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

404 Dormitory.

Xie Wanyin's scream woke up the entire floor.

"Sisters!!! Check Weibo!!! Lin Yuan is filming a movie!!!"

"Keep your voice down, I've already seen it." Su Zhiyuan's voice came from behind the curtain, her phone screen still lit up.

Shen Qingci leaned halfway out from the upper bunk: "Qian Xuesen? August First Film Studio? The military? The space agency? What kind of setup is this? Is this something a human could get?"

Gu Zhiwan sat cross-legged on the bed, holding her phone, watching the trailer three times in a row. "Directing at eighteen, making a film for the Spring Festival. I feel like I've wasted these eighteen years of my life."

"You just realized that?" Su Zhiyuan added casually.

Gu Zhiwan didn't reply, her fingers flying across the screen as she typed.

At the same time, Lin Yuan had just returned to school and was walking towards the dormitory area.

My phone vibrated.

WeChat.

Gu Zhiwan: [Director Lin, I just checked Weibo. When are you going to arrange a leading role for me?]

Gu Zhiwan: [I'm not picky. If the female lead isn't good enough, I'll take the second female lead. If that's still not enough—]

Lin Yuan stared at the message for two seconds, and his lips twitched.

Lin Yuan: [If that doesn't work, how about you play the mushroom cloud?]

Gu Zhiwan: [? ? ?]

Gu Zhiwan: [Lin Yuan, that's enough!!!]

Gu Zhiwan: [Do you believe I'll go to the cinema on Chinese New Year's Day and give you a terrible review?! !!!]

Lin Yuan: [You have to buy a ticket before you can leave a bad review. Thank you for contributing to the box office.]

Gu Zhiwan: [...]

Gu Zhiwan: [You just wait.]

Lin Yuan smiled when he saw this.

Three seconds later, the phone vibrated again.

Gu Zhiwan: [However, the trailer is really well made, I will go see it to support it, and I wish Director Lin great box office success.]

Lin Yuan didn't reply, but the corners of his mouth widened slightly.

When Lin Yuan returned to the dormitory, Zhou Zixuan looked at him as if he were an alien.

"Brother Yuan, do you know how people address you on Weibo now?"

"have no idea."

"The youngest director in history for the Spring Festival film season." Zhou Zixuan enunciated each word clearly, "Do you know that I share a dorm room with you, and now people stare at me when I walk down the hallway? The people in room 601 next door came up to me today and asked if there really was a director living in room 602. I said yes, and they looked at me with a 'you don't deserve it' expression."

"That wasn't looking at me, it was looking at you." Lin Yuan stuffed the clothes into his suitcase. "It shows you have an outstanding presence."

What kind of temperament?

"An unworthy air."

"roll!"

Chen Mo, who was packing his camera bag, suddenly said, "Go home and get some rest."

"Is Brother Mo worried about me?"

"No," Chen Mo said expressionlessly, "I'm worried that if you get sick, no one will be there to cover for you."

"Your concern is always so practical."

Zhou Zixuan walked over and zipped up his suitcase for him: "Alright, big director, hurry home for the New Year. Don't forget—"

"What?"

"Bring some local specialties from my hometown," Zhou Zixuan said sincerely. "Zhuangzhuang wants two jin of cured pork and some chili sauce."

Qian Zhuangzhuang popped out from the top bunk: "There's more—"

"Are you ordering food or trying to extort me?"

"I'm making good use of my roommate's resources."

Lin Yuan pulled up his suitcase and pushed open the door.

"I'm leaving. See you after the New Year."

"Be careful on the road," Chen Mo said.

"A box office smash!" Qian Zhuangzhuang shouted.

"It hasn't been released yet." Zhou Zixuan rolled his eyes.

The door closed.

Zhou Zixuan's voice came from behind: "Who do you guys think Brother Yuan really is? A freshman? A director? A singer? Could he have some other hidden identity?"

"You're overthinking it," Chen Mo said.

"I was just saying."

"You always hit the nail on the head with your 'casual remarks'."

"..."

On the high-speed train, Lin Yuan leaned back in his seat and scrolled through Weibo for a while.

The hashtag #DirectorLinYuanQianXuesen# is still trending, and it has climbed from third to second place.

The comments section was in complete chaos.

Some believe it, some doubt it, some are watching and waiting, and some have already started buying tickets—even though the tickets haven't gone on sale yet.

Lin Yuan turned off Weibo and closed his eyes.

