Ever since the princess carry incident, Su Su had given Bai Su the cold shoulder at home. Half a month had passed like this.
Bai Su tried several times to win over his sulking sister. But each time he approached, Su Su’s scathing glare and her phone ready to dial 911 sent him scurrying back. He returned empty-handed every time.
He endured a week of instant noodles. Every burp reeked of braised beef flavor.
He simply couldn’t cook.
But Su Su could—and she was exceptionally skilled. Having lived as a thirty-year-old bachelor in her past life, she’d mastered divine culinary arts. Every dish she whipped up was fragrant enough to travel miles. Glowing dishes? Child’s play.
At mealtimes, Su Su prepared tiny, meticulously crafted portions: Kung Pao chicken, sour cabbage fish, cola-braised wings, sweet and sour ribs—all neatly arranged. Calm-faced, she sat across from Bai Su and began eating. She deliberately chewed loudly, single-handedly radiating the aura of a charging army.
The intense sounds and savory aromas were utterly captivating. They lingered long after the meal ended.
Bai Su could only sit opposite her, drooling over her dishes while miserably slurping his own braised beef… instant noodles.
This was no way to live. It would make any witness weep.
Countless times, Bai Su wanted to shamelessly sidle up for a bite. But Su Su’s icy, dismissive gaze always sent him retreating. He felt like a hamster cornered in its cage, pitifully nibbling peanuts.
Amidst their cold war, half a month slipped by quietly. Bai Su had typed nearly 100,000 words of drafts. They sat saved on his bedside computer’s hard drive.
Su Su had secretly watched him type daily, counting his words. When she calculated it was enough, she finally spoke to him. School started in another half month.
“How’s the typing going?”
Her first words were ice-cold and emotionless. Purely procedural. No warmth at all.
“Yes, ma’am!” Bai Su hammed it up, trying to ease the tension. “Reporting to Your Majesty, this humble servant has 130,000 words saved!”
But it was utterly useless.
Su Su shot him a cold glance, treating him like bulky, non-recyclable trash. “Let’s go. Time to publish.”
Without hesitation, she turned, opened his bedroom door, and walked in.
Well, Bai Su was trash—but at least somewhat useful trash.
“But she provoked me first!” Bai Su felt wronged. “Why must I grovel for forgiveness?”
True, Su Su had started it. But facts meant nothing now.
Women never needed logic. Before them, men were always wrong.
You could reason with them. They could choose to dump you without a second thought.
Sure, some women listened to reason. But pure, genuine ones were as rare as hen’s teeth.
Anyway, the wise Bai Su knew better than to provoke a sulking woman. He chose to cheer his sister up. He followed her into the room like an eager lackey.
Power on. Check desktop. Open document. Skim sample draft. Her movements were seamless—a true hero among otaku.
Bai Su watched in shock, questioning his own life.
What skills were these? He’d rarely seen Su Su use a computer.
He didn’t know about DNF, Dark Souls, Overwatch, or Blizzard games. He didn’t know his sister had once dominated Summoner’s Rift and StarCraft.
It was all Tokiomi’s fault.
Ignoring the kid behind her, Su Su skimmed the draft. She exhaled deeply. For the first time in half a month, she looked at Bai Su almost normally. She nodded. “Barely passable.”
In truth, it was far more. In this era—the web novel industry still a barren wasteland—this future-born, fully commercialized story had no real rivals.
If such a groundbreaking novel flopped, Su Su might as well bash her head against a wall.
This book was destined to usher in a new era. Though it lacked even a proper name.
Seeing Su Su finally acknowledge him, Bai Su was overjoyed. He didn’t mind his prized work called “barely passable.” Instantly, he wore an overexcited husky’s grin. “Su Su! You’re talking to me again! Wahhh…”
Su Su’s face darkened immediately. She turned away, ignoring him. She opened the IE browser from the desktop shortcut.
Bai Su felt an arrow pierce his heart.
Ouch, sis!
She opened Baidu, typed “Qidian Chinese Network,” searched, and clicked the first result. In 2008, Baidu lacked the insane ads from her past timeline. The results were relatively clean.
But the crappy PC specs and Windows XP annoyed Su Su. She was used to Windows 7 and 10.
She already missed her quad-Titan, water-cooled rig from before.
She hadn’t even had it long—damn it!
Frustrated but practiced, she navigated to Qidian’s login page. After logging in, she jumped to the author backend. She smoothly registered an account.
For the author ID…
Su Su thought briefly, then typed “Bai and Su.”
Confirmed. No duplicate ID. Confirmed again.
She reached the novel management section.
She turned to Bai Su, her expression darkening. She stood, stepped aside, and gestured for him to create the work.
“Huh?” Bai Su looked bewildered. “I… don’t know how.”
“…” Su Su almost called him an idiot. Then she remembered—he’d never touched web novels here. For half a month, he’d only typed as she instructed.
Guilt flickered in her. She forced a cold mask. Grinding her teeth inwardly, she clicked “create work.” She swiftly selected categories, pasted the prepared synopsis, uploaded the cover. The cursor stopped at the title field.
She hesitated. Reluctantly, she turned her head. “Title?”
Her tone held quiet resignation.
“The title?” Bai Su perked up. “How about ‘Divine Book’? Hahaha—awesome, right?”
Su Su paused, frowning slightly. Such a title was over the top. It’d attract haters.
Then she relaxed.
What to fear? She’d died and been reborn. Why fear criticism?
She was a reincarnator. What was there to fear?
Keys clattered softly. “Divine Book” appeared in the input box.
Su Su smiled enigmatically. She clicked the confirm button at the bottom.
Let’s go. Let her—the reincarnator—usher in the new era!
