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

In the group chat for the "Pre-Civilization Documents Rescue Team," after the initial astonishment about the rankings and data subsided, Lu Zhao suddenly blurted out a comment.

[The Unread Salty Fish (Lu Zhao)]: "Hey, do you think Uncle Shen and Teacher Su read those 50,000 words from last night?"

[Observer (Cheng Shuqiao)]: "I don't know. The current trajectory of this book and its explosive reaction on the platform have completely exceeded the scope of our discussion yesterday morning."

【Magnolia (Jiang Ci)】: "Go ask in the main group."

Jiang Ci switched to a smaller group and opened the larger internal group for faculty and students of the School of Narrative Language: [Pre-Civilization Documents Research Group].

[Xin Yi (Jiang Ci)]: "@Shen Yanqiu @Su Huaijin, Uncle Shen, Teacher Su, good morning. There was a major update to 'To Live' last night, did you two read it?"

【The Unread Salty Fish (Lu Zhao)】: "Two teachers, calling for backup. Our mental state urgently needs the intervention of a mentor."

At this time, in Block B of the Weiming Academy Teachers' Apartment.

Shen Yanqiu was standing in front of the solid wood desk in the study, holding an old-fashioned brush in his hand, copying calligraphy on Xuan paper.

The terminal next to me vibrated slightly a few times.

Meanwhile, Su Huaijin, who was at home looking through scanned copies of ancient books, also saw the message in the group.

He pushed up his glasses, looking at his usually extremely composed academic students who were now acting like a riot, a hint of puzzlement flashing in his eyes.

Su Huaijin was the first to reply in the group.

[Su Huaijin]: "Why are you all so impatient on a weekend morning? I discussed this with your Uncle Shen yesterday. This book has an extremely profound writing style. If the platform breaks up the updates into smaller parts, it will ruin its essence. So we plan to wait until it is completely finished, and then find an evening to read it all in one go. The discussion on Monday will proceed as usual. Don't rush it."

The group was silent for two seconds.

Immediately afterwards, the four students dropped a bombshell almost simultaneously.

【Late Breeze (Lin Wan)】: "But Teacher Su, the author updated 50,000 words last night! The plot has already reached its climax!"

【Xin Yi (Jiang Ci)】: "Not only that, the author left a 'Author's Note' at the end of the latest chapter last night—'The story will end tomorrow.'"

[Observer (Cheng Shuqiao)]: "According to last night's timeline, 'tomorrow' is today. This book currently has 90,000 words. Considering its plot span and volume, there are probably only 30,000 words left. Today will be the final day."

【The Unread Salty Fish (Lu Zhao)】: "And this book has already broken into the top 100 of the Spark Cup! Teacher, Senior Uncle Shen, the impact of these 50,000 words is terrifying! You guys should go read it now, don't wait until Monday. After you finish reading it, you'll understand why we reacted this way..."

In the study, Shen Yanqiu suddenly stopped writing with his brush.

A drop of rich ink splashes onto the rice paper, spreading out into a black stain.

But he didn't care at all, put down the brush, walked to the desk and picked up the retinal extension patch.

He opened the input box, and his typing speed, which was usually slow and deliberate, was much faster at this moment.

[Shen Yanqiu]: "Fifty thousand words? I remember when I checked yesterday morning, there were only thirty-six thousand words in total. He typed fifty thousand words all by himself, using that old keyboard?"

Su Huaijin's private message immediately popped up on Shen Yanqiu's terminal.

"Senior brother, you know how high these kids' standards are usually. A realistic descriptive novel of 50,000 words, finished today. The author's boldness is amazing."

In this era of cyberpunk web novels where stories often run for millions of words and authors seem to want to write the protagonist's entire life into sequels to earn Star Coins, this young man from the lower city actually did just as the author said: he decisively cut off all the monetizable, lengthy plot points within a mere hundred thousand words, ending the story cleanly and neatly.

