Leaning slightly forward, he adopted a posture of complete control.
"If it were me, I would also have to cover up tightly. But it's okay."
He pointed to the computer screen:
"My email has been sent."
An author of Jian Shen's caliber wouldn't be after mere royalties.
He stood up and looked down at the river view from the floor-to-ceiling window.
"That posthumous fame, that literary status. Can Wang De'an provide that? The pool of 'New Tide' is too shallow."
"Ding-dong—"
Just then, a notification for a new email popped up in the lower right corner of the computer screen.
"Oh? You're here."
Fang Zhenyun perked up and gestured for his subordinate to leave first.
He opened the email, but the smile on his face froze the moment he saw the contents.
Thank you for your kindness, but there's no need to discuss the contract further.
In just one sentence,
Polite, yet resolute.
Fang Zhenyun's brows slowly furrowed into a deep frown.
He wasn't angry; instead, he chuckled softly, but his laughter was cold.
"interesting."
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table.
"Aloof? Unmoved by fame and fortune?"
He shook his head, dismissing the naive idea.
"There is no cat in this world that doesn't eat fish. Unless... this fish is not what he wants."
He immediately dialed the virtual number belonging to "Jian Shen" that was left in the email.
The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered.
Undeterred, Fang Zhenyun edited another email and sent it over.
[Mr. Jian Shen, are there any aspects of the terms that you are dissatisfied with? Everything is negotiable. My sincerity is 100%.]
This time, the response was very quick.
It was still just a short line of text.
[This is unrelated to the terms and conditions. Writing is a hobby; being constrained would diminish the enjoyment. Please do not contact me again.]
"Smack!"
Fang Zhenyun slammed his laptop shut, his face so dark it looked like it could drip water.
Is writing a book a hobby?
Don't like being constrained?
What kind of bullshit reason is that!
He felt like a meticulously planned hunter.
But he discovered that his prey didn't care about the bait he had laid out.
That wasn't anger.
Rather, it's a cold displeasure that arises from having one's control challenged.
He stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.
Overlooking the dazzling night view of Nanjing, the voice remained calm.
"Since we can't invite you to the altar, we can only see how long you can stay peacefully in this mortal world."
...
Meanwhile, in a studio at SOHO Future City.
Lin Que casually closed Jian Shen's email.
That identity that was sought after and speculated upon by countless people
Along with that contract that would drive any writer mad,
Just like cleaning up junk files on your computer,
He swiftly and decisively dragged it into the recycle bin and emptied it.
Fang Zhenyun wanted to elevate him to a pedestal, making him a controllable, virtuous symbol.
The vision is too narrow.
Lin Que enjoyed it even more.
It's the joy of carving idols with your own hands and then creating demons with your own hands.
Gods are used to appease people, while evil spirits are used to frighten the world.
He is the only creator who hides behind the shrine and hell, overlooking all living beings.
"So……"
"After praising the gods, it is time to remind the world of the fear of being dominated by evil spirits."
The cursor blinked silently in the title bar of the newly created chapter.
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