Editing Meng Fei

Night.

A pot-bellied middle-aged man stood in a room, his body surrounded by virtual projection web pages. With a gentle wave of his hand, a virtual page would vanish; with a light tap, he would enter another.

This was the computer of Yanhuang Planet, where holographic projections had become reality.

However, the legendary virtual world—that high-tech marvel capable of pulling human consciousness into a virtual reality through a headset—had yet to appear.

There were rumors, however, that such technology already existed in the Federation's top-secret laboratories, though these remained mere hearsay, unverified.

"Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Do they think they can just scribble anything and produce a brilliant erotic novel? It's enough to make me laugh my teeth out. Authors these days really underestimate the genre."

The middle-aged man sneered. His name was Meng Fei, thirty-five years old, and he was the lead editor for Penguin, the largest literature website on Yanhuang Planet.

His daily work involved reviewing novels, scouting for potential, signing authors to the site, and putting their works up for sale.

The problem was that he hadn't found an erotic novel to his liking in weeks. Most submissions were cookie-cutter, completely devoid of innovation, and failed to stir the slightest interest in him to keep reading.

It was worth noting that erotic novels were not strictly censored by the government on Yanhuang Planet, which had led to a flourishing market with many excellent works.

A truly top-tier erotic novel could generate revenue that rivaled the biggest hits in other genres; in terms of sales, it was often second to none.

This had drawn countless authors to try their hand at it, hoping to make their first pot of gold.

But one shouldn't assume every erotic novel would become a massive hit welcomed by countless readers. In fact, for readers who had consumed countless such stories, their appetites had long since been spoiled; they had no interest in mediocre works.

It was like a veteran "old driver" who had seen countless films—did one really think that a woman simply taking off her clothes would excite him? No, that was nowhere near enough. At that level, the veteran wouldn't even bother to glance at you, let alone show any sign of respect; he'd rather go play a video game.

"As I thought."

Meng Fei sighed, "With Master Jia Zhiwei laying down his pen and Teacher Bao Pichang growing old, is there truly no one left who can write an erotic novel that makes one excited and unable to sleep at night?"

He sighed deeply. Ten years ago, the genre had been in its golden age, with excellent works emerging one after another. Back then, he had read until he was exhausted, malnourished, and skeletal—he'd nearly failed to graduate high school because he couldn't sleep without reading a chapter every night.

Of course, reading them only made it harder to sleep.

The heart-pounding, twist-filled plots, the descriptions that felt as if they were unfolding right before his eyes, the blood-pumping close-quarters combat—it was all so thrilling. One could say that a truly top-tier erotic novel was far superior to any film or television production.

It was precisely because of this that he had joined Penguin to become an editor for the genre.

Regrettably, ten years had passed, and excellent works were becoming increasingly scarce. Some had even begun chanting the hateful slogan, "The erotic novel is dead; might as well go watch a movie." This pained him deeply, keeping him awake at night.

That was why he worked overtime every day, reviewing every new submission, hoping to find a work with potential to crush these rumors. Unfortunately, he had yet to find anything that caught his eye.

"But if I can't find a truly excellent erotic novel, is it really my taste that's lacking? Should I resign?" Meng Fei couldn't help but doubt himself.

Two years ago, he had suffered a major professional crisis. While walking down the street, he had been struck by a runaway magnetic-drive car and hospitalized with severe injuries.

After being discharged, the doctor informed him that he had developed a certain type of dysfunction—a permanent condition where he could no longer rise to the occasion. Even with modern technology, it was incurable; it was a terminal affliction.

From that day on, reading erotic novels felt like chewing wax—completely devoid of sensation.

He hadn't told the company about this, choosing to hide it instead, lest he be shown the door.

"No, I can't resign yet. If I don't find a truly excellent erotic novel, I won't be able to die in peace. The future of the genre cannot be cut short in my hands. There are countless men whose needs are waiting to be met, and countless youths who need us for their initiation. How can I give up and surrender now?! That would be the act of a coward!"

Meng Fei's eyes were incredibly firm, radiating a sacred light like a martyr. His cause was great; even if no one understood and he suffered the scorn of the secular world, he would never regret his path, even unto death.

"Fine, I'll finish this last novel, then get some rest and continue the struggle tomorrow."

Ding. A new novel had been uploaded. Meng Fei glanced at it; the author was a newcomer named Black-Hearted Wolf, and the title was Teacher Bai Rong. A novel name, at least.

But a novel name wasn't enough; the plot and the content were what mattered! Meng Fei sneered. He had read countless books and was extremely picky. Even if it was a new author, if it wasn't good, it wasn't good. He wouldn't show the slightest mercy.

Huh? The protagonist is actually a teacher?

This teacher is quite something—young, beautiful, foxy, and with a hot figure. And she's already married at such a young age? Damn it, why were all my teachers back in school middle-aged hags without a hint of youth? Meng Fei felt a surge of resentment.

He continued reading. What the hell? A beast! This principal is a beast! Using his authority to openly prey on his beautiful subordinate? How shameless, and she's a married woman at that.

You beastly principal, do you think using your position to threaten her will make her submit? If she actually reported you, you'd be going to prison. Wait, she actually submitted? And she didn't even resist? Bai Rong, you're a teacher, you have a husband—have you no shame? Fight back!

Damn it, this is infuriating. What has happened to our sacred schools? To have such shameless acts occurring... such a beautiful teacher, and she was taken so easily without even a courtship? Straight to the home run? That's twisted. But then again, that's how a novel should be—simple, brutal, and direct.

Meng Fei was completely immersed in the world of the novel. He found the subsequent plot becoming increasingly intense. The two scoundrels were not only acting out at school but even at home. Finally, the husband suddenly returned, and the plot came to an abrupt halt.

"Damn it, it's over? Why is it over?!" Meng Fei's head felt hot, his heart burning with anxiety. He wanted to beat the author up. Ending it at such a critical moment—how could he live like this?

Wait, what's happening to my body? There seems to be a warm current flowing through me. Could it be that I've been resurrected? Meng Fei's heart trembled, feeling an immense, overwhelming sense of shock and excitement.