Chapter 242

【Chongran】: Do you have the group photo from the previous writing contest?

【Qianzhou】: Why suddenly need this? Weren't you worried about acquaintances seeing the photo?

【Chongran】: Guess who's now holding a knife to my throat, making me ask you?

【Qianzhou】: Huh? Should I help you call the police?

【Chongran】: Thanks a lot… so, do you have the group photo or not?

【Qianzhou】: I'll ask the staff at the Writers' Association for you.

【Qianzhou】: By the way, someone from the online writers' association should've already added your QQ—why not ask them directly?

【Chongran】: That's true, I forgot.

After finishing his chat with the editor, Li Luo found the QQ of the online writers' association staff and sent them the same inquiry.

Not long after, they sent him a photo pack containing all the photos from the symposium, including the one of Li Luo going onstage to receive his award.

"What do you mean 'holding a knife to your throat'?" Ying Chanxi retracted the fork she'd been using to eat fruit and gave a light huff. "This is clearly a fork."

"... The meaning of 'threatening' is basically the same."

"I just looked at it myself—I won't show it to anyone," Ying Chanxi pouted. "Besides, Lin Yi and the others must want to see it too—they all know you write novels, right?"

"Such a great achievement—you should totally print the award photo and hang it on your wall."

"Didn't you happily stick your outstanding graduate certificate from Yucai on the wall when you got it?"

"I really appreciate it…" Li Luo twitched his mouth, "Are these two things even comparable?"

Although few guests ever come to the house, better safe than sorry.

Indeed, many of the people around him now already knew he wrote novels.

But that didn't mean he could openly reveal his novel-writing to anyone without restraint.

It's fine if his parents and relatives know—they're not the target audience for this kind of novel; at most they'd get curious, search it up, read one or two chapters, and lose interest.

It's also fine if Ying Chanxi and the others know—it's just social death, but they're all close friends; they'd just laugh it off.

But if he started promoting it more widely—say, within Fuyi High, and his classmates found out…

Li Luo couldn't even imagine how terrifying that would be.

After all, Zhu Yufei and Zhang Guohuang were both big fans of his book.

They were the type to sneakily read novels on their phones in class, openly causing trouble right under the monitor's nose.

Li Luo could tolerate that.

But in the dark corners he couldn't see—how many others had read, or were currently reading, his novel?

Li Luo wasn't arrogant or self-obsessed, but he figured that even without knowing he was the author, finding dozens of readers for his novel "I Am Really Not a Star" within Fuyi High wouldn't be hard.

And that's even without them knowing he was the writer.

After all, Li Luo was already somewhat of a celebrity at Fuyi High, and many girls considered him their idol.

This semester, the number of pen-pal letters and love letters he received was only slightly less than Ying Chanxi's.

To be fair, although Li Luo considered himself fairly rational, the feeling of being secretly admired and liked by so many girls—few people would refuse it.

But if one day his Chongran alias got exposed at school… and those girls who liked him, out of curiosity, read his novel…

Sss…

Just imagining that scene made Li Luo shiver with cold sweat trickling down his back.

And if any of his more familiar classmates figured out that all three female leads were based on who… it would be utterly excruciating!

He'd probably ascend to heaven right on the spot.

Thinking of all this, Li Luo couldn't help but be extremely cautious.

"Just look at it yourself—strictly no sharing!" Li Luo forwarded the photo pack to Ying Chanxi and repeatedly warned her seriously, "If this leaks and exposes that I write novels at school, I might as well be dead."

"Is it really that bad?" Ying Chanxi looked at Li Luo, puzzled. "Sure, some parts you wrote are a bit… you know, but the plot's still really good."

When Ying Chanxi read the novel, she completely identified the protagonist Li Yang as Li Luo, and Shen Dongdong as herself.

Though she felt slightly embarrassed and sometimes got so angry she wanted to slap the screen, she couldn't stop reading.

This was Ying Chanxi's first time encountering online novels; her impression was that they were similar to the story essays she used to read in magazines.

