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

Upper City, Eden Floating Island.

Lu Chenyuan leaned back on the ergonomically designed smart sofa in the study.

His right fingertip rested on the last page of the retinal projection, on the period that marked the end of the book.

For a long time, no more sliding commands were given.

The smart home system detected subtle changes in his body temperature using environmental sensors, silently raised the indoor temperature control system by two degrees, and turned off the classical white noise that had been playing in the background.

Lu Chenyuan held a glass of expensive natural glacial water in his hand.

His gaze shifted from the empty light screen to the huge wooden desk in front of him.

The ice in the glass had long since melted into water, and fine water droplets condensed on the glass walls, which were no longer under constant temperature control.

Water droplets gathered together, slid down the smooth glass, and dripped onto the expensive pure handmade wool carpet below, silently seeping into the pile and leaving a dark spot.

He didn't call in androids to clean it up.

Lu Chenyuan put down his water glass and leaned back.

He closed his eyes, and in the quiet luxury, he felt a lingering sense of stagnation that he hadn't experienced in a long time, a feeling solely caused by words.

This is an emotional experience that he cannot buy with money or control with power.

……

Study room in the family compound of Weiming Academy.

Shen Yanqiu stood in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, there is a sea of ​​neon lights that never go out and a constant stream of maglev trains.

The holographic secondary screen floated in the lower right of his line of sight, with the text frozen on the old folk song that Fugui sang.

A few hours earlier, he had left a formidable barrier in the research group:

How will Fugui face the world that has stripped him of everything? This will determine whether the book ultimately remains "tragic" or moves towards "greatness".

Now, the 120,000-word chapter comes to an end.

The ending is that an old man bought an old ox and sang ballads on the ridge of the field at dusk.

That is the most thorough acceptance and reconciliation with all suffering.

This literary giant from the nation's highest institution of learning maintained a standing posture throughout.

He raised his hand and opened the research group chat, which had been silent for a long time.

The cursor is blinking in the input box.

He only typed four words.

Shen Yanqiu: "Incomparably great."

After sending the message, he closed all communication and reading interfaces.

He slowly took off his frameless glasses from the bridge of his nose, folded them neatly, and put them into the pocket of his Zhongshan suit jacket.

He didn't turn around and touch the screen again.

Shen Yanqiu took only half a step forward, pressing his wrinkled forehead heavily against the cold tempered glass.

The study was quiet, with no other sounds except for his breathing, which was heavier than usual, hitting the glass with each breath.

The warm breath, upon encountering the cold air, condensed into a thin layer of white mist on the transparent glass surface, blurring the bizarre cyberpunk scenes outside the window.

……

Meanwhile, at the local server room of Weiming Academy.

"Ding—The last two chapters of 'To Live' have been successfully retrieved offline. The full backup of the entire book is complete, and the individual files have been physically encrypted and locked."

The monotonous system notification sounds echoed in the server room, filled with the noise of refrigeration equipment.

The indicator light changed from flashing blue to solid green.

Lu Zhao sat in the swivel chair in front of the control panel.

His hands left the keyboard and rested flat on his thighs.

He stared at the word "Ended" on the screen for a long time without blinking.

He didn't look at the data packet next to him that showed the backup was successful. After a long silence, he slowly bent down and buried his face between his arms, which were crossed on the table, and remained motionless.

Su Huaijin was not standing behind him.

When Su Huaijin saw the part where Kugen ate so many beans that he died, he pulled over a metal folding chair and slowly sat down in the aisle of the server room.

He didn't look at Lu Zhao's screen, nor did he look at the top-secret document that they had painstakingly created and locked away.

This professor, who usually speaks eloquently on the podium and is dedicated to the study of text architecture, simply rested his elbows on his knees, interlaced his fingers, and bowed his head deeply, his gaze fixed on the gray-white anti-static floor tiles of the computer room.

The only noise in the server room was the monotonous low noise emitted by rows of server arrays running.

Su Huaijin remained in this position for a long time before finally exhaling a long, turbid breath and vigorously rubbing his somewhat stiff cheeks with his palms.

……

Single faculty and staff apartment in Zhongcheng District.

Chen Jianjia sat at her desk and read the last line of the book.

Her gaze lingered on that black period for a long time.

She had been puzzled by the first 90,000 words:

How can a disabled young man in dire straits maintain such an almost detached, bystander-like demeanor amidst such heavy words?

In the live stream a few hours earlier, she watched a tear fall onto the mechanical keyboard and thought that this paralyzed young man, tormented by immense pressure, was finally going to break down in the final episode.

But now, the 120,000-word work has come to an end.

There was no madness, nor any desperate accusations.

The old man, now all alone, led his ox, also named Fugui, further and further away into the yellow earth under the setting sun.

He swallowed all his suffering, along with that single tear in the live stream.

Chen Jianjia raised her right hand and slid her finger in mid-air to close the reading screen.

The light screen disappeared, and the room suddenly went dark.

The streetlights outside the window pierced through the gaps in the blinds, cutting diagonally into the living room and casting several shadows on the floor.

Chen Jianjia did not move, still sitting in the wooden chair in front of the desk, her back very straight.

She turned her head and looked out the window at the night view of the central district, watching the navigation lights of aircraft flashing in the night sky.

At the end of the line of sight lies the direction of the Seventh Slum.

A few seconds later, a drop of water slid down the corner of her eye, flowed down her cheek, and merged into the edge of her chin.

She picked up a tissue from the tissue box on the table and wiped the water off her face.

Then, she picked up the clear water glass next to her and took a sip of the cooled boiled water.

The water flowed down his throat and he swallowed it.

Her facial features remained as taut and upright as they were on the podium.

But his eyes were completely red.

……

Meanwhile, on the StarNet...