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

The competition during the Spring Festival film season was more exciting than anyone expected.

The box office figures for the first day of the Lunar New Year are just the beginning. What truly determines the outcome is word-of-mouth.

The reputation of "Qian Xuesen" didn't develop slowly—it exploded.

On the second day of the Lunar New Year, the occupancy rate continued to be the highest in the entire period, and the number of screenings increased from 12% to 15%.

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, the percentage rose to 19%.

On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, the percentage was 22%.

Theater managers aren't philanthropists; they only consider one metric when scheduling screenings: whoever's a box office hit gets screened. When a film with only 12% of screenings has a significantly higher occupancy rate than its competitor with 30% of screenings, there's only one outcome—more screenings.

After the fifth day of the Lunar New Year, the screenings of "Qian Xuesen" soared to 28%, and the daily box office surpassed that of "Qian Xuesen," firmly securing the top spot in the Spring Festival film season.

The expressions on the faces of the competitors were more complex than the last.

When asked in an interview about the success of "Qian Xuesen," the director of "Deep Sea Operation" paused for three seconds before replying with "Respect."

During an internal debriefing meeting, the production team of "Fantasy City" directly flipped to the "Market Potential Analysis of Mainstream Films" slide in the PPT—a page that was added temporarily during the Spring Festival.

The box office reached 700 million yuan during the entire Spring Festival holiday.

With a starting screen share of 12%, "Qian Xuesen" won the box office champion during the Spring Festival.

The Huabiao Awards were held a month after the Spring Festival.

The highest honor in Chinese cinema.

At the awards ceremony, when the host announced "Outstanding Feature Film – Qian Xuesen," applause erupted at the table of the August First Film Studio. Zhou Jianguo smiled and clinked glasses with the person next to him, while Director Qin took off his reading glasses, wiped them, and remained silent.

Then comes Best Director.

When Lin Yuan's name was mentioned halfway through the list of candidates, the entire audience erupted in uproar.

It wasn't a clamor of skepticism.

It was that kind of "I knew it" uproar.

"Best Director – Lin Yuan, for the film *Qian Xuesen*."

Lin Yuan stood up.

He walked onto the stage wearing a simple black suit, without any exaggerated styling or elaborate bow tie.

The applause was mixed with various emotions—there were sincere congratulations, complex feelings, and the silent dissatisfaction of a few.

Eighteen years old.

Huabiao Award for Best Director.

This is the youngest person in the history of Chinese cinema.

Lin Yuan stood in front of the microphone, without preparing a long acceptance speech.

"Thank you," he said. "This award shouldn't go to me; it should go to those who actually grow apples in the Gobi Desert. I just told their stories."

He paused.

"But since I've been given this award, I'll accept it. Because I promised myself—I would use this award to tell more people that some stories deserve to be seen."

There was a two-second silence in the audience.

Then applause broke out.

This time, it's everyone.

The Huabiao Awards were still fresh in everyone's minds when news broke from the music industry.

"Summer Breeze" won the "Most Favorite Song of the Year" award.

This award, jointly selected by major music platforms nationwide, is quite prestigious. Lin Yuan didn't go to the ceremony to accept the award—he was in class at school. Fei Zhao went on stage for him, took a picture of him holding the trophy, and sent it to him.

Lin Yuan replied with a single word: "Receive."

Fei Zhao: Can't you have a little more sense of ceremony?

Lin Yuan: Leave the sense of ritual for next time.

Following that, "Suspended" was selected as one of the top ten songs of the year.

With its September Star Chart champion title and inclusion in the Top Ten Songs of the Year, "Suspended" has already achieved remarkable success in the music industry.

Fei Zhao looked at the list in his office and suddenly felt a little dazed.

Last August, Lin Yuan was still an unknown newcomer who had just signed a contract.

Now, he is a Huabiao Award winner for Best Director and Song of the Year.

"This kid." She shook her head, put the trophy in the cabinet, and placed it next to the Nebula Awards trophy for "Suspended".

We're running out of cabinets.

March 15th, 9 PM.

Red Eggplant Literature Network.

[Zhu Xian Completed]

The two large characters hanging on the bookshelf page resembled both a tombstone and a monument.

The comment section was flooded with over 100,000 messages within five minutes.

[Fellow reader "Failed Tribulation Tonight": It's over. It's really over. I've been following this for over half a year, and now the bookmark on my bookshelf says "Completed." I stared at it for ten minutes, feeling like I'd just broken up with someone.]

[Fellow Immortal "Biyao, Wake Up": The tone of the last chapter of that old scoundrel was too bland. There were no grand scenes, no major plot twists, just plot closing, plot closing, plot closing. Every character had a destination, but every destination carried something unspoken. I actually think this is better than any forced happy ending.]

[Fellow Daoist "Dao Xuan Zhenren Ben Xuan": When I was young, I watched *Zhu Xian* and longed for Bi Yao to wake up; now that I've finished it, I only feel that Lu Xueqi's words, "Come back," are the most poignant. As you grow up, you realize that some things are unattainable.]

[Fellow Immortal "Biyao's Hehuan Bell": A perfect ending would drown out *Zhu Xian*, while an open ending makes *Zhu Xian* what it is. The old man chose the most difficult, yet most correct, path.]

[Fellow reader "A Paper Kite": After finishing the last chapter, I turned off my phone and stood on the balcony for a long time. The wind was cool. My heart was also cool, but not painful. It felt more like a very long story had finally turned to its last page. You close the book, knowing it's over, but you know it won't really end. Thank you, Old Man Akina. See you in the next book.]

Lin Yuan sat at his desk in his dormitory, watching the comments section scroll by one by one.

The corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Then he opened the author's feed and typed the last message—

Fellow cultivators, the world of Jade Dynasty has come to an end.

Thank you all for your continued support. My hands cramped from typing so much, and you've all suffered from liver pain from following along. It's not easy for anyone.

Finally, I'll just say one thing—

[The green hills remain unchanged, the clear waters flow on; see you in the next book.]

[P.S.: Don't burn paper money. I'm still alive. Still young. Still able to write.]

release.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen for a long time.

The comment section is still refreshing rapidly, with new messages flooding in every second.

He turned off the computer, picked up the water glass on the table, and took a sip.

Outside the window, the March wind blew in through the half-open window, carrying a hint of early spring coolness.

The Legend of Sword and Fairy has ended.

But some things never end.

He put down his water glass and turned his computer back on.

Create a new document.

The cursor blinked on the blank page, like some kind of silent urging.

Lin Yuan looked at the blank space and smiled.

Then he started typing.

The first word of the new story landed on the screen.

Outside the window, the night was very quiet.

A new world is slowly unfolding at his fingertips.