Finishing the book means death; I abandoned the whole world.

Perhaps it was good luck, but the journey to the recycling point was relatively safe, without encountering any unusual situations. Only a few "security" personnel wearing red armbands lagged far behind, presumably because Wang Gangtie's weight had dropped below 20, prompting the implementation of these so-called security measures.

Liu Tianyong dumped all the loot from his backpack onto the counter. He kept only a land deed; that was the base's power bank, and exchanging it would be a huge loss.

[Relics detected: Mahaji's gold fountain pen (incomplete), Flying Furnace Flow outline template (broken), Auto-renewal agreement (fragmented page)]

The recycler's electronic voice echoed in the cramped space, sounding even more irritating than before.

"Let's get this straight," Yong said, clutching his chest, "the usual 10% tax rate, right?"

Yes, the tax rate is 10%. Please confirm the exchange plan.

"Confirm my ass! You didn't give me any other options!" Yong Ge muttered. He pushed the fragment of the gold fountain pen to Zhang Gou Dan, "Brother Dan, you can exchange this for yourself."

"Alright, after using so much, I'm finally seeing a return on my investment!" Zhang Gou Dan's eyes widened, and his "Invincible Under Heaven" inside his floral underwear was trembling.

[Exchange successful. Narrative weight 100 points, 90 points after tax, current weight 26 + 90 = 116 points]

"Wait, why the hell are they deducting 10 points?!" Zhang Gou Dan jumped up; that's the weight of two punches! He was heartbroken. He didn't understand the tax system since it was his first time exchanging currency, and Yong Ge hadn't explained it clearly last time either.

"A 10% tax, honey." Yong patted him on the shoulder with a smug grin. "The narrative ethics committee of capitalism is very strict."

Yong Ge gave Wang Gangtie the outline template for the Flying Furnace Flow again. She took the outline, her hands trembling slightly. This thing was like a bible to her before. Flying Furnace Flow, 10,000 words a day, lots of content to satisfy!

[Exchange successful. Narrative weight 80 points, after tax 72 points, current weight: 14 + 72 = 86 points.]

"I've finally broken through the critical point!" Wang Gangtie's eyes were brimming with tears, and he almost knelt down before Yong Ge. "Yong Ge, from now on you're my brother!"

"No! I can't accept that, please don't be so kind to a nobody like me, you great cultivator." Brother Yong waved his hand.

He picked up the auto-renewal agreement; the terms on the tattered page were still wriggling. "I'll redeem this thing!"

[Exchange successful. Liu Tianyong gains 70 narrative weight points, 63 points after tax.]

Adding the 500 points from killing Mahaji earlier, Yongge looked at the numbers appearing on his pen: [Current Narrative Weight: 558 + 63 = 621 points]

Finally, I can breathe a sigh of relief! I carefully put the deed to the Readers' Club into my pocket. This deed is bound to the center of the stronghold and generates 10 points of income every day. That means the stronghold's expenses will only be 20 points per day from now on.

A steady, long-term income is the true guarantee of a secure job.

Thinking about the tax deducted from their account, as they walked out of the exchange point, they all cursed in unison: "Shady merchants!"

……

It was already 10 p.m. when we got back to the base.

The floor, covered with book pages, glowed with a soft, fluorescent light, like a starlit meadow.

Wu Qu was placed on a bed in the medical room for examination. He was pale, and his eyeglasses, with wisteria flowers on them, were placed next to his pillow. There were dried bloodstains on the lenses.

"Her mental energy is severely depleted." Li Yumeng gently wiped her forehead with warm water. Her movements were gentle. "She's like a CPU that's overclocked and burned out."

Yong sat on the edge of the bed, holding the red fountain pen in his hand, but found that he couldn't write anything.

Healing texts? He doesn't understand those.

"Brother Yong, go and rest." Li Yumeng looked up. "I'll keep an eye on it. I've seen much more serious cases like this when I was on night shifts at the hospital. Don't worry."

"I'm not sleepy." Yong Ge stared at Wu Qu. "This silly girl, she insists on overloading herself with that syllabus!"

"She was trying to save everyone."

Yong sat there for a long time, then finally sighed softly and wrote in the air: [Wu Qu is sleeping soundly; in her dreams, there are purple morning glories and endless rice.]

[Current Narrative Weight: 621-620]

[Invalid; dreams cannot be written by others.]

"Damn it!" Yong cursed, erased the words, and grabbed Wu Qu's hand. "Wake up quickly. You still owe me a pair of glasses, no, I owe you my life."

The next day, the outpost enjoyed its most peaceful day yet.

No one went out, no one fought, the land deed was already bound to the narrative anchor, the daily cost was reduced to 20 points, and the weight was 620-48=572. Yong Ge's weight was more than enough for now.

Wang Gangtie's weight is 86-5=81, and he has 5 survival points per day, so he is currently safe.

Sister Hu was still telling stories to each of her plants. Fang Xiaoyuan's canteen was finally able to meet everyone's daily meal needs. Zhang Gou Dan was still training hard at the training ground, and now he didn't have to worry too much about his weight.

