Nanjing.

October Magazine

The plane trees outside the window are now just bare branches, like an old man's withered fingers reaching for the gray sky.

The office heating was on full blast.

Fang Zhenyun sat behind his mahogany desk, twirling two shiny walnuts in his hands.

Click, click.

The sound of walnuts clinking together was particularly crisp in the quiet room.

On the computer screen in front of me was the real-time list of Weibo's trending topics.

The bright red "explosion" character is shocking.

On one side is "Yang Jian's Conferment of Godhood," and on the other side is "Tristan's Reverse Journey."

The two enormous currents resembled two giant whales battling in the deep sea.

It stirred up a storm in the literary world.

"Editor-in-Chief Fang, I don't understand."

Assistant Xiao Chen stood in front of the table, holding a stack of data reports, his brows furrowed.

"In the past few days, we have used a lot of online troll resources to stir up trouble in the comment sections on both sides."

One minute they're criticizing "The Ferryman" as inspirational fluff, the next they're criticizing "Human World as Prison" as garbage.

But... besides increasing their popularity, what benefit does this bring to our magazine, *October*?

Xiao Chen opened the report and pointed to the dismal circulation data:

"Our sales this period have fallen to an all-time low due to the pressure from these two books."

Their popularity is everywhere online...

Our resources have been invested, but it's like throwing stones into the sea..."

Fang Zhenyun stopped what he was doing and raised his eyelids.

Those eyes, hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses, revealed a shrewd and experienced nature.

"Xiao Chen, you're still too young."

Fang Zhenyun picked up the teacup and blew away the foam.

"You think I'm helping them?"

"Isn't that right? Right now, the whole internet is talking about these two people, and other writers can't even get a taste of the good stuff."

"Popularity is a double-edged sword."

Fang Zhenyun took a sip of tea and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"When all eyes were on them, they were put on the fire."

The dream weaver's followers cannot tolerate the slightest bit of warmth, and his deepest admirers cannot bear to hear a single cruel word.

These two groups are like two piles of dry tinder, just one spark away from being ignited…

He opened the drawer, took out a gold-embossed invitation, and threw it on the table.

"Mars naturally needs to be ignited by the authorities."

The invitation had these words printed on it in large letters:

[The First Jiangsu Province "Emerging Literature" Summit Forum].

...

Jiangcheng No.1 Middle School.

Lin Que sneezed and rubbed his nose.

"Have you caught a cold?"

Wu Di came closer, still holding the well-worn copy of "New Tide" in his hand.

"Brother Que, do you want to go to the infirmary?"

The New Year's Eve party is coming up soon, and you're the star performer of our class!

If you fall now, Old Shen will tear you apart.

"No, I guess someone is talking badly about me behind my back."

Lin Que tightened the collar of his school uniform.

Winter in Jiangcheng is like a magical attack; the damp cold seeps into your bones.

"Insult you? Who dares to insult you?"

Wu Di waved his fist.

"Now, who in the whole school doesn't know you're a celebrity?"

Even the cafeteria ladies' hands stop shaking when they serve you food; they go with you to the cafeteria and always manage to get an extra big chicken leg!

Lin Que rolled his eyes at him and didn't respond.

He knew it in his heart.

Although the recent online sentiment has been somewhat rectified by the new chapter of "The Ferryman," there are still strong undercurrents.

The feeling of being stared at made him very uncomfortable.

"By the way, Brother Que, how's your poetry recitation preparation going?"

Wu Di looked on with curiosity.

"Yesterday I saw Liu Hui, the arts and culture committee member, so anxious that she lost all her hair."

They said you don't even go to rehearsals, what if you forget your lines on stage?

Our class will be so embarrassed.

"What's the rush?"

Lin Que took a piece of chocolate out of the table.

"If the person who isn't in a hurry, then who is?"

"Hey, um? No, Brother Que, why are you making a personal attack?"

Wu Di was furious.

"I'm concerned about the collective honor!"

Just then, the front door of the classroom was pushed open.

Several students wearing student council uniforms walked in.

The leader was a tall boy with a "Student Council President" badge hanging around his neck.