Chapter 1: Do I Have a Chance to Be the Progenitor of Web Novels?

"Ah Sheng! Ah Sheng? Wake up for breakfast! What time is it and you're still sleeping? Get up and eat!"

Cao Sheng, who was fast asleep, was shoved a few times by his mother. Just as he opened his eyes, he heard his mother's scolding, and he stared blankly at her, suspecting he was still in a dream.

Because the mother before him looked much younger, and the lime walls of the room, the old solid-wood wardrobe in the corner, the old desk by the bed...

All of them were the appearance of his family's old house.

"Get up quickly! Hurry up and eat, after you finish, make fried rice candy with your dad! Hurry up!"

After his mother finished speaking, she turned and left his bedroom.

Cao Sheng still suspected he was in a dream.

But the chill in the air, the feeling in the quilt, and everything in his field of vision were so clear, completely unlike a dream.

He frowned and sat up.

When his hands came out of the quilt, he clearly felt the cold in the air. He instinctively looked down at his own hands and found that his hands had become delicate and at least twenty years younger.

Transmigration?

Rebirth?

Such thoughts flashed through his mind.

Inside the bed were his clothes: a wool sweater, jeans, and a black cotton-padded jacket.

He first put on the wool sweater, then draped the cotton-padded jacket over himself, reached out to pull the jeans over, and reached into the jeans pocket, but did not find a mobile phone.

He originally wanted to find his mobile phone to check the date, but now he discovered there was no mobile phone in his pocket.

Could it be that I don't have a mobile phone yet?

What year is this exactly?

Not believing in bad luck, he touched the several pockets inside and outside the cotton-padded jacket again, then touched under the pillow, but still did not find a mobile phone.

He remembered that in 2003, he had bought his first mobile phone.

Could it be that this is earlier than 2003?

With this question, he put on his clothes and pants, got out of bed and slipped into the black cloth slippers by the bed. When he saw these black cloth slippers, his heart gave a jolt, because he vaguely remembered that these black cloth slippers were the ones he wore before 2000, handmade for him by his mother.

After getting out of bed, he came to the desk and looked at the rectangular mirror on the desk.

In the mirror, a young face appeared.

Black hair parted three-sevenths, with a pleasing amount of hair.

His facial contours were distinct; under two sword-like eyebrows, a pair of clear eyes shone brilliantly.

His skin was Bai Xi, looking like a fair-faced scholar.

So young?

He gazed at himself in the mirror with complex feelings; this was the look of his younger self, the look that could make a Miss chase after him.

"Ah Sheng! Hurry out to eat, have you gotten up yet?"

Suddenly, his mother's urging came from the main hall, pulling Cao Sheng's thoughts back to reality. He responded with a sound, gathered his emotions, turned around, and left the bedroom.

The air outside was colder than in the bedroom.

His mother and father were already sitting at the Eight Immortals Table eating breakfast, a very simple breakfast—pickled vegetables with thin porridge.

Seeing him come out, his father glanced at him, said nothing, while his mother urged him to hurry and wash his face and eat.

Cao Sheng said nothing either, just hummed, and went out the back door; his family's kitchen was behind the main house.

Washing his face also involved scooping water in the kitchen.

After he finished washing and dressing, and returned to the main hall with a bowl of thin porridge, his father, who ate quickly, had already finished and was just getting up to take the bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen.

Cao Sheng sat in the position his father had just occupied, picked up two pieces of pickled vegetables for his bowl, and lowered his head to start drinking the thin porridge.

After taking a sip of thin porridge, he asked casually, "Mom! Did you just say you're making fried rice candy today?"

His mother hummed in agreement.

Cao Sheng drew a conclusion in his heart: It is the end of the year.

Because his family only made fried rice candy when the New Year was approaching in the past.

Every household in the village was the same.

In ordinary times, no one would make fried rice candy.

"How many days until the New Year again?"

After taking two more sips of thin porridge, he asked as if by accident.

His mother: "Not many days left, just about a week!"

Pausing for a moment, she urged him again, "Hurry up and eat! In a while, you go tend the fire and make fried rice candy with your dad. I have to go out for a bit. Your dad's wages from the brick kiln this year haven't been collected yet; I have to go collect them again. Before the New Year, if we don't get them, it will be even harder to get them after the New Year passes."

Hearing this, Cao Sheng raised his eyes to look at his mother and nodded slightly.

His mother's words just now made him even more certain that it was before the year 2000.

Because he remembered that after 2000, his father no longer worked at the brick kiln.

