After Writing Four Big Shots into Danmei Novels - Chapter 1

The air in the cramped single room felt heavy and sweltering.

It was actually a decent room—it had a small balcony and a large south-facing glass window—but even the pouring sunlight couldn’t disperse the gloom inside. The room felt like sun-scorched desert earth, parched and cracking.

“Gu Jue, come back right now!”

“If it weren’t for our Song family supporting you, would you even be alive today?”

“It’s your honor that I’ve taken an interest in you. Know your place and fix your attitude.”

On a nylon bed, a person so thin they were practically skin and bones lay curled up, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The source of the male voice was the latest model of an accessory-type terminal modified on his right ear. It was a masterpiece of Young Master Song’s cruelty; years ago, he had pinned Gu Jue’s head down and shoved the earring in. It couldn’t be removed—he wanted this beautiful boy to be on standby 24 hours a day, forced to listen to his commands, complete with a built-in miniature camera.

Before closing his eyes, Gu Jue was a bestselling author living in 2019.

When he opened them again, he was in a different shell, and the era had changed.

Gu Jue raised a hand to brush his bangs back. He didn’t experience the typical “memory dump” common in transmigration novels, but he did get a hand full of grease.

How many days has it been since this body last washed its hair?

Gu Jue had no choice but to drag his skeletal frame out of bed. He felt his way into the bathroom—so narrow only one person could turn around—and hesitated for a moment. Ultimately unable to face a stranger’s naked body immediately, he chose a compromise:

He leaned over and blasted the top of his head with the showerhead.

The shampoo was almost empty—a level of destitution that made Gu Jue sigh.

Fortunately, back when he came out and broke ties with his parents, he had lived through days of “North Drifting” (migrating to Beijing) where he had only two coins in his pocket. He wasn’t about to panic over this.

Gu Jue poured some water into the shampoo bottle, gave it a shake, and managed to squeeze out some bubbles.

After washing his hair, he wiped his face with cold water and rinsed the thick layer of dust off the mirror. The mirror reflected a withered face, pale as paper, yet one could still trace the flawless, handsome contours and a pair of pure black eyes without a hint of stray color—so deep they seemed ready to swallow a person whole.

The earring on his right ear continued its incessant clamor:

“It was a temporary lapse in judgment on my part letting you run to the Federation’s main star. But you can’t run far, Gu Jue. Don’t forget that you can only get nutrition from spirit plants; only I can afford to keep you alive. Looking for a job? I’ve withheld your graduation certificate long ago. Without me, you are nothing. Don’t even dream of being self-sufficient!”

What noisy barking.

Gu Jue frowned and raised his hand, attempting to remove the earring.

Seeing this, Young Master Song’s laughter became even more arrogant and malicious, reminding him that it was futile: “That is the brand I gave you, a mark you can never remove in your lifetime. Even if you flee to the ends of the universe, you will hear my orders every second!”

“Can it really not be removed?”

Gu Jue’s lips curled.

Through the camera in the earring, Young Master Song saw a faint smile grace that malnourished, bloodless face. Though the boy looked as frail as a candle in the wind, his eyes were startlingly bright—like a thousand-foot-deep frozen pond, both cold and brilliant.

Song’s heart skipped a beat, and his attitude softened: “Just come back now, and I’ll forgive you.”

Gu Jue ignored him. He steadied his ear with his left hand and pinched the earring with his right—

And ripped the flashing blue-light earring right out, tearing skin and flesh with it!

Young Master Song’s voice cut off abruptly.

Gu Jue turned on the shower and flushed the earring down the drain.

The barking in the bathroom ceased, replaced by peaceful silence.

Accompanied by the stinging pain in his right ear, Gu Jue showed his first satisfied smile since transmigrating.

He loathed this type of self-important obsessive. They lust after beauty but refuse to have a proper attitude; they won’t pursue someone normally, nor will they be a devoted “simp.” Instead, they resort to underhanded tricks, all while imagining themselves as the “charming” protagonist of some “Overbearing President” novel—greasy and low-class without even realizing it.

Even if he were to starve on the streets tomorrow, he wouldn’t live such a suffocating life!

Ironically, Gu Jue made his living writing exactly these kinds of love stories.

[The protagonist’s three-year sham marriage cannot warm the husband’s heart. After he leaves in despair, the mad young master of Jiang City launches a city-wide manhunt for his runaway wife. “Love isn’t something you can just buy.” The mad master is relentless, imprisoning the protagonist in a villa to hurt each other day and night.]

—Psychopath. Kidnapper.

[The cold-hearted Prince has hundreds of male concubines, but never visits his husband’s main quarters. After the little husband is driven to suicide by the insults of a side-concubine, the Prince suddenly repents, declaring that if the doctors cannot save his “heart’s treasure,” the whole city’s physicians will be buried with him.]

—The doctors are so wronged. Poor doctors.

[He is an innocent white-collar worker who, after being pressured into drinking by a client, stumbles into room 403. After a night of passion, he actually gets pregnant! A year later, the child’s father comes knocking—it’s the Chairman of the Shen Group. But he doesn’t want this wealthy old man!]

—I get the tropes, but why can two men get pregnant?

