4: Chapter 4: Preparing to Start the Book

It was a little past one in the afternoon, and Chen Fan, having finished his meal, was slumped over his desk in boredom.

Chen Fan sat by the window, where sunlight slanted through the glass, cutting a bright streak across his desk.

At the front of the classroom, the biology teacher was rattling on about a cell division diagram on the blackboard, their voice drifting in and out as if filtered through a layer of water.

Chen Fan didn't take in a single word.

It wasn't that he didn't want to listen—it was that he couldn't understand it at all. In his previous life, he hadn't been good at biology, and having started over in this life, his brain hadn't changed, and the knowledge hadn't magically sprouted on its own. The "meiosis" and "homologous chromosomes" the teacher was talking about sounded like gibberish to him.

Since he couldn't understand it, he couldn't be bothered to pretend.

He propped his chin on his hand, his gaze drifting out the window, his mind already wandering elsewhere.

The book "High Martial Era" lay quietly in his mind, all 3.92 million words, not a single character off. This was what the system had given him—a super hit from 2024, a masterpiece with 100,000 average subscriptions, over 700 alliance leaders, and three golden alliance leaders.

Copy the whole thing.

When these four words popped into his mind, Chen Fan didn't hesitate at all.

Why change it?

It was typed out character by character by the original author, verified by the market, and voted for by millions of readers through their subscriptions. The plot, pacing, satisfaction points, and hooks—every detail was top-tier.

As a failing little author in his previous life who only made a few tens of thousands of yuan relying on luck and gimmicks, what right did he have to think he could make it better by changing it?

It was 2009 now. Chen Fan didn't have a computer of his own. If he wanted to upload his novel, for the time being, he could only go to an internet cafe and pull all-nighters, since he had to attend classes during the day.

Besides, pulling an all-nighter at an internet cafe was much cheaper than the normal rate of three yuan per hour. In the county, the price for an all-nighter was usually 10 yuan, or 12 yuan at the more expensive ones, covering the time from 10 PM to 8 AM.

Chen Fan's weekly living allowance was 120 yuan; by scrimping and saving, it was enough for five consecutive all-nighters.

In his previous life, Chen Fan had pulled six consecutive all-nighters, though not to write novels, but to play games.

It was only because Chen Fan was young back then; if it were a dozen years later, he'd probably be ruined after three days.

Soon, the bell rang for the end of class, and Jiang Chen stood up immediately and walked toward a few boys sitting in the back rows.

Chen Fan knew he was going to find them for a smoke.

Chen Fan didn't smoke himself, and with class over, he didn't know what to do for the moment, so he simply sat in his chair and continued to think about writing his novel.

Soon, the ten-minute break was over.

A young female teacher in her twenties walked in. Although she wasn't particularly pretty, she was dressed quite fashionably—at least by the standards of this era. Through the eyes of Chen Fan, who had lived a dozen years later, she was actually quite average.

The female teacher clicked her heels up to the podium, set down the books in her hand, and then said, "Your PE teacher has taken sick leave for this class, so we will be having English instead."

Hearing this, Chen Fan couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Sure enough, every PE teacher could never avoid getting sick.

However, the other students in the class basically didn't react at all, as if they were already used to it, or perhaps, resigned to it.

... 8 PM.

As the last evening self-study session ended, Chen Fan couldn't wait to dash out of the classroom.

As someone accustomed to games, short videos, and novels, staying in the classroom all day was simply torture.

After leaving the classroom, he relied on his memory and spent three minutes reaching the school gate.

Just as he was about to step out of the school gate, a middle-aged man on duty—he couldn't tell if it was a teacher or a security guard—stopped him.

"Where's your pass?" the teacher asked.

Chen Fan was taken aback. He remembered that students living on campus weren't allowed to go out at night, and those who lived off-campus needed a pass every time they entered or left the school.

"Then where is my pass?" Chen Fan instinctively touched his neck—nothing. He touched his pockets—nothing there either.

Could it be that he lived on campus? No, that wasn't right. Chen Fan clearly remembered that he had lived off-campus during his senior year.

"It couldn't have been lost, right!" Chen Fan's expression darkened. He suddenly remembered that there seemed to be something blue in his desk today, but he had been too busy writing his novel at the time and hadn't paid any attention to it.

"Teacher, I forgot it in the classroom. I'll go get it now." Chen Fan said, then turned and ran back toward the classroom.

Returning to the classroom panting, Chen Fan immediately went to his seat and reached into his desk. A blue ID-like card appeared before his eyes.

Chen Fan took a quick look. It had the words "Pass" written on it, along with the school's official seal, and the name and photo on it were his own.

After returning to the school gate and presenting his pass, Chen Fan successfully left the school.

After stepping out the gate, before he could even take a breath of fresh air outside, another question occurred to him: where did he live?

He remembered that during his senior year, his parents thought the dormitory environment was poor, so they rented a small room in a courtyard near the school for 100 yuan a month.

There were seven or eight rooms in this courtyard, all rented by high school students like Chen Fan.

The room was very small, with no bathroom and no kitchen. Inside, there was just a bed and a desk.

For washing up, he had to go to the faucet in the courtyard, fill a basin, and then return to the room to wash. And there was only cold water; hot water had to be boiled using a kettle.

In short, compared to the living conditions a dozen years later, the place Chen Fan lived during his senior year was truly hard to look at.

Coming back to his senses, Chen Fan began to recall which courtyard it was.

He vaguely remembered it was less than 100 meters from the school gate, and there was a potato chip sandwich shop across the street.

Walking slowly forward from the school gate, Chen Fan soon saw that familiar potato chip sandwich shop.

Chen Fan used to frequent this shop; a potato chip sandwich cost two and a half yuan, and it tasted quite good.

Chen Fan followed the location of the sandwich shop and looked across the street. Soon, a courtyard that looked vaguely familiar came into view.

He guessed there was a high probability it was this one, as a student wearing a school uniform had already gone inside.

Chen Fan didn't hesitate and followed them in.

After entering the courtyard, Chen Fan's memory deepened a bit more. He vaguely remembered that his room was on the left side just as you entered.

But there were two rooms on the left, and Chen Fan couldn't remember which one exactly was his.

After all, he hadn't been here for over a dozen years in his previous life; it really wasn't easy to determine it in an instant.