Kong Yiji nodded and said, "It was really bad. To be honest, I felt that you suddenly became very unfamiliar those few days, and you seemed to have become much more indifferent. You were polite on the surface, but you seemed to be a bit distant from everyone inside, and you had a sense of self-isolation. But now, you seem much better."
Hou Wenjie casually made up an excuse: "Maybe it was written while writing online novels."
After all, he couldn't possibly say that the real Hou Wenjie was dead, that he died suddenly while writing online novels, and that he was just a piece of data in the book.
Kong Yiji nodded. As a seasoned online literature trainer, he had ample authority to speak, and he said:
"The barrier to entry in the online literature industry is too low, both for authors and readers."
This has led to online articles often becoming a tool for selling extreme emotions, turning into a form of entertainment.
Cruelty and bestiality are praised for decisive killing. Upholding justice is condemned as being a saint.
Some readers have become obsessed with these novels, their anger growing stronger and stronger, and they feel like they want to antagonize everyone. Even the fact that a few innocent bystanders aren't killed in the novels to vent their hatred has become a toxic element in their eyes.
As a psychologist, I wrote a novel for a while without earning a single penny, and was almost driven to depression by the harsh comments in the comment section. How much more so for you!
"Ha! That's perfectly normal. Oh, by the way, are you still writing your novel?"
Hou Wenjie nodded: "I'm still writing. I've transformed the protagonist from a good guy into a scumbag, a playboy in the entertainment industry who falls in love with every woman he meets. And all the female leads are still loyal to him, afraid of not being good enough for him. I must say, the results have improved compared to before!"
"As expected!" Kong Yiji nodded and said:
"Actually, urban novels are the best at selling emotions: beautiful school beauties, beautiful fiancées, beautiful teachers, mafia heiresses, innocent female celebrities, beautiful CEOs, girl-next-door types, beautiful widows, beautiful doctors, spoiled princesses, prickly female bosses, ambiguous receptionists, naive village beauties, glamorous mafia bosses, beautiful special forces soldiers, beautiful scientists, beautiful lawyers, beautiful senior sisters..."
Collect all these beauties of all types, arrange a scene where the hero saves the damsel in distress, slaps the damsel in distress, and then the protagonist takes advantage of the situation to win the heart of the beauty!
These different beauties can easily write a million words about a single plot point, and even if it flops, they'll still earn some income!
But is there any point in writing these things? Essentially, everyone is expressing their emotions and following their emotions. What you write may not matter at all, and who you are may not matter at all.
Then, your words become a tool for expressing desire, and you essentially become a sex worker.
From a reader's perspective, I feel like I'm just hoping for a good film produced by Asuka Hanabira.
The opening music has a beautiful tone, the process is high-definition enough, and the ending is also very impactful, with the expressive techniques being quite vivid.
But what remains is perhaps only emptiness.
The online discussion ended there, because Zhang San, Jie Cheng, and Hou Wenjie were all uninterested.
Zhang San's only book is "Criminal Law".
Yu Cheng never reads online novels; he's only interested in textbooks now, after all, he's aiming to become a top-tier man in Kyoto.
Hou Wenjie, although he also writes online novels, is equally indifferent to them; he is currently enjoying a relationship.
Soon, the conversation turned to women.
Jie Cheng and Kong Yiji are experts in this field.
Zhang San looked at Jie Cheng and said, "You've made so many youth films, what are your thoughts?"
Everyone looked at Kiyoshi, wanting to hear what this man, who had directed many coming-of-age films, thought about women.
Yu Cheng looked very shy, and he said very seriously:
"It's different from you. I'm just working. My interactions with them are just physical, just playing a fixed game."
I don't develop feelings for them, nor do I interfere in their lives.
"Tell me about it!" Kong Yiji wouldn't let him off the hook.
After thinking for a moment, Yukichi said very seriously:
"To me, every woman is... a fish."
Fair-skinned, tender, delicate, soft, and smooth.
When they are hooked, they wag their tails, thrash their bodies, and struggle with their lips moving.
All I could do was try to calm them down and put them back in the fish basket.
"So, you're essentially a fisherman, and that's your secret?" Zhang San realized.
Then, everyone's attention turned to Kong Yiji, after all, he was the real female expert.
Kong Yiji thought for a moment and said:
In my eyes, every woman is a flower.
Some women are like a locust flower, white with a hint of yellow, with a delicate fragrance and a sweet taste.
Some women are like faded flowers, and even butterflies grieve over faded flowers. On the surface, they may not seem like anything special, but inside they have withered away, becoming neither interesting nor flavorful.
Some women are like roses, vibrant and colorful, though thorny, full of imagination and fiery passion.
Some women are like peonies—beautiful and precious, with a dignified and elegant appearance and reserved emotions, yet full of longing within, easily stirring one's nerves.
Some women are like willow catkins and flying flowers, delicate and light, dancing in the sky. They are adrift and don't know where their home is.
Some women are like lotus flowers, pure white and fragrant, like a delicate and charming young lady, shy and refreshing!
…”
After listening, Zhang San said, "So, this is your secret, a gardener?"
This drinking session taught Hou Wenjie two new words: "fisherman" and "gardener".
When he returned to his residence, Chanel had already prepared a hangover tea for him.
After their passionate encounter, Xiang Nai lay in Hou Wenjie's arms, her face beaming with sweetness.
Looking at that pretty face, Hou Wenjie forgot about the fish and the flowers; he only felt a sense of peace in his heart.
A poem by Nalan Rongruo came to mind: "For eighteen years I've lived in this world, blowing flowers, chewing stamens, and playing the icy strings. To whom can I entrust my affections?"
A purple jade hairpin askew, casting a shadow behind her; a red cotton pillowcase askew, cold and damp. They gaze at each other, finding beauty in each other, yet remain silent.
In the dim light, Hou Wenjie kissed Xiang Nai's nose.
"Hmm? Wenjie-kun?" Xiangna squinted and tilted her head back.
Hou Wenjie lowered his head and kissed her on the cheek, a vague warmth beginning to well up in his heart.
They seeped out little by little from the cracks torn by fragments of memory, carrying a faint dampness, like breath, exhaling into his heart.
Then, Hou Wenjie saw that Xiang Nai lifted one leg, her fair foot dangling in the air before landing on Hou Wenjie's leg.
Hou Wenjie looked at Xiang Nai, who squinted, tilted her head back, and chuckled.
Hou Wenjie tried to push her with his hand, pretending he couldn't move her, and then used the toes of his other foot to tickle the sole of her foot. Xiang Nai quickly started laughing.
Compared to the beginning, the two are now the closest lovers, and the quirky and mischievous side of Kana's personality comes into play.
Of course, she is also very meticulous. She will carefully organize clothes, tidy up the room, and cook.
When she smiles, her eyes always squint into crescents, but when she looks at people, her eyes are big and clear, like a lake.
[The End.]
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