After Writing Four Big Shots into Danmei Novels - Chapter 6

Editor Nannan was beyond ecstatic.

On [Muse Literature], it wasn’t just the authors who had a ranking system—the editors did, too. Having been on the job for two years, Nannan was still a Platinum Editor. An editor’s monthly salary was directly tied to the subscription income of the authors under them. Signing a “good sprout” and nurturing them to success would grant the editor a massive amount of reward points.

To prevent editors from simply casting a wide net and neglecting authors while reaping the benefits, editors were required to respond to a contracted author’s messages within two working days. If a contracted author felt their editor was being perfunctory, they could report them to the section head; serious offenders could be fired.

When an editor’s roster is valued for quality over quantity, their keen eye becomes vital.

The moment 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》 appeared on the update list, Nannan had set their sights on the author behind it. They believed that any writer capable of coming up with such a title was certainly no ordinary talent. Upon reading it closely, Nannan was completely won over.

Editor Nannan: “I especially appreciate the age-gap arrangement between Feng Xingzhi and the Duke. The emotional collision between a newborn calf and a sophisticated, powerful figure is so delicate and moving. As for the comments pointing out the ‘collapse of logic,’ it’s actually an exaggerated technique typical of cautionary works. It’s a pity they haven’t seen through the psychological gambit within. Or rather, they’ve only seen through the first layer of the gambit, not the third.”

…

After listening to the editor, Gu Jue finally realized just how “incredible” he was.

He felt like he could go win a Nobel Prize in Literature the next second, and maybe a Peace Prize while he was at it.

Gu Jue: “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. I’ve already outpaced them by far too much.”

While perfunctorily agreeing with the editor, Gu Jue copied the editor’s words and replied to the top hot comment from [Seeking Reverse Scale].

One had to admit, this “Rainbow Fart” (flattery) felt pretty damn good.

The subsequent contract negotiations with the editor went very smoothly. Although Gu Jue had no experience with Interstellar law, his judicial background made those wordy, legalistic clauses easy to understand. Nannan explained: “The contract is updated every two ranks; for Diamond rank or above, it’s updated every rank. Rest assured, the higher the rank, the more benefits. For instance, the ‘Big God’ Jun Xiaolin lives in a villa on the Federation’s main star provided as a benefit by [Muse].”

Editor Nannan: “I’ll send the contract over to you now.”

In the same spot in the virtual space, a metallic bird materialized. The word “CONFIDENTIAL” was cast onto the bird’s head as it flew into Gu Jue’s hand.

Gu Jue confirmed the contract had no discrepancies from the draft he’d seen, but there was no place to sign a name. Where a signature would normally be, it showed [Star-Meta Pattern] verification.

He searched through the original owner’s memories and found that the Interstellar Era wasn’t just about high-tech and high-martial power; it had a very magical setting: every creature possessed a Star Core. Those who “awakened” could use Star-Meta energy. The Star-Meta Pattern was a unique design produced when the Star Core was activated.

Once the system detected that the signatory was an “awakened” individual, the signature requirement changed to the Pattern.

The Elven race has strong sensory abilities, and nearly 90% of them are rare awakened individuals. However, because Song Siyang had failed to awaken during his differentiation age, he had strictly forbidden the original owner from practicing with his Star Core. The earring forcibly shoved into his ear also served to suppress it. Of course, that disgusting thing had already been flushed down the drain by Gu Jue.

Thus, the only memory the original owner had regarding the Star Core was the sensation of energy flowing uncontrollably through his body during the initial awakening.

“Alright then…”

The original owner hadn’t attended a single day of Star-Meta energy classes and didn’t know the tricks to using the Core. Gu Jue decided to try it himself first.

Sink the Qi to the Dantian!

He held his breath for a while. Aside from his abdominal muscles tightening, nothing happened.

The Chinese method didn’t work. Gu Jue raised his hand to form a mudra: “Rin, Pyo, To, Sha, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen!” (The Nine Syllable Seals)

Nothing happened.

