Chapter 236: Chanxi Is About to Arrive at the Battlefield

The hotel room at midnight.

Yuan Wanqing had stripped off her clothes, half-covered by the quilt, leaning lazily in Ying Zhicheng's arms, her peach-blossom eyes half-closed, her face still flushed with lingering heat.

Ying Zhicheng was two years older than Li Guohong, already thirty-eight; thanks to his secretary's constant planning of work and schedule, along with weekly fitness routines, he had maintained his physique well.

Yuan Wanqing, as a female singer who rose to prominence at the dawn of the century, was hailed by the media at the time as the Little Queen of Song, though she later retired due to illness.

Yet to treat her heart condition, she maintained a light diet, regular sleep patterns, and a training regimen guided by doctors, keeping her in excellent condition overall.

With just a touch of makeup and refinement, it would be hard to guess she was thirty-four—she looked more like a woman in her late twenties.

The two had just finished intimate physical contact; remembering the doctor's advice against overexertion, Ying Zhicheng had not pushed her hard.

Back home, they had to be more restrained, mindful of their image; only in a foreign land could they allow themselves slight indulgence.

Now resting in Ying Zhicheng's arms, Yuan Wanqing felt at peace, sighing contentedly as she savored this quiet moment.

Ying Zhicheng caressed the smooth curve of her shoulder, reached for the cigarette pack on the nightstand, thought better of it, and pushed the pack and lighter farther away.

"When we return to China for the New Year, will you come home with me?" Ying Zhicheng whispered in her ear.

Yuan Wanqing froze at the question, then gently shook her head, pressing against his chest, speaking softly: "Zhu Sheng is still young, and your daughter is in high school—let's wait until they're in college before making anything public. I don't want to disrupt their studies."

Ying Zhicheng fell silent for a moment, then nodded: "Alright, I'll follow your lead. I was just too eager."

"I know you want to give me a formal status, but haven't we been together for two or three years already? Have you seen me rush you?" Yuan Wanqing smiled lightly. "We're not young anymore. Status means little to me—what matters more is the healthy growth of our children."

"Mm, you're right."

"Besides, we're both busy now. Occasionally stealing a little time like this is fine," Yuan Wanqing said. "If this comeback doesn't go well, I might step back behind the scenes—but for now…"

"I never expected just one song, 'Year Rings,' to outperform my carefully prepared album," Ying Zhicheng chuckled, shaking his head. "I originally thought your daughter had written it—only later did I learn it was the work of a songwriter named Chongran."

"Yes," Yuan Wanqing said, her tone filled with emotion. "And this young man, Chongran, is also writing his own novel. There was a promotional event linked to his novel, and apparently it did quite well."

"I know," Ying Zhicheng nodded. "I had my secretary check—didn't you buy the rights to two songs from him?"

"Yes, two so far, but it'll probably be four soon," Yuan Wanqing smiled faintly. "There's also 'The Sky Has No Limits' and 'Beneath the Flying Clouds.' I'm amazed by his creative ability—they're truly exceptional works."

"Four songs…?" Ying Zhicheng fell silent, then laughed in disbelief. "So he's going to write your entire next album for you?"

"Isn't that just what it sounds like?" Yuan Wanqing laughed along. "My daughter says he's been attending a seminar these past few days, and his novel won first prize in a writing contest. He's incredibly talented—his ability is unquestionable."

"Then…" Ying Zhicheng raised an eyebrow, "your daughter and this Chongran seem quite close?"

"They're classmates," Yuan Wanqing explained simply. "That's how 'Year Rings' reached us—he asked my daughter to record the song, otherwise we'd never have heard it."

"I see," Ying Zhicheng nodded, understanding dawning. "So privately, quite a few people must know he writes novels?"

"Probably," Yuan Wanqing hesitated. "My daughter knows, and his family likely does too—but the other students at school probably don't."

Ying Zhicheng nodded, his expression unreadable.

Yuan Wanqing then changed the subject: "By the way, he gave me a small suggestion about the promotion of my new album—I thought it was quite interesting."

