The Feel of It

Zhang Xuezhou had only two guesses about the source of consciousness inside Zhang Manqian.

Either it was not an Extraterrestrial Heavenly Demon, or it was not dead.

After all, Zhang Manqian did not travel between worlds as he did.

Song Fengying and Zhang Weimeng, however, were in situations somewhat similar to Zhang Xuezhou's. One immersed herself in the world of a certain piece of software, while the other immersed himself in the world of writing.

Such abilities looked like the golden fingers found in absurd novels, but few people could use them to attain wealth and glory.

For one thing, different societies accepted different things. Something popular in one society might not necessarily suit the present one.

For another, societies developed differently. Even products with enormous public acceptance could grow into crooked melons and split dates.

The products that had come from Zhang Weimeng's solemn vow to make a name for himself writing novels and Song Fengying's obsession with getting rich through livestreaming were both like that.

Without a little fortuitous opportunity, Zhang Weimeng would still be sitting there typing in a muddled state of mind, with Zhang Xuezhou having to correct his work.

Song Fengying, meanwhile, would still be pouring her meager savings into the bottomless pit of livestreaming, with little prospect of making a real profit.

The livestreaming industry was still a bottomless pit. Advanced software had been developed in the wrong internet era, and the lack of compatible visual devices and network communications had all but shackled its viral spread.

Most importantly, this situation had already affected their dispositions.

That included Zhang Xuezhou, as well as Zhang Manqian, Song Fengying and Zhang Weimeng.

Zhang Xuezhou had originally been cheerful and lively. After he was diagnosed with a mental illness, he became gloomy and withdrawn, and later still,