Only one was short-form, the other a continuous ultra-long serial.

Both shared the same traits: high appeal and low reading barriers.

Unlike classic masterpieces, which often had high reading barriers.

For example, when Ying Chanxi was in elementary school, she read "How the Steel Was Tempered"—she didn't understand any of the terms, had no idea what revolution meant, or what happened in that distant place.

She could barely grasp the basic plot points; most of her attention was fixed on the romantic entanglement between the protagonist and a girl in the book.

Only after entering middle and high school, when she gained some historical and political knowledge, did she understand the book completely differently.

Don't underestimate the knowledge barrier of middle and high school history and politics.

In fact, most of China's lower-class population still haven't reached that level.

Online novels, by contrast, have far lower reading barriers, making them more down-to-earth and easier to attract the masses.

"You don't get it," Li Luo sighed. "Just keep it secret for me—don't tell anyone I write novels."

"Got it," Ying Chanxi sat back on Li Luo's bed, picked up her phone, opened QQ, and carefully studied his contest award group photo. "I never planned to tell anyone anyway."

After finishing Li Luo's award photo, Ying Chanxi continued leaning against the bed, reading the novel.

Midway through, she suddenly remembered something, jumped off the bed, and ran out of the bedroom in her slippers.

Li Luo glanced over, thinking she was going to the bathroom.

But soon after, Ying Chanxi walked back into his bedroom carrying a pile of things, dumping them all onto the bed.

"What's all this?" Li Luo blinked, staring at the cluttered array of items on the bed, momentarily dazzled.

"It's all your fault for arguing with me yesterday—I almost forgot," Ying Chanxi huffed, waved Li Luo over, sat beside him, then casually picked up one item. "This chocolate is from France—tastes pretty good, so I bought you some."

"And this watch—I think it looks nice, not tacky. You should try it on."

"I also bought several pairs of socks. Didn't you say some of yours had holes in them, and you kept swapping them left and right to keep wearing? Just switch to new ones this time."

"This is a thermos I bought in England. Your old cups don't keep heat well—use this one from now on."

"These clothes look nice too, but they're all summer wear. I saw them on sale at the mall and bought them. You can keep them for now and wear them in summer."

"And these sneakers—I noticed you always wear the pair Yan Zhusheng gave you, never switch. That won't do. From now on, alternate between these two pairs. Try them on and see if they fit."

"These are souvenirs—Eiffel Tower, Louvre, British Museum, St. Paul's Cathedral—I bought two of each. This one is for you."

Li Luo watched Ying Chanxi introduce each item one by one. The bed was piled high with gifts, and she talked for over ten minutes before barely finishing. His emotions were complicated.

What kind of trip was this, really?

Wasn't it just a shopping errand for him?

Li Luo seriously doubted whether Ying Chanxi had enjoyed the scenery and culture during her trip—or whether she'd just been thinking of what gifts to buy him.

These gifts were so numerous, they could fill a whole basket.

"Oh! And this!" Ying Chanxi pulled out a pair of black fingerless gloves, still sealed in packaging, and handed them to Li Luo. "You can wear these too. You're always typing, right? It's so cold now—once you put them on… Huh?"

Mid-sentence, Ying Chanxi's gaze landed on Li Luo's hands. She immediately noticed something strange.

"Where did you get these gloves? I've never seen them before." She eyed him suspiciously. "You weren't wearing them yesterday—why are they suddenly here today?"

"Ahem…" Li Luo coughed, a little embarrassed. "While you were sleeping this morning, Zhusheng dropped by on her way somewhere and brought me a gift."

"These gloves?"

"Mm-hmm."

"But what do you mean, 'on her way'?" Ying Chanxi narrowed her eyes. "What way?"

"…She said she was out for a morning run."

Ying Chanxi: "…"

She'd been to Yan Zhusheng's house before—wasn't there several kilometers between them?

