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

Neither Chang Liren nor Zhou Chenglin responded immediately to the question.

The two exchanged a glance.

As the director of the West Coast region, Carter is extremely picky about manuscripts and particularly dislikes the stiff imitation of West Coast culture by Eastern creators.

But now, after reading it, he didn't talk about the market or the translation first, but asked this question.

This is enough to explain a lot.

At least in Carter's eyes, Yu Wen's "The Old Man and the Sea" is no longer "accurate in its research" or "fluent in its writing".

It left him momentarily unsure whether this was a story written by a young man from the East or words left by someone truly familiar with the old ports of the West Coast.

This truly touched his heart.

Zhou Chenglin chuckled and put the e-cigarette back into his pocket.

His initial concerns about copycat works from the Eastern region also lessened considerably.

Chang Liren relaxed a little, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

The atmosphere in the living room was finally no longer as heavy as it had been before.

Chang Liren picked up a cup from the coffee table and looked at Carter, who was still somewhat lost in thought:

"Carter, you should watch the replay of Professor Yu Wen's live stream that night."

Carter paused for a moment, then turned to look at him.

"When 'To Live' became a hit in the Eastern region, the whole internet questioned whether it was Yu's work, causing a great uproar."

Chang Liren's tone was tinged with emotion.

"The reason is similar to your current question."

"Everyone thought, how could a young man who grew up in a basement in Slum 7, who had never seen the old-fashioned yellow earth and had never experienced that kind of suffering, write so realistically?"

"Now, you've asked pretty much the same questions."

After listening to Chang Liren's words, Yu Wen smiled and shook his head.

"no."

"Before moving to Midtown, I had never even left Slum 7."

"Not to mention crossing halfway around the world to the West Coast."

Upon hearing this confirmation from a person, Carter remained silent for a few seconds.

He let out a long breath, leaned back on the sofa, and rubbed his temples, as if trying to digest this completely illogical literary talent.

"God..."

"Incredible."

When Carter looked up again, his gaze held not only awe but also admiration for pure talent.

"Professor Yu, I didn't mean to offend you, but... I find it hard to imagine how someone who has never seen that sea could write so vividly about the moisture in the Gulf Stream and the loneliness of fishermen facing the waves at night. The seas written by authors on the West Coast who have been using AI to run ocean data for over a decade are like a precise spreadsheet, but your sea..."

Carter gave a wry smile and pointed to his chest.

"It makes you feel cold, like salt is being slapped on your face."

Yu Wen looked at Carter's gray-blue eyes, which were slightly bloodshot from reading, and smiled slightly.

"Human loneliness and resilience in the face of a dead end are the same everywhere. The basement of the Seventh Slum is small and there is no sea, but sometimes, looking at the alloy walls outside, or waiting for the next day's relief food, the feeling is actually no different from that of a fisherman who has not caught a fish for eighty-four days."

Yu Wen paused, then continued in a gentle tone, "Civilizations and place names may change, but the essence of people remains the same. What truly moves people is never the scenery known only to the locals, but rather how people live within those landscapes."

Carter's lips moved, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. He lived in the prosperity of the West Coast and was used to seeing young people armed with prosthetics and neurostimulants shouting in the virtual world. But in this young man from the East who was in a wheelchair and had never even seen the ocean, he felt a long-lost tough guy spirit.

"I see."

Carter suppressed his confusion and shock, and the professionalism and decisiveness of a regional director returned to his eyes.

"Teacher Yu, the West Coast distribution doesn't need any translation, let alone so-called 'cultural adaptation.' Changing even a single word in this English manuscript would be superfluous."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Chenglin, who was standing nearby, put the electronic cigarette he was holding on the coffee table.

It didn't make a loud noise, but its attitude was very clear.

"Old Chang,"

Zhou Chenglin looked at Chang Liren and said, "Let's go straight to the Eastern District. There's no need to lay low anymore."

"Are we just going to ignore those copycat fishing schemes?" Chang Liren glanced at him.

Zhou Chenglin smirked: "I was afraid of being disgusted by those industrial assembly lines before because I thought we were all in the same pool, but now it seems we're not even on the same level."

He pointed to the image of the marlin skeleton on the screen: "Once this book is released, those copycat works won't even be worthy of being stepping stones. It will be directly featured on the homepage with a massive holographic promotion. The title will be 'The Old Man and the Sea,' without any prefixes or superfluous suffixes. Let them see what the real thing is."

Carter nodded in agreement: "Simultaneous release on the West Coast, 'The Old Man and the Sea,' direct from the English manuscript. I'll clear the obstacles on the local charts, avoiding cross-regional translations, and rank it according to the priority of local works, giving it the highest weight!"

Chang Liren listened to the statements of the two regional leaders but did not respond immediately.

He looked at the young man in the wheelchair who showed no obvious emotional fluctuations.

He stood up and straightened the hem of his suit jacket.

As the head of Weiguang Literature, he looked at the two directors and made the final decision.

"Then tomorrow."

"Tonight we'll warm up the market by clearing out the core recommendation slots in both regions and getting the launch ready."

"Simultaneous bilingual premiere in both East and West zones."

……

The three solemnly bid farewell to the young man in his early twenties who was sitting in a wheelchair.

Yu Wen stared at the last line of text on the projector screen, and a faint sense of disorientation suddenly arose in his heart.

They thought it was a newly published book.

They thought this was yet another miracle that Yu Wen had created while sitting in this study.

But Yu Wen knew the truth in his heart.

The truly capable one was never him.

It was Hemingway, who in his youth went to the front lines of World War I and witnessed death amidst gunfire and bloodshed.

Hemingway was the one who later went through the Spanish Civil War and the smoke of World War II, witnessing both the most dignified and the most cruel aspects of humanity.

It was Hemingway, who had lived on the Cuban coast for many years and was familiar with the sea, fish, wine, injuries, failures, and silence.

Hemingway, who was once questioned by the entire literary world for his lack of talent and whose creative career was almost declared over by critics, still managed to refute all the doubts with a novella of more than 20,000 words.

The Old Man and the Sea is about Santiago.

But wasn't that big fish dragging the small boat away from the shore also a reflection of Hemingway's own fate?

Talent, aging, illness, failure, criticism, and the backlash of past glory.

These things were all tied around his shoulders and back like fishing lines.

That's why the old man's grip on the line was so heavy.

It sank so deep it didn't feel like pulling a fish.

It's more like holding onto someone's last shred of dignity that refuses to crumble.

Yu Wen knew what a sensation this book had caused when it was published in the original world.

The entire article was published in Life magazine and sold millions of copies in just two days.

The standalone volume quickly climbed to the top of the bestseller list.

Ordinary readers, fishermen, soldiers, and intellectuals are all talking about the old man who gained nothing but was not defeated.

Those who once mocked Hemingway for being unable to write anything anymore have had to admit that he is still the same Hemingway.

Later, it won over Pritz.

Later, the Nobel Prize in Literature also specifically mentioned the narrative art displayed in this work in its award citation.

Yu Wen simply brought this book to the world.

Those minimalist sentences, those suppressed pains almost invisible, that line "A man can be destroyed but not defeated," truly belong to the man who has been repeatedly tempered by war, sea breeze, alcohol, injuries, applause, and doubt.

It belongs to Hemingway.

That is precisely why it doesn't lose its weight just because it's in a different world.