It was finally the last day of November. Busy 2023 had finally... Huh, wait, that's not right. There's still another month left, isn't there?
This chapter is just me going a little crazy.
A while ago, I shared some writing experience on a certain platform. At first, I only meant to write a sentence or two, like an immortal pointing the way—concise, to the point, and no more. But as I kept writing, my occupational disease flared up. I lost control and rambled on for a huge number of words. Seriously, if I don't pad the word count, I feel uncomfortable.
More words really are king. That post got mildly popular and was probably seen by several thousand people. It was a niche section on a niche platform, so several thousand views was practically the equivalent of becoming famous. It gave me a little sense of accomplishment that wasn't worth a cent.
Wait, no. It was worth something after all.
After reading the post, a certain netizen suddenly sent me a private message and asked whether I would accept an interview. She would buy me a cup of milk tea afterward.
I said sure. Who doesn't want milk tea? What kind of interview was it?
She sent me a bilingual informed-consent form. It turned out she was a graduate student at the University of Bristol and was about to write her graduation thesis. Her thesis was about Chinese web novels, and she needed to interview someone on the inside.
I was utterly stunned. Wasn't Bristol an old, prestigious university, at least in my impression? Why would it be researching web novels? It was like a war god giving the order and a hundred thousand soldiers charging in. Would it really look normal to talk about this in front of a