"Then… then…" Ying Chanxi stared at the gloves on Li Luo's hands, opened her mouth, hesitated, then finally said, "If these gloves get dirty, just swap them for mine."

She really wanted him to swap them right now.

But they were a gift from Yan Zhusheng—making him change them outright would be rude and disrespectful.

Still, Li Luo saw her expression, glanced at the mountain of gifts on the bed, and sighed helplessly.

He recalled that morning, stepping out of the residential compound and seeing Yan Zhusheng waiting patiently by the gate. He felt stuck.

Finally, he took off the glove on his right hand, picked up the pair Ying Chanxi bought him, unwrapped it, and slipped one onto his right hand.

"Is this okay?" Li Luo held up both hands and waved them.

Ying Chanxi watched his actions, unsure whether to be angry or amused, and couldn't help rolling her eyes: "Should I thank you now?"

"No need." Li Luo tucked the two extra gloves into his pocket, then tidied up the gifts on the bed. "I should be thanking you—you bought me all this. It's touching. I'm almost crying."

"Where's the tear? Show me one." Ying Chanxi snorted, glancing at the glove on his right hand. Her mood softened slightly.

"I was just being polite—we're what kind of people, right?" Li Luo finished organizing the gifts.

He stored the souvenirs in a box, put on the watch, swapped in a new pair of socks, tried on the sneakers—they fit perfectly.

The summer clothes went into the closet for now; he'd wear them when summer came.

After tidying up, Li Luo opened the French chocolate Ying Chanxi bought him, broke off two pieces, ate one himself, and handed the other to her.

"The taste is really good."

"Good enough is fine."

Ying Chanxi watched Li Luo eating her chocolate, wearing one of her gloves and her watch, and sporting her socks and sneakers.

Beside him sat the down jacket she bought him, and the scarf she'd knitted by hand.

Looking around, Ying Chanxi broke into a radiant smile, her heart light and happy.

Then her gaze fell on Li Luo's desk. She muttered under her breath: "The mouse still looks old?"

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Ying Chanxi quickly shook her head. "Keep typing. I'm going to read a novel."

…

In the evening, just before dinner, Lin Xiuhong knocked on the bedroom door. As she opened it to speak, Li Luo raised a finger to his lips and shushed her.

"Chanxi is sleeping. Be quiet."

"Oh, okay." Lin Xiuhong glanced at Ying Chanxi, fast asleep on Li Luo's bed, and chuckled. "I'm preparing dinner. Come out when you're ready."

"Okay." Li Luo paused typing, stood up, left the bedroom, and gently closed the door. "Let me help you in the kitchen."

"You keep writing. I've got it covered," Lin Xiuhong waved him off.

In the past, if Li Luo had been idle at home, Lin Xiuhong would've dragged him straight to the kitchen to peel garlic.

Now that he wrote novels and earned big money, and ranked at the top of his class, Lin Xiuhong rarely asked him to help in the kitchen anymore—even when he offered, she'd politely refuse.

"Come on, come on—Chanxi's sleeping. Usually she helps you. Today I'll do it." Li Luo pushed his mother's shoulder toward the kitchen. "Besides, my keyboard's loud—I don't want to wake her."

Cherry switches are great in every way—except the noise bothers others.

Especially when someone's sleeping.

So after noticing Ying Chanxi had fallen asleep, Li Luo immediately unplugged his keyboard and switched to the laptop's built-in one.

But the difference in feel was too drastic—he felt off.

Now that Lin Xiuhong had come in, he took the chance to step out for some air.

In the living room, Li Guohong and Ying Zhicheng had been chatting all afternoon.

They rarely saw each other, but today they talked endlessly—Li Luo couldn't fathom what they found so interesting.

Still, the relationship between his father and Uncle Ying was pure indeed.

One spends every day bustling around in a breakfast shop, the other shuttles between skyscrapers all day long, yet they've managed to keep the brotherly bond of their youth.

It's really quite rare.