The reason?

Because what his father did at the brick kiln was the work of taking bricks out of the kiln; the red bricks in the kiln cave were often still hot, and the workers taking them out had to transport all the bricks in the kiln cave out.

It was fine during other seasons.

But even in Xia Tian, it was particularly hard work.

Imagine, Xia Tian is already very hot, the bricks in the kiln cave are still hot, the temperature inside the kiln cave is at least forty or fifty degrees, and the air inside is also very bad, stuffy and hot.

Under such conditions, having to do physical labor, if one's body is even slightly weak, one simply cannot persist.

And his father worked at that brick kiln for over ten years, all due to the necessities of life.

And after 2000, Cao Sheng was already about to graduate from university, the wages for other jobs outside were already not much less than taking bricks out, so his father no longer wanted to do the work of taking bricks out.

After finishing breakfast, Cao Sheng's mother went out the door.

Cao Sheng arrived at his parents' door and looked at the calendar hanging on the wall.

January 19, 1998?

January 27 is New Year's Eve?

So, calculated by the lunar calendar, it is still 1997?

Am I still a freshman?

1997...

Cao Sheng didn't know what feeling was in his heart.

He felt this timing was not good.

If it were two years earlier, he would still have a chance to strive and get into a better university.

But now?

The Huizhou Teachers College he attended was simply not up to standard; it would be shameful to mention it.

If it were a few years later, he would have graduated, could earn his own money, and life would be a bit more comfortable, but now it is the end of 1997.

The living allowance his family gave him each month was 120 yuan.

On average, that was only 30 yuan per week.

This 30 yuan covered his food expenses and all other daily costs.

He had already lived those days in the original timeline; now being asked to live them again, just thinking about it made his heart fear.

"Ah Sheng! Are you done eating? Come quickly to stoke the fire!"

His father's call came from the kitchen.

Cao Sheng answered, went to the kitchen with a bitter smile.

Stoking the fire, he was very familiar with it.

He had been stoking fires since childhood.

He took a bundle of straw, lit it with a match, stuffed it into the stove chamber, then slowly added firewood to the chamber.

Their area was not mountainous; usually they burned rice straw and rape stalks, or soybean stalks.

But when making fried rice candy every year, the fire needed to burn for a long time with high intensity, so generally, when making fried rice candy, they would burn some firewood.

Every household had little firewood.

Only when the New Year was approaching did they dare to burn a few bundles of firewood.

He stoked the fire at the stove mouth while his father poured sand into the large iron pot; in a moment, once the sand was heated, they would use the sand to fry the steamed and dried yin rice.

The yin rice fried with sand would expand into fried rice.

This fried rice, combined with heated maltose, could make their local traditional snack—fried rice candy.

Families with better conditions would add a little sesame or peanuts to the fried rice candy.

Fried rice candy with sesame added was sesame candy.

Those with peanuts added were peanut candy.

Only during the New Year did they here dare to make this.

Cao Sheng's father busied himself at the stove counter while Cao Sheng stoked the fire at the stove mouth; his father worked until sweat appeared on his head, while Cao Sheng warmed himself at the stove mouth, his face rosy from the heat, feeling very comfortable.

His thoughts wandered again.

Having returned from 2024, he naturally could not get used to the hard life of 1997.

Thinking that after the New Year, when he went to school, he would have to live on only 30 yuan a week for living expenses, he wanted to earn money.

What could 30 yuan do?

If it were 2024, 30 yuan would barely cover his food expenses for one day.

Although prices and consumption were low in 1997.

But at school, one meal cost at least one yuan.

If he wanted to see eggs or shredded meat or minced meat in the dish, one meal cost one and a half yuan; if he wanted to see chunks of meat, one meal cost at least two yuan.

Thirty yuan a week, what could that buy to eat?

To earn money, the first thing he thought of was to start a new book as soon as possible.

Because before transmigration, he had been writing full-time for over ten years.

Typing characters was his skill for making a living.

Although in the original timeline, he typed characters for over ten years but never achieved any decent results.

He was an old failure in the eyes of readers.

But he believed that if he published a new book in 1997 or 1998, the results should be better, after all, not many people were writing web novels in those days.

The competitive pressure was very small.

Suddenly, Cao Sheng's eyebrows furrowed slightly, and a hint of suspicion appeared in his eyes.

Because he suddenly thought of a question: Did web novels exist in 1997?

If I write a web novel now, will I become the ancestor of web novels?

What year did the first web novel appear in the original timeline?