Detective Conan: The Literary Genius is Actually a Great Scientist

Snow Country became a hit.

Despite its chilling title, the book reigns supreme in the book world like the blazing summer sun.

In Kyoto, Tokyo, Osaka, Beika... long lines of readers have formed outside famous bookstores in major cities, waiting overnight.

One week.

It didn't even last a week!

On the evening of the sixth day, the first printing of one million copies of "Snow Country" by Yomiuri Shimbun sold out throughout Japan.

The publisher's phone lines were ringing off the hook; the operators' voices, which had been sweet "Moshi Moshi," had turned hoarse as they cried, "No more! Absolutely no more!"

There are shortages everywhere, and people are urging for restocking everywhere.

The publishing house's printing presses were running at full speed day and night, with workers working in three shifts; the machines were practically smoking from exhaustion.

In other words, Japan's crackdown on piracy is severe enough; otherwise, the restocking interval alone would be enough for pirate merchants to make a fortune and buy ocean-view properties in Tokyo Bay.

It's selling so well; the readers' enthusiasm is simply overwhelming.

One million copies sold out in a week.

This number not only broke the record set by Lin Ran's previous book, "The Devotion of Suspect X," but also far surpassed all other writers in the entire Japanese literary world, and can even be considered a phenomenal book miracle on a global scale.

Many writers, throughout their entire lives, may not sell as many of their works combined as they do in a single week.

The literary world was also completely shaken by him.

Xia Mo's transformation this time was a great success.

Previously, some old-school writers or critics sourly said that he "only writes best-selling popular stories" and "lacks literary quality," criticizing him in newspapers.

Now, they've just played a winning hand.

The ultimate in the pathos of things, the ultimate in aesthetics, the ultimate in literary achievement... Snow Country crushed and vanished without a trace all the critical and questioning voices within a week.

A large number of literary critics began to rush into interpreting and praising "Snow Country," fearing that if they were a step behind, they would appear to lack discernment.

The media was ecstatic.

Although they were unable to delve into the true identity of "Xia Mo" due to certain pressures, this did not stop them from riding the wave of popularity.

What does "In the past, paper was expensive in Luoyang; now, snow is expensive in the Eastern Capital" mean?

What?! "A book so hard to find! A nationwide frenzy sparked at the end of summer!"

All sorts of messy, flashy, and attention-grabbing headlines emerged one after another. In short, the media hyped up Late Summer and Snow Country to an unbelievable degree, elevating them to god-like status.

But there's nothing we can do; they really have the ability to be hyped up.

If you don't boast, readers will think your newspaper lacks quality and vision.

There were also reporters who loved to stir up trouble. Unable to interview "Xia Mo" herself, they simply went to confront critics or old-fashioned writers who had publicly criticized "Xia Mo" in newspapers for "only writing commercial works."

The microphone was practically shoved into someone's mouth.

"Professor XX, what are your thoughts on the phenomenon of 'Snow Country' selling a million copies in a week and sparking nationwide discussion?"

Has your previous evaluation of Teacher Xia Mo changed?

"Could you talk about your thoughts on Snow Country...?"

These intellectuals who usually criticize this and that in the newspapers, arguing against everything and everyone, are now speechless, blushing, and walking away in front of the camera when questioned by reporters.

That scene would be incredibly awkward.

When Lin Ran saw it in the newspaper, she shook her head while drinking tea: "Sigh, why bother? If only I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have done it in the first place."

Of course, while I shook my head, I was secretly pleased.

So, all your previous nonsense has been proven wrong, hasn't it?

The sound of those slapping sounds is quite pleasant to the ear.

……

Los Angeles, USA.

Having just finished reading a domestic newspaper, Yukiko leaned lazily against the sofa in the villa's living room, her perfectly pretty face full of admiration for a senior meeting an outstanding junior.

"Yoshi yoshi, well done, young man!"

Yukiko swung her fair legs, with a newspaper spread out on them.

No wonder Eri chose this little man.

This talent, this momentum, it's like a rocket taking off, unstoppable.

However, seeing the praise for Lin Ran in the newspaper, she thought of her husband, who had been in a low mood lately and spent all his time in the study smoking.

"Really..."

With her eyebrows raised and the newspaper set aside, she stormed into the study barefoot.

Other people's husbands are full of inspiration and their new books are selling like hotcakes, while my husband is here, listless and sluggish like a dried-out salted fish. The contrast is too hurtful.

The study was now filled with smoke.

The ground was littered with discarded drafts, empty cigarette butts, and newspapers from Japan.

A middle-aged man sat at his desk, smoking a cigarette while staring intently at the manuscript in front of him with a furrowed brow. His once handsome face was now covered in stubble, and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed for days.

Yusaku Kudo has been quite deeply affected these days.

He is actually very similar to his son, Shinichi Kudo, in some ways. In other words, Shinichi Kudo's inherent pride and arrogance are largely inherited from him.

The great detective always believed that his reasoning skills were unparalleled and invincible. He even initially looked down on Hattori Heiji, who was his equal, the "Kansai high school detective".

Yusaku Kudo, the world-renowned mystery novelist, is the same.