The train swayed rhythmically on the tracks, like some kind of hypnotic white noise.

He fell asleep.

It was already 7 p.m. when I got home.

Lin Liguo was cooking in the kitchen, while Jiang Wanqing was setting the table in the living room.

Jiang Wanqing was stunned for a moment when Lin Yuan pushed the door open and walked in.

"You've lost weight." That was her first sentence.

"No." Lin Yuan placed his suitcase at the door.

"You've lost weight." Lin Liguo came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food, glanced at him, and concluded, "Your face is even more pointed."

"Dad, it's because the outline is clearly defined."

"Clearly defined features my ass." Lin Liguo slammed the dishes on the table. "Your mother said you haven't been eating properly for the past few months, and I believe her."

"I ate; the food on set was pretty good."

"How could you get so thin if the food on set is so good?" Jiang Wanqing looked at him with concern. "Sit down and eat."

On the dinner table, there were three dishes and a soup.

Braised pork ribs, sweet and sour fish, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, tomato and egg drop soup, plus a bowl of steaming hot rice.

Lin Yuan buried his head and ate three bowls.

Lin Liguo watched from the side without saying anything, but put two more pieces of pork ribs on his plate.

Jiang Wanqing sat opposite her son, her eyes a little red.

After dinner, Lin Liguo brewed a pot of tea, and the father and son sat on the sofa.

"Your mother and I saw what happened on Weibo," Lin Liguo said calmly, holding his teacup.

"Um."

"Since you've chosen to make a movie, do it well." He took a sip of tea. "I don't care about anything else, just one thing—don't ruin those people's stories."

Lin Yuan looked at his father and nodded.

"I know."

"And one more thing," Lin Liguo put down his teacup, glanced at him, and said, "Don't think about work during the New Year holidays. Your mother has been waiting for you for three months, just looking forward to these few days."

"good."

Jiang Wanqing brought out some sliced ​​fruit from the kitchen, rolled her eyes at Lin's father, and said, "Alright, that's enough. Xiaoyuan's finally back; let him rest."

Lin Yuan leaned back on the sofa, eating the fruit his mother had cut, and watching a pre-Chinese New Year program on TV.

Outside the window, the neighbors next door have already started hanging red lanterns.

The festive atmosphere of the Lunar New Year is growing stronger.

That evening, Lin Yuan returned to his room.

He sat down at the table and turned on his computer.

Click into the Red Eggplant Literature Network.

He hasn't updated in three months.

The number of private messages sent to the author's account has reached a staggering figure, and the comment section is a sea of ​​lamentations.

He took a deep breath, opened the new chapter editor, and began typing.

Crackle, crackle.

The sound of keyboards rang out again in the quiet night, like some long-lost code.

After writing a few chapters, he stopped, opened his author activity page, and typed a message—

Fellow cultivators, I have returned.

[After three months of seclusion, I have mastered my divine skills. This experience is not something to be shared with outsiders.]

Starting today, Jade Dynasty will resume daily updates.

[Finally, I thank all my fellow cultivators for sparing my life for three months. I didn't die; I simply went to cultivate an even more powerful divine skill.]

[P.S.: You can put away your razor blades for now. I've come back to give you all some sweet treats.]

[PS: Temporary.]

Click Publish.

Three minutes later.

The comments section exploded.

[Fellow Immortal "Failed Tribulation Tonight": He's back??? The old bastard is back??? I fucking cried!!! Not from being stabbed, but from being so angry!!! Three months! Do you know how I've survived these past three months? I refreshed the Red Eggplant app every night, more eagerly than waiting for my boyfriend to reply to my messages!!!]

[Fellow Immortal "Biyao, Wake Up": It's been over ninety days! I thought you were dead! I even bought paper money for you! I was just waiting to burn a keyboard for you on Qingming Festival!]

[Fellow Immortal "Chef of Dazhu Peak": Resuming daily updates? Really? Are you serious? If you dare disappear again, I'll stab you through the screen with a knife! Not a threat, but medical advice—your tendency to miss chapters requires physical therapy.]

Lin Yuan looked at the fellow cultivators in the comments section, who were both laughing and crying, leaned back in his chair, and smiled.

These people.

So cute.

He turned off the computer, turned off the lights, and lay back down on the bed.

Outside the window, the lights of the old town twinkled, and the occasional sound of firecrackers drifted from afar.

The year-end is approaching.

New Year's Day.

almost.