Forced love and melodramatic angst were the main themes of Gu Jue’s works.

Although he was a frequent “guest” on “Terrible Novel Rant” forums, facts proved that readers ate that stuff up. His novels sold like wildfire, and he counted his money in a daze.

Gu Jue pondered. He had pulled three consecutive all-nighters to meet a deadline. Before his vision went black, his hands were still on the keyboard; he likely passed away right then and there. Fortunately, his editor had a spare key to his apartment and would likely break in the next day when the draft didn’t arrive—collecting the manuscript and the corpse at the same time.

Because of his sexual orientation, his parents back home had long since given up on him. He heard they had a second child a couple of years ago to carry on the “impoverished” family line.

Gu Jue felt at peace. He had written a will long ago, donating his assets to a reliable charity upon his death. No one supported him, and he had no one to support. Writing until his final breath meant he owed his readers nothing. Leaving the world clean and alone was a stroke of luck in its own way. Gu Jue didn’t dwell on it and turned his attention to his current situation.

Stimulated by the sharp pain in his right ear, the original owner’s memories flooded back.

As the massive amount of information rushed in, Gu Jue closed his eyes to organize it.

He had indeed transmigrated.

The original owner, who shared his name, was a descendant of the Elf race—an extremely rare branch of “Fantasy Species.” His parents died young and entrusted him to an old benefactor, who happened to be the grandfather of the noisy Young Master Song. Gu Jue’s father had hoped the old subordinate would look after his son. The problem was that Elves live a very long time; by the time the original owner was sent to the Song family as an infant, Grandpa Song was on his last breath.

The family was busy dividing assets, and eventually, the original owner—treated like baggage—fell into the hands of the current Young Master Song’s father.

Raising one more child of a benefactor shouldn’t have been an issue, but Young Master Song took a lustful liking to the original owner. He harassed him from a young age, viewing him as property. He believed that since everything Gu Jue ate and wore was paid for by the Song family, and he was the heir, Gu Jue owed him a massive debt that had to be repaid with his body.

Song Siyang recorded every expense and used it to humiliate him constantly. Whenever the fact that Gu Jue’s father had saved Grandpa Song’s life came up, Song Siyang’s memory would suddenly “fail,” and he demanded everyone in the family deny it, claiming they only took in the orphan out of charity. Over time, the mentally abused original owner began to have muddled memories as well.

The Interstellar Minors Protection Act is very strict. Minors need guardian consent to work. Although the original owner tried to find time for a job, Song Siyang, who saw him as a “canary in a cage,” firmly refused.

Elves are a race with delicate nerves and strong self-esteem.

This treatment led the original owner to develop depression and anorexia.

Even so, he never gave up on independence. He thought that once he reached adulthood and graduated from the academy, he could work and slowly repay the “upbringing fees.” What he didn’t expect was that Song Siyang didn’t care about the money—he just wanted to torment him. He used his connections to withhold Gu Jue’s graduation certificate.

Without the certificate, he couldn’t get a good job, and without a job, he couldn’t afford “spirit plant” food.

Elves can only gain nutrition from expensive spirit plants; otherwise, their bodies wither day by day.

The original owner was left with two choices:

Stay in the Song family and survive as a plaything.

Or escape the cage and wait for death.

Obviously, the original owner chose the latter.

Severe long-term malnutrition, combined with a heavy heart, caused the original owner to starve to death in this cheap rental room. In his place, a soul with the same name had “borrowed the corpse” to return to life.

“Hiss…”

Gu Jue tended to the wound on his ear while offering a critique: “Quite a stubborn kid.”

Elves live for thousands of years; at twenty, the original owner was indeed just a child. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow up before saying goodbye to the world.

Gu Jue’s lips twitched—his tone was indifferent, but he made a heavy mental note against the Song family.

Since the original owner had given him a second chance at life, he couldn’t take it for granted. The original owner’s grudge was now his grudge. He would fulfill the wish for an independent and free life. By any means necessary, at any cost.

However…

Gu Jue looked down and objectively assessed himself.

He needed to find a way to make money, fast.

Otherwise, given his health, he would be ready for a “refill” of Grandma Wang’s soup (reincarnation) in no time.

Gu Jue searched the tiny room. Just as in the original owner’s memory, not a scrap of food remained. He was already so exhausted he had to sit on the bed to catch his breath. Physical labor was out of the question. Remote work was popular in the interstellar world, but those jobs required academic credentials he didn’t have.

Before transmigrating, Gu Jue was a law student.

He had studied both Civil Law and Common Law systems. Who would have thought he’d be dropped into an entirely different world?

“Making money isn’t easy. No wonder the original owner was driven to death,” Gu Jue lamented.

On the desk sat a silver metal helmet—the simplest, outdated basic model of a light-computer (optical brain). It was something the original owner had scavenged from a second-hand market and was the most valuable thing he owned.

Gu Jue decided to go online and see if there were any ways to make a quick buck.

He put on the helmet and immersed himself in the world of holographic technology.

After a brief moment of dizziness, a high-tech system window popped up in front of him:

[User credit balance insufficient. Remaining connection time: 1 hour. Please top up as soon as possible ^_^]

…Original owner, you’re really something!