Shen Yanqiu looked at the private messages and then at the students' urging in the group. His original mindset of "waiting until it's finished before reading" was completely shattered by this huge curiosity and subtle shock.

"I can't wait any longer, I'll check it now."

Shen Yanqiu typed these words on the keyboard and sent them.

He picked up the now-cold tea on the table, took a sip, then put on the retinal patch and, without any hesitation, opened the page of Weiguang Literature's "Living".

In the study, the ink on the Xuan paper had long since dried.

Shen Yanqiu sat in a large armchair, the soft blue light of the retinal projection illuminating his face etched with the marks of time.

The room was so quiet that the only sound was the extremely faint whirring of the intelligent temperature control system.

He spent two whole hours reading the 50,000-word book.

There was no pause, no water intake, and even the breathing rate was reduced to a minimum.

As one of the few literary giants from a bygone civilization in the Federation, Shen Yanqiu has spent half his life deconstructing texts from old papers.

He had seen too many masterpieces depicting suffering and knew all too well how writers used structure, metaphor, and perspective to evoke the reader's emotions.

But faced with these 50,000 words, he found that the academic framework he had built over the past few decades seemed so pale and powerless.

What chilled him most was not the suffering itself, but the author's almost cruel "zero-degree narrative perspective".

When Shen Yanqiu read about Youqing dying in the hospital after being drained of blood, her gaze lingered for a long time on the sentence, "Drawing your blood is to save someone, why didn't you draw more?"

In this text, Shen Yanqiu saw a chilling “banality of evil.”

The author did not go to great lengths to portray the doctor's malice, nor did he condemn the so-called "big shot."

In the author's writing, Yuqing's death is not a conspiracy, but a natural "consumption".

In the face of that massive, irresistible machine of the times, the life of a poor child from the bottom of society is naturally treated as lubricant for the gears.

This is the deepest terror.

It strips away all dramatic conflicts, revealing the unequal power dynamics of life in the face of power and the times with a detached and indifferent attitude.

On this day in 2077, in the junkyards and black markets of the downtown area, isn't this logic of treating the lower class as "consumables" being reenacted in a cyberpunk style?

Shen Yanqiu slowly took off his frameless glasses and rubbed his dry brow.

The plot continues to unfold.

Fengxia died in childbirth, and Jiazhen exhausted her last breath in despair and illness.

Shen Yanqiu looked at the last sentence: "[Jiazhen died well, peacefully and cleanly.]"

He leaned back in his chair, exhaled a long breath, and a deep sense of shock and awe flashed in his cloudy eyes.

"Good riddance..."

He muttered those four words to himself.

If it were a mediocre literary critic, they would probably only see the literal tragedy in the words.

But in Shen Yanqiu's eyes, these four words were as heavy as a thousand pounds.

It transcends futile accusations of the injustice of fate and touches upon the most primal and powerful philosophical core of life—endurance.

Humans live for the sake of living itself, not for anything beyond living.

In this book, fate is like a blind giant, illogically crushing everyone around Fugui.

Fugui and Jiazhen did not resist or awaken; they simply endured all the trampling like the humblest soil, and continued to exist in silence.

This kind of absolute realism, devoid of any redemptive undertones, this kind of deconstruction of the word "survival" is something that a writer who relies on techniques to piece together online novels could never conceive.

This requires immense compassion and a profound understanding of the underlying logic of human civilization.

"The greatest sound is silent, the greatest form is formless..."

Shen Yanqiu took out a soft velvet cloth and slowly wiped the lenses of her glasses.

His hands were extremely steady, but deep inside, it was as if he had gone through a long and lonely pilgrimage.

He put his glasses back on, opened the internal communication terminal, and switched to the teacher-student group chat.

In the group chat, several students were still immersed in the immense psychological trauma caused by the text.

Shen Yanqiu: "I've finished reading it."

With just that one sentence, the group chat instantly fell silent.

Everyone is waiting for this titan's judgment.