Chapter 2

In the spring of the Jiangnan region, it was the season when orioles fly and grass grows lush, with bright spring scenery everywhere, intoxicating to the senses.

Liu Jingtong glanced at the time and decided to skip class again in the afternoon. In fact, at his current level, he could easily skip junior high and high school and directly take the college entrance exam, as he was originally a college student.

Speaking of which, it was truly a story that was both sorrowful and widely welcomed. Three months ago, on the second day of his sophomore year, which happened to be a Tuesday, Liu Jingtong had no classes in the afternoon. He and a few roommates had planned to play basketball. Below the boys' dormitory, he saw an old man selling items and casually bought a 300GB USB drive.

This was an extremely normal and ordinary college life, with similar scenes playing out almost every day on campus. However, what happened next irreversibly deviated the entire event from its original course.

A three-on-three basketball game was in full swing. Liu Jingtong had the ball, executed a perfect crossover to get past the defender, and charged into the paint. Just as he was about to lay the ball in, an opposing player came from the side and pushed him mid-air. Time froze, and when Liu Jingtong woke up, he found himself lying on his desk in a junior high Chinese class, drool streaming down his face.

Liu Jingtong found himself inexplicably in this world that was both familiar and strange. The familiar part was that he recognized everyone he should know and knew every place he should know. This world had the same seven continents and four oceans, the same Mount Everest, the same Seven Wonders, the same NBA, World Cup, Hollywood, Oscars, Grammys, Golden Horse, and Golden Image Awards...

The unfamiliar part for Liu Jingtong was that the literary works and authors he knew so well had no records at all. He searched the internet and books thoroughly but found nothing. The literary world here was barren like the Sahara Desert. Children's literature was still supported by ancient fairy tales like "Aesop's Fables" and "One Thousand and One Nights." Contemporary literature was dominated by best-selling authors like Xue Muliang and Han Shuo, while traditional literature was filled with historical documents and classics.

As for the classic martial arts novels by Jin, Gu, Liang, and Huang, the globally popular "Harry Potter," and the voluminous detective masterpieces, there was not a single word recorded. Even the ten world-famous books selected by the New York Times had no trace.

What was even more bizarre was that the names and contents of these books were clearly imprinted in his mind, as if his brain contained a large-capacity USB drive—oh, the USB drive! Liu Jingtong suddenly remembered the USB drive he had bought from the old man's stall. Could it be that the USB drive had somehow entered his brain?

Liu Jingtong sighed softly and stopped thinking further. Over the past three months, he had basically accepted the reality. He even comforted himself by saying that those "past events" were just a dream he had in class, and the "novels" in his mind that could shock the entire world were a gift from God, and of course, a mission.

Liu Jingtong vividly imagined a scene: the great and benevolent God patting his shoulder and saying earnestly, "Little Liu, the responsibility of reviving the Renaissance in this world is entrusted to you."

Thinking of this, besides feeling a great pressure, he was also a bit excited.

So, where should the Renaissance of literature begin?

In his dreams or in his past life, he was a big fan of martial arts novels by Jin, Gu, Liang, and others. Since that was the case, the first step of the Renaissance should start with the world of swords and shadows.

Liu Jingtong flipped to a new page in his notebook and searched his memory. In the martial arts world of his past life, it was widely acknowledged that the new school of Chinese martial arts began with Liang Yusheng's "Dragon and Tiger Fight in Jinghua." Whether out of respect or following the laws of literary development, Liu Jingtong's path as a novelist would also start from here.

"Prologue: On a rainy night in the mountains, a strange guest arrives at midnight, claiming to be a white dog, and recounts past events in an ancient temple."

After writing this sentence, Liu Jingtong couldn't help but comment, "Master Liang's literary skills are profound, and his novels are imbued with a scholarly air. Even the chapter titles are so poetic."

