It was early May, the start of the Labor Day holiday.

Back at the editorial office, I’d received a “supervision” call from Willow Ran. From her tone, she seemed determined to drop by today.

Such a pain in the ass.

I’d already argued that writers need peace and quiet to work, hoping to ward off this nuisance. But clearly, I’d underestimated Willow Ran’s resolve.

No matter what I said, she’d brush me off with excuses like, “I won’t disturb Gale Splendor at all!” or “Even focused writers need someone to serve tea and snacks!” or “With my experience, I can help Gale Splendor brainstorm the plot!” She even threatened to post about my “perverted acts” toward her on my Weibo if I refused.

Helpless, I’d no choice but to agree.

For the record, my main reason for not wanting Willow Ran here wasn’t just her chatty noise—it was that I really didn’t want her seeing how I “work.”

After all, my so-called work wasn’t what she imagined at all—

“Gale—Splendor—!”

Just as I’d expected, her furious voice rang out the moment she saw my “work mode.”

“Aren’t you going to start writing yet? Even if Elder Sister Liu Xin gave you a deadline six months away, can’t you finish faster?”

“I’d love to publish the new book soon too… but right now, I’ve got zero inspiration. Zero motivation!”

I slumped back in my study’s executive chair, answering her anger with lazy nonchalance.

Holiday breaks were golden hours for meeting deadlines—especially for student writers like me. I knew that well enough.

But knowing and doing were worlds apart. My mind went completely blank when I tried to start.

The outline and proposal were already approved by Elder Sister Liu Xin. Logically, writing should’ve been smooth sailing. But outlines weren’t the actual text. Facing the blank page, I still felt utterly lost.

The material I’d gathered from Yao Star Yan so far covered the heroine’s transition from “queen bee” to “timid lamb”—usually haughty, occasionally revealing a trace of cuteness. That part was fine. But how would she realize her feelings for the male lead later?

I had no clue. Yao Star Yan hadn’t been “conquered” yet—that’s why I hadn’t started writing. I’d scheduled that for the next six months.

Some might say, “Just write the early parts first!” But with so much uncertainty ahead, rushing in could create plot holes or character inconsistencies.

So no, my not writing isn’t just an excuse for laziness—probably.

No wonder Willow Ran, seeing her idolized author like this, felt compelled to intervene.

“Then think harder! Will lazing around magically give you ideas? At this rate, you’ll miss the deadline!”

How badly did this girl want my new book? This intense催稿 (cui gao—deadline pressure) didn’t suit her usual arrogant self. She reminded me of Elder Sister Liu Xin’s seriousness.

“I hear enough of that from your sister… Besides, even for my last few books, I only started writing right before the deadline. I always panicked about missing it, but in the end? Perfect results!”

I was fiercely proud of my signature skill: “finishing manuscripts on deadline day.”

“Heh heh, no worries… Willow Ran, in this industry, deadlines are just a string of numbers. Drag them out whenever possible! Obsessing over deadlines is like shackling yourself—terrible for creativity. Only an unfettered mind creates great work!”

I declared this nonsense with utter conviction.

Of course, I could afford to say it. Wasn’t I the “Rookie King”?

“You’re an idiot!”

My excuse instantly snapped Willow Ran back to her usual self.

“I actually thought it was kinda cool how quickly you decided on a new book! Turns out you’re still garbage! Hmph!”

“Uh… I am the author of your favorite books, you know…”

“Do you even want to write the ultimate unbeatable shoujo novel or not?!”

*That goal was forced on me by you—* I bit back the retort. Too rude to say aloud.

“O-of course I do… But there’s an old Chinese saying: ‘Rest up to conserve energy, wait leisurely for the opponent.’”

“You’ve stored up this much creative energy and still won’t *release* it?!”

Whoa—did I just hear something weird?

“Now I understand my sister’s suffering.”

“It’s not that bad… Hey, it’s almost lunchtime. I’ll treat you!”

Never hit a smiling face. Since Willow Ran was clearly fuming, I tried buttering her up with a grin.

“Lunch? Not a single word written, and you’re thinking about food?!”

Whoa—If Elder Sister Liu Xin acted like this, I’d have starved to death by now.

Seriously, such a hassle!

“I told you—I’ve got no ideas and no drive!”

“No ideas? Then brainstorm properly! And drive? What does that matter? Your job is writing novels! Stop slacking off—!”

Without warning—*smack!*

Willow Ran slapped me across the face.

*Sigh.* I’m used to it.

Holding my slightly stinging cheek, I realized: this girl had zero understanding of a writer’s craft. For both our sakes, she needed an education.

“You really know nothing!”

I shifted my energy, my气势 (qi shi—aura) suddenly overwhelming hers.

“For writers, the best move when uninspired is to write *nothing*! If even you find it boring, how can readers enjoy it?”

“T-then just try harder to write well…”

Our roles had flipped.

“How can forced writing ever match the spark of ‘I *have* to write this right now’? Anyone claiming they always write that way is an idiot! They’re sacrificing the chance to create something truly great!”

I thumped my chest, declaring this to Willow Ran with fiery conviction.

Clearly, she wilted.

First time ever in front of me.

After a long inner struggle—

“…So… lunch first?”

Perfect!

I’d completely bamboozled her!