy trope.

But Lin Que stared at those few lines, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the mouse.

Within the gaps of that coarse writing, there was a sense of wild, untamed growth.

It was a long-suppressed creativity,

a desperate longing to squeeze through after seeing a crack appear in an indestructible wall.

Lin Que sat up straight, scrolled down with his mouse, and clicked on the donation rankings.

Aside from the far-ahead "Dream Weaver,"

[Steppenwolf]'s "Long Night in the Wasteland" had actually received over a dozen "Great God Verifications."

What did this mean?

It meant that readers didn't just love mindless power fantasies; they simply had no other choice.

Once someone served a substantial dish with some texture, even if the cooking was a bit off, the long-starved diners would still buy in.

Lin Que continued browsing the top ten of the new book rankings.

Change was happening.

"Mechanical Buddha Heart," ranked fifth, was no longer just about mecha clashing; it began to explore self-awareness after artificial intelligence develops emotions.

"Deep Sea Hunter," ranked eighth, although it mimicked the Cthulhu setting,

it added its own localized reflections, no longer just a pile of data for monster-slaying and leveling up.

This pool of stagnant water had finally come alive.

Lin Que leaned back in his chair and picked up the iced cola on the desk for a sip.

As the big "catfish" named "Dream Weaver," after muddying these stagnant waters,

he had finally forced these native fish, who originally only knew how to write instruction manuals, to start evolving fangs.

This was what he wanted.

If he were the only one dancing in the entire literary world, it would be far too boring.

"Seeking defeat while being alone at the top" sounds cool, but once you actually get there, all that's left is the loneliness of the heights.

Only when a hundred flowers bloom can this fire burn brighter,

and only then can he, this great tree, grow taller under the cover of the forest.

Lin Que had just picked up the iced cola and hadn't even had a chance to take a sip when the vibration on the desk broke the dead silence of the night.

"Buzz— Buzz—"

Ripples formed on the surface of the cola, and the name [Wang De'an] flashed on the screen.

Lin Que glanced at the screen.

This late?

Lin Que raised an eyebrow and pressed the answer button,

casually adjusting the voice changer to the warm and steady frequency of "Jian Shen."

"Hello, Editor-in-Chief Wang."

"Teacher Jian Shen... *cough*, sorry to disturb you so late."

Wang De'an's voice came through the receiver.

His voice was extremely hoarse, revealing an irrepressible exhaustion, but that burst of excitement surged through the current straight into the eardrums.

Clearly, this Editor-in-Chief of "New Tide" had pulled another all-nighter, perhaps even several in a row.

"It's fine," Lin Que said in a calm tone. "Judging by your voice, is there good news?"

"Big news! Huge news!"

Wang De'an took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm his excitement:

"Teacher Jian Shen, it's done. Just now, Elder Yang's team passed the final review for the Portuguese proofreading. The sixteen-language versions are all finalized."

Lin Que's hand holding the phone tightened slightly.

This meant that the sixteen-language versions of "the ferryman" had all been finalized.

"Elder Yang and his team... they've really worked hard."

Lin Que said sincerely.

For the past half month, that silver-haired old gentleman and his four prize pupils

had practically lived in the study, grinding through this novel of over a hundred thousand words.

This kind of workload would normally take at least several months.

"I've already conveyed your thanks on your behalf. Elder Yang said it wasn't hard; he said being able to translate such a work brings honor to Huaxia literature."

Wang De'an's voice choked up slightly.

"Teacher Jian Shen, you might not know what this means."

The sound of rustling paper came from the other end of the line.

"Just now, our publishing house mobilized its highest-level channel resources,

confirming the final print runs and delivery times with top publishers in sixteen countries overnight."

"In our Huaxia publishing history, this is a first!"

Wang De'an's voice rose a few pitches, carrying a hint of a tremble:

"In the past, when we went overseas, what did we sell? Chinese recipes and kung fu movies!"

"But this time is different!"

Wang De'an paused, his voice carrying a fierce sense of vindication.

"This time, they're the ones begging us for a release date. This time... it's our soul!"

Lin Que listened quietly, without interrupting.

In this world, Huaxia's technology tree was very advanced,

but in terms of cultural export, it had always been a "mute giant."

Foreigners used Huaxia-made phones and flew Huaxia-made spaceships, but they couldn't understand the hearts of Huaxia people.

And "the ferryman" was that key.

"Editor-in-Chief Wang, has the date been set?"

Lin Que waited for Wang De'an's emotions to calm down slightly before asking.

"It's set!"

Wang De'an said decisively:

"To account for global time zones and to catch the peak traffic of the summer season,

we consulted repeatedly with publishers from sixteen countries and finally settled on a global synchronized time."

"When?"

"Huaxia time, July 8th, at midnight."

Wang De'an's tone was solemn, as if he were reading out a combat order:

"At that time, from bookstores in London to Amazon in New York, from Kinokuniya in Tokyo to Shakespeare and Company in Paris,

online and offline channels in sixteen countries worldwide will simultaneously launch your 'the ferryman'!"

"This will be the first true 'cultural export' in the history of Huaxia literature."

"This day will be recorded in the history books."

July 8th... Hearing this date, Lin Que's eyes narrowed slightly.

His fingers, which were originally on the keyboard, subconsciously tapped the desk twice.

"July 8th?" he asked softly.

Sensing this hesitation, Wang De'an's speaking speed quickened:

"Is the date a conflict? Although it's a hassle to coordinate, if you insist..."

"No."

Lin Que interrupted him, his voice devoid of emotion, yet carrying an inscrutable sense of pleasure.

"Let's set it for that day!"

...He hung up the phone.

The night breeze of Jiang City blew the curtains, bringing a hint of coolness.

Lin Que turned his head to look at the pitch-black night sky outside the window.

July 8th.

That was the day "the ferryman" would set sail overseas.

And this day... Lin Que opened WeChat and looked at the last message sent by the rabbit avatar.

[Fugitive Beethoven]: The premiere is on July 8th, remember to cheer for me online! [Struggle][Struggle]

It was also the day the girl going to Vienna's Golden Hall to play the piano would start the first stop of her European tour.

"Is this a coincidence?"

Lin Que chuckled and tossed his phone back onto the desk.

That day.

He would ferry all living beings through words.

She would chase the light on the piano keys.

The world seems large, but at certain moments, it's so small that it feels wonderful...