"Lotus leaves gather on the water, thirty years of heartache, who can tell? Sword light and knife shadows flicker in the candlelight, the Zen heart remains untouched by the dust. Dewdrops condense on the grass, and the昙flower is veiled in mist. The children of the江湖have many mistaken fates. Looking back on the past, the emotions are overwhelming, as the dragons and tigers fight in the twilight of Jinghua."

...

"Ha ha, interesting, so interesting." A young woman's hearty laughter echoed from the office of the chief editor of the Children's Literature Publishing House. The editors in the cubicles outside exchanged amused glances. Their chief editor's style of reviewing manuscripts was always bold, and this was not unusual.

"Xiao Mai, come to my office." The chief editor, holding a few sheets of paper, stood at the door and beckoned to the editor Xiao Mai.

A lively girl skipped to the chief editor and asked with a smile, "Editor Yao, did you find another good manuscript?"

"Yes, a fairy tale written by a middle school student, very amusing. Take it and read it. We'll feature it prominently in next month's magazine, and put an advertisement on the cover."

"Okay." Xiao Mai took the manuscript, feeling very curious. For a middle school student's manuscript to be featured on the cover of the magazine, the chief editor rarely promoted new writers like this. The last new writer to appear on the cover, Han Shuo, was now one of the leaders in contemporary literature and the only young author who could rival Xue Muliang.

"Mang Mang and Ti Ti, such lovely names." Xiao Mai returned to her seat and began to read the manuscript seriously.

At the same time, the young editor Mi Hu from the "Great Wulin" magazine was also reading the manuscript. She was so engrossed in the story that she forgot to retrieve her hand, which had reached for a snack. After a long while, she murmured, "The dream of the martial world, the sound of the reed flute in the distance, the moon and the reed flute, the world is home wherever you go. The thirty years of dragon and tiger battles, the events are distant, the people are far, looking at Jinghua from afar, the sand of the Gobi Desert in the west wind."

After finishing, she remained silent for a long time, her expression melancholy and lost. After a while, she finally came to her senses and said to herself in disbelief, "Martial arts novels can actually be written like this!"

Ten minutes later, the novella "Dragon and Tiger Fight in Jinghua" appeared on the desk of the chief editor of the "Great Wulin" magazine.

"Chief Editor, I think this manuscript will spark a new wave of reading." The young and beautiful editor was excited, looking earnestly at the chief editor.

"Gu Yongsheng, a new author?" Chief Editor Zhou Daoran glanced at the name and asked casually.

"He's a middle school student, but the writing style and sentiment of the novel suggest that it might be written by an adult. Of course, it's also possible that he is a young genius."

"Young genius," Zhou Daoran smiled with a seasoned look, saying, "A young genius is good, it will create a lot of buzz."

"No, Chief Editor, read the manuscript first. I can assure you, you've never read anything like this before."

Mi Hu, as a new and sharp editor at "Great Wulin," had a brilliant track record despite her young age. She had discovered many outstanding young writers with her keen eye for manuscripts and sensitivity to trends, though many of them were later poached by Xue Muliang's "Ding Xiaoshuo" at high prices.

"Oh, what manuscript has our female talent scout so agitated?" Zhou Daoran, seeing his protégé so enthusiastic about the manuscript on the desk, was also intrigued.

"Chief Editor, read the manuscript first," Mi Hu said playfully, pointing to the door, "When you're speechless with amazement, call me anytime."

Zhou Daoran smiled and shook his head, with an expression that said, "What haven't I seen?"

An hour and a half later, Zhou Daoran came out of his office with a serious expression, holding a stack of printed papers, and said to the entire editorial department, "Meeting in the Moon Conference Room in ten minutes, all editors and chief editors attend!"

Seeing the chief editor's expression, everyone's hearts were pounding. The last time such an unprecedented meeting was held was when the top writer of "Great Wulin," Bei He Tang, transferred to "Ding Xiaoshuo." This time, who was leaving? Ah Sheng? Annie?

As all the editors were speculating, a faint smile appeared on Mi Hu's lips, and the seventeen-year-old girl looked like a graceful narcissus in the wind.

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