Of course, as far as Li Luo knows, Ying Zhicheng should currently be the president of Huayue Film and Television, firmly in the category of a high-level corporate worker.

The company, of course, doesn't belong to him personally.

With nothing better to do, Li Luo looked it up — Huayue Film and Television can be traced all the way back to the Qianjiang Province Television Station of the last century.

Later, after the wave of privatization, some people from the TV station went out on their own, and backed by the station's resources and support, they established the company Huayue Film and Television.

And Ying Zhicheng, in his early years, was on the TV station's establishment. Later he followed the leaders above him out the door, and gradually clawed his way up at Huayue Film and Television, until he reached the position he holds today.

The company's shares must still belong to those original founders from back then, and the later investors.

At most, Ying Zhicheng has some dry shares — he can enjoy a certain dividend right — but he himself is still appointed by the board of directors.

Still, even so, given his status and position, an income of over a million a year is certainly his, and if you add in some hidden income, he's a bona fide diamond bachelor with assets north of ten million.

He keeps his figure well, and his personality isn't bad either. You can tell from Ying Chanxi's looks that Ying Zhicheng was a handsome guy in his youth. Now, hitting middle age, he looks more and more distinguished — far better than Old Li's big beer belly.

So it's no wonder Yuan Wanqing fell for him.

When Li Luo pushed his mom into the kitchen, he instinctively glanced at Ying Zhicheng, and a lot of things immediately flashed through his mind.

Speaking of which, Uncle Ying's move here… does it count as a casting couch situation with a female artist under his own banner?

Eww~

The moment Li Luo thought of this, he couldn't help but want to laugh.

Never thought the day would come when he could observe firsthand, up close, a lead on entertainment-circle gossip.

And the parties involved were all people he knew pretty well.

Ying Zhicheng on the sofa also noticed Li Luo's gaze, and assumed the kid was still brooding over how he'd accidentally seen through him.

Little did he know that Ying Zhicheng's own little secret had already been guessed by Li Luo.

The only question was when Uncle Ying would come clean to Ying Chanxi.

Judging by the timeline from his previous life, this matter would have to wait at least until Ying Chanxi went to college?

Probably worried it would affect Ying Chanxi's studies.

Thinking this, Li Luo had no intention of warning Ying Chanxi in advance.

After all, it was Ying Zhicheng's family business — it wouldn't be right for him to meddle blindly.

Besides, in his previous life he didn't know the specific situation, and he had no idea what Ying Chanxi thought about her own dad's second marriage.

At least from Li Luo's contact with Yan Zhusheng in his previous life, Zhusheng's side might have been a bit resistant to this matter?

Otherwise, even after working at Yan Zhusheng's place for over half a year, he wouldn't have seen Yuan Wanqing even once.

Thinking of this, Li Luo became even more cautious about the whole thing, figuring it was better to keep it under wraps.

"What are you thinking about? Take those gloves off." Lin Xiuhong entered the kitchen and began preparing dinner, calling out to the dazed, thoughtful Li Luo.

"Oh, oh." Li Luo came back to his senses and hurriedly took the gloves off.

But Lin Xiuhong, sharp-eyed as ever, asked with a puzzled look: "Why are these two gloves on you not even a matching pair?"

"Doesn't it make me look generous?" Li Luo blurted out nonsense. "I bought two pairs of gloves — use one, throw one away."

"Then what about this watch?" Lin Xiuhong gave him a suspicious look, then looked down and saw he was wearing shoes. "These sneakers are new too? When'd you buy them?"

"Fine, they were all gifts from Xixi." Li Luo had to admit it. "This glove was a gift from Yan Zhusheng."

"…" Lin Xiuhong looked at her son utterly speechless, and couldn't help complaining: "How come you're always accepting gifts from girls? Remember to give something back, got it?"

"Got it." Li Luo stuffed the gloves into his pocket and started helping wash and trim the vegetables. "Just cut me into pieces and send me out."

Hearing that, Lin Xiuhong immediately spat: "Deal."