Chapter 1: A Web Novelist Encounters Cancel Culture

　　The morning sun struggled to pierce the gaps in the curtains, casting a single sliver of light across the bedroom of a twenty-second-floor high-rise apartment.

　　The curtains were purple, and the morning glare outside made the color even more vibrant, making the air in the bedroom look as though it were dyed with a faint, violet haze.

　　The room was decorated with a simple, elegant grace. There, Qianli Xun lay sprawled on the bed, sleeping soundly. Her messy hair was scattered against the pillow, the quilt pulled snug to her neck as she let out soft snores.

　　The phone on the bedside table rang, playing a currently popular song.

　　Without even opening her eyes, Qianli Xun reached out toward the bedside table. After fumbling for a while, she finally grabbed the phone. Still with her eyes closed, she asked in a sleep-heavy voice, “Hello? What is it?”

　　The frantic voice of her apprentice, Er’gang, came from the other end of the line: “Master! How are you still asleep?! Hurry up and open your phone to watch the video I sent you—the entire internet is cursing you!”

　　Hearing this, Qianli Xun woke up completely. She sat up: “What? The whole internet is cursing me? Why?”

　　“See for yourself! I told you a long time ago not to write web novels, but you wouldn’t listen. Just hide at home for a few days and don’t come out. Bye!”

　　The call went dead.

　　As Qianli Xun sat up, the quilt naturally slipped down from her upper body, revealing a set of pale purple pajamas. She hurriedly opened the chat app on her phone and found Er’gang’s avatar—Caishen, the Chinese God of Wealth, fitting for a guy whose only dream was striking it rich. She tapped the video link he’d sent, and a woman’s voice poured out of the video:

　　“…Web novelist Qianli Xun has been exposed by legions of netizens. Accusations are flying that her new works feature plagiarism, self-plagiarism, and blatant padding of the word count. She has lost the spark of her early works, simply writing in a formulaic manner that completely fails to capture readers’ interest…”

　　Qianli Xun furrowed her brow. She closed the video, unwilling to listen any further, and cursed, “I have dominated the web novel scene for ten years! How I choose to write web novels is none of your damn business!”-

　　She tossed the phone aside, got out of bed, and put on her slippers. Walking into the kitchen, she took a bottle of milk from the fridge and poured half a glass.

　　The milk was just out of the fridge and very cold. Qianli Xun knew that drinking it like that was bad for the stomach, but she was too lazy to heat it in the kitchen. Instead, she simply grabbed the nearby thermos and added some boiling water to the glass. The temperature was just right. She picked it up, gulped it down, and, fueled by anger, slammed the glass heavily onto the table.

　　She paced through the living room and stepped onto the balcony, looking down. A large crowd of male and female reporters were blocking the entrance downstairs, constantly craning their necks to look upward. Thankfully, she lived in a high-end community; every building had security guards, so those reporters couldn’t get up at all.

　　A smile touched Qianli Xun’s lips. “I didn’t expect to be so famous, attracting so many reporters. Well, I guess anyone who gets canceled online is at least somewhat of a celebrity.”

　　She left the balcony, went back to the bedroom, and snatched the phone from the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she took a deep breath. “Let’s witness just how famous you’ve become with a relaxed mindset.”

　　She opened a short-video app. The very first clip she swiped to was roasting her. It was a plain-looking female streamer, speaking in a slow, deliberate tone:

　　“Hello, Chat! We all know the name Qianli Xun, right? Yes! She’s the famous female web novelist. I’m sure all of you have read her novels—to be honest, I’ve read them too. I used to be a fan. Notice I said used to. Why am I not a fan anymore? Because I grew up as a reader, yet as a web novel writer, she is still standing still! She’s still churning out the same stuff for eighteen- or nineteen-year-old teenage girls. Is it any wonder her fans are complaining? Looking back at those novels I used to read, I finally just told myself: You were so stupid, pure, and naive back then. How could you ever like that kind of novel?…”

　　Qianli Xun prided herself on having a strong heart, but after hearing all this, she still couldn’t help but retort to the phone screen: “What the hell do you know! This queen writes for that specific target demographic! The fact that you loved it in your teens proves that I write well! Blame yourself for not being young anymore!”

