Literary Master: Starting with Refusing to Be a Child Star

Chapter 91 A Nightmare After Nightmare

There was a few seconds of silence on both ends of the phone call, and then Meng Zhaoming said in a voice that didn't sound like his own: "Go check it out on the forum yourself."

Luo Jinnian turned on his computer and clicked on the official forum of "Story Club".

The homepage is now flooded with the words "early spring tea".

The latest post, published at 3 AM, is titled "I haven't slept for three hours—early spring tea is giving me back my sleep," and already has over two thousand replies. The second post has an even more outrageous title: "Seven is the best religious novel I've ever read, bar none."

Luo Jinnian scrolled down the list one by one, the corners of his mouth unconsciously curving slightly.

"I thought the ending of 'The Hidden Corner' was ruthless enough, but I didn't expect 'Early Spring Tea' to be even more ruthless. When I saw the last delivery box in 'Seven,' I jumped out of bed. The ending was better than I expected."

Article Two: "The moment Mills pulled the trigger, the killer was forcing him to see clearly that the beast within him had always been there, but you had never given it a chance to come out. Early Spring Tea is a madman, a madman so calm it's maddening."

Article 3: "Has anyone noticed that in 'Seven,' the killer forces each victim to leave a clue, compelling the police to investigate at his pace? This 'villain is not only a criminal but also an alternative artist' setting is not the first time Early Spring Tea has written about it—wasn't Zhang Dongsheng's final confession in 'The Hidden Corner' also the same formula? He must be a madman."

Luo Jinnian smiled when he saw that the comments were still discussing the author.

"Seven" deserves all the praise. As David Fincher's breakthrough film, it holds great commemorative significance. Without this film, there would be no "Fight Club," "Zodiac," "The Social Network," and so on.

Luo Jinnian spent some time studying dark-style works and became acquainted with the works of some European and American creators in this field.

Personally, he didn't like the ending of "Seven." It was a good story, and the pacing of the movie from twenty years ago is still impressive today.

I recommend this movie to anyone who wants to learn storytelling. It's a masterpiece in terms of creating suspense and thriller, and it's also textbook-level in terms of plot development.

If you want to write your own story, you need to read, learn, and think more, and you also need to copy a lot—but not just one book.

Copying two or three books is copying, copying a dozen books is learning from them, copying hundreds of books is refining them, and copying thousands of books means they are your own.

What many contemporary writers lack is not the courage to plagiarize—some even have excessive courage—but the perseverance to learn by copying thousands of stories.

Even after the work "Seven" was released, Luo Jinnian was still studying the story's structure, the time lock set at the beginning of the film, and the "contradictory" characterization of the two main characters with contradictory personalities but unified goals.

He would copy a work more than once each time he finished copying it. For example, he could copy his favorite story, "Nightmare After Nightmare," ten times.

The phone call came from the editor of "The Great Tang Dynasty... no, it should be called "New Sharp Reading" now."

"Congratulations! Congratulations on 'Story Collection' surpassing 500,000 copies in sales this time."

Luo Jinnian smiled and chatted with his mentor, the editor, for a few more minutes before tentatively asking, "Our magazine is currently facing a severe shortage of editors..."

Jiabei neither gave a definite answer nor denied it immediately. After hanging up the phone, he paced back and forth in his office.

The decline of "New Reading" is obvious, but after all, it is his old employer who has been contributing since graduation, so it is really hard to leave.

He was also aware that at his age, his current position at the magazine was his limit.

He's been working at a magazine for almost twenty years, rising from intern to senior editor, handling countless manuscripts, and mentoring generations of authors. He knows better than anyone the deteriorating state of *New Reading*—circulation has plummeted from its peak to less than a third, revenue can't even cover printing costs, and the magazine hasn't paid performance-based bonuses for three months.

That was the place he settled down after graduation, and he dedicated his youth, his career, and the best twenty years of his life to that magazine.

He participated in discussions for every revision of the magazine's columns, and he revised every new author's manuscript word by word. He remembered the names of every colleague in the publishing house and the lively scenes of the annual meeting every year.

Leaving means acknowledging that those twenty years are sinking.

Jiabei paced back and forth in his office for a long time.

The city lights outside the window had already come on. He stopped, opened a drawer, and on top was a well-worn copy of "Story Collection".

He didn't buy it; the magazine publisher purchased it themselves. He flipped to the serialized "Those Things of the Ming Dynasty," to the short story signed "Early Spring Tea," and then stood in front of the newsstand and finished reading the magazine. He remembered the afternoon when he first received Luo Jinnian's submission.

He recalled every piece the child had written afterward: "Grandma," "Human Chair," and "Monkey Paw." Each one made him realize that the author was extraordinary.

Jiabei picked up his phone. Not to call Luo Jinnian back, but to send a message to his wife: "I might have to change jobs." After sending it, he leaned back in his chair, let out a long sigh, and then dialed Luo Jinnian's number.

"I agree."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"But I have conditions." Jia Bei's voice regained the composure it had when editing and reviewing manuscripts. "I won't leave 'New Sharp Reading' right away. Give me six months before I resign. I can't just leave after all these years of relationship here."

"Okay," Luo Jinnian said.

"Secondly," Jia Bei paused, "I need to see new submissions. It's been a year since you submitted a new article to *New Insight Reading*. I know you've been busy with other things, but as an editor, it's itching to see something new from you after a year."

Luo Jinnian smiled and said, "The manuscript is ready."

Jiabei paused for a second, then asked, "You were prepared all along?"

"I plan to publish a collection of short stories, which will include all the stories I published in Story Club over the past year, plus one new story I wrote, called Nightmare After Nightmare."

Jiabei remained silent. He'd been an editor for twenty years and had heard countless authors discuss their new book ideas with him, but you know how it is with writers…

But today felt completely different. The boy's words didn't just say "this author has a lot of ideas," but rather "this author knows what he wants to do."

"Send it to me," Jiabei said. "Nightmare After Nightmare, send it to my email."

Luo Jinnian hung up the phone and opened the document he had saved for two months. "Nightmare After Nightmare" is a work by Zhu Gengfu, a suspense masterpiece from the Chinese comic book website Kuaikan Comics.

As Luo Jinnian typed the last few lines, a gust of wind picked up outside the window.

Jiabei received a new email. He took a deep breath and remembered that the last time he opened an article about early spring tea was a year ago, an article called "The Human Chair." At that time, he hadn't thought about leaving "New Sharp Reading."

Now he sits in the office he's about to leave, disassembling the author's new manuscript.

He stared at the document on the screen, the cursor hovering over the first line—"I've been having the same nightmare lately."

Chia-bei put on her glasses and read on.

It was completely dark outside, and the corridor of the editorial department was deserted, except for the light still on in his office. He finished reading the last paragraph of "Nightmares," turned back to the first page, and read it again. After reading it a second time, he took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.

"It's still so well written."

"Okay." Luo Jinnian replied with a single word immediately, "You'll be in charge of things related to the compilation from now on."