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

At 11:23, Lin Yuan finally stepped out of the hotel.

The sky in Beijing is blue, the sun is scorching, pedestrians are busy, and lazy dog ​​Lin Yuan is having a blast.

He walked around the hotel area and discovered something very serious:

At this time, the stall selling soy milk and fried dough sticks has closed for the day.

The business package deals haven't even started yet.

He could only stand in front of a steamed bun shop and have a soul-searching eye contact with the owner.

"Boss, do you have any more steamed buns?"

"have."

What filling?

"The rest."

Lin Yuan looked down and saw three rather lonely-looking buns lying in the steamer, their skins slightly hardened, as if they had experienced some kind of workplace bullying.

He paused for a second: "...All of it."

"Okay, here's a cup of soy milk for you, it's leftover."

Holding the three weathered steamed buns and a cup of lukewarm soy milk, Lin Yuan sat on the curb, basking in the midday sun, and finished his first and second meal of the day.

He took a bite.

It's actually not bad.

This made him realize a truth: many things in life are like this breakfast; you think you're just making do, but you're surprisingly able to make it work.

After eating and drinking his fill, Lin Yuan finally came back to life.

My legs, which were worn out yesterday, have finally recovered from a "strike" state to a "passive slack" state after a night's rest and a quick dose of carbohydrates.

It can barely walk, but you can't expect it to walk fast.

Lin Yuan opened the map, swiped his finger across the screen twice, and finally landed on Beihai Park. The reason for its selection was simple and straightforward: it was close to the hotel, within walking distance, perfectly matching his current fitness level rating—walking level. As for special forces level? That was yesterday's Lin Yuan; today's Lin Yuan chose to make peace with himself.

The main gate of Beihai Park is inconspicuous, but after walking a few steps in, the view suddenly opens up. Lin Yuan stood by the lake, his face brushed by the breeze, and suddenly felt that he had made the right bet today—this place didn't require a lot of walking; just sitting and watching the old men rowing boats, the old women taking pictures, and the children chasing pigeons was already worth the price of admission. He found a bench and slumped down, thinking: lying down is the most comfortable thing ever.

When we came out of Beihai Park, the sun was already setting.

Lin Yuan raised his hand to shield his eyes, his steps unsteady as if his soul had just been taken away—or so it could be said, since his soul was still there, just hijacked by his stomach.

"Gurgle—gurgle—"

His stomach emitted a series of rhythmic rumbling sounds. Lin Yuan glanced down at his abdomen and said expressionlessly, "Alright, alright, I'll find you something to eat within half an hour. If it rumbles again, I'm going on a hunger strike."

My stomach was quiet for two seconds, then let out an even louder sound.

"...Threats didn't work, huh? Fine, you win."

As he turned into an alley, the aroma of fried noodles with soybean paste splattered all over his face.

Lin Yuan's feet were half a second faster than his brain; he practically drifted in by the smell.

The shop is small, and the menu on the wall lists everything from fried noodles with soybean paste to braised pork offal, from fried liver to fermented mung bean juice. It's all about "Beijing cuisine blind boxes, whatever you get is yours."

"Boss, a bowl of noodles with soybean paste, and a braised egg, please." Lin Yuan appeared calm on the surface, but inwardly he was frantically pounding the table: Hurry up and bring it on! What are you waiting for! Are you waiting for me to show you how to eat a whole pig in three bites!

The owner was quick and efficient. Three minutes later, a bowl of noodles with a rich, dark sauce and all the toppings was placed in front of Lin Yuan, with a braised egg neatly placed on the side of the bowl.

Lin Yuan took a deep breath, picked up his chopsticks, and began to stir. The process of the sauce coating the noodles was, in his eyes, comparable to a Hollywood special effects blockbuster—every noodle was bathed in the aroma of the sauce, completing a spiritual transformation.

After the first bite, Lin Yuan's eyes almost welled up with tears. Not because it was hot, but because he was moved. He realized: so this was the real hidden gem of Beijing, a cure-all for all kinds of dissatisfaction, especially for stomach upsets.

"Boss, another bowl!" He wiped his mouth, completely forgetting that just three minutes ago he had said "three bites make a whole pig" was just an exaggeration.

The owner glanced at him: "Young man, would you like more braised eggs?"

"Add one more! No, two!"

