The moment I stepped out of the classroom, I spotted Wenxue Society president Gong Xinyan waiting right outside my door.

I spun around to retreat inside.

"W-wait! Why run away the second you see me?!"

She grabbed the back of my collar and yanked hard, refusing to let go.

"Let go already… *cough cough* Why won’t you leave me alone? You already beat me up once!"

Her grip choked my neck. I coughed, straining toward the classroom like we were locked in a tug-of-war at the doorway.

Finally, overpowered by her strength, I surrendered: "Fine! Just loosen your grip first."

"Swear you won’t bolt again—or I won’t go easy on you!"

"Got it, I won’t run!"

She huffed and released me.

*Cough cough.*

I rubbed my throat, catching my breath. When I looked up, today’s Gong Xinyan seemed… off.

Dark circles ringed her eyes like a panda’s. Her face was pale. The dress she wore was crumpled—clearly unironed that morning—and her hair was a messy tangle. She clutched a stack of manuscript pages, neatly clipped with a cute binder.

I straightened my shirt, now stretched a size too big from her tugging. Annoyed, I glared at her: "What do you want *this* time?"

She thrust the manuscript at me, eyes blazing, lips puffed out. Her voice came out thick and nasal: "Hmph."

Under her stare, I felt like a rabbit pinned by a hawk—my heart hammered.

"This is my new novel. I stayed up all night writing it. This time… it’ll definitely satisfy you!"

Her tone brimmed with stubborn confidence.

I took the pages, eyeing her shadowed eyes. "Pulling an all-nighter? Trying to become an immortal cultivator?"

"Tch. Only thirty hours without sleep. Nothing at all!"

*Thirty hours… Do you want tomorrow’s headlines to read "High School Girl Drops Dead After Novel Writing Marathon"?*

I skimmed the hundred-plus pages. Roughly 300-400 words per sheet… Had she really cranked out 30,000 words overnight?

Impressive. I could never.

Gong Xinyan shoved the manuscript into my hands. "Read it. I’ll come back next class."

"Uh… no need."

In those few seconds of talking, I’d already flipped through the opening pages. I knew exactly what kind of story this was.

"What?! Read it *properly*! Skimming ruins my whole night’s work!" She jabbed a finger. "I checked—you have self-study next. Finish it. I’ll collect your feedback during the long break."

Before I could protest, she dumped the manuscript on me and dashed off.

Since senior and junior classes were in separate buildings, she had to beat the warning bell to reach her classroom.

Watching her retreating back, I held the manuscript.

*She knows it’s bad… That’s why she won’t let me give feedback right now.*

Ugh. Fine. To avoid getting pummeled by this freakishly strong girl, I’d better brainstorm some gentle criticism.

…

During self-study, I finally read Gong Xinyan’s novel properly. This time, she’d actually listened to my last advice—she’d cut all the convoluted worldbuilding.

Set in ancient times, it told of a scholar who nursed an injured fox spirit back to health… only for her to transform into a woman and marry him.

Cliché? Absolutely. But it was a clear improvement over last time—no more confusing nonsense.

Still… utterly boring.

*Saying that outright means instant death.*

Panic sweat beaded on my forehead. I could already picture Gong Xinyan sobbing while beating me senseless.

A shiver ran down my spine. I desperately searched for *anything* to praise—but her flowery prose was just empty showmanship. It only made the story harder to read, doing nothing to actually *tell* it well.

*Should I fake sick and go home?*

No. Too shameful. And I can’t hide forever.

My friend Wu Ze noticed my ashen face. "Brother! You look possessed by demons!"

*More like about to be beaten by one!*

I ignored him. No one could save me now.

The bell finally rang. Before I’d even crafted a believable lie, Gong Xinyan appeared at the door.

"Zong Jun. Outside. Now."

I trudged out, bracing myself.

Arms crossed, she stood sideways—but her eyes kept flicking toward me. "Finished reading? Your thoughts?"

"Well… I read it all…"

"And? What did you think?"

"It’s… kinda…"

*Lies stick in my throat.*

I chose my words carefully: "President, maybe try poetry or essays? They might suit your style better."

She bit her lip, glaring. "I asked for your thoughts on my *novel*."

"…"

My silence made her shoulders slump. She stared at the floor, voice small: "Still… not good enough?"

"Honestly? Better than last time. But…" I hesitated, then said it: "The story’s boring."

Before I finished, Gong Xinyan grabbed my collar with both hands. She was slightly shorter than me—any onlooker would think she was nestled in my arms.

*It’s not like that!* Terrified of her explosive strength, I instinctively covered my head and squeezed my eyes shut.

"You always say ‘boring’ or ‘messy’! Then show me *your* novel—the one that’s so ‘interesting’ and ‘well-structured’! Prove it!"

Her voice cracked with stubborn tears. She glared up at me, eyes glistening.

My heart lurched. *Too close… I can feel her chest against my shirt…*

Flustered, I turned away. "Okay, okay. Let go first."

She released me and stepped back.

I pulled out my phone, logged into the IF app, and opened my own novel—*Midnight Logbook*. I handed her the screen. "This is mine. It’s not great… but a few readers like it."

She took the phone, frowning at the title. "*Midnight Logbook*… Fine. I’ll read it properly."

She returned the phone and hurried off.

I sighed, shoving the phone into my pocket.

*Why does this always happen to me?*