264: Chapter 264 "Ordinary World"

Jiangcheng seemed to have been put on fast-forward; half a month passed before anyone knew it.

But this studio located in SOHO Future City was like an isolated island forgotten by time.

The curtains were drawn tight, completely sealing off the fierce August sun and the noisy modern city outside the window.

Inside the room, there was no day or night, only the dim yellow halo of the desk lamp,

and the cold wind blowing from the air conditioner's vent, maintained at sixteen degrees.

"Clack, clack, clack, clack—"

The sound of typing never ceased, its rhythm heavy and hurried,

It didn't sound like writing; it sounded more like a man from the Northwest swinging a hoe on the Loess Plateau, striking the hard, dry earth blow after blow.

Over the past half month, he had practically grown into that ergonomic chair.

As the word count of the document grew frantically, his appearance underwent a visible change.

Stubby, dark stubble had sprouted on his once-clean chin.

His cheeks grew hollower by the day, his cheekbones protruded, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken.

But those eyes remained bright,

carrying a grit like someone who had walked down from the crisscrossing gullies of the loess land with two baskets of stones on his back.

"Knock, knock."

The studio door was gently knocked.

Opening the door, Wang Xiulian walked in softly, carrying a box of sliced, chilled watermelon.

Seeing her gaunt son, she was so heartbroken that she hissed through her teeth.

"Son, take a break."

Wang Xiulian placed the fruit plate on the corner of the desk, her voice kept very low for fear of disturbing something.

"Have some melon. Mom specially picked out a Kylin watermelon; it's seedless and very sweet."

Lin Que's fingers paused for a moment.

He turned his head, his bloodshot eyes staring at the plate of translucent red watermelon flesh, his expression dazed for a moment.

The cold rain of 1975 in his mind hadn't stopped yet,

and his stomach still seemed to hold the roughness and burning sensation of swallowing black sorghum buns.

The figure of the young boy who hid in a corner to drink dishwater just to save two cents on side dishes

overlapped with the climate-controlled, comfortable room before him.

This absurd sense of temporal displacement made him dazed for a few seconds.

Then, he grabbed a piece of watermelon and took a large bite.

The cold, sweet juice washed down his throat,

and that illusory sense of hunger was finally suppressed by the sugar of reality.

"Slow down, slow down."

Seeing her son devouring the food, Wang Xiulian's eyes began to redden again.

"This child, why is writing an article like serving a prison sentence..."

Lin Que wiped the corners of his mouth and forced a smile, his voice as raspy as if it were filled with sand:

"Mom, this is called immersive creation. Only by having been hungry can one write the fragrance of food."

"Nonsense, when has our family ever let you go hungry?"

Wang Xiulian gave him a reproachful glare, looked at the stack of empty lunch boxes nearby, and sighed.

"What do you want for dinner? I'll have your father stew a pork hock to nourish you."

"Something light." Lin Que placed his hands back on the keyboard.

"Steamed white buns and a bowl of millet porridge will do."

Wang Xiulian left, looking back with every step.

The moment the door closed, the warmth in Lin Que's eyes quickly faded, replaced once again by a heavy desolation.

He had to hold onto this "hunger."

In this era of material excess, to write the kind of power that treats survival as a faith, like in ordinary world,

he had to let himself die of spiritual hunger once first.

At dinner time, Lin Que went home.

Lin Jianguo had also returned.

This middle-aged man had been glowing with health lately; he was excitedly waving his phone as soon as he entered:

"Son! Have you seen the news? The buzz around 'Jian Shen' abroad hasn't died down yet!

I heard publishers from several countries are fighting for the rights, saying they want to put our Huaxia literature on a pedestal!"

Lin Que was holding a bowl of millet porridge and only gave a faint "mm" in response.

"And that little Miss Ye!" Lin Jianguo brought the phone close to Lin Que's eyes.

"It's the last stop of the tour. I heard ticket prices have been inflated to two thousand Euros each! Tsk tsk, women really can hold up half the sky."

Lin Que glanced at the screen.

Ye Xi stood under the spotlight in a formal gown, radiant and magnificent.

Who would have thought how this girl complained in private about the gown being too tight and how terrible the foreign food was.

"It really is quite good."

Lin Que lowered his head to take a sip of porridge, a slight smile playing on his lips.

...

Late at night on the fourteenth day of his seclusion.

Outside the window, Jiangcheng was already asleep, with only an occasional car horn in the distance.

The document's page count stopped at page 382.

Lin Que stared at the line of text on the screen, his finger hovering over the Enter key for a long time without pressing down.

That was the end of the first volume.

After graduating from high school, Sun Shaoping returned to the village to be a community-sponsored teacher; life was still difficult,

but his heart already yearned for the world outside.

