"Looks like someone's at my door. I'm going to end the stream for a bit. Sorry!" Chen Zhao said over the mic when he heard the knocking.
Little Bamboo Shoot: "Bye-bye! I'll play a solo round while I wait for you."
As soon as she said that, a huge number of viewers in Little Bamboo Shoot's livestream got upset. Her fans howled in anger:
Little Bamboo Shoot Is My Baby: "What?! You actually said something like 'I'll wait for you'!"
I Love Bamboo Shoots: "It's over. Little Bamboo Shoot's been stolen away by that small-time streamer Chen Zhao."
Bamboo Shoot with Rice: "Little Bamboo Shoot's been stolen away by Chen Zhao +1"
Bamboo Shoots Are So Good: "Little Bamboo Shoot's been stolen away by Chen Zhao +10086"
Orange Juice Boy: "Oh! No! I can hear my heart breaking!"
Backstreet Bombshell: "Little Bamboo Shoot got stolen away? Unfollowed!"
Little Bamboo Shoot hurriedly explained, "What are you all talking about? It's not like that! I just want him to help me get a Winner Winner Chicken Dinner! Why are you all acting like this?"
That was just how fans were, especially when it came to pretty, busty streamers like Little Bamboo Shoot. The slightest remark could send them into a jealous rage. This sort of thing had happened many times before.
Chen Zhao had no idea what kind of commotion Little Bamboo Shoot had stirred up. He took off his headphones and hurried to answer the door.
The person outside was pounding impatiently, making the door bang loudly. Chen Zhao called out, "Coming!" as he rushed to open it. He didn't bother looking through the peephole. For one thing, this neighborhood was safe and there had never been any incidents. For another, if it were a burglar, they wouldn't be so brazen as to pound on the door loudly enough for the whole building to hear.
Chen Zhao opened the door and froze.
It was none other than his landlady, Deng Zixin. She wore a black tank top and white shorts, showing off her pale arms and long legs. A red-lipped cigarette dangled from her mouth, giving her a rather sultry look. As soon as Chen Zhao opened the door, Deng Zixin blew smoke right in his face. She was probably angry that he'd taken so long to answer.
"Are you deaf? I've been waiting here for five minutes!" Deng Zixin furrowed her brow and flicked Chen Zhao hard on the forehead.
"Sorry, sis. I had my headphones on," Chen Zhao groaned, clutching his head. Deng Zixin had a ridiculously strong flick; it felt like she'd nearly cracked his skull.
"Pour me a glass of water. I'm thirsty." Deng Zixin pushed Chen Zhao aside and walked in.
Chen Zhao closed the door and went to get her some water. Deng Zixin plopped down on the sofa and crossed her legs as she waited. The pose made her legs look incredibly long, and she looked so domineering that she seemed like the lord of the manor. In a way, she was. All the tenants in the building had to answer to her.
"Room temperature or hot?" Chen Zhao asked.
"Ice water," Deng Zixin said.
Chen Zhao was at a loss. He didn't have any ice at home! This wasn't a bubble tea shop—why was she asking for ice water?
"If you don't have ice, then cold water will do," Deng Zixin said, noticing his predicament. "You're so young, yet you don't even keep ice cubes around for cold drinks? You live such a passionless life. Are you trying to stay healthy?"
Chen Zhao was speechless. His landlady really didn't pull any punches. He quickly opened a bottle of mineral water, poured it into a glass, and brought it to Deng Zixin.
Deng Zixin took her time drinking half of it, then placed the glass on the coffee table in front of her and folded her arms as she looked at Chen Zhao.
"You're good at writing?"
Chen Zhao froze. Ever since Deng Zixin had walked in, he'd been wondering what had brought his landlady over. He'd imagined all sorts of possibilities: demanding the rent, hiring him as a child laborer, ordering him to move out by a certain date, or arranging for him to share the place with someone. He'd never expected the first thing she'd ask about was—"You're good at writing?"
Chen Zhao was bewildered. What did that have to do with anything?
"I'm awful at writing essays. My Chinese teacher used to chew me out, saying I was the destroyer of modern Chinese prose, the founder of the 'I don't care if I offend my whole family' style of writing, and a true master of words that could kill," Chen Zhao decided to be honest.
"Don't be modest. What's the point of being modest with me?" Deng Zixin shook her head. "Your mom just called me. She said one of your essays caught the attention of a teacher at your school. They submitted it to the Baicheng Times, and it got accepted. She couldn't reach you, so she asked me to come see whether you were willing to have it published. If you are, I'll tell your mom, then she'll tell the school leaders, and they'll let the Baicheng Times know. Then it'll be in the paper."
Chen Zhao was dumbstruck.
An essay of his had caught a teacher's eye?
It had been submitted to a newspaper—and accepted?
When had he ever written such an incredible piece? Hadn't he skipped handing in his work for several writing classes?
There had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe there was another student at school with the same name as him, and that student had written it. Then the school leaders had mixed them up and gotten his contact information instead.
"Oh, right. I think that essay was called Exhortation to Learning," Deng Zixin recalled.
Chen Zhao suddenly understood.
So it was that one!
The teacher had submitted it to the newspaper so quickly. That was astonishing. Hadn't he just turned it in that afternoon?
"Sure... sure, I guess. Getting in the paper is a good thing, right?" Chen Zhao said. Then he remembered something and pulled out his phone, only to find that the screen wouldn't turn on. It must have run out of battery and shut down. No wonder his mom couldn't reach him and had to ask his landlady to come over.
"Okay, I'll send your mom a message on WeChat," Deng Zixin said.
Deng Zixin pulled her phone from the pocket of her shorts and rested it on her thigh as she sent a message. A little while later, her phone buzzed with a reply.
"All set. Your mom told the school leaders," Deng Zixin said. "Your essay will be in this weekend's issue of the Baicheng Times, and you'll get paid next Monday."
"How much do you think the writing fee will be?" Chen Zhao asked.
"I think it'll be close to ten thousand," Deng Zixin said.
Chen Zhao's eyes widened in shock.
He'd written that essay in just a few dozen minutes, and it could earn him nearly ten thousand?
It paid that much?!
This was way faster money than livestreaming!
For the past two days, Chen Zhao had streamed as soon as he got home from school, playing one, two, or three rounds of Winner Winner Chicken Dinner. He'd focused intently for an hour or two, but his fans had only given him a few hundred yuan in gifts. And now, just by writing an essay, he could earn what would take him dozens of days of streaming?
Chen Zhao was immediately tempted.
After all, ever since he'd gotten the System Ring and the world had changed, Chen Zhao had gained knowledge of many literary classics that only he knew about—works no one in this world had ever heard of. Exhortation to Learning, the piece he'd just submitted, had already gotten this kind of response. If he could put out a few more pieces, wouldn't he make a fortune?
Just as he was thinking this, the System Ring on his hand suddenly vibrated. The next moment, words appeared in Chen Zhao's mind:
[Writing is a Phase Three task and cannot be unlocked yet] [The host's current task is to become a popular streamer]
Chen Zhao sighed to himself. The system had the final say, especially since he was still counting on it to provide him with a brilliant mind. He'd have to put writing on hold for now.
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