After Writing Four Big Shots into Danmei Novels - Chapter 5

The landlady knocked on Gu Jue’s door for the second time.

This time, she brought a large pot of Fish Maw and Chicken Hotpot.

Besides the pot, there were two bowls; it was clearly a meal prepared for several people. Guessing she had something to discuss, Gu Jue graciously invited her in: “Auntie Zhang, thank you for going to such trouble. You’re always worrying about whether I’ve eaten properly.”

Having had some water, the last trace of hoarseness had vanished from his voice. It was now clear, low, and gentle—like a mountain stream with a hint of natural sweetness. It was a voice that instinctively commanded favor, much more pleasing to elders than the “smoker’s voice” he had in his past life.

Auntie Zhang felt a bit shy at his words: “I was idle anyway.”

Household chores were handled by robots, and Auntie Zhang owned three properties on the main star. The rent was automatically deposited into her account every month; she truly had nothing to do. She missed her son and grandson, but in the Interstellar Era, young people had too many distractions. Even a free single-player game was more interesting than chatting with their elders.

Gu Jue thanked her and took the initiative to serve the food.

A whole chicken sat in the middle of the rich, golden broth—fragrant, fresh, and deeply nourishing. Auntie Zhang had been generous with the ingredients; as Gu Jue took a sip, he could feel the thick, collagen-rich texture of the fish maw. When the vegetables were briefly blanched and eaten, they were incredibly savory.

As a piece of lettuce entered his mouth, Gu Jue felt a sudden surge of warmth travel down his esophagus and straight into his heart.

Startled, he skeptically tried a piece of radish.

The radish, sliced to a perfect thickness, had soaked up the chicken broth until it was translucent. It melted in his mouth, bursting with juice. That same warmth surged forth, nourishing his withered Star Core. Now he was certain: “Auntie Zhang, are these spirit plants?”

“You can taste the difference!”

Auntie Zhang froze, her gaze darting toward his pointed ears before quickly looking away. She explained, “I heard they’re good for health. My son sends me a lot during holidays, but I can’t tell the difference. I had a huge stash left over, so I thought I’d clear out the inventory.”

For ordinary people who hadn’t awakened a Star Core, the only difference between spirit plants and regular vegetables was the price.

Seeing Gu Jue about to thank her again, Auntie Zhang moved quickly to pile his bowl high with vegetables: “Just eat. Look how thin you’ve become.”

Gu Jue nodded. He didn’t make a show of refusing and lowered his head to eat heartily.

He desperately needed the supplement of spirit plants.

When you’re away from home and in trouble, it’s natural to be cared for by others. Gu Jue could accept her kindness gracefully, knowing that once his situation improved, he would repay her many times over. Gu Jue was lost in deep thought, but in the eyes of an elder, seeing that overly youthful face buried in a bowl of greens made him look like a starving animal cub—adorable in every way.

Only after his pace slowed did Auntie Zhang ask tentatively, “Have you found a job on the main star yet? Do you want me to help you look?”

Gu Jue paused and said softly, “I don’t have my academic credentials.”

In the Interstellar Era, especially on the Federation’s main star, no matter how poor a child was, they could find a school if they studied hard. Lacking credentials was synonymous with being a vagrant; that one sentence was enough to give most strangers a negative impression. But Gu Jue looked so well-behaved, his lowered lashes reflecting a shimmer like moonlight, that Auntie Zhang immediately felt distressed. She was certain this child had some unspeakable hardship.

Auntie Zhang asked, “Xiao Gu, you’re an Elf, right? Fantasy Species are rare; I didn’t recognize it at first and had to look it up after I went home.”

Gu Jue nodded.

On other planets, Fantasy Species faced the risk of being kidnapped and trafficked, but the security on the Federation and Imperial main stars was reliable enough for a safe life.

Auntie Zhang pondered: “The Niehuang Group is hiring. You could give them a try.”

Fearing Gu Jue was an outsider who didn’t understand the context, she explained carefully.

