Chapter 705

“Cheers!”

To liven the atmosphere and ease the tension between Zhou Shihe and Teacher Yu, Sun Manning was the first to raise her beer cup.

Mai Sui also lifted her cup.

Yu Shuheng raised her cup third.

Sensing a man’s subtle gaze upon her, Zhou Shihe put down her newspaper and picked up her glass.

With a “duang,” the five cups clinked together.

Then they each drained their drinks in one gulp.

Sun Manning asked Yu Shuheng: “Teacher, is Tokyo fun? Is it very developed? How does it compare to Shanghai?”

Yu Shuheng said: “It’s fine. At this stage, it might be a bit more prosperous than Shanghai, mainly because it’s trendier and more convenient for shopping. But our country is now implementing reform and opening-up; we’ll gradually catch up.”

Although Yu Shuheng came from a prominent family and clearly understood the gap between China and the outside world, she had also been a university teacher for years—encouraging others was instinctive, ingrained in her bones.

When fashion and shopping came up, the women’s floodgates opened instantly; Sun Manning and Mai Sui joined in enthusiastically, and soon the living room became very lively.

Even though it was a woman’s topic, Li Heng occasionally chimed in.

Only Zhou Shihe remained silent throughout, quietly listening to the others chat.

Noticing this, Li Heng sighed inwardly: Zhou Gu Niang was far harder to handle than Teacher Yu; her difficulty level was the highest among all the women he knew.

If difficulty levels had a ranking: first place unquestionably belonged to Zhou Shihe; second came Song Yu and Xiao Han; after that…

Was there even an after that?

They were all… hey, all drawn to him willingly.

He ranked Xiao Han and Song Yu equally because he pursued Xiao Han first in this life. If he’d pursued Song Yu first, hey! He definitely wouldn’t have tricked his sly little wife yet.

Li Heng initiated conversation with Zhou Gu Niang: “Since returning from Shaodong, have you been staying home?”

“Mm, I’ve always been in Yuhang.” Zhou Shihe’s voice was pleasant, smooth as jade, with a cool clarity.

Li Heng asked: “What do you do at home?”

Zhou Shihe said: “Read books, practice piano. When the weather’s good, I go out for walks with Suisui.”

Li Heng asked: “I remember in your second year, first semester, you said you wanted to enter an international piano competition. Has Teacher Wu approved you yet?”

Zhou Shihe gazed quietly at the cup before her: “Approved.”

Li Heng’s eyes lit up: “When are you going to compete?”

Zhou Shihe replied: “Still considering.”

Hearing this, Li Heng poured more beer into her cup, then filled his own: “Come on, to your swift success, all your wishes fulfilled, and bring back the championship trophy.”

Zhou Shihe smiled faintly, clinked her cup against his: “Thank you.”

Then they exchanged a glance and simultaneously tilted their heads back, draining every last drop.

Afterward, she asked: “Were you in Dongting Lake all August?”

She hadn’t intended to ask this, but the words slipped out unconsciously.

The reason was simple: during the Dragon Boat Festival, Song Yu had left a deep impression on her—Song Yu had stirred intense unease in her, and this man showed particular favoritism toward Song Yu.

But after asking, Zhou Shihe subtly clenched her cup with her finger bones, realizing she’d asked a foolish question—it exposed her inner feelings.

Li Heng noticed Zhou Gu Niang’s unease, felt a quiet thrill, yet kept his expression unchanged: “Mm, stayed there for a while, then went to Jingcheng.”

What did he do in Jingcheng?

He didn’t say, and had no intention to elaborate.

Likewise, the clever Zhou Shihe didn’t press further.

Li Heng poured another cup, raised it playfully: “Drink a third cup with me, and afterward you can ask one question.”

Zhou Shihe smiled understandingly, said okay, and genuinely drank the third cup with him.

Finally, her eyes filled with anticipation: “I remember you once said you still had many melodies unorganized—when will you release another pure music album?”

Of course—he knew this question would come eventually.

Fortunately, he was a reincarnator; assembling an album wasn’t hard.

But not now—he replied: “When I have time. I’m about to write a new book. We’ll talk after I finish it.”

At first, Zhou Shihe felt a flicker of disappointment at the first half, but the second half lifted her spirits; she asked calmly: “When will you start writing?”

Li Heng told her: “In the next couple of days.”

Zhou Shihe nodded lightly, suddenly feeling her days had purpose—she could attend class, practice piano, and have a novel to follow in her downtime.

Though she’d never told anyone, she loved reading his novels.

How to describe the feeling? Words couldn’t capture it. It was like co-creating with him, wandering together through the book’s world, a deep resonance.

Whenever she reached the most thrilling parts, she’d think: this man was born to be her nemesis—she loved reading, loved music; he excelled at both, the very pinnacle.

Though Mai Sui, Yu Shuheng, and Sun Manning chatted about fashion, the three women were secretly listening to Li Heng and Zhou Shihe’s conversation.

Sure enough, Sun Manning interjected: “Li Da Cai Zhu, can you put my name in your new book? I want to be the big villain.”

Mai Sui asked: “Why be the villain?”

Sun Manning placed her left hand on her hip: “To torment the protagonist, of course—it’s fun! What else?”

