Chapter 29 of 100
Chapter 29
7 min read1,871 words
In June, the weather in Jianghai had already turned hot, and T-shirts, black stockings, and umbrellas began to flow on the streets. The Oriental Bright Pearl, a landmark building in Jianghai, seemed to be unaware of the change in seasons, still standing tall and solemnly overlooking the Changpu River, its long-time companion, which flowed ceaselessly below. One tower and one river together made up a significant part of Jianghai's scenery.
However, for those who "wanted to come to Jianghai to achieve great things but were frustrated and unfulfilled," the flowing water and the towering building seemed particularly cold.
Of course, there were also some people who had already achieved great success, but still maintained a cold expression, such as Xue Muliang, who worked in the office opposite the Oriental Bright Pearl.
In the spacious and luxurious office, Mr. Xue sat in a black executive chair with a terrifyingly gloomy face, his right fist habitually supporting his chin, staring motionlessly out the window.
On the carpet in front of the desk, a valuable glass cup had shattered, spilling coffee and staining the carpet a dull brown.
After a while, Xue Muliang picked up the phone on the desk and said expressionlessly, "Have the cleaning staff come in to clean up. At three o'clock this afternoon... That's it."
He had intended to say "at three o'clock this afternoon for a meeting," but after a moment's hesitation, he canceled the idea. The well-prepared June special issue had been completely overshadowed by the unappealing and rustic "Children's Literature," and more infuriatingly, the defeated "Great Jianghu" was now closely following behind. What was the point of a meeting now?
Xiaoming had been in the industry for five years, and in those five years, every time he released a new book, it always ranked at the top. Even his early works, when repackaged and resold with a preface, could still make it into the top ten bestsellers. Why did he feel so powerless when facing those two detestable rats?
"Knock, knock, knock" came three cautious knocks on the door, followed by the voice of the cleaning staff from outside, "Mr. Xue, the cleaning staff."
Xue Muliang exhaled, stood up, and said, "Come in." Then he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and stood with his hands behind his back.
The cleaning staff entered cautiously, quickly cleaned up the broken glass and coffee, and reported to Mr. Xue in a low voice before tiptoeing out. Throughout the process, Xue Muliang did not turn his head once. In his mind, a cleaning staff member was not worth his attention.
After the cleaning staff left, Xue Muliang returned to his seat. His mood had somewhat recovered. After all, he had been famous for so long and had developed a certain level of psychological resilience. Now, he needed to go online to check the reviews of his new book, "Sad Forest."
The reviews on Doyabook for his new book were as harsh and mocking as always. This adversarial situation had started from the moment Xue Muliang published his first novel, and he had long since become accustomed to it. The occasional feelings of frustration were quickly replaced by the frenzied praise of his fans. He continued to log into Doyabook because, on the one hand, other authors under his management were very popular there, and on the other hand, no matter how harshly others criticized his books, the books always maintained a high level of popularity.
Xue Muliang always operated himself like an artist, needing exposure and topics, and he had a heavy idol image.
However, when he entered the Doyabook page today, what caught his eye was not his new book "Sad Forest," but a martial arts novel called "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan," which had a rating of 8.5, with both long and short reviews surpassing his new book.
Out of professional instinct, he clicked on "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan" with a sense of resentment. The first page was almost entirely positive reviews, and some particularly malicious netizens praised the book while harshly mocking "Sad Forest." One post had a straightforward title:
"Compared to 'Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan,' 'Sad Forest' is just ** mumbling in a dream."
Xue Muliang coldly snorted and continued to scroll down, seeing more and more posts comparing the two books, all of which favored "Seven Swords" and criticized "Sad Forest."
Furiously, Xue Muliang closed Doyabook and logged into Weibo. The first post was a familiar acquaintance forwarding a post by Han Shuo, which was about the difficulty of magazine cover reviews. Xue Muliang's eyes coldly swept over this post, and his gaze fell on today's hot topics. The first was a discussion about buns from different regions, the second was tips for staying cool in the summer, the third was news of a celebrity's upcoming wedding, and it wasn't until the fourth that he saw the familiar words: #Xue Muliang's New Book "Sad Forest"#.
Finally, he felt a sense of relief, and his expression relaxed slightly. He continued to scroll down and, to his displeasure, saw the topic #Martial Arts Can Be Written This Way#. When he clicked on it, he saw that it was a post about "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan." What made him even more unhappy was that the first Weibo post under this topic was by the famous freelance writer Luotou, who was highly regarded online for his sharp, humorous, and erudite writing style, affectionately known as "God-like Luotou."
God-like Luotou wrote a lengthy and enthusiastic, almost exaggerated, review of "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan" titled "A Different World of Martial Arts," using phrases like "a grand event in the martial arts world" and "a carnival for readers."