It was common knowledge that the founder of the Niehuang Group, Feng Qian, was also a Fantasy Species. A Phoenix is the king of birds—the male is a Feng and the female is a Huang. Being of the same category provided a certain advantage during recruitment. This wasn’t unusual on the Federation’s melting-pot main star; Zerg, Dog-kin, and Wolf-kin tended to huddle together. Bird-focused companies even provided “flight time” as a benefit. One company had once spent a fortune to hire a Whale expert, offering him a massive simulated ocean pool so he could work while soaking.

According to the Universal Encyclopedia, Elves have the highest “Racial Affinity,” meaning they are suitable for almost any position. In contrast, a Rodent-kin would never be able to deal with a Feline-kin.

“I’ll check if they’re still hiring later. I’ll give it a shot,” Gu Jue gave the landlady a grateful smile. “Thank you for the suggestion, Auntie Zhang.”

The original owner had previously been in the Imperial capital, living under someone else’s roof and studying hard just to escape. Young Master Song had intentionally tried to raise him as a useless “canary” who knew and could do nothing, so he could keep him caged in the manor. Consequently, the original owner was ignorant of many social norms usually taught by parents before independence.

The most obvious example was his height.

Elves are a tall, slender race; an average height of over two meters is their most striking feature, making them stand out in any crowd. However, Young Master Song was a pure human. His medical exams showed he would grow to 1.75 meters at most—how could he be shorter than his little pet? He came up with a scheme early on to withhold food during the original owner’s growth spurts, mocking and humiliating him during meals. This caused the original owner, who suffered from mild anorexia, to stop at 1.75 meters. He was normal for a human, but for an Elf, he was a malnourished victim of abuse.

All to satisfy Song Siyang’s pathetic male ego.

After cleaning the leftovers and dishes, Gu Jue saw Auntie Zhang back to her room and lay quietly on the nylon bed, savoring the joy of a full stomach. After a short nap, he put on the helmet and connected to the network.

Perhaps because he was full, Gu Jue felt very calm.

Going against the tide of web novel trends usually meant failing miserably; only a tiny possibility existed of becoming the founder of a brand-new genre.

Closing the “insufficient balance” notification, Gu Jue hurried to log into the backend of Muse Literature.

“If the reception isn’t good, I’ll just cut the outline and finish it early,” Gu Jue muttered to himself.

He knew perfectly well that 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》 wasn’t exactly “serious” literature. There were no plots that had to be told. To end it, he just had to make the Gong less of a jerk and the Shou less dramatic, cut out the agonizing plot conflicts, and give the old Duke a bit of a hard time before a happy ending. Add two or three extras about the husband and kids getting jealous, and it would be a complete conclusion.

The screen jumped to his personal virtual homepage.

A golden bird materialized in the void, a letter in its beak. It circled twice before flying to Gu Jue’s hand. He hurriedly opened the envelope.

Sender: Editor Nannan

Subject: Contract Invitation

Content: Congratulations! Your data has reached the qualification line for a contract. By signing with Muse Literature, you will gain more promotional exposure and be able to accept or post rewards in the Bounty Shop. For more details, please check the [Link] or accept my friend invitation to chat in real-time.

Station messages in a holographic optical brain really hit differently.

On Muse Literature, even without a contract, an author could earn revenue simply by binding a Star-Crystal card to the backend and charging for chapters. However, only contracted authors received ranking promotions, and the “Tip” function was only open to them. The site also provided legal aid to contracted authors.

Since the editor had extended an olive branch, the novel’s performance couldn’t be too bad.

Gu Jue felt relieved. He accepted the editor’s friend request and clicked on the novel’s dashboard:

《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》

Total Reviews: 172,227

Current Collections: 70,307

…

Gu Jue, the “ancient country bumpkin,” was stunned by these two numbers.

What was going on?! Was he really the “Chosen One” of transmigrators? Was he the protagonist of a novel titled 《Transmigration: Emperor of Entertainment》? This was peak “Starting Point” (Qidian) protagonist material! Except those protagonists usually start harems; he was gay—could he trade that in for his pick of “Top” (1) suitors? Is anyone there? Are there any ‘1s’ available?