Mai Sui: “…”

Zhou Shihe: “…”

Yu Shuheng: “…”

Li Heng refused: “No.”

Sun Manning frowned: “Why not?”

Li Heng said: “Because my new book is science fiction.”

“Science fiction? What’s that?” Sun Manning looked utterly confused.

Li Heng smiled mysteriously: “Don’t understand? Then don’t ask—keep the mystery. When I finish writing, you’ll get it.”

“Pfft! Stingy jerk. I’ve got hands and feet—I’ll go to the library tomorrow and look it up myself. This little question can’t stump Big Boobs!” Sun Manning’s speech grew increasingly unrestrained.

As soon as she finished, the other four in the room all glanced at her chest.

Under their stares, Sun Manning, unusually flustered, hastily covered her chest with both hands: “Oh no, I forgot—I don’t have an airport, and I can’t mess with Suisui and Teacher Yu, la la la!”

“Airport” referred to Ye Ning.

In truth, Suisui and Teacher Yu were just like this girl—all C-cups, same tier.

But both Mai Sui and Teacher Yu had looks and aura that left this girl miles behind; their fullness naturally carried far more allure and charm.

The smallest among them was Zhou Shihe—B+, and when Sun Manning glanced over, Zhou Shihe gave her a sidelong look.

Sun Manning immediately giggled, then loudly urged everyone to drink and play cards, shouting: “Damn it, ever since Big Boss Li taught me Guan Dan, I’ve been itching to play every day. Come on, come on, let’s play for fifty cents a round!”

This girl’s energetic fussing was met with good-natured cooperation from the others.

Cards were drawn to form teams: Yu Shuheng and Sun Manning on one side.

Zhou Shihe and Mai Sui on the other.

Li Heng didn’t join; he stood up and went straight to the study to prepare for his upcoming sci-fi novel.

He closed the study door and opened the window to air it out.

Then he sat at his desk, pulled out his pen and notebook, both dusty from two months of neglect, uncapped the ink bottle, filled the dried-out nib, and sat still, lost in thought.

What should he write?

The Hyperion Cantos?

That’s a legendary book that swept every major sci-fi award—but it was published in 1989.

And today is August 31, 1989—it’s already been written. Too late; he had to reluctantly pass.

The Star Game?

Hmm, it’s decent, but only won the Nebula Award, and sales weren’t explosive. For someone aiming to make a splash in sci-fi, it still fell short.

Scouring his memory for reputation, sales, and profit potential, he dug out five more sci-fi novels.

They were: The Hunger Games, A Song of Ice and Fire, Clockwork Angel, The Book of the Dead, and The Three-Body Problem.

All five met the year requirement and were global blockbusters.

Especially the last four—sales exploded, and they won major awards like the Nebula, Hugo, and Locus Awards—true sci-fi masterpieces.

He personally favored A Song of Ice and Fire, The Three-Body Problem, and The Book of the Dead.

A Song of Ice and Fire won six Hugos, two World Fantasy Awards, and one Locus Award.

If he wrote it, it would be a guaranteed hit—fame and fortune assured.

Plus, its Western flavor made it more acceptable in markets like Britain, America, Japan, and Australia—better for making big money.

Why did he write sci-fi? For money. For fame.

The Three-Body Problem needed no introduction—it was the monument of sci-fi. Any discussion of sci-fi inevitably included it—its status was unquestionable.

But it had one problem: its concepts were absurdly ahead of their time. Once published, many other sci-fi novels would become impossible—crushed under its weight, its ideas having already blocked the path.

Still, sci-fi is about imagination, about wild creativity, about innovation—so being “ahead” was praise, not a flaw. As a reincarnator, he had nothing to fear.

The Book of the Dead, winner of the Hugo and Nebula, was hailed as the definitive infectious disease sci-fi. It was short, quick to produce—perfect as a trial run.

After long consideration, he finally picked up his pen and wrote four bold characters on the blank page: The Book of the Dead.

He chose it first because its reputation was strong, and for long-term strategy.

If he released The Three-Body Problem now, he’d peak at debut—then his sci-fi path would become far harder.

He decided: start with The Book of the Dead as a trial, then release the rest one by one, in chronological order—nothing missed.

What else could he do? He’d lived two lives; heaven had given him this gift—if he didn’t use it well, it would be a waste of divine favor.

He’d surely be struck dead by lightning again!

Moreover, selfishly speaking, he has now entangled himself with eight women, all of them exceptionally outstanding. Whether to prevent future scandals or to properly care for them and their children, he must continuously stack buffs upon himself, forge a golden body, and amplify his reputation, fame, and wealth to an astonishing degree.

In this way, even if one day his relationships with them are exposed to the outside world, public tolerance will be somewhat higher.

Imagine: a world-renowned literary master, a national figure who brings pride to the country—readers’ capacity for forgiveness would expand infinitely.

His romantic escapades might even become a topic of public fascination.

Of course, this is merely a precautionary measure; with Teacher You and Da Qingyi by his side, he hopes the scandal never occurs.

The original novel, *The Book of the End*, unfolds through dual narratives: in 2054, Eve, a history student at Niu Jing University, is accidentally transported to a 1348 English village ravaged by the Black Death due to a time-jump system malfunction, while in the future world, an operator’s influenza infection triggers a modern quarantine crisis.