Chapter 218: The Mask Finally Comes Off

At dinner, Lin Xiuhong sighed at the table.

"Li Luo eats at home, but Chanxi isn't here—it just feels like something's missing."

"True," Li Guohong nodded in agreement. "I wonder if the plane has landed yet."

"Probably not," Li Luo glanced at his phone. "It should arrive around eight or nine tonight."

"Where's their first stop again?" Lin Xiuhong asked.

"Paris," Li Luo said. "It's because one of Ying's company artists is attending a fashion show, and they've got a few endorsement contracts to negotiate—you two talked about this over drinks yesterday."

After that, Ying Zhicheng will take Ying Chanxi to London for some business too.

Finally, they'll fly to northern Ohio in the U. S., though no one said why.

"How wonderful," Lin Xiuhong sighed. "I don't even know if I'll ever get to travel abroad in my life."

Never mind Lin Xiuhong.

Li Luo had never left the country in either of his lives…

But.

"If you want to go, just go," Li Luo smiled. "Stop being so tied up with the breakfast shop. You're both at this age—go enjoy life. Otherwise, when you're old and can't walk anymore, I won't be able to take you abroad."

"What do you mean, 'at this age'?" Lin Xiuhong glared at him. "You never say anything nice."

"Exactly," Li Guohong chimed in. "Your mom's still young."

Li Luo sighed and rubbed his forehead.

He urged this partly because he wanted his parents to stop exhausting themselves, and partly because he wanted to avoid certain risks as soon as possible.

Especially physical risks.

In his past life, Lin Xiuhong was diagnosed with cancer, and according to the doctor, it might have been due to long-term overwork.

After all, Lin Xiuhong never smoked or drank—she likely developed it from years of rising early and working late.

Li Luo wasn't a doctor and didn't know exactly how strong the connection was, but getting his parents to rest sooner—or at least stop doing this kind of work—was still better.

Thinking of this, Li Luo cleared his throat twice: "By the way, yesterday was the 3rd, right? Last month's royalty payment has come out."

"Oh?" Li Guohong raised an eyebrow, eager. "How much?"

"The main platform paid 150,000…"

"Whoa!" Lin Xiuhong stared in shock. "Didn't you say last month it was just over 100,000?"

"That was an estimate. And 150,000 is still 'just over 100,000.'"

"That's still a lot!" Lin Xiuhong blurted. "150,000—that's half a year's work for you and your dad."

"Cough." Li Luo cleared his throat again. "I haven't finished. 150,000 is just the main platform. Last month, my book also went on the site's distribution channels, bringing in another 210,000 in channel royalties."

"So…"

"Last month's total royalty income was 370,000."

"Three hundred and seventy thousand?!" Li Guohong shot up from his seat.

His belly bumped the table, and it slid sideways with a hiss, moving a few centimeters.

Lin Xiuhong was stunned, her mind buzzing.

Only Li Luo quickly steadied the table: "Don't get so worked up. Calm down, calm down."

"How can I not be worked up?!" Li Guohong panted. "Show me your backend—prove it's real!"

"How could it be fake?"

Li Luo shook his head helplessly, pulled out his phone, opened his author backend, logged in, tapped the royalty income section, and showed it to them.

When Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong leaned in, saw the number starting with "37," and carefully counted the digits before the decimal point several times, they finally confirmed it.

Then the couple sat back down, silent, unsure what to say.

When Li Luo had first said his monthly royalty was over 40,000, they'd already been stunned.

Later, when they checked his bank card and found over 500,000 in savings, they'd been utterly speechless.

But that was still the result of over half a year's effort—barely understandable.

But now?

Just one month's royalty!

It was a full 370,000?

Wasn't this just robbery?

They'd worked their asses off for a whole year at the breakfast shop and still didn't earn this much!

And their son earned it in one month just by writing a novel!

Lin Xiuhong's mind was foggy, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of joy, unable to think clearly.

If this trend continued, could Li Luo earn millions just from this one novel?

This month: 370,000. Even if next month didn't rise, just maintaining this level meant a million in three months, four million a year?!

Lin Xiuhong pressed her forehead, afraid to imagine such a number.

She and Li Guohong had spent over ten years working hard and saved only 600,000 to 700,000.

Who could have imagined that in just over half a year, her son had reached this point?

Everyone says parents hope their children become dragons. Before Li Luo's high school entrance exam, Lin Xiuhong's biggest wish was that he'd get into a decent university.

After the exam, she began dreaming he'd get into Qianjiang University.

When Li Luo ranked first in his class and 27th in the entire school on the midterm, she started imagining him graduating from Qianjiang University, landing a high-paying job with over 10,000 a month, living a comfortable life.

But reality slapped her awake and told her: Your imagination is still too limited—here's something even better.

She hadn't realized how astonishing it was until she saw it—and now she was almost numb.

