There were no exclamation marks of being flattered, nor any lengthy thank-you notes.
The reply box contained only eight characters.
The data has been reviewed. Thank you all for your hard work.
After finishing typing, Lin Que casually opened the attachment for his new book, "The Little Prince."
In his previous email, Wang De'an clearly expressed his doubts about this "fairy tale".
After all, he had just finished writing "The Ferryman," a story about life, death, and redemption.
Suddenly switching to writing bedtime stories for children is a leap that can easily backfire.
Lin Que didn't explain much.
In the book's synopsis section, he only typed one seemingly nonsensical line:
This is a story about planet B612, a proud rose, and a fox waiting to be tamed.
That's the complete introduction.
The simpler something is, the more unpredictable it becomes.
Next up is the somewhat tricky "Ink Rhyme Award".
An official invitation—that's a great honor.
Not going would seem arrogant.
If you go, your identity will be exposed.
Lin Que leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling light.
This is actually a difficult choice.
But his current identity is not only that of a high school student, but also that of a "recluse".
The reason why hermits are valuable is precisely because of the word "hermit".
Once under the spotlight, that clear, profound insight, as if seeing through life and death, reveals a deep understanding.
He'll become a naive boy who hasn't fully grown up yet.
No matter how talented he is, the aura of mystery surrounding him will shatter instantly.
This contrast, as it stands, is a disaster.
Lin Que sat up straight, his eyes clear.
He doesn't need to look for overused reasons like "social anxiety" or "writing in seclusion."
If you're going to create a persona, then make sure it's up high.
It stands so tall that people can only look up to it and dare not question it.
The sound of the keyboard rang out again, crisp and resolute.
[Editor-in-Chief Wang:]
Regarding the Ink Charm Award, since you have extended such a warm invitation, it would be impolite to refuse.
As for the awards ceremony...
As a writer, it's already a privilege to connect with readers through words. Flowers and applause are for the stars.
Lin Que paused for a moment as he wrote this.
He recalled Tristan in the book, who ferried millions of souls across the wasteland in his boat.
Those who ferry others across do not reach the shore.
If I receive the trophy, the club can accept it on my behalf. If they refuse to give it to me because I don't go, then I'd rather not accept the award.
Press the Enter key.
Sending this message out is more powerful than any explanation.
...
The New Tide magazine.
It was already 11 p.m.
The editor-in-chief's office was filled with smoke, and the ashtrays were piled high with cigarette smoke.
Wang De'an stared at the computer screen, his fingers holding a cigarette trembling slightly.
Since the movie "The Ferryman" became a hit, he has been on edge these past few days.
Looking at the sales figures that keep jumping up every day in the backend, I feel both excited and anxious.
The exciting thing is that Xinchao has finally come back to life, and it's thriving better than anyone else.
The worrying thing is that this immense wealth is entirely dependent on one person, "Jian Shen".
What if this gentleman decides to stop writing one day, or changes jobs?
The new trend, which had just set sail, was about to run aground.
So when he saw the reply, which contained only eight characters, Wang De'an breathed a long sigh of relief.
"The data has been reviewed. Thank you all for your hard work."
Wang De'an took a deep drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out hard in the ashtray.
This calm and composed attitude put his mind at ease.
This Mr. Jian Shen is composed and not the shallow person who gets carried away by money.
Then he saw a brief introduction to "The Little Prince".
"Planet B612? Rose? Fox?"
Wang De'an's brows furrowed deeply. What on earth is all this?
If someone else had sent him this kind of profile, he would have already dragged the email to his spam folder. But this is a profound statement.
Jian Shen, who broke down the defenses of millions of readers with just one word, "Hi".
"This fox... is probably not simple."
Wang De'an muttered to himself. Although he couldn't understand it, his anticipation only grew stronger.
However, when he scrolled the mouse to the end of the email,
When I saw the replies about the Ink Rhyme Award, I felt like I had been struck by lightning.
Those who ferry others across do not reach the shore.
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