"Oh? Tell me."

…

In Yuhang City, across the ocean, it was nearly noon.

Li Luo had just packed his luggage when he heard a knock at the door—Xu Rongsheng's voice called out: "Li Luo, get ready—we're going for lunch."

"Alright, Uncle Xu, I'm coming right away."

"No rush—Youyu's probably still sleeping in. I'll go wake her up."

Immediately after, a knock sounded at the neighboring door.

After a long while, the knocking finally stopped.

Li Luo dragged his suitcase out the door to find Xu Youyu's door just opening, her voice groggy: "Dad… good morning."

"Can you guess what time it is?"

"Huh? What time?"

"It's already eleven-thirty, and you're still asleep?" Xu Rongsheng said. "Li Luo's already packed—don't keep him waiting."

"Ugh…" Xu Youyu rubbed her eyes, peeked into the next room, and saw Li Luo standing there with his suitcase. "You're already packed? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Isn't it better for you to sleep a little longer?"

"Thanks a lot, Dad."

Xu Youyu yawned, returned inside, washed her face to wake up, then immediately began packing.

By nearly twelve, they were finally ready. Dragging their suitcases, they descended the stairs with Li Luo and Xu Rongsheng to check out.

Then the three went to a nearby small restaurant, where Xu Rongsheng treated them to a simple meal.

"After returning to my room last night, I carefully read your book," Xu Rongsheng said cheerfully at the table. "Honestly, it was quite inspiring."

"I've read the openings of other books too, but yours feels more structured—I wonder if that's just my impression."

"It seems you deliberately control the word count of each plot segment."

"Every twenty or thirty chapters form a complete beginning, development, turn, and resolution—very consistent."

"Other books have this trait too, but they often lose their way, jumping around randomly."

Li Luo's face stiffened as Xu Rongsheng spoke of his novel—he glanced at Xu Youyu beside him, who was stifling a laugh, head down, eating as if afraid of being caught in the crossfire.

But as he heard Xu Rongsheng's genuine analysis, Li Luo explained: "This style—I call it the rhythm of Online Novels."

"A complete plot arc with climax and satisfaction—suppose it takes fifty thousand words to complete. That word count becomes the rhythm of an Online Novel."

"Some books have one every hundred thousand words, others every two hundred thousand, some even stretch over a million before a climax—that's the book's rhythm, like rising and falling musical notes."

"The slower the rhythm, the longer the buildup, the more emotion accumulates—and when the climax hits, the emotional release is fiercer and longer-lasting. But the cost is a poor reading experience during serialization—it's hard to endure."

"The faster the rhythm, the quicker and flatter the buildup; emotional highs and lows are less extreme, but because readers get feedback faster, their reading experience is better."

"The cost is losing the high-impact payoff of long buildup—hard to leave readers with lasting impressions."

Li Luo's choice was clearly the latter.

After all, the internet has always moved toward short, fast, direct content—Li Luo was simply following the tide of the times.

As for his theories, they are essentially things later online novel authors gradually summarized.

"Of course, there are methods that combine both," Li Luo added. "Embed smaller structures of beginning, development, turn, and resolution within the hundred-thousand-word arc—one large structure enclosing several smaller ones."

"This ensures readers' craving for short, fast, and direct content while continuously building toward the grand climax."

"I call this approach secondary structure; the two speed modes mentioned earlier belong to primary structure."

For Li Luo, secondary structure was undoubtedly the better choice, but his ability in this area was limited, so he made a compromise.

After all, secondary structure is extremely mentally taxing—it demands one small, fast-paced plot after another, while simultaneously laying groundwork for the grand climax, inch by inch pushing toward it.

If poorly managed, secondary structure collapses, and instead of achieving both, you end up with the worst flaws of both, resulting in a worse effect.

Above this, there is tertiary structure.

It uses five- to ten-thousand-word plots as cells, fifty- to one-million-word climax arcs as the skeleton, ultimately converging into a final climax of four to five million words.

It's like a massive beginning-development-turn-resolution structure containing four or five medium-length beginning-development-turn-resolution arcs.