Gu Jue poked his chest: “Star Core hidden with the powers of darkness! Show your true power before me! Your Master, who has made a contract with you, commands you—Release the seal!”

Neither the FGO nor the Cardcaptor Sakura methods worked.

Gu Jue scratched his mangled ear and decided to use the search engine. He finally learned the simplest way: imagine the Star-Meta energy flowing through the meridians of the whole body to find the strongest pulsing point—that’s where the Star Core is located. By pressing that spot, one can strengthen the sensation of the energy. Generally, it is most commonly integrated with the heart.

Gu Jue instinctively looked down at a… “certain” indescribable location.

Regrettably, after repeated confirmation, Gu Jue found his Star Core was located on the back of his right hand.

When he activated the Core, a flower emerged on the back of his pale, thin hand, where the skin was almost translucent enough to see the bone. The numerous petals overlapped; it wasn’t a flower Gu Jue recognized from his world, but it was gorgeous and delicate. As the Core hummed, white light shone brightly through the lines of the petals, radiating a sense of holiness.

…

Thank god it’s not a lotus.

Even though Gu Jue was a rock-solid “0” (bottom), he never had romantic fantasies about flowers growing on his hands. If he were to get a tattoo one day, he’d lean more toward a lock on his waist or abdomen—an implication that “I am precious; only a true Top (1) has a chance.”

After signing the Star-Meta Pattern verification on the contract, Gu Jue let the Star Core settle down. The white light dimmed, leaving only the flower-shaped pattern. Once the Core was quiet, Gu Jue’s crimson-tinted phoenix eyes returned to their calm, pure black.

Editor Nannan’s tone became cheerful: “I’ll arrange a ranking for 《Duke》 immediately. Mr. Shuang Yu, you can slow down your update speed; otherwise, the story might end before we finish the recommendation cycle, which could cost you a lot of exposure.”

Gu Jue agreed.

Agreeing was one thing, but he wasn’t worried at all. As a veteran “water monster” (filler writer), he just needed two dramatic characters to create endless conflicts. Conflicts breed more conflicts—infinite and inexhaustible. Why use one sentence when you can use two? Refusing to speak properly and being untruthful about one’s feelings was the exquisite essence of “melodramatic angst.” As long as the subscriptions didn’t drop, the story wouldn’t end.

Besides, there was no such thing as “censorship” on Interstellar websites. If he couldn’t keep the plot moving, he’d just “stew some meat” (write smut).

It must be said that Interstellar authors were very noble and socially conscious, often using “stream of consciousness” smut to express high-minded ideals and emotional conflicts. Gu Jue decided to do the exact opposite—he’d go for the absolute gutter, adding high sugar, high oil, and high salt to his “meat,” making it so intensely vivid and flavorful that it was damn near addictive.

To show he was following the editor’s advice, he wrote half and saved half, keeping a stash of drafts for emergencies.

Because the data for 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》 was so outstanding, the editor secured two contract rankings for him directly:

1. The Rookie Chart, the best place for new books.

2. The Star Recommendation, which even veteran authors eyed greedily.

It could be said that Nannan was facing pressure by giving the Star Recommendation to Gu Jue. If the data proved disappointing, subsequent rankings would be poor, and Gu Jue would have to stay quiet for a while. But if the book performed well, the next round of rankings would be even more competitive—a virtuous cycle that would make his career take off.

Editor Nannan: “I have high hopes for you.”

Editor Nannan: “You’re different from those bland, complacent novels. You have pursuit and thought. I can already see your literary ambition to break through the status quo.”

…

Gu Jue couldn’t help but lift his T-shirt and look down. He only saw clearly defined ribs; he didn’t see any “literary ambition.”

Unable to withstand the editor’s passionate love, Gu Jue checked his ranking and found the editor’s blurb next to his name: [A Revolutionary, Era-Defining Work]. Even with skin as thick as a city wall and the ability to face flattery without changing expression, Gu Jue’s ears couldn’t help but turn red.

