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

More than an hour passed.

Lin Wan let out a long breath, turned off the retinal projection, and leaned back. "I'm done watching."

Her voice was a little hoarse.

Lu Zhao also put the projector away.

Jiang Ci and Cheng Shuqiao closed the interface at roughly the same time.

The four of them sat there quietly, none of them speaking, and the study room remained silent for about half a minute.

Lin Wan broke the silence first, "I... I'll tell you the truth."

She looked up at the other three people and said, "Those people in the comments section who called this book 'poisonous,' I think they're right. This book really is poisonous."

Lu Zhao sighed, "I think the same thing as you. After reading it, I felt a tightness in my chest. As for Fugui, well..."

He carefully chose his words, saying, "He's a complete coward, a bully at home, beats his wife, gambles away his family fortune and still wallows in self-pity. Reading about him makes me feel physically uncomfortable."

Lin Wan nodded repeatedly, "Yes, that's exactly the feeling. I couldn't stand the part where he was hitting Jia Zhen, who was pregnant, at the casino."

Jiang Ci seemed thoughtful, and said calmly, "You're right. There isn't a single exciting moment in the plot of this book, and the protagonist's personality is problematic. According to contemporary reading habits, it has almost stepped on every landmine."

"but……"

Jiang Ci didn't finish her sentence immediately.

She looked at the now-cold tea in front of her, remained silent for a few seconds, and said, "But the writing in this book is a little different."

Neither Lin Wan nor Lu Zhao responded, because they had actually sensed it too, but just couldn't put it into words.

"Did you notice?"

Jiang Ci continued, "This author didn't use a single fancy word from beginning to end. He didn't pile up adjectives or rely on rhetorical tricks. When he wrote about the night Fugui lost all his wealth, he didn't write anything like 'the splendid prosperity turned to ashes' or 'the wheels of fate rolled mercilessly over him.' He just wrote one sentence..."

She repeated from memory, "'I won this prize, and the auspicious smoke from the Xu family's ancestral graves will probably rise to the heavens in a roundabout way.'"

Just this one sentence.

Jiang Ci looked at the other three people and asked, "How did you feel when you read this sentence?"

"I felt that... feeling of deceiving myself."

Lin Wan said, "Even though they had already lost almost everything, they still stubbornly clung on, fantasizing that they could turn the tide."

Lu Zhao also spoke up, "When I read that passage, a picture appeared in my mind: a young master in a silk robe sitting at a gambling table, his palms sweaty. I can't explain why, he didn't describe it much, but I just saw it."

Cheng Shuqiao analyzed in a serious tone, "This is a writing style that has been lost. I just checked the literature database. This style of writing, which 'tells non-ordinary events in an everyday tone,' was called 'plain description' in previous civilizations. Its core is that the author is invisible. The author does not tell you what he thinks or how he feels. He just tells the story and leaves the rest to the reader to fill in the blanks in his own mind."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "This kind of writing places extremely high demands on the author. Because he cannot hide behind flowery language, he must be direct and accurate, and not a single word can be wasted."

The study room fell silent for a moment.

Lin Wan suddenly felt a chill on her body.

She recalled how she had just been mocking the phrase "a true writer," but now, looking back, she couldn't laugh anymore.

Lu Zhao sighed and rubbed his face. "My head is a bit of a mess right now. I really can't get into the plot, but the writing... it has a certain energy, like an old man sitting next to me, telling me about his life. He's not just writing novels, he's..."

Jiang Ci continued, "He was simply telling a story."

"Yes, that's the feeling."

Lu Zhao nodded. "Telling stories, not writing novels."

Lin Wan subconsciously rubbed her arms.

She suddenly remembered when she was a child, her grandmother was still alive, and on summer evenings she would sit on the small balcony in the central district and tell her stories about her grandmother's youth.

She hadn't felt that way in a long time.

This era doesn't tell stories anymore.

In this era, only content is produced.

Jiang Ci picked up the projector again and opened the comments section of "To Live," "to see what the readers are saying."

Four people gathered around. The comment section was scrolling by rapidly, with the top comments still being [Mingmingruyue]'s "God of War Theory".

[Mingming Ruyue]: Fugui is hiding among the dead, definitely waiting for his chance to awaken! I bet a bucket of star coins that he'll encounter a hidden military bigwig in the next chapter!

[Rampaging Mechanical Arm]: Yes, yes, yes, Fu Gui's patient and patient style will definitely take off later! When he returns from the battlefield, it will be like a hundred thousand soldiers returning to their positions!

【Pure Love God of War】: Author, please, please let Fugui awaken! I've been waiting for him to slap Long Er in the face for ages!

[Electronic Keyboard Player]: Brothers, let's team up and give Fu Gui Chong a big reward, urging the author to update the "Return of the War God" chapter more!

Lu Zhao looked at these comments and suddenly smiled.

He laughed for two seconds before he couldn't laugh anymore.

"you……"

He turned to the other three people and asked, "Do you still think Fugui can return as the God of War?"

Lin Wan shook her head. She wanted to laugh, but she really couldn't.

After reading those 36,000 words, she understood more clearly than ever before that this story was not that kind of story.

Jiang Ci said slowly, "According to this author's writing style, Fugui will not return as a war god. The fact that he was able to return home alive from the battlefield is already the greatest kindness in this book."

Cheng Shuqiao added, "And I have a feeling that when he gets home, the house won't be the same as when he left."

The study room fell silent for a moment.

Lin Wan couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "What do you mean?"

Cheng Shuqiao didn't answer, but just looked at the newly updated plot on the projector.

Jiang Ci answered for him, "Xiao Wan, think about it, Fu Gui went to the city to fetch a doctor for his mother. When he was conscripted, his mother was still sick. Nobody knows how long Fu Gui stayed on the battlefield. When he returned home..."

Lin Wan immediately replied, "...his mother."

"Um."

Jiang Ci nodded gently, "And Jia Zhen, Feng Xia, and You Qing, these four people, according to the tone of this book, won't all be alright, waiting for Fu Gui to come back."

Lu Zhao swallowed hard. "Senior Sister Jiang, please stop talking. I don't really want to read any further."

But subconsciously, he clicked on the update notification again: "Updated to 36,000 words, the author just updated."

Lin Wan glanced at the time, "...He was still updating during the day?"

Cheng Shuqiao suddenly looked up and said, "By the way, didn't Uncle Shen say that this author is live-streaming, using ancient writing methods?"

Lin Wan also realized, "...Right! My senior uncle said he was typing on a keyboard, on which platform?"

"Douyang".

Cheng Shuqiao was already searching. "Found it, the author's live stream."

He clicked on it, "Let's see what this 'ancient typing method' is all about."