Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

Around 5 p.m.

The high-speed train arrived in Beijing.

The car gradually slowed down, and rows of bus stop lights flashed past the window.

Lin Yuan saved the document.

well.

Today's draft has been moved forward a little more.

As for whether it can satisfy the readers?

that's not important.

Readers are creatures that are never truly satisfied.

If you update two chapters, they'll criticize you for updating too short.

If you update ten chapters, they'll criticize you for stopping.

If you were to finish updating it all at once, they might even scold you for ruining the meaning of their lives.

Therefore, the author needs to learn to reconcile with himself.

Abbreviation: Playing dead.

After the train came to a complete stop, an announcement was made.

Passengers gradually got up.

Lin Yuan closed his notebook, put it in his bag, and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Before leaving, he took a note out of his bag.

The phone number was already written on it.

The handwriting is neat and clean, not particularly beautiful, but it's pleasing to the eye.

He handed the note to Fei Zhao in a very natural tone.

"Sister Fei, if Tianxing really needs a song and is willing to trust me, you can try calling this number to contact me."

Fei Zhao paused slightly, then looked down at the note in his hand.

Lin Yuan didn't offer any further explanation.

After saying that, he turned and left with his schoolbag on his back.

Clean and efficient.

Fei Zhao remained seated, watching his figure disappear into the crowd.

He remained silent for a moment.

She has seen too many people who volunteer themselves.

Every word spoken promises a bright future.

When I took the artwork out for a look, all that remained was the future.

But Lin Yuan is different.

This little guy is so casual when he hands out notes.

So casually, it was as if they weren't even trying to seize an opportunity.

Instead, it means:

If you need it, give it a try.

It's fine if we don't need it.

Anyway, I need to get off the bus and have lunch.

Fei Zhao stroked the note for a moment, then looked in the direction Lin Yuan had left.

Fei Zhao suddenly smiled.

"An interesting little guy."

She put the note into her bag.

After exiting the high-speed rail station, Lin Yuan first sent a message to his parents to let them know he was safe.

Then I opened the map and found a restaurant with good reviews.

Of all things under heaven, eating is the most important.

Art can be enjoyed on an empty stomach.

But the author is not.

Writing on an empty stomach makes even the most fragmented chapters seem immoral enough.

He ordered several Beijing specialties.

tasty.

The prices are also typical of Beijing.

When Lin Yuan paid the bill, he stared at the bill and remained silent for two seconds.

Then I comforted myself.

It's okay.

The immortal friend will reimburse you.

After finishing his meal, he took a taxi to the hotel he had booked in advance.

The hotel has a good location, not far from the Beijing Film Academy.

Lin Yuan checked in, put down his luggage, washed his face, and felt much more refreshed.

It's still early.

After thinking about it, he decided to go out and stroll through the night market.

The nights in Beijing are very lively.

Streetlights came on, crowds thronged, and long queues formed in front of food stalls.

The aroma of grilled skewers mingled with the sweetness of roasted chestnuts, drifting into our noses on the evening breeze.

Lin Yuan bought a cup of plum juice and some snacks as he walked around.

He used to think that the greatest meaning of travel was to see the sights.

Later it turned out that wasn't the case.

The greatest meaning of travel is to find a place to relax and unwind.

While you're at it, grab some local calories.

I strolled through the night market until 8:30.

Lin Yuan glanced at the time.

almost.

If we don't go back soon, those fellow cultivators in the comments section will probably start gathering on their swords.

He returned to the hotel, opened his laptop, and logged into the Red Eggplant Literature Network backend.

Nine o'clock sharp.

Both chapters were released on time.

The Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament has finally officially begun.

of course.

It only opened a little bit.

The drums and gongs have sounded, the contestants have taken the stage, and the audience has stood up.

Then the author slowly said:

See you tomorrow.

Less than a minute after the chapter was published, the comment section exploded again.

"Here it comes!"

"The fight has finally begun!"

"Wait, why isn't it finished yet?"

"I knew it! I knew that old scoundrel couldn't possibly be that kind!"

"You old rascal, can you give up that short and concise style?"

"Who can eat this little bit of food?"

Lin Yuan looked at the comments section, feeling pleased.

well.

Readers remain active.

What does this tell us?

This indicates that you are in good health.

Full of energy.

They can even swear.

He closed the background and opened a new document.

The document title is very simple.

Summer Wind

Lin Yuan stared at the name, his fingers pausing on the keyboard for a moment.

The previous life was "Summer Wind".

Released in 2004, it did not win any major music awards that year.

Back then, the Chinese music scene was a battle of titans.

Any song picked out could later become a source of inspiration in the karaoke room.

"Summer Breeze" is nestled among them, like a quiet girl sitting in a corner.

It's quiet.

Don't steal.

More than a decade later, the era of short videos arrived.

This song was suddenly rediscovered from the past.

The wind blows.

Summer is starting to arrive across the entire internet.

In his previous life, Lin Yuan had seen many songs that had been revitalized by time.

They are not unmoving; they simply stood in a night so bright that their light was temporarily obscured.

Even the brightest stars eventually dim. As the most dazzling light fades, the remaining dim stars will gradually have their hidden gentleness illuminated by time.

"Summer Breeze" is that kind of song.

It doesn't try to elicit sympathy, nor does it rush to show off its skills.

It's light and has a touch of sweetness.

Like riding a bike along the beach on a summer evening, the sea breeze brushes past your ears, and even your shadow sways.

The most touching part of the whole song is the feeling of summer romance.

Not spectacular.

Not heavy.

It doesn't try to be sentimental.

It simply blends a little bit of liking, a little bit of infatuation, and a little bit of unspoken ambiguity into the damp and gentle evening breeze.

The verse is like a girl softly humming a secret she's kept hidden for a long time on a summer night.

The mood only gradually brightens up during the chorus.

As you listen to it, it suddenly reminds you of a certain evening, a certain street, and a person standing in the wind.

The most amazing thing about this song is that it is tied to the seasons.

Every summer, when the weather gets hot and the evening breeze blows, that melody will automatically play in many people's heads.

It was as if summer itself had pressed the play button.

Taking this song to the Star Chart in August is like bringing a cool evening breeze to the ears of countless people during the hottest part of summer.

In a world overflowing with industrial saccharin, this trend, once it takes hold, already has a significant advantage.