Li Guohong was equally dazed, his hands trembling as he tried to light a cigarette, missing the lighter several times.

After inhaling a puff of smoke, he finally regained a bit of calm.

Then he finally began to think about what Li Luo had said at first.

Their son earned in one month what they had made in over a year—was there even any point in keeping the breakfast shop open?

All this early rising and late working, exhausting themselves—why not just take good care of Li Luo, so his monthly royalty checks never run out?

But after thinking again, Li Guohong said: "Your novel isn't a long-term solution; you yourself said you'd only write for one or two years."

"What if your next book fails to make any impact after this one's done?"

"I think we should still wait and see."

After hearing his father's words, Li Luo shook his head and chuckled—he could understand his father's thinking.

But Li Luo thought for a moment and said: "Dad, I'm fine with working, but can't we find something a little less strenuous?"

"For example, think about it—my current book's momentum is basically unstoppable."

"Next month, I'll probably make hundreds of thousands."

"Then, about what we talked before—buying a house, buying a shop—can't we think bigger?"

"If you and Mom own several shops or properties later, just collecting rent every month will earn you more than you do now."

"Those shops near the subway entrance? Rent won't be cheap then—doesn't that beat your breakfast shop in stability and ease?"

Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong froze at Li Luo's reminder.

Mainly because they'd run the breakfast shop their whole lives—it was just habit.

Now, hearing Li Luo say this, the couple realized—he was right.

Wouldn't a landlord collecting rent be easy?

Thinking of this, Li Guohong fell silent.

"This period happens to be the New Year holiday," Li Guohong thought for a moment and said, "I'll visit more relatives and see if anyone I know is selling a shop near the subway entrance."

"Ask around on Xijie," Li Luo quickly added, "the street west of Qianjiang University that leads straight to Ningshan Tunnel—that's the best location."

"Alright," Li Guohong nodded, unconsciously accepting Li Luo's suggestion without a single doubt, "I'll ask around."

The 370,000 yuan brought more than just financial change—it transformed Li Luo's family status and their voice in decision-making.

In the past, if Li Luo had said "ask about shops on Xijie," Li Guohong would have questioned why.

After all, the subway line hadn't even been finalized yet, let alone the exact station locations.

But now, with 370,000 yuan monthly royalties and 500,000 yuan in savings, the couple had quietly, imperceptibly accepted Li Luo's elevated voice in the household.

And they themselves hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, by the way," Li Luo said, "on the 6th, I'm going out to the city for a few days."

"Why are you going to the city?" Lin Xiuhong asked, puzzled.

"I did well, so the website recently nominated me for the Qianzhou Online Novel Writers Association," Li Luo said. "They're holding a symposium soon; I won an essay prize, so they invited me to attend and receive the award—it comes with a 50,000 yuan prize."

The couple stared blankly, thinking: how did you just earn another 50,000 yuan?

Is money really this easy to make these days?

But with the shock of 500,000 yuan and 370,000 yuan still fresh, Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong's reaction to this 50,000 yuan prize was far less intense.

Clearly, the desensitization training had worked wonders.

"Aren't your uncle the one in that writers' association?" Lin Xiuhong suddenly remembered, "Why not tell him and have him take you? He could look out for you."

"No, no, they're not the same association," Li Luo quickly said. "Uncle's the traditional writers' association; mine is the new Online Novel Writers Association, just founded this year—totally different."

"Alright, he's getting old anyway—let him handle his own affairs. We don't understand anyway," Li Guohong waved his hand. "But stay safe, call us when you get there, don't get scammed."

"Don't worry, my editor will be there too."

"Oh?" Lin Xiuhong immediately said, "Then why not invite him over for dinner? We should thank him for mentoring you."

"We'll see—I'll ask him first."

After finishing these talks with his parents, Li Luo ate, then stood up to help his mother clear the table and wash dishes in the kitchen.

But as he was about to start washing, Lin Xiuhong pushed him out.

"Your hands are precious now—go back to your room and write. I'll wash the dishes."

Li Luo was pushed all the way back to his bedroom; he blinked, then couldn't help but laugh.

So my hands weren't precious when I got top grades in class, were they?

Li Luo shook his head and smiled, sat at his desk, and opened the laptop Yan Zhusheng had lent him.

He received a message from his editor.

【Qianzhou】: Tomorrow, the 5th, I'll arrive in Yuhang City in the afternoon—want to meet up early?

Seeing this message, Li Luo raised an eyebrow.

He replied:

【Chongran】: How about coming over for dinner at my place?

【Qianzhou】: Huh? Wouldn't that be too much trouble?

【Chongran】: No problem—Mom just mentioned at dinner she wanted to ask if you had time to come over for a meal.

【Qianzhou】: Oh… then give me your address. Since you're still a minor, I should meet your parents first—they'll feel more at ease.

【Chongran】: OK, see you tomorrow.