275: Chapter 275 We are all frogs in a well – Bonus chapter of <The New Type of Salted Fish>

The wind changed dramatically half an hour after the preface and trial read were released.

Known book critic, Guest of Black Soil, deleted his pinned Microblogging platform, leaving only one sentence:

"Before Jian Shen's compassion, we are all frogs at the bottom of a well."

Fans who had been clamoring for crowdfunding for breach of contract in major forums wept inconsolably as they read the preface on their screens.

The trending topics on Microblogging platform that had been high on the list quickly plummeted.

They were replaced by several spontaneously popular topics.

#SorryXinchao#, #Pen NameDescendsToMortalWorld#, #TributeToTheOrdinaryWorld#, #TheWholeInternetOwesPen NameABookTicket#

Although most fans who had previously lambasted New Tide began to reflect, some even apologized profusely on social media out of shame.

However, a small number of "diehards" and "conspiracy theorists" stuck to their guns, believing this was another round of New Tide's marketing hype.

And while traditional literary critics no longer spoke out collectively,

many chose to wait and see, or privately continued to question the "damage" this model would do to literature.

In the arena of public opinion, two currents still surged beneath the surface,

but the waves of guilt and shock gradually began to gain the upper hand.

Facing such a grand and compassionate preface,

the accusations of "commercialism" seemed particularly pale.

It broke through most people's psychological defenses, making many reflect on the narrowness of their previous remarks.

The difference in caliber was immediately apparent.

Immediately after, countless people, with complex emotions, clicked on this work that carried the heavy expectations of the preface.

The first to be overwhelmed were the web novel readers accustomed to skimming.

They had come with their keyboards ready to find fault.

Their fingers hovered above the screen, waiting to pick out dry and uninteresting passages to criticize.

However, the words on the screen didn't give them that opportunity.

The cold rain of 1975 struck directly at their faces.

The price list for Class A, B, and C meals shattered their illusions of cheat codes in 'cool' novels.

When they saw the tall, thin young man squatting in a pile of broken bricks,

swallowing black steamed buns with rainwater, many people's hovering fingers froze.

Eyes accustomed to seeing world-destroying ultimate moves were now stinging from the mention of meals costing a few cents.

The light from the phone screens illuminated stunned faces.

No one bothered to send bullet comments.

There were no flowery words, only a raw, cutting reality.

[Pen Blossoms]: I'm totally dumbfounded! What about the slow burn? What about foraging on the Loess Plateau?

This opening is a direct hit! During the part where Sun Shaoping ate the black bun, I felt like my mouth was full of sand and my stomach was burning! Who said serious literature isn't satisfying? This is more satisfying than watching a system upgrade, it really hurts!

[Pen Blossoms]: I'm totally dumbfounded! What about the slow burn? What about foraging on the Loess Plateau?

[Fanatical Dan Yi]: I always thought Dream Weaver's "Innsmouth" was enough to make one's sanity drop, but I didn't expect Teacher Jian Shen's "ordinary world" to be a spiritual shock in another sense.

That young man hiding in the corner eating a black bun, it wasn't fear, it was humiliation! I saw another kind of alienation, the struggle and indomitable spirit of humanity in barrenness.

I feel like something dormant inside me has been awakened!

[Pen Name Doesn't Exercise]: That tearing hunger and dignity, which could be felt through the screen, made my post-80s generation tears flow like a river.

My parents' generation lived through this! Teacher Jian Shen, what you've written isn't a story, it's history, it's the genes carved into our bones!

[Red Fruit Scrambled Eggs]: When I saw Sun Shaoping eating the black bun in the rain, I directly threw away the instant noodles in my hand.

Damn it, I'm eating instant noodles, he's eating a black bun. What right do I have to complain? What right do I have to say I'm suffering?

Online, various comments surged like a tide, from initial shock to later resonance, and finally to complete surrender.

Web novel readers, accustomed to fast-paced stories and cheat codes,

discovered for the first time that a reality without fantasy could also be so deeply moving.

As for the traditional literary critics, after reading the first ten chapters, they fell into a long silence.

They tried to deconstruct it with various literary theories,

only to find that all theories seemed pale and powerless in the face of such raw reality.

This wasn't literature at all; this was life, this was flesh and blood!

Xinchao Publishing House, President's Office.

Wang De'an stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the crowd below in the square who had originally been staging a sit-in protest.

They hadn't dispersed.

However, the banners that read "Boycott" had been put away.

Instead, many people spontaneously bowed deeply towards the Xinchao building.

Some even began to neatly stack the bottled water they had originally prepared to throw at the door,

on the steps, like a silent apology and offering.

"President Wang..."

The Operations Director pushed open the door, holding a tablet computer, his voice excited.

"APP downloads surged by three million in one hour! The server almost crashed again!"

"And... although the book hasn't even launched yet, the top-up channel is already overloaded! The current pre-charge amount has already exceeded..."

The Operations Director swallowed, extending five fingers.

"Seventeen million?"

The cigarette butt in Wang De'an's hand trembled slightly, and ash fell.

Seventeen million? The book hasn't even been released, and pre-charges alone have reached seventeen million?

This isn't an apology; this is retaliatory spending!

Are these readers trying to drown New Tide in money?

"President Wang, should we issue an announcement, advising everyone to spend rationally?"

The Operations Director was somewhat apprehensive.

"Advise my ass!"

A sharp and resolute glint shone in his bloodshot eyes.

He took a deep drag from his cigarette, and the exhaled smoke carried a taste of vindication.

"This is the readers' sincerity! This is what Teacher Jian Shen earned with his true heart!"

"Tell the technical department to expand the server capacity tenfold! If the platform lags for even a second at midnight the day after tomorrow, I'll make them pack their bags and scram!"

"Yes!"

...

Xisheng Mansion.

Lin Jianguo finally calmed down.

"Son, don't just stand there."

Old Comrade Lin, wiping his swollen eyes, looked sternly at Lin Que.

"Get out your phone."

"What for?"

"Download New Tide! Top up money!"

Lin Jianguo's tone was firm as he pulled out his own phone.

"I'll transfer two hundred yuan to you. As soon as the book goes online, you subscribe immediately! This is our family's political mission!"

"Also, tell your friends in the screenwriting circle, and your classmates, to promote it too!"

Lin Que looked at the "200.00" yuan that arrived in his WeChat and couldn't help but twitch his lips twice.

Lin Que almost burst out laughing looking at the two hundred yuan that arrived on WeChat.

Using the special funds given by his own father to subscribe to a book he wrote himself,

this unconventional way of money laundering, passing money from the left hand to the right, made his stomach ache from trying to suppress his laughter.

"Okay, I'll listen to you."

Lin Que suppressed his laughter and, in front of his father, obediently opened the New Tide APP and clicked on the top-up interface.

Looking at the constantly fluctuating reward ranking on the APP's homepage, Lin Que felt little ripple in his heart.

Money, of course, was important.

But what he anticipated more was midnight the day after tomorrow.

When the rain and snow of 1975 truly fell,

this wave of guilt and emotion would be like a true spring thunder, awakening this somewhat restless era.

"Teacher Jian Shen..."

Lin Jianguo was still muttering beside him, holding his phone, repeatedly reciting the preface.

"This realm, this breadth of mind... even if he wrote a mere detailed account, I would accept it!"

Lin Que took a sip of cool boiled water, hiding the smile in his eyes.

That was no gentle detailed account.

It was a blood-stained knife, and tear-soaked loess.

Outside the window, the night was deep.

A long-brewing downpour finally crashed down at this moment.

Thunder rumbled, shaking the window frames.

As if beating the war drums for the "world" that was about to arrive.

...