The night in Jiangcheng is not as dazzling as that in Nanjing.
Yet it exudes a comforting, down-to-earth charm.
The old folding round table in the Lin family home was now covered with plates.
The braised pork belly was glossy and oily, while the sweet and sour pork ribs were piled up like a small mountain.
There was also a steamed sea bass with its eyes wide open.
"Eat! Eat more! Look how thinner you've gotten in Jinling these past two days!"
Comrade Wang Xiulian's chopsticks never stopped moving.
They precisely airdropped pieces of perfectly marbled braised pork into Lin Que's bowl.
They managed to create a miniature version of the pyramid.
"Mom, I really can't eat anymore."
Lin Que looked at the mountain of meat in his bowl and helplessly raised his hands in surrender.
"I didn't go to escape famine, I went to a competition, and I even ate duck blood vermicelli soup..."
"Nothing from outside is as clean as food from home! That duck blood is probably made from some kind of powder!"
Wang Xiulian glared at him, but didn't stop what she was doing.
She put another piece of pork rib into his bowl.
"Eat more, it'll help your brain."
She turned around and took the heavy grand prize trophy from the cabinet behind her.
He carefully wiped and wiped it again with a brand new velvet cloth.
"Old Lin, look! This is the only one in the whole province! Our Lin family's ancestral graves are emitting auspicious smoke!"
Lin Jianguo sat opposite him, his face flushed an unnatural red.
It was obvious that the two ounces of liquor he had just drunk had given him a boost.
He chuckled foolishly.
His brows, which were usually furrowed, were now relaxed like a neatly ironed shirt.
"What do you mean by 'smoke'? That means it's on fire!"
Lin Jianguo slurred his words and slapped the table.
"I knew my son was amazing! He's... he's a reincarnation of the God of Literature!"
Tomorrow I'll take this downstairs and show it off to them!
Lin Que tightened his grip on the chopsticks.
The braised pork was steaming hot, making my eyes sting.
In my past life, I was too busy surviving, and such lively scenes have long since faded from my memory.
"Dad, Mom."
Lin Que lowered his head, took a big bite of rice, and hid the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Our family will be even better in the future."
It's not just about the trophy, and it's not just about that Mercedes.
I will make you the most enviable parents in the world.
...
After the meal, at Comrade Wang Xiulian's insistence on giving him warm milk,
Lin Que finally managed to escape back to his "territory".
SOHO City, studio.
Closing the door shuts out the noise from the outside world.
Lin Que walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the myriad lights of the city below.
The warmth in his eyes gradually faded.
He skillfully turned on the computer, and the mechanical keyboard emitted a crisp typing sound.
Log in to the Hongguo.com backend.
The data for "Human World is Like Prison" continues to skyrocket.
Since the release of the chapter "The Boring Match",
The style of the book review section has completely veered off from "horror" to "memes".
Lin Que casually flipped through it.
[The escaped director of a mental hospital: Thanks for the invitation, I'm currently in the orthopedics ward. I finished watching it yesterday and I think Yang Jian's approach to "solving the problem of the question setter" is simply genius!]
During the math exam today, I went up and took off the proctor's glasses, saying, "I'll grade the papers."
The teacher is currently discussing compensation with my dad, and I feel like I might lose my leg.
[Ghost Bus Ticket Seller: The guy upstairs is ruthless. But isn't the essence of this chapter that "silence"?]
Yang Jian: As long as we kill everyone who makes a sound, the world will be quiet.
This is a godsend for socially anxious people! I suggest extending this to visiting relatives during Chinese New Year!
[Deep-sighted Dog: Am I the only one wondering where Yang Jian will go next on the ghost bus?]
By the way, Dream Weaver, could you let Yang Jian visit "Miracles of the Namiya General Store"?
I want to see Yang Jian open Grandpa Namiya's mailbox and see if there's anything ghostly inside.
Lin Que chuckled softly.
"Readers' imaginations are always the most boundless!"
He closed the comments section and opened his email.
An email from the magazine "New Tide" lay quietly in my inbox. The sender was the editor-in-chief, Wang De'an.
The email was long, and the attachment contained the sales report for the first week of the "Miracles of the Namiya General Store" manga.
The numbers were astonishing: the first print run was three million copies, which sold out in seven days.
In today's era of declining print media, this is nothing short of a miracle.
Until the very end.
[Also... there's something I feel I should be honest with you, Professor Jian Shen.]
The text seems to hesitate at this point.
Lin Que did not reply. Instead, he picked up his phone and dialed Wang De'an's number directly.
The phone was answered after ringing twice.
"Professor Jian Shen?"
Wang De'an's voice was somewhat hoarse.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the crisp sound of a lighter grinding wheel scraping against the screen.
Lin Que lowered his voice and turned on the voice changer.
"Editor-in-Chief Wang, are you still working overtime so late?"
Lin Que turned on speakerphone, tossed it on the table, and leaned back in his chair.
"I've read the email. Besides the money, what else are you trying to say? Why are you being so hesitant with me?"
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the crisp sound of a lighter lighting a cigarette.
"Mr. Kenshin, I'll be frank."
Wang De'an exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice bitter.
"This afternoon, Fu Bencai, the editor-in-chief of Suyin magazine, made a special trip to Jiangcheng."
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