348: Chapter 348 Have you ever paid attention to a boy?

Xisheng Mansion.

Lin Que pushed open the door with his bag on his back, and the rich aroma of pork rib soup wafted toward him.

Mother Lin walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of freshly cooked braised prawns; seeing Lin Que enter, the smile on her face was impossible to hide.

The dining table was already filled with six or seven hearty dishes.

Father Lin sat at the table, holding a bottle of aged Baijiu he usually couldn't bear to open, pouring it into two small wine glasses.

"Today is a day of double happiness for our family."

Father Lin pushed a wine glass in front of himself and poured a glass of juice for Lin Que.

"The admission notice for Qingbei is a done deal, and high school classes have ended early."

"Come, this first cup is to celebrate my son officially bidding farewell to his high school career."

Lin Que looked at the sumptuous meal before him,

his gaze sweeping over the fine lines at the corners of his parents' eyes as they smiled, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass.

On the day of his high school graduation in his previous life, both his parents had been at their workplaces pulling all-nighters to finish projects,

only dragging their exhausted bodies home in the early hours of the morning to take him for a cheap barbecue on the street corner, their faces full of guilt.

That summer night, filled with bitterness and regret, had once been an unfillable void in the depths of his heart.

But now, looking at his parents' heartfelt, proud smiles,

he truly felt

that he was not only rewriting the landscape of the literary world but also the fate of this family.

He suppressed the surging emotions in his heart, replaced them with a relaxed smile, and pulled out a chair to sit down.

"Mom, your cooking has improved again; these ribs smell even better than the ones in a restaurant."

"You and your sweet talk. Eat more; you've lost quite a bit of weight preparing for the competition and the book signing lately."

Mother Lin kept piling food into Lin Que's bowl.

The family sat around the dining table, chatting about everyday things.

Father Lin uncharacteristically drank three glasses of Baijiu, his chatterbox opening completely as he pulled Lin Que into imagining university life after going to the capital.

After dinner, Lin Que said goodbye to his parents and headed straight to the studio in SOHO Future City.

With no need to go to school in the coming days, he had plenty of time to deal with accumulated matters.

He pushed open the studio door; as usual, the main ceiling light was not turned on.

Lin Que walked to the large desk, pulled out the ergonomic chair, sat down, and skillfully turned on the computer and the night light beside it.

He opened the browser and entered the account and password for the author's backend of Hell Dream Weaver.

As soon as he logged in, the notification sounds from the backend chimed in unison.

He clicked on the review section for cthulhu mythos, where the screen was filled with readers' frantic messages urging for updates.

Lin Que's fingers tapped on the keyboard a few times, bringing up the plot outline from the document.

After this period of serialization, the world-building of cthulhu mythos was nearing its end.

He carefully sorted out the direction of the final major plot arc.

All the foreshadowing had been resolved, leaving only the climactic conclusion of the last few chapters.

After confirming there were no issues with the plot logic, he opened the Author Assistant and typed out a single-chapter preview.

Title: "Finale Preview."

The body contained only a few lines:

"Dear readers, the mist of Arkham is about to dissipate, and the slumber of the Ancient Gods will finally come to an end."

cthulhu mythos will reach its grand finale in three days.

"Prepare to embrace the final madness."

Click send.

After only two minutes, the review section completely exploded.

Countless readers swarmed into the comment section, some wailing that they didn't want it to end,

others frantically guessing the final outcome, and notification sounds for tips rang out continuously in the backend.

Lin Que ignored the noise, closed the webpage, and prepared to concentrate on finishing the last few chapters.

Just then, the Penguin icon in the bottom right corner of the computer screen began to flash.

Lin Que opened the dialog box; the sender was Wang De'an, the president of Xinchao Publishing House.

This morning, this big shot of the publishing world was still in the meeting room of Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, attempting to sign the high schooler Lin Que with a sky-high contract.

Now, he was reporting the latest battle results to "Jian Shen" in an extremely respectful tone.

"Good evening, Teacher Jian Shen. Sorry to disturb your rest."

The text sent by Wang De'an was tinged with uncontrollable excitement.

"I have good news to report. Within just two days of the domestic release of ordinary world, the entire initial print run of one million copies has sold out!"

"Fortunately, New Tide prepared additional copies in advance, so the gap won't exceed 12 hours."

Two days, one million copies.

Lin Que looked at the numbers on the screen, his expression calm, as his hands tapped quickly on the keyboard:

"Thank you for your hard work, President Wang."

Wang De'an replied almost instantly:

"It's my duty. Also, the operation of overseas rights is going very smoothly."

"After reading it, Mr. Yang was very excited and decided on the spot to take over the subsequent complete set of translation work for ordinary world."

"With his veteran touch, the depth and sense of the era in the writing will definitely be perfectly restored."

Lin Que paused.

He typed a query: "What are New Tide's plans for the key country layout for this overseas expansion?"

"According to our marketing department's analysis, for a realist work with such a strong Eastern historical background, the cultural barrier is quite large."

"So we plan to use the Southeast Asian market as the primary front; after all, the cultural homology is higher."

"At the same time, we'll allocate a small portion of resources to reach the North American and European markets."

Wang De'an provided an extremely cautious business strategy.

Lin Que looked at this reply, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

His thoughts drifted back to Sarajevo a few months ago.

In that small city filled with historical scars.

He had met a landlady.

That old woman, who had experienced so much yet remained resilient, deeply touched him with the stories of suffering and survival she told him by the fireside.

It was precisely that resonance across borders that made him decide to bring ordinary world into this world.

Sarajevo was too small; if not intentionally pushed,

Mrs. Zola might never be able to see this book.

He quickly typed a line and sent it over.

"While Southeast Asia is indeed homologous, suffering and struggle often bloom more vibrantly in lands that have experienced the fires of war and the pains of industrialization."

"Europe has more than just the prosperity of Western Europe; those small countries on the Balkan Peninsula hidden on the fringes of history also need the solace of words."

"If this book can be seen on the streets of those small cities as well, I think that would be truly going global."

On the other end of the computer, Wang De'an looked at the request on the screen, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Teacher Jian Shen, readers in Europe might lack resonance with our historical background; wouldn't it be too risky?"

Wang De'an expressed his concern tactfully.

The sound of Lin Que tapping the keyboard echoed in the quiet studio.

"Suffering and class are the common languages of all humanity."

"Those old industrial nations in Europe understand the struggles of bottom-tier laborers in the torrent of the times better than anyone."

"Push ordinary world to them, and they will see their own shadows."

Wang De'an looked at this reply and was silent for a full half-minute.

He recalled the accurate market predictions of "Jian Shen's" previous books; that extraordinary strategic vision had never been wrong.

As the helmsman of New Tide, he immediately made a decision.

"Understood. I will hold a meeting first thing tomorrow morning to readjust the overseas promotion budget."

Wang De'an's reply was crisp and decisive.

The work report finished, and the Penguin chat box was quiet for a few seconds.

Just as Lin Que was about to close the dialog box to start writing, Wang De'an sent another message.

His tone had less of the official rigor and a bit more of the gossip between peers.

"Teacher Jian Shen, I met a junior in Jiangcheng today, seventeen years old, with innate pride."

"I wonder if you've paid any attention to him lately?"

...