　　As she complained, a message popped up on her phone. Qianli Xun swiped the video away and opened the message, only to see a notification that more than half the fans in her fan groups had left.

　　“So what? Good riddance! This queen is an author, not some celebrity. When the website asked me to set up fan groups in the first place, I was completely against it. It’s much cleaner if they leave. In fact, let’s just close them all!”

　　Before she finished speaking, another message arrived, notifying her that the remaining fan group numbers had plummeted to single digits. Qianli Xun couldn’t be bothered to care; she continued to open the video app, swiped past the female streamer, and was met with a bold heading: “LITERATURE IS DEAD”.

　　This title piqued her strong interest. This one definitely has nothing to do with me, she thought. I might as well listen.

　　An elderly man appeared on screen, looking very scholarly. His voice was both loud and radical:

　　“Literature is dead! How tragic! How lamentable! No one reads the literary works of traditional authors anymore! Yet the young people of today love using their phones to read those unnutritious web novels! Literature must serve reality! It must expose reality and criticize reality! It must convey the Way! Web novels, driven purely by economic interests, simply cater to the market and the readers, entertaining them to death! Wish-fulfillment fiction and fast-food fiction are everywhere! Not a single one meets the requirements of literature! Take Qianli Xun’s novels, for example…”

　　After all that build-up, it was still just to criticize Qianli Xun. It seemed she really had become notorious online overnight. Well, she might as well listen to how this radical old man was going to criticize her.

　　“Since the whole internet is criticizing her, I went to flip through Qianli Xun’s novels. I read a passage and simply couldn’t continue. It’s all drivel, utterly devoid of nutrients! Traditional literature, on the other hand, has a profound foundation in its language and rich content worthy of savoring. Web novels simply cannot compare with traditional literature! I call on everyone! While the entire internet is criticizing Qianli Xun’s works, let us set off a wave of criticism against web novels and revive traditional literature!..”

　　Qianli Xun tapped the screen with her finger, instantly stopping the old man’s voice. She pointed at the phone screen:

　　“You speak so passionately, but if you have the ability, try writing a web novel yourself! I bet you couldn’t! Let me tell you, literature isn’t dead! In the internet age, literature has simply met its readers in a new form. Do you even understand the history of literature? If not, go read up on it! The literature of every era has its own unique characteristics. Traditional literature no longer fits this era and is bound to be phased out. Your ‘revival’ is completely useless! Who knows, in a few hundred years, Qianli Xun’s works might also become classics. And I want to ask you, what’s so wrong with my novels making readers happy? Even Cao Xueqin once said that ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ was just ‘writing for amusement and to nurture one’s nature’. If even the greatest of the Four Great Classical Novels entertained the masses, then web novels are simply carrying on the fine traditions of literature!..” [TN: Cao Xueqin used the phrase “游戏笔墨，陶情适性” (writing for amusement and to nurture one’s nature) to describe the intent behind his masterpiece Dream of the Red Chamber.]

　　Before Qianli Xun could finish venting, the words “EDITOR YOUYOU” flashed on the phone screen. It was a call from the website’s editor.

　　Qianli Xun tapped the green call button, and the editor’s voice came through. It was a gentle female voice: “Qianli Xun, the website’s upper management has decided that, given there are too many people bashing you online, all of your works will be taken down to protect the website’s image. This includes the work you are currently writing. The website will provide appropriate compensation for the losses caused by the removal of your works.”

　　“How can you do this? Besides, being bashed by people proves I have fame, so my works definitely shouldn’t be taken down…”

　　The editor had no intention of listening any further and quickly hung up the phone. Qianli Xun felt both helpless and angry. She wanted to throw her phone to the floor to vent her frustration, but she held back. She had to think carefully about what to do next. Was her creative career really interrupted just like this? This was the thing she loved doing most.