After making it onto the charts, 《The Wealthy Old Duke Falls in Love with Me》 entered the vision of even more interstellar netizens.

At first, they were simply drawn in by the unconventional title. Using high-ranking officials as protagonists wasn’t rare in Interstellar novels, but they were mostly used to criticize current affairs or discuss class conflicts. Interstellar readers clicked in out of curiosity and were instantly hooked by the simple, flowing prose and fast-paced plot.

Compared to those “elegant” novels that maintained an objective stance, 《Old Duke》 was far too immersive! The protagonist Feng Xingzhi’s personality was just like an ordinary citizen—average grades, merely “clear and handsome” looks, someone who felt they’d never have anything to do with the nobility in their life. This gave the netizens a strong sense of “if he can do it, I can too.”

But looking closely, while the protagonist was set up as an “average handsome boy,” the author described his appearance like a “kingdom-toppling enchantress”—face flushing red, peach-blossom eyes tinged with a seductive hue, a natural flirt. Even the playboy Grand Duke was defeated instantly before him.

This was something the readers couldn’t do. But through the immersion built up earlier, readers naturally hallucinated: Yes, this beautiful-without-knowing-it, pure-and-unpretentious college boy who is being chased relentlessly by the Grand Duke… is us!

Experiencing the “service” of a “satisfying novel” (Shuang-wen) for the first time, the readers tried to remain rational in the comments—[This is totally illogical], [The author is hallucinating too much], and [Actually, there’s no depth to this…?]—while honestly topping up their credits, eager for the next chapter.

The rapid rise of the book brought joy to some and grief to others. The grief of Grand Duke Feng Qing was visible to the naked eye.

As a leader among the nobility, the new head of the Feng family, and a major shareholder of the Niehuang Group, he had money and a social status that put him above billions. His life should have been smooth sailing. His biggest worry in the past was finding a single white hair in his smooth, beautiful silver mane. Don’t ask what the difference is between silver and white hair; straight men wouldn’t understand.

“Xiao Qian,” Feng Qing called his younger brother, who was working on the Federation’s main star. “I’ve been so lonely lately. So solitary. I’m cold.”

“If you’re cold, set a fire.”

Feng Qian, also of the Phoenix race, gave a highly constructive suggestion. The Phoenix race can control fire, and Feng Qing’s control was masterful.

Feng Qing was silent for a moment at this unromantic advice. “It’s not that kind of cold… forget it, it’s normal for a virgin like you to not understand. Big brother forgives you.”

The younger brother really wanted to hang up.

Feng Qing continued to pour out his bitterness: “Lately, when I go out to social gatherings, I feel like everyone is looking at me strangely. It’s different from before.”

Brother Feng: “How is it different?”

“Before, they wanted to sleep with me,” Feng Qing described. “Now, it’s a look that says ‘I didn’t expect you were that kind of person.’ But I haven’t done anything lately! I had peaceful breakups with my ex, my ex-ex, and my ex-ex-ex. I didn’t miss a single parting gift, and we’re still friends.”

“Also, the beauties sent by people trying to win me over or curry favor lately…” Feng Qing knit his handsome brows. “They’re all little kids whose hair hasn’t even grown in yet.”

Being young was one thing, but they were all pure humans. As if they’d made a pact, these “gifts” wore pure, delicate faces; though they knew exactly why they were being sent, they maintained a stubborn, lukewarm attitude, hinting that they were students who wouldn’t bow down for wealth.

Fine, Feng Qing usually had a high tolerance for beauties throwing themselves at him.

The problem was! They were all calling him “Uncle”!

Uncle! “Old Man”!

In the Phoenix race, 216 years old is equivalent to a 22-year-old human. In the entertainment industry, he’d clearly be a “Little Fresh Meat”!

There was even one who said with a tsundere face that they “don’t like old men.” Whoever recommended that one—don’t even think about talking business.