If this time the Netherworld Butterflies were the work of that man, then what about the ghost wall incident last time? If that person really is Mo Tang, what is his identity? Why couldn't he come in person?
The phone rang.
Linghu Lan snapped out of her daze and answered the phone.
A woman's voice roared, "Wenmo, has it been updated yet?"
Linghu Lan: "???"
"Why isn't 'The Illustrator' updating yet? It's been on hiatus for ages! It just updated briefly a few days ago, and now it's stopped again? Hurry up and write! A publishing house wants to buy the rights, how are you going to sell them at this rate? Have you even read your readers' comments? They're practically rebelling! At least give your readers an explanation!"
Linghu Lan: "..."
I would like to explain, but what I wrote is a pile of shit, which would ruin the little reputation that Wenmo has worked so hard to build.
"Uh! Okay, I'll go take a look."
After hurriedly hanging up the phone, Linghu Lan quickly logged onto the website, and sure enough, the internet was already filled with insults.
"You stopped writing when you got to the part about the spirit cat. Do you know how much it hurt me to be stuck like this? I even wanted to send a ghost to climb into your bed."
"Hurry up and finish writing that story about the spirit cat. If you don't explain it, I'll start to get a little scared when I see my cat. It's so scary, you know? I used to love petting my cat, but now that you've done this, I always feel like my cat is a cat with a corpse skin that has been blown up."
"Sword, sword, sword, sword, sword, slay all the night watchmen who never watch movies."
Linghu Lan was in a state of confusion. She sat in her chair and helplessly rubbed her forehead. She could continue the work that the other original owners had done, but this was writing! It was a purely technical job, with a completely different writing style, and it was simply irreplaceable.
After thinking it over, she decided that she couldn't ruin Wenmo's reputation. Wenmo was an orphan and left very little behind. People would only remember her literary talent and reputation, and she couldn't destroy them with her own hands.
She called the editor back and politely explained that she hadn't been feeling well lately and might have to temporarily withdraw from the literary world.
The editor was stunned. "You've broken up with your boyfriend?"
Linghu Lan was both amused and exasperated. "No, I'm single."
"You failed your blind date? Don't panic, don't do anything stupid! Let me tell you, we have an author meet-and-greet in a while, there are lots of handsome young men there, come over, I'll introduce you to them."
Linghu Lan laughed until she cried, which showed that Wenmo was quite popular. "No, it's because I'm not feeling well and need to rest for a while. I'm sorry."
The editor tried to persuade her for a while, but seeing that Linghu Lan was unmoved, he could only say regretfully, "Oh, that's a lot of money. The copyright fee this time is very high. It's a real pity. Let's talk about it again when you come back in a while. Tell the readers to take care of themselves."
I hung up the phone.
Linghu Lan then posted another message to her readers online, explaining the reason.
The post received immediate replies.
"Don't go, where do you live? I'll come over right now to treat your illness."
"...Although I'm very reluctant to part with you, please take good care of yourself."
"Damn it, can you even write? If you can't, don't start a new story next time."
Linghu Lan watched for a while, and saw both criticism and encouragement. It seems that no profession is easy to succeed in.
She felt a pang of regret; Wenmo was truly talented, but it was a pity.
She sighed inwardly, then logged off and continued to wait for Luo Ran'er's message.
The detective agency seems to have some tricks up their sleeve; they found out the information Linghu Lan needed that afternoon and sent it over via same-city express delivery.
Upon closer inspection, Linghu Lan discovered that the person who donated organs to Luo Ran'er was named Ku Xi!
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