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

From a corner of the basement came the sound of even and soft breathing.

Yu Yin was clearly exhausted. After washing up, she fell into a deep sleep as soon as she touched the bed made of discarded sponge pads.

Hearing the faint yet reassuring sound of breathing, Yu Wen steadied himself and slid his wheelchair back to the computer desk.

The most urgent task is to make money.

He looked calmly at his numb legs.

Given his physical condition, which is not even good enough to be a "flesh and blood cog" for manual labor, all he can rely on is this broken computer.

Yu Wen opened his browser and began to carefully analyze the online literature ecosystem of this era within the vast sea of ​​the Star Network.

Since the original owner did this, it means that this is a path that disabled people can take.

But the more he looked, the deeper his brows furrowed.

The online literature industry in this world has developed to an almost pathological degree.

The novels he was familiar with in his previous life, such as the annulment of engagement, the live-in son-in-law, the system, and the sign-in, have long been evolved to their extremes here.

Moreover, in this era of AI, nobody bothers to "write words" anymore.

The barrier to creation has been lowered to the ankle—as long as you have the money to purchase the "AI advanced computing power quota" of major platforms, you only need to sit in front of the screen, input the ideas in your mind through voice or simple prompts, and the AI ​​main brain will help you expand a million-word novel with rigorous logic, exciting points, and gorgeous language in a few seconds.

Yu Wen leaned back in his wheelchair, his fingers lightly tapping the table, a crucial question swirling in his mind:

Since AI is so versatile and can write so quickly and well, why don't major platform companies generate novels themselves?

Why open up interfaces to humans, or even spend money to buy their original work?

He quickly found the answer by following the technical information on the StarNet.

Because of the underlying logic of AI, it is impossible for it to complete the creation "from 0 to 1".

AI is an aggregation of massive amounts of data, and its power lies in the infinite deduction and permutation of "from 1 to 100".

But it has no life, has never experienced pain, greed, anger, or love, so it can never conjure up that most primitive, absurd, yet most moving "flash of inspiration" out of thin air.

Capital requires humanity to provide that crucial "1".

In this era, humans are not authors, but "miners of inspiration".

As long as you have a sharp mind and can come up with even one brilliant idea, AI giants will absorb it, process it, and turn it into a viral sensation across the internet.

But while this threshold seems extremely low, the competition is actually incredibly fierce.

Because generating text is so easy, hundreds of millions of junk texts flood the entire StarNet every day.

In order to select valuable creative ideas, major platforms have set up extremely rigorous "AI initial screening algorithms".

The original owner's tragedy stemmed from this algorithm.

He didn't have the money to buy a premium AI account, so he had to type it all out by hand.

When he submitted his 100,000-word work to the platform for review, the cold, initial screening system not only rejected his work outright, but also conveniently extracted his faint yet unique "creative spark" into the public resource library of a major company.

Subsequently, Xinghui, the platinum-level AI architect promoted by the platform, used the massive computing power to access this material and instantly generate a hit video.

The original owner tried to protect his rights, but in the eyes of capital, a lowly cripple with no fan base and no consumption record is not even worth a speck of dust.

He was met only with a lawyer's letter demanding three million dollars in damages for "reverse-cracking the corpus".

After reading this, Yu Wen sighed helplessly and scratched his head.

He had originally planned to use the classic online novel tropes he had read in his previous life to launch a devastating attack.

In retrospect, it was all just a pipe dream.

Trying to outmaneuver others with superior computing power is like charging a Maxim machine gun with a spear.

The online novel memories he thought were so ingenious are completely useless in this era where AI has exhausted all the formulas for satisfying moments. They can't even make a ripple.

I transmigrated without any cheat codes or even a system.

Yu Wen looked at his atrophied legs with a self-deprecating smile, and a name suddenly popped into his mind.

Shi Tiesheng.

Both are disabled in both legs and both are confined to wheelchairs.

That respected writer from a past life, using the purest words, painstakingly forged a path to the depths of the soul from within his wheelchair.

I wonder if Shi Tiesheng in this parallel world left behind any works?

Logically speaking, no matter how developed online literature becomes, the foundation of traditional literature should still exist.

Yu Wen, somewhat curious, typed "Shi Tiesheng" into the StarNet search box.

Search results: 0

Yu Wen was stunned for a moment.

"Is the system malfunctioning?"

He muttered to himself, then changed a few more words and searched for "Me and the Temple of Earth".

still none.

A strange premonition suddenly rose in Yu Wen's heart. His fingers began to tap rapidly on the keyboard, and a series of names that he had heard of in his previous life were entered:

Yu Hua, Mo Yan, Acheng, Lu Yao...

A few minutes later, Yu Wen leaned back in his chair, staring at the rows of glaring "No relevant information found" messages on the screen, completely stunned.

No.

None at all.

The history of this world seems to have taken a slight turn at some point.

Technology is advancing at breakneck speed, but those weighty traditional literary giants who embody humanity's deepest suffering and wisdom are all gone!

In this era saturated with industrial saccharin, pure traditional literature is an untapped blank slate!

Yu Wen took a deep breath, his heart gradually racing.

If online literature can't compete with AI, what about traditional literature?

That was the culmination of the older generation of writers' life experiences, written stroke by stroke on paper.

That kind of extreme portrayal of human nature, that kind of profound feeling that grows from the soil, is something that AI that only knows how to calculate dopamine can never imitate!

This path seems worth trying.

Which book should I choose to start with?

Shi Tiesheng's "Me and the Temple of Heaven" is full of philosophical reflections on life, but it is prose, and in this fast-paced era, it probably wouldn't even make a ripple.

Lu Yao's "Ordinary World" vividly depicts the moving beauty of the Loess Plateau, but its length is too great, and it cannot quench the immediate thirst he will face in seven days.

Mo Yan's "Big Breasts and Wide Hips"... has too high a threshold.

Yu Wen's mind raced, and finally, four words settled in his mind.

Yu Hua, *To Live*.

But then I thought, in this era where people at the bottom of society can only numb themselves with "three seconds to annul the engagement and ten seconds to become a god", would anyone really watch if I threw out such a "peerless sword"?

Life is already hard enough for everyone, who can bear the extreme tragedy of Fugui?

But when his gaze swept across the blinds letting in the cold wind from the lower town, and he thought of Yu Yin's hands covered in frostbite and tiny wounds, he suddenly had his answer.

Aren't people in this world just struggling to live?

They were treated as cheap expendable resources, numbed by false and exciting stories, and they didn't even know why they lived.

Perhaps it is precisely because they live in the deepest quagmire that Fugui's resilience, like that of a weed that "lives only for the sake of living," can be like a heavy hammer, directly shattering their electronic pacifiers!

Moreover, "To Live" is a short novel, only about 120,000 words long.

I'll write "To Live"!

But just as he made up his mind, Yu Wen suddenly stopped.

A very real barrier stood in his way—he simply couldn't write it.

In his previous life, he was just an ordinary reader. Even if he had read it several times, it would have been impossible for him to memorize the entire book of 120,000 words without missing a single one.

However, for a literary masterpiece like "To Live," even if a single word is changed or the tone of the language is altered, its power to strike the soul will be greatly diminished.

Even if you invited Yu Hua himself to rewrite it, it might not be possible to replicate it exactly.

What is this? Holding a mountain of gold, yet not even having a shovel to dig it up?

Yu Wen felt a strong sense of frustration well up inside him.