"...And so, Xiao Yan finally subdued this extraordinary flame!"
Chen An lightly tapped his storyteller's block. The crisp sound rang across the desk, just a few dozen centimeters wide, and over the surrounding storytelling platform.
"Clack!!!"
The tea drinkers below, utterly engrossed in the story, snapped out of their trance.
"What? What? How could it end there?!"
"You cliffhanger dog! You cliffhanger dog!"
"Aaaah! What happened next?!"
"I want to know too, but I can't read!!"
"No, no, same here! But starting today, I'm going to learn to write!"
"Same here! I'm going to learn to write so I can read novels!"
Every tea drinker was in agony. Even Lin Ke, secretly observing from a nearby corner, could sense their anguish and frenzy.
No wonder some people in my previous life kicked their drug addictions by reading novels. That's the power of fiction!
The needs of humans-or rather, intelligent beings-essentially fell into two categories.
One was material, the other spiritual.
And novels were precisely a form of nourishment for the spirit.
In his previous life, how had Lin Ke-or countless middle schoolers, high schoolers, and university students-gotten through the tedium of studying?
They had gotten through it with all sorts of spiritual nourishment.
Moreover, Lin Ke personally believed that this spiritual nourishment was good, or at least mostly positive.
What had countless young people gained from novels?
It was, "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river-never scorn a young man for being poor."
It was, "Double pupils were already a path to invincibility; why borrow the Supreme Bone?"
It was, "Had heaven not birthed me, Li Chungang, the way of the sword would have endured an eternal night."
It was the peerless Ruthless Empress, the cautious and steady senior brother, Boss Pei, who would choke