The era was about to change, and everyone's destiny was waiting for a turning point.

"Phew—"

Lin Que heavily typed the final period.

Two hundred and thirty thousand words.

As the punctuation mark fell, the string that had been tightly wound in his mind finally loosened.

A wave of immense exhaustion surged up like a tide, instantly flooding his entire body.

He felt as if his soul had been scrubbed clean by that loess land; though rough, it possessed an unprecedented cleanliness and strength.

"The promise made in Sarajevo has been fulfilled."

Lin Que slumped against the back of his chair, staring at the ceiling and murmuring to himself.

He opened the avatar named "New Tide - Wang De'an" in his email.

Without pleasantries or preamble, he directly dragged the encrypted document titled "ordinary world - Volume One" into it.

Send.

Almost the next second, his phone vibrated.

【Wang De'an】: Teacher Jian Shen? Not asleep yet?

【Wang De'an】: If I haven't miscalculated the time difference, it should be late at night where you are, right? Are you used to the climate in Europe?

You must take care of your health; many readers back home are looking forward to your triumphant return.

Looking at the text on the screen, Lin Que couldn't help but smile.

This Editor-in-Chief clearly still thought he was a writer living in Europe, leading an elegant life in Vienna.

Lin Que moved his stiff fingers and typed six words.

【Jian Shen】: "Thanks for the concern. I've already returned to the country."

...

New Tide Publishing House, President's Office.

Wang De'an was holding his thermos, preparing to sustain himself through this late-night overtime.

The moment he saw this reply, his hand shook, and the scalding goji berry tea nearly spilled on his pants.

"Re... returned to the country?"

Wang De'an's eyes widened as he stared intently at the screen.

The whole world was celebrating the overseas success of the ferryman,

and the media was speculating whether this mysterious grandmaster was enjoying flowers and applause on the banks of the Danube.

It turned out that not only had he returned quietly long ago, but he had also casually produced a massive 230,000-word work?

Is this the efficiency of a grandmaster?

Wang De'an took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. His gaze fell on the title of the document—

ordinary world.

Wang De'an was stunned for a moment.

Accustomed to a title like the ferryman, which was filled with philosophical meaning and sounded high-brow, these five words seemed... too plain.

It even felt a bit rustic.

In this era where web novels pursued defying the heavens and dominance, and physical books pursued loneliness and scars,

giving it such a name was like walking into a CBD office building wearing an old padded cotton jacket.

But he didn't raise any questions.

For Jian Shen, he now had a nearly blind trust.

Even if this man wrote a book called "Postpartum Care for Sows," Wang De'an would dare to print an initial run of 500,000 copies with his eyes closed.

【Wang De'an】: "This title... has a very back-to-basics feel. Is Teacher planning to write a realistic theme this time?"

【Jian Shen】: "This is something I want to write for this land. It's not romantic, it's even full of dust, but it's about how to live."

"About how to live..."

Wang De'an chewed on these words, and his heart suddenly grew quiet.

He realized that this might not be a bestseller for entertainment, but a truly weighty piece of serious literature.

He hesitated for a moment and typed.

【Wang De'an】: "Teacher Jian Shen, there's something I'd like to discuss with you. Leveraging the momentum of the ferryman, our New Tide APP's daily active users have surged into the top three in the province and top ten nationwide.

The publishing house held a meeting and decided to try launching a 'Paid Reading Zone'."

【Wang De'an】: "In the past, works by physical book authors were published offline, with at most a preview posted online.

But I thought, since times have changed, could we also let serious literature try the monetization model of web novels?

I want to make ordinary world the inaugural work for our paid section."

After sending this, Wang De'an's palms were covered in sweat.

This was a huge gamble. Asking readers accustomed to buying physical books to pay per chapter on a phone?

In the circle of serious literature, this was practically heresy.

If the data flopped, not only would the platform suffer, but Jian Shen's status as a 'god' would also be affected.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the screen.

【Jian Shen】: "We can try."

【Jian Shen】: "The dignity of literature shouldn't only be reflected on a spiritual level. If words can comfort the soul, then they deserve to be given a corresponding worldly value."

【Jian Shen】: "Letting serious literature step down from its pedestal to take root in the mud and be tested by the market is, in itself, a kind of 'ordinary' greatness."

Seeing these three lines, Wang De'an pumped his fist, nearly jumping out of his chair in excitement.

"Done!"

With this grandmaster's nod, the matter was halfway successful.

Calming his emotions, Wang De'an sat back down in his chair.

He adjusted his posture, put on his reading glasses, and solemnly double-clicked the document.

As the first reader of ordinary world in this world,

he had to show the utmost respect.

...