After a full minute of shock, his brain finally kicked into gear, and he understood the reason.

In his past life in China, his books were exported to neighboring countries at most; selling 100,000 copies was a major achievement. Now, he was using the universal language of the cosmos, and Muse Literature catered to the entire universe. The size of the reader base was incomparable.

But… was this really a normal result for a newcomer?

Looking at the 30,000 credits already in his backend account, Gu Jue first topped up his internet fees for a month, then went to check novels published around the same time. He found that while the general data was indeed higher than he previously thought, 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》 still left them in the dust. It was an absolute outlier. It had exploded!

Gu Jue covered his eyes, letting out an elegant sigh: “Holy sh*t.”

He immediately ordered a wellness meal set from the Star-Net Mall; he needed to return to a normal diet to nurse his body back to health.

Then, he looked at the comments.

Users could “Upvote” or “Downvote” comments; they would cancel each other out, and the highest scores rose to the top. The top comment was a scathing lecture from [Seeking Reverse Scale].

Gu Jue raised an eyebrow and clicked into the reader’s info. He found that while this “Reverse Scale” brother was harsh with his words, his subscription rate for the novel was 100%. His personal homepage was a glittering display of wealth—clearly a veteran reader who practiced the habit of paying for content. Gu Jue immediately felt at peace.

The one who spends money is the boss! Whatever you say is right; I won’t argue.

[So the Imperial Duke is this kind of person? Chasing Feng Xingzhi down even if he flees to the unmanned zones of space—too overbearing. I want to be marked hard by an Alpha like that.]

[The Imperial Duke’s reputation is suffering! The author never said it was based on Duke Feng.]

[But some details are clearly only known to the Imperial high society… thinking about it is terrifying! P.S. I want to save face, staying anonymous.]

The life of the wealthy in the Interstellar Era was very different from what Gu Jue knew. Fortunately, even “trash” has its uses—Song Siyang was a pampered youth who lived on the Imperial main star. While trying to crush the original owner’s dignity, he had bragged about a lot of real-life high society details. This gave Gu Jue a foundation for his imagination; by mixing half-truths with fiction, he had managed to fool people.

[Speechless. If a Duke likes a civilian, would he really resort to illegal methods?]

[I feel like my IQ is being insulted…]

There were plenty of critical comments, but as Gu Jue clicked through, he saw these readers usually had full subscriptions. Whether it was praise or criticism, Gu Jue scanned them quickly without a flicker of emotion on his exquisite face. Years as a web novelist had made him immune to both insults and flattery. If you were afraid of offending people, you’d end up writing something as bland as plain water. Better not to write at all.

He checked comments only to see what readers loved and what they hated. As long as it stirred their emotions, it was a good plot.

“Overall, reader opinions are concentrated: they want to see the Gong and Shou get together quickly, or see the Shou abuse the Gong—it’s about fifty-fifty,” Gu Jue adjusted the gravity in the virtual space, floating in mid-air as he concluded: “Hmm, the reaction is good. I’ll add some more conflict and fluff the word count.”

With a comfortable internet balance, Gu Jue stayed connected while writing this time. Since he was essentially transcribing his old work, he maintained a staggering update speed. His momentum on the non-contracted charts was fierce. Before long, the editor’s icon in his friend list lit up.

Editor Nannan: “Hello, Shuang Yu!”

Editor Nannan: “Ah, I thought I wouldn’t be able to snag an author capable of such a revolutionary, era-defining work! I’m a bit nervous—I’m actually one of your readers! In 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》, the protagonist is unafraid of power and is suppressed by the Duke time and again. Is this an allegory for how Imperial noble forces exploit the common people today? The protagonist fails and flees repeatedly, only to end up pregnant with the Duke’s heir when trying to leave the Empire. One can see the author maintains a positive outlook on the relationship between the two classes—the bones may break but the tendons remain connected. Nobles and commoners are ultimately an inseparable whole.”

…

Gu Jue: “Ah.”

Interstellar editors… you’re really something else.