Smart people knew that to gain attention online, having a clear and distinct viewpoint was essential. Criticize thoroughly or praise wholeheartedly; being neutral and harmonious would not attract widespread attention.
Inevitably, Luotou also mentioned another well-known new book, "Sad Forest," in his article, writing sarcastically, "The affected and melodramatic style of young people and the over-the-top emotional drama of romance novels will be deeply embodied in this book. Such novels (apologies to the novel) can only be used to deceive young girls."
In the eyes of these critical freelance writers, Xue Muliang's romantic and poetic style had never received high praise. Xue Muliang had never expected it and categorized them as having a "sour grapes" mentality.
After browsing some blogs and forums, Xue Muliang had a general understanding of the situation. "Great Jianghu" was using "Dragon Tiger Battle in Jinghua" as a prelude to promote its ongoing serial "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan," with the slogan "Opening a New Era of Martial Arts."
Xue Muliang thought for a few minutes, a cold smile appearing on his lips. Then he picked up the phone and began to issue public relations orders.
...
...
After "Dragon Tiger Battle in Jinghua" was published, Liu Jington had been closely following its progress. He had once told Mi Hu that once a book was published, it would begin its own journey, and he hoped to witness its growth as a reader.
Master Liang created "Dragon Tiger" inspired by the dispute between the Tai Chi and White Crane schools in Nangang. The two schools first engaged in a war of words, and when that failed to resolve the issue, they agreed to a martial arts competition in Macau's New Garden Arena. This event, heavily publicized by the media, caused a great stir in Nangang. Perceptive newspaper editors quickly realized the potential for a big business opportunity, and Master Liang capitalized on this by writing "Dragon Tiger Battle in Jinghua," which laid the foundation for the new school of martial arts.
In 1954, Master Liang wrote "Dragon Tiger," becoming the undisputed founder of the new school of martial arts. The popularity of the newspaper at the time also proved that "Dragon Tiger Battle in Jinghua" had indeed achieved a carnival for that generation.
Although the time and place were different, the need for a large number of new stories was the same. Liu Jington firmly believed that "Dragon Tiger" would achieve its rightful place in this world.
Online reviews of "Dragon Tiger" generally commented that "the overall story feels rigid and has not yet broken free from the constraints of old-school martial arts. The arena competition at the beginning and end is thrilling, but there are no particularly intense moments elsewhere..."
"The novel exudes a sense of historical沧桑 (cang桑)..."
"The love scenes are somewhat awkward and frustrating..."
...
In fact, Liu Jington always felt that the most striking aspect of "Dragon Tiger" was its portrayal of love. The intricate depiction of the inner thoughts of the three characters in the love triangle was rarely seen in later novels. However, as a martial arts novel, if readers cannot see the clear distinction between good and evil and the swift resolution of conflicts, they naturally feel dissatisfied, which is understandable.
As for the newly serialized "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan," the reviews were overwhelmingly positive. Liu Jington himself had to admit that Master Liang's martial arts novels were always captivating at the beginning, with suspense and intrigue, but often fell short at the end, leaving the reader unsatisfied.
In summary, the heroes in Master Liang's martial arts novels often carried too much burden, oscillating between tradition and personal freedom, ultimately appearing too scholarly. A typical example is Zuo Yihang in "The White-Haired Deviless," who, while rationally understandable, never evokes genuine affection.
Overall, the online and media reviews were still quite satisfying for Liu Jington. The unexpected success of "Shuke and Beta" added to his sense of satisfaction and achievement, imagining the stunned expressions of certain publishers and magazine editors as "Children's Literature" consistently led the way.
However, this generally positive trend did not last long. On June 10, the night before Liu Jington was to have dinner with Mi Hu, a large-scale wave of criticism against "Dragon Tiger Battle in Jinghua" and "Seven Swords Descend from Tian Shan" suddenly swept the internet. This wave initially started on a certain forum, then spread to Doyabook, Weibo, and the Jianghu forum...
While some posts were outright personal attacks, such as "The author is an idiot," "The author's brain is waterlogged," "The author's brain was crushed by a door," others were more sophisticated, like "This is just a pile of shit, completely lacking in immersion."
"Love triangles are so cliché. Does the author even know how to write romance?"
...
At a higher level, some posts said, "This is just a follow-up and plagiarism of old-school martial arts. What new school of martial arts is this?"
"Completely unreadable, no writing skills, no plot."
"Is the author selling dogs? Could it be any more cliché?"
Then, some verified celebrities and second- or third-tier writers began to criticize the two novels, attacking "Seven Swords" and "Dragon Tiger" from various aspects of writing techniques and emotional depth, with well-reasoned and seemingly truthful arguments.
The large-scale criticism reached its peak when the famous writer Zhou Zaidao joined in, publishing a commentary titled "The Weight of Dog Meat," comparing martial arts novels to lowly dog meat in a highly condescending manner.