I asked you to write a light novel, but you wrote about living?

I'm devastated. His sister is so sweet; she cried like a fool.

No, I came in to see the fight, but they're crying so much they don't even have enough tissues left.

"The last person who remembered him has also forgotten him... I suddenly missed my grandma, and I couldn't hold back my tears."

Wait a minute, what he just said... if you wrote it down word for word, it would be a great article!

This isn't answering a question, it's writing an essay on the spot! Even my Chinese teacher would be speechless after seeing this.

[Family members, I get it now. Someone who speaks like this, you're telling me he plagiarized?]

[What the hell are you copying? Who is he copying? He's a traitor!]

I was just cursing him, and now I've made a huge fuss about it. I'm so sorry, Teacher Yu.

……

The screen was filled with a chaotic barrage of comments, and a few old IDs stood out particularly.

[Mingming Ruyue: ...I need to catch my breath, my nose is suddenly feeling sore.]

[Old Shennong of the Wasteland: It's over, I can't hold it in anymore, I'm a grown man!]

[Logic Analyst: I was just about to analyze a couple of sentences, but now I can't type a single word.]

[Cyber ​​Scavenger: I can't hold back my tears.]

[The Raven and the Writing Table: ...]

[The Wind Above the Clouds: Live Well!]

……

Yuntu Literature Headquarters Building, Zhongcheng District.

The office was completely silent.

Zhao Hongbo's hand, holding the coffee, froze in mid-air.

Pei Zhixing's certainty behind his gold-rimmed glasses froze completely when Yu Wen read out, "My sick son and my underage daughter."

The scheme he devised was supposed to be unsolvable.

If Yu Wenruo tries to brush it off by saying "I live just to live," he will be accused of repeating the same old thing.

If I were to force myself to explain that metaphysical proposition, I would only expose my own shallowness.

But Pei Zhixing had no idea that Yu Wen hadn't even grasped his logic.

He did not answer the question of the meaning of life.

He simply told a story about a mother, and then glanced at his younger sister beside him.

Then, that dead end that had been elevated to a philosophical level shattered gently in the face of the simple phrase "live well."

What made Pei Zhixing's face even uglier was the sentence that filled the screen...

[Writing it down verbatim makes for a good article.]

They went to great lengths to prove that the "author" and the "work" were not the same person.

But the words Yu Wen just uttered on the spot were the most powerful response in themselves.

Could someone who can utter such a passage in front of two million people really not write "To Live"?

"Recall those accounts."

Zhao Hongbo finally put down his coffee, his voice hoarse.

Pei Zhixing did not respond.

He knew better than anyone that they had not only lost this round.

He even personally promoted Yu Wen to a higher position.

……

Weiguang Literature, Computer Room.

After those words were read, no one in the computer room spoke for a long time.

The staff who were originally monitoring the public opinion data all stopped what they were doing and looked at the screen.

The operations manager slowly sat back down in his chair.

"I also have a son who's in elementary school..."

He raised his hand and wiped his eyes halfway through his sentence.

In the corner, Liu Feng's eyes were also red.

He left behind "To Live" simply because the manuscript had a rare "living human touch".

Only now did he realize that the person who wrote these words had no easier life than Fugui.

Chang Liren stood in front of the data wall for a long time without moving.

He originally thought tonight would be a tough battle where the platform would have to step in to put out fires at any time.

But Yu Wen neither cried out for justice nor filed a complaint.

He simply told a story calmly.

Then, the accusations and schemes dissipated on their own.

"This is hardly self-proof."

Chang Liren said in a low voice:

"He told everyone about the past he least wanted to talk about."

……

Midtown.

As Chen Jianjia watched the live stream, tears silently streamed down her face.

She remembered the day of the home visit.

Yu Wen sat in his rusty wheelchair, speaking clearly and calmly.

He patted his numb legs with a self-deprecating smile, saying that all he could do for his sister was these words.

At that time, Chen Jianjia only felt that he was a young man who had been worn down by life but still retained his dignity.

Only today did she realize what lay beneath that facade of respectability.

An older brother who lost his mother and is paralyzed in both legs.

A shy, insecure younger sister who is afraid to talk to people.

They have survived to this day by relying on each other for survival.

……

The underground study room of the School of Narrative Language at Weiming Academy.

Lin Wan wiped away her tears as she spoke:

"Do you remember the first question we asked him?"

Lu Zhao was taken aback.

Of course he remembers.

At that time, there were only four of them in the "Living" live broadcast room.

He once asked Yu Wen:

Author, what exactly did you go through to write a book like this?

Yu Wen simply said that he had a dream.

"At the time, we felt that he was avoiding the issue."

Lin Wan said in a low voice.

Lu Zhao stared at the screen without saying a word.

They only realized it now.

Beneath that light and airy word "dream" lies a paralyzed son, a mother who couldn't finish her last words, and a younger sister who depended on her brother for survival.

It's not that Yu Wen didn't have experience.

Rather, it's because those experiences are too heavy to easily share with a few strangers.

Cheng Shuqiao took off his glasses and rubbed his sore eyes.

"I was thinking too simplistically."

"I always thought he was hiding some kind of creative technique, or the true origin of his work."

"But what he was hiding was 'living' itself."

Jiang Ci stared blankly at the young man who was protecting his younger sister.

When they first entered the live streaming room, they carefully concealed their background, fearing that the privileges of the central district would hurt the person on the other side of the screen who had nothing.

But they only understood it tonight.

The one who was truly being taken care of was never Yu Wen.

Rather, it's those who think they've read many books and understand many principles.

From the very beginning, they underestimated the hands that were typing.

"...I had a dream."

After a long while, Jiang Ci very softly repeated the sentence they had remembered for a long time.

The study room was quiet, and Shen Yanqiu stood with his hands behind his back by the window.

"He didn't lie to us."

Shen Yanqiu spoke slowly, his voice carrying a hint of sigh and a touch of relief:

"He really did 'have a dream'."

"He lived his life like a dream, and then wrote that dream into 'To Live'."