And within each medium-length beginning-development-turn-resolution arc, there are four or five small-length beginning-development-turn-resolution arcs.

Layered and nested, a beautifully structured online novel framework emerges.

But such extensive planning is beyond the capacity of ordinary people.

You must design the complete framework before even starting the book, and then steadily, precisely advance it over a continuous creative process lasting over a year.

For an online novel author, this is a tremendous test.

Most online novel writers simply get an idea, open Word, and start writing—why would they think so far ahead?

Most who do think this far ahead, after writing just a few ten thousand words, publishing them, and seeing their data flop, have no energy left for continuation.

"Your description is quite interesting—I've never heard this before," Xu Rongsheng nodded in realization, silently noting it down. "This is indeed a distinctive trait of online novels, since no work of several million words has ever existed in history."

"It's also a trend of societal development," Li Luo smiled. "As the medium carrying text evolves, naturally, works grow larger in word count."

A several-million-word novel, if printed as physical books of ordinary thickness and page count, would require ten or twenty volumes to finish.

Such a cost would have been unimaginable in ancient times.

Only in the internet era, where text can detach from reality and exist entirely on virtual networks, has the word count of novels undergone massive expansion and evolution.

Xu Youyu, who had been quietly eating, suddenly looked up in shock as her father and Li Luo engaged in a harmonious discussion about online novels.

But as the two delved deeper into the topic, Xu Youyu gradually became absorbed.

Many of the theoretical frameworks Li Luo described gave Xu Youyu profound insights, and occasionally, she felt a sudden enlightenment.

Previously confusing aspects of online novel structure and writing suddenly became clear and fully understood.

As Xu Rongsheng discussed with Li Luo, he gradually realized that Li Luo had transformed from initial stiffness and awkwardness into fluent, confident speech—clearly possessing unique insights into online novels.

Xu Rongsheng had previously spoken with editor Xia Lie, who specialized in interviewing online novel authors, but even those top authors lacked Li Luo's comprehensive foundational understanding; they relied mostly on vague inspiration.

Of course, for creators, merely freely expressing inspiration suffices, but for those seeking to explore the mechanisms and essence of online novel creation, many factors must be considered.

Thus, Li Luo's insights—drawn from a future ten to twenty years ahead—were highly enlightening to Xu Rongsheng.

This caused Xu Rongsheng to raise his estimation of Li Luo once again.

After all, such insight into online novels suggests Li Luo's success was no mere accident or luck—it was backed by considerable ability.

Even if this book ended, Xu Rongsheng believed Li Luo could still produce equally excellent works.

…

After lunch, the three hailed a taxi and headed home.

Xu Rongsheng returned directly to the Qianjiang University staff housing complex; Xu Youyu had no intention of going home. After dropping off her father, she told the driver to head to Bihai Lanting.

"Aren't you coming home with me?" Xu Rongsheng asked.

"Oh, I'll stay there a few more days—I'll come back before the New Year."

"You little girl…"

Watching the taxi drive away, Xu Rongsheng sighed helplessly.

In the taxi, as it pulled up to the entrance of Bihai Lanting, Xu Youyu got out and carried down both her and Li Luo's luggage, then waved to Li Luo inside: "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Li Luo: "...?"

Confused, Li Luo was pulled out of the taxi by Xu Youyu. Watching the taxi fade into the distance, he fell into thought: "Why did you drag me out? I need to go home."

"Can you really leave me alone here, with no idea how to get dinner?" Xu Youyu gave him a pitiful look, blinking her big eyes.

"From here, go that way, turn right at the intersection, walk straight to the center, then turn left across the street—there's a housing complex," Li Luo said flatly. "Walk straight to Building 5, Unit 2, go up to the fourth floor, enter Apartment 402, sit at the dining table, and wait for dinner."

Xu Youyu pulled at her lip: "Thanks, but I think it's easier just to bring you along."

"I'm exhausted from the journey."

"May this humble girl massage your shoulders and pound your back?"

"That might be worth considering."