The boss smiled, turned, and went into the kitchen. Lin Yuan slumped in the plastic chair, touched his slightly bulging belly, and suddenly felt—the capital city didn't seem so scorching hot today.

Around 4 PM, Lin Yuan arrived at the outskirts of Gulou Street, intending to stroll around. A street performer was playing the erhu in the square; the music was mournful and poignant, drawing many passersby. Some scanned a QR code to tip, while others had tears in their eyes. Lin Yuan didn't tip, but he offered a token of his support—he mentally clapped twice. He didn't know if the performer would receive it, and most likely wouldn't, but spiritual support is still support, right?

Around 7 PM, Lin Yuan found a roast duck restaurant. Coming to Beijing and not eating roast duck is like going to Chongqing and not eating hot pot – it's a disrespect for the city's culinary culture. The biggest advantage of eating roast duck alone is that you don't have to share the skin. The skin is the soul of roast duck, crispy, oily, and melts in your mouth. He also ordered a plate of wasabi duck feet, took a bite, and his eyes instantly lit up – not because it was delicious, but because it was spicy. That kind of spiciness that went straight to the top of his head gave him a fleeting, almost ethereal feeling. As the saying goes, you can't stumble over the same dish twice. But if the dish is truly delicious, stumbling over it a third time is understandable.

8:30 p.m.

When Lin Yuan returned to his hotel room, he had regressed from a state of "coming back to life" to one of "almost dying again."

He threw himself onto the bed with a thud, and the mattress groaned under the weight.

"No, I can't sleep yet."

Lin Yuan struggled to his feet, thrashing about like a fish out of water.

The draft hasn't been published yet.

He staggered into the bathroom, threw himself into the hot water, and steamed for a full twenty minutes. In the steamy atmosphere, his mind finally broke free from the loop of "roast duck—duck skin—mustard" and reloaded with the basic professional ethics of an online novelist.

After showering, Lin Yuan, wrapped in a bathrobe, sat back down at his computer, the cursor hovering over the two latest chapters to be published. He rubbed his still-damp hair, his gaze settling on the screen—the Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament draw had resulted in Zhang Xiaofan, the unluckiest of the unlucky ones, receiving a bye. The entire audience was shocked; even he himself wondered if he had dozed off during the Grandmaster's intervention. Dao Xuan Zhenren seized the opportunity to appear, solemnly revealing the Demonic Sect's grand conspiracy brewing in the Ten Thousand Bats Cave of Kongsang Mountain, and immediately decreed: the top four disciples, set off to stop them.

Lin Yuan would occasionally stop to admire his own work, thinking how well he had written it.

"The pacing, the buildup, this whole thing is practically rubbing the words 'a storm is brewing' right in the reader's face."

But before the storm arrived, a young man's unresolved feelings came first.

Zhang Xiaofan followed Tian Ling'er late at night, a clumsy display of a young boy's unrequited love. Then, by the Jade Moon Pool, under the gentle moonlight, he witnessed his senior sister and senior brother Qi Hao's secret rendezvous and declaration of love. At that moment, the sound of the boy's heart breaking was probably only heard by the moonlight. Before he could even wipe away his tears, the Water Qilin suddenly appeared, its gaze turning wary as it looked at the ordinary-looking fire poker…

After checking and finding no problems, Lin Yuan leaned back, his chair spun halfway around, looking like a man who had just completed a great task.

"knock off."

The comment section exploded the moment the two chapters were updated.

[Wandering Hermit]: "An update! The author has finally poked his head out of his coffin!"

[One Sword Frosty Cold]: "Wait, that's it? I've already taken my pants off and this is what you show me? The Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament hasn't even started yet, and Zhang Xiaofan is already advancing without a fight? This is illogical!"

[Midnight Cultivation]: "Too short! Too short! Even the donkeys in the production team wouldn't dare rest like this!"

[Don't like cilantro]: "I was completely overwhelmed by the chapter 'Dark Night.' Zhang Xiaofan: I should be at the bottom of the pool, not in it, seeing how sweet you two are..."

Lin Yuan looked at the wailing and urging for more updates in the comments section, and the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.

He picked up the goji berry tea beside him, took a sip, and slowly typed a pinned reply:

"Send the razor blade directly to my dreams."

After posting the comment, he closed his laptop and flopped onto the bed.

As night deepened, the city lights flickered outside the window.

Lin Yuan closed his eyes, a malicious smile still lingering on his lips.