Before the pen name "Summer's End" appeared out of nowhere, he was humble in words but always considered himself the god and king of the mystery novel world, standing at the pinnacle of this genre and looking down on all living beings.

His works are considered industry benchmarks in terms of sales and influence.

Then, Xia Mo suddenly appeared from some unknown corner and slapped him hard across the face with a copy of "The Devotion of Suspect X".

Whose god? Which king?

That slap almost shattered Kudo Yusuke's integrity and pride.

What's even more frustrating is...

Before he could even adjust his mindset, after painstakingly and painstakingly working on a new work that surpassed his own previous achievements to retaliate or respond...

As a result, after "Summer's End" slapped him, he dusted himself off and left.

I've gone off to study pure literature!

They did it in a truly earth-shattering way; the release of "Snow Country" completely shook the Japanese literary world.

Previously, when newspapers mentioned "Summer's End," they always liked to bring up the name of the senior, "Yusaku Kudo," comparing the two.

What now?

They don't even mention it anymore.

"Yusaku Kudo? That one?"

It was as if the two were no longer on the same level.

They're into highbrow literature, and you're still writing popular stories about solving crimes by killing people.

Ignore it completely.

For Yusaku Kudo, who was proud to the core, this disregard was the greatest insult and blow.

These days, he only lights a cigarette once in the morning and then smokes it all day long, until late at night.

My creative work has hit an unprecedented bottleneck.

It's not that he can't write it; with his skill and experience, writing a bestselling mystery novel would be a piece of cake. It's just that what he writes is... bland and tasteless, even to himself.

With each character I write, I feel as if a mountain called "Summer's End" is constantly hovering in my heart.

According to the settings in fantasy novels...

He's been possessed by an "inner demon."

"Cough cough cough..."

As soon as she pushed the door open, Yukiko coughed a few times from the smoke filling the room, her pretty little nose wrinkled, and her face showed disgust.

I hate the smell of smoke the most.

Even my favorite kiss doesn't feel so appealing anymore.

Yukiko waved away the smoke in front of her and looked at the man sitting at the desk who hadn't noticed her coming in. She was in a very bad mood.

I've been standing here for three seconds, and you didn't even notice? Has your attention been completely drawn to that little vixen named Xia Mo?

"Snapped!"

He walked over and slammed his hand heavily on the desk.

"Yusaku Kudo!"

"Yukiko, what's wrong with you again...?"

Kudo Yusaku sighed, and while asking the question, he reached out and pulled the manuscript paper from his wife's hand.

"What's wrong? How many days has it been? Have you finished writing it yet?" Yukiko's eyebrows were furrowed, not from anger, but from pain.

She silently withdrew her small hand from the table, trembling slightly as she placed it behind her back, inwardly screaming: I used too much force, it hurts so much, but I can't cry out, otherwise I'll lose my composure.

Being a fierce wife is so hard!

"Yusaku Kudo!" Yukiko put one hand on her hip, striking a serious pose. "I'm here to give you an ultimatum! Are you coming back to Japan with me or not?"

She had wanted to go back for a long time.

However, leaving her husband alone in Los Angeles and seeing him so depressed made Yukiko wonder if she was being too willful, so she kept putting it off until now.

Hearing this, Yusaku Kudo stubbed out his cigarette, rubbed his temples, and said with a hint of helplessness, "Yukiko, give me some more time, I need..."

"What do you need?"

Yukiko interrupted him, pouting her little lips. She looked cute, but her words were like knives. "You're just unwilling to admit defeat, always trying to compare yourself to Natsumi. What's the point of comparing? She writes a book that becomes a hit, while you smoke a pack of cigarettes for every word you write. How can you compare?"

Feeling she had gone a bit too far, she went to her husband's side, softening her tone and trying to comfort him: "People are talented because God gave them their talent. You're very talented too, it's just... just that your fields and styles are different~"

Yukiko originally wanted to advise him not to get stuck on his own ideas, but for someone as proud as Yusaku Kudo, he is usually very "sensitive" or "impatient".

One of the common flaws of intellectuals is that they have an inflated sense of self-importance and cannot bear to hear others say that they are inferior to anyone else, especially if that person is their own wife.

What do you mean he's "blessed by God"? Does that mean my talent is something I picked up by chance?

Yusaku Kudo lit another cigarette, his gaze behind his glasses grave, his expression somber. "Yukiko, stop talking. Give me some more time, and I'll prove myself!"

Yukiko: "..."

Looking at her husband's stubborn expression that said, "I'm going to prove it to you," she felt a lump in her throat and almost couldn't breathe.

So all she said earlier was for nothing?

"Fine! Fine! Fine!" Yukiko nodded repeatedly, her pretty face flushed red with anger. "You're so capable! You're so amazing! You can go live your whole life with your books!"

After saying that, she glared at Yusaku Kudo, turned around, and slammed the door shut as she left.

Back in her bedroom, Yukiko was still furious.

She picked up her phone and her slender fingers tapped the screen rapidly.

Book your tickets!

A plane ticket back to Japan!

Let this stubborn mule struggle with his cigarettes and manuscript paper by himself; this princess is not going to serve him!