Chapter 97: The Hope of the Web Novel Innovation Department

Su Chen opened the chat window and was immediately greeted by a slew of anxious messages urging him on.

“Dear author, is everything alright on your end? Is something happening? Do you need any help?”

“Dear author, why have you stopped updating? Your book is performing so well right now—you need to keep up consistent updates!”

“Dear author, why did you kill off Bi Yao? The comment section is in turmoil! This is a huge risk!”

“Dear author, your stats are exploding! The data has gone through the roof! You need to update faster!”

“Dear author, after the editorial team's assessment, we think your book shows great potential. I've already applied for a featured spot for you. Could you leave a contact number so we can communicate more easily?”

“Dear author, your novel is fantastic. I’m planning to request a recommendation slot for you from management.”

“...”

Ever since the first update of "Zhu Xian," Su Chen had always uploaded his chapters immediately after writing them, rarely ever glancing at the comment section. He had never checked the site's internal messages. Though the book initially had very few readers, he remained confident in this legendary work from his previous life. Thus, he paid little attention to the numbers.

He never expected, however, that his neglect would lead him to miss so many messages from the editors—a realization that left him somewhat embarrassed.

“Hello, Editor. My apologies; I’m not very familiar with this software, and today is the first time I've seen these messages,” he wrote. “I’ve been busy lately and haven’t had time to write. Now that I have more free time, I might be able to write more. Also, thank you for applying for the recommendation slot on my behalf.”

He felt he owed the editors his thanks—the book's surge in popularity owed much to their efforts.

After sending his reply, he was about to close the software when a new message arrived almost immediately.

“Ah, we finally got in touch with you!”

In the capital, at the headquarters of Singularity Fiction Network, a petite figure suddenly let out a startled cry. Everyone in the office turned to look. The young woman’s cheeks flushed, and she hastily waved her hand in apology.

“Wu Qianqian, what are you doing?”

The door to the adjacent office swung open, revealing a slightly balding man with a stern expression. His voice was laced with clear dissatisfaction.

“Editor-in-chief, I’m sorry—I just...”

“This is a work area, and it’s office hours. No matter the reason, shouting is unacceptable.”

Wu Qianqian quickