Reborn as a high school freshman with an awakened system, a fat boy transforms into a male god.

"And your dad..."

"He's been staying at the old house recently." Su Wantang's voice was calm, but her chopsticks paused slightly on the rim of her bowl. "He said he won't be going to Cuiping Garden for the time being."

Lin Bei didn't ask any more questions.

The fact that they weren't going to Cuiping Garden meant something both of them understood. Zhao Yumei had arranged for the house to be bought; Su Yuan had paid part of the down payment, and the mortgage was a joint agreement. Now that Zhao Yumei had been arrested, what would happen to the house and the mortgage would be a huge problem.

But at least, Su Yuan is back. Back to 502, back to his daughter's side.

As for the others, we'll deal with them gradually.

After finishing breakfast, Lin Bei returned to room 501 to pack his schoolbag.

He opened the novel's backend and took a look.

Collections: 12.

Finally, a comment that wasn't from Zhou Ziheng appeared in the comments section: "Keep it up, author! It's really good!"

[The host has received their first encouragement from a stranger. This person clicked on the host's book amidst a vast sea of ​​books, read it, thought it was good, and even left a comment. In the online novel industry, this is called "true love." Although there's only one, it's more valuable than ten thousand "I'll read it later" comments. The system suggests the host take a screenshot and save it, so they can refer to it when they can't continue writing. By the way, the system has already saved the screenshot of this comment into the system memory, placing it in the "Host's Highlight Moments" folder. Currently, this folder contains three items: 1. The host's first completed task; 2. The host's first time being praised by Su Wantang; 3. This comment.]

Lin Bei turned off his phone, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and went out the door.

As soon as he entered the classroom, Zhou Ziheng suddenly looked up, "Brother Bei?"

"What are you looking at so intently?"

Zhou Ziheng turned the book cover over for Lin Bei to see.

Lin Bei was taken aback: "You're looking at this thing?"

"I'm learning how to write novels." Zhou Ziheng pushed up his glasses, looking serious. "My editor said my characters are too flat, the plot is too formulaic, and the dialogue is too fake. He said my novel is like 'mass-produced plastic flowers,' looking like flowers but without fragrance."

Lin Bei's lips twitched: "This editor is pretty harsh."

"It's harsh, but it's true." Zhou Ziheng stuffed the book back into his bag, stood up, and said, "I don't want to write about plastic flowers. I want to write about things that... will make people cry, laugh, and feel a sense of identification."

Zhou Ziheng's writing philosophy is known in the industry as "emotional writing." The opposite is "sexual writing," which aims to get readers' blood pumping, making them want to fight, or show off. Neither style is inherently superior; it's simply a matter of suitability. At Zhou Ziheng's current level, he can't appeal to either emotion or sexuality; he's writing in a "distracting style," where readers inevitably drift off. But that's okay; which great author didn't start by "distracting"?

Lin Bei looked at him.

This skinny guy almost got scammed out of a "signing fee" in an internet cafe last week, and this week he's already studying screenwriting theory books.

Although his novels weren't very good, his desire to "write well" was genuine.

"Keep it up," Lin Bei said.

Zhou Ziheng grinned, revealing a set of bright white teeth: "Brother Bei, you too. I read your book, it's better written than mine. Although it only has three chapters, I can't imitate the rhythm of that opening."

Lin Bei was taken aback: "You've seen it?"

"Of course I watched it! Didn't I say I'd vote for you? But I have a suggestion: the part where the protagonist wakes up after his first rebirth could be a bit more detailed. For example, when he touches the old-fashioned alarm clock, you could add a line of his inner monologue: 'I smashed this thing eight times in my previous life, each time because I couldn't get up when the alarm went off. The last time I smashed it, it was completely broken. Now I actually miss it a little.' Such details would make the readers feel more involved."

Lin Bei looked at Zhou Ziheng and suddenly realized that the skinny guy wasn't talking nonsense.

He was right.

detail.

In his previous life, the good novels he read never moved him because of their grand settings, but because of their details. It was the protagonist's dazed feeling when touching old objects, the lump in his throat when smelling familiar scents, and the choking back tears when seeing old friends.

"Thank you," Lin Bei said.

"What are you thanking me for? I said we'll support each other, work together, and create a brilliant future." Zhou Ziheng patted Lin Bei on the shoulder with a "I'm pretty generous, aren't I?" look on his face. "When you become famous, remember to give me a role in your book. Not the handsome kind, but the smart kind. Preferably a strategist, the kind who plans and strategizes."

Lin Bei glanced at him: "Are you sure you can play a strategist?"

"Why not? I wear glasses, and people who wear glasses are all smart. That's a stereotype, but stereotypes are often true."

"Did Zhuge Liang also wear glasses?"

Zhou Ziheng was taken aback for a moment: "There were no glasses in ancient times... but if there were, they would definitely wear them. Look at those strategists in TV dramas, aren't they all stroking their beards and squinting? That's not called not wearing glasses, that's called wearing contact lenses."

Lin Bei's lips twitched, and he decided not to argue with this logical genius any further.

Today, Lin Bei had class as usual, and lunch with Su Wantang was also as usual. Afterwards, Su Wantang tutored Lin Bei in English. He had memorized all the vocabulary from Unit 1 to Unit 3, but his pronunciation was still a problem. The phonetic symbols seemed to be reinvented in his mouth, and Su Wantang patiently corrected his mouth shape again and again.

[The host's English pronunciation improved by 0.3% today. From "outrageous" to "barely tolerable." The system suggests that the host give Su Wantang a "Best Patience Award" certificate because she did something even the system couldn't do: listened to the host read English for more than ten minutes without breaking down.]

[Also, the system feels it's necessary to remind the host that your "th" sound sounds like you're imitating a snake flicking its tongue, while your "r" sound sounds like you're gargling. Su Wantang didn't laugh; the system respected her for being a tough woman.]

Lin Bei: ...

But Su Wantang never smiled. Not even once.

She merely frowned slightly, intently watching his lip movements, then slowed down and read it again: "Place the tip of your tongue between your upper and lower teeth, like this—θ—"

Her voice was soft, but every syllable was enunciated clearly. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on her profile and making the fine hairs around her ears shine.

Lin Bei was lost in thought.

It wasn't because she was pretty... well, she was pretty, too. But the reason he was distracted was more because this girl had almost disappeared from the world. And now, she sat next to him, patiently correcting a fat man's English pronunciation.

"Lin Bei".

"what?"

"You're daydreaming again."

Su Wantang glanced at him, but wasn't angry. She simply pushed the textbook towards him and pointed to the next word with the tip of her pen: "Read this one after me."

Her tone was calm, but Lin Bei noticed that when she pushed the textbook, her fingers accidentally touched the back of his hand, and she didn't pull them back.

It stopped there for about half a second.

Then he casually took it back.

[System detection: Su Wantang's finger contact duration was 0.6 seconds, 0.2 seconds longer than yesterday. The system doesn't know what this means; it's simply recording data. The host can figure it out for themselves.]

Lin Bei: "..."