Chapter 92: Uncle Comes Calling

Yuhang City Writers Association.

Li Guoru, a cigarette dangling from his lips, stood in the lounge, holding a brush and writing with swift, fluid strokes on rice paper laid on the table.

At sixty-three this year, he had retired and, with nothing else to do, often visited the Writers Association to drink tea and chat with a few old friends, sharing his latest works.

Right now, he felt inspired and practiced calligraphy—it was a pleasure.

"Your handwriting is awful," Sun Jingchun glanced over and chuckled, "No sharpness, no force—you haven't eaten yet?"

"You talk too much," Li Guoru shot him a glance, not angry—after decades of friendship, teasing and banter were routine. "Finished your work?"

"Not yet, why rush?" Sun Jingchun smoothed his thinning hair, then put on an old-man's cap. "National Day is for rest—work can wait till after the holiday."

"But you just said you were busy."

"That was before National Day—I still had things to do," Sun Jingchun shook his head. "This year our province set up a Network Writers Association. It's a small temple with lots of tasks, but the higher-ups care, so they pulled people from the Writers Association to help."

"Oh, right, I heard about that." Li Guoru put down his brush, curious. "What are you doing exactly? These network writers just write online, right?"

"It's National Day, and in October a batch of network writers applied to join—they all need reviewing," Sun Jingchun reached into Li Guoru's pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. "Also, some platforms submitted recommended candidates—quite a few names."

"So what's the deal now?" Li Guoru lit his cigarette, leaning against the table. "Can stuff written online really be as good as ours?"

"Good? Pfft," Sun Jingchun rolled his eyes. "It's unreadable—only fools kids."

"But these people write online, get more readers, and their influence is slowly growing."

"Don't you get it? Where there's influence, there's value. Whether it's good or not isn't our concern."

"That's true," Li Guoru nodded, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray.

Just then his phone rang. He raised a hand, then answered: "Hello?"

"Got it, I didn't forget."

"Alright, you're here? I'm coming out."

After hanging up, Li Guoru smiled and bid Sun Jingchun farewell: "My son came to pick me up—we're going to my brother's for dinner. Can't chat longer."

"Go ahead," Sun Jingchun waved. "I'll tidy up and head out too."

…

At around four in the afternoon, Li Guoru's family of five drove to Jincheng Community.

When they arrived at 401, Li Guohong had already been waiting and immediately welcomed them in.

"Didn't come since the New Year, right? Come in, come in," Li Guohong beamed as he ushered Li Guoru inside, then greeted his nephew, who was his own age.

The sister-in-law and niece-in-law went to the kitchen to help Lin Xiuhong.

Seeing the nephew trailing behind, Li Guohong smiled and grabbed his arm: "You're in college now, right? Heard you went out of province?"

"This kid didn't do well—he got into Changning Finance," Li Dao pointed at his son. "He had a shot at Qianjiang, but he just didn't try."

Li Xiang was tall and thin, holding his phone, murmured a greeting to Li Guohong, then silently sat on the living room sofa and stared at his screen.

Li Guohong sighed helplessly: "Cut it out. Isn't Changning Finance good enough? It's a 211."

"Can't I say two words?" Li Dao was frustrated. "He slacked off before the Gaokao—gaming or reading those online novels. Otherwise he'd have gotten into Qianjiang."

"Enough," Li Guoru waved his hand. "You never even went to college—stop yelling around. At least Li Xiang is the most educated in our family. Has anyone else ever gotten into a 211?"

"What about Li Luo?" Li Dao said. "Li Luo passed the entrance exam for the First Affiliated High School too. I bet he'll be a future Qianjiang University candidate."

As he spoke, Li Dao frowned, glanced around the living room, and asked: "Where's your Li Luo? Out playing?"

"Didn't you hear? We bought the house from Uncle San," Li Guohong said. "It's closer to the First Affiliated High School, so he lives there during the week. He should be back soon."

"That explains it," Li Dao nodded, then walked over to his son Li Xiang and warned: "When Li Luo comes, you two kids talk more. Don't just sit there silent, got it?"

Li Xiang looked up briefly, then lowered his head again—no reply.

Meanwhile, Li Guoru sat on the sofa, crossed his legs, lit a cigarette, and recalled his chat with Sun Jingchun. He asked: "Didn't Xiuhong mention to me last time that your Li Luo writes novels in secret?"

"Oh, right, that," Li Guohong remembered and laughed. "The kid just writes for fun. I read it—it's kind of interesting, but nothing compared to your stuff in the Writers Association."

"Don't say that," Li Guoru smiled. "Li Luo's still young—his potential is huge."

"Li Luo writes novels?" Li Dao perked up. "What kind?"

"Just online stuff," Li Guohong waved his hand. "But I noticed a lot of people read his book—I don't know if it's good."

"Online?" Li Dao raised an eyebrow, pulled out his phone. "Tell me the title—I'll search."

"What's it called again…" Li Guohong frowned, checked his phone. "I Am Really Not a Star. That's it."

At these words, no one reacted—but Li Xiang, sitting in the corner, suddenly lifted his head, blinked, and his dull expression brightened instantly.

But no one noticed.

Li Dao searched on his phone.

Li Guoru even took Li Guohong's phone, glanced at it: "Ah, online novel—I know what that is."

"Oh? There's a Wikipedia entry?" Li Dao was surprised. "Not bad."

"Let me see what it's about," Li Guoru raised an eyebrow, tapped into Chapter One, and pretended to read seriously.

But soon he frowned, thinking: What the hell is this?

Reincarnation, a pop diva's concert, some system—what nonsense?

Li Guoru had never encountered this kind of work before—he was completely baffled.

And just then.

A noise came from the door.

Li Luo pushed the door open and froze when he saw the people on the living room sofa.

"What are you standing there for?" Li Guohong waved him over. "Your uncle's here for dinner—they're all reading your novel. Come here, hear what your uncle has to say."

Li Luo: "..."

His father's devilish whisper still rang in his ears. Li Luo scanned his uncle's family, instinctively stepping back half a pace.

His hand gripped the doorknob tightly; he took a deep breath to stop his body from trembling.

Thinking of his uncle and the others reading his novel, Li Luo was overcome with sorrow, suddenly feeling that the world was vast, yet there was no place for him to belong.

This home.

Better not return!