Yong Ge stared blankly for the entire morning, never having thought so calmly since the apocalypse.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Wu Qu woke up in the medical room. "Water..."

"Here I am!" Yongge rushed forward, nearly smashing the water glass over Wu Qu's face. "You're finally awake! Do you know how long you were unconscious? 18 hours! I thought you were going to turn into Sleeping Beauty!"

"Sleeping Beauty? She needs a prince's kiss to wake her..." Wu Qu laughed weakly. "You don't look like a prince at all..."

"Hey! I've got a short temper!" Yong Ge pretended to be furious, turned around and shouted, "Yu Meng! Wu Qu is awake! It seems like his brain has been fried."

Li Yumeng quickly walked over, and after checking, she breathed a sigh of relief: "It's nothing serious, just severely overworked. You need to rest for a few more days. Don't use your brain's ability to fill in the gaps these days; let your brain clear its cache."

"Then am I a useless piece of trash?" Wu Qu said dejectedly, clutching the bed sheet.

"Useless my ass! You're our strategic nuclear weapon now, only to be used when absolutely necessary, understand? Your job is just to tell me bedtime stories!" Yong-ge plopped down on the edge of the bed.

Wu Qu burst out laughing, but then winced in pain as if his nerves had been pulled.

……

As evening fell, the core members gathered in the cafeteria, enjoying a rare moment of leisure.

The lush green leaves floated in mid-air. Holding a cup of green tea that embodied the narrative, he looked at the busy people around him and suddenly sighed.

"Brother Yong, do you know what I used to do?"

"Aren't you just an editor?" Yong asked, shoveling rice into his mouth.

"Yes, editor." The green eyes grew distant. "I am... an editor without any ideals!"

The cafeteria quieted down. Zhang Gou Dan stopped picking his toes, and Wang Gangtie looked at the lush greenery with curiosity.

"When I entered the industry, it was the height of the Flying Furnace School's popularity." Green seemed to be talking to herself.

"Back then, when I was an editor, I only signed contracts for one type of book—the kind of formulaic writing!"

"The eight-legged essay?" Fang Xiaoyuan asked curiously.

"It's just a formulaic story," Green Glow chuckled bitterly. "System-based, daily login rewards, son-in-law returns, war god patiently endures... It has to follow a fixed template, a fixed formula. The first chapter must feature a cheat system, the third chapter must involve a face-slapping moment, and the tenth chapter must have a minor climax..."

He leaned closer to Yong Ge and said, "Wang Qiang, Editor-in-Chief Wang scolded me before, saying that I was slaughtering authors' creativity. But I didn't listen. I think I exist for the market and for the data. I also have performance pressure and assessments. I don't dare to gamble. I rejected those authors who wanted to write their own stories one by one. It's not satisfying enough. The pace is too slow, etc."

Yong put down his chopsticks. He remembered his own situation back then. He had been rejected for visas countless times. Fortunately, he had Lao Wang with him and received a salary. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to afford food.

"And then?" Li Yumeng asked softly.

"And then?" Green looked at her hands, her translucent body shimmering slightly under the light. "Then the apocalypse came, and when I saw those monsters generated by those patterns, I realized that I had been producing these monsters all along."

"I forced authors to become coding machines, forcing them to write formulaic and formulaic stories. Their stories had no soul, only exciting moments. So after the apocalypse, the backlash from these stories turned into monsters that devoured reality."

He looked at Brother Yong with a particularly complicated expression: "Until I saw you, Brother Yong, your art of deception, on the surface, is also a routine, but you are different. You hide your true feelings in your deception."

"Stop! Don't get sentimental, I'm getting goosebumps." Yong rubbed his arms. "I'm just a loser, I don't have any real feelings. I just live day by day."

"You do," Green said earnestly. "You helped Wu Qu become the engine, helped Wang Gangtie become the power bank, and helped Li Yumeng become the doctor. You helped everyone find their place, instead of turning them into tools. You wrote about crowdfunding and co-creation, not a subscription-based system!"

The cafeteria was quiet for a long time.

Zhang Gou Dan suddenly stood up, walked to the green noodles, and stretched out his rough, thuggish hand: "Editor, I didn't know how much of a jerk you were before, but now, you're not so bad!"

Greenie paused for a moment, then smiled, reached out and shook hands: "Thank you."

"But I also have to say," Zhang Gou Dan grinned, "if you had dared to reject my manuscript back then, I would have smashed your windows."

"You wrote something that's unparalleled in the world, but I wouldn't dare say that." A smile spread across his green face as he pointed to his floral shorts.

Everyone burst into laughter.

Liu Tianyong realized that the true weight of a narrative lies not in how sophisticated the formula is, but in how many people are willing to work with you to continue writing the story.

Yongge closed his pen and looked at the center of the outpost. Tomorrow, we might have to set off again, but tonight, let this unreliable, haphazard, but sincere outpost get a good night's sleep.

Routine schemes are like the seasoning packet in instant noodles; they fill you up quickly, but too many will make you nauseous. A truly good story is like a bowl of plain porridge your mother cooks—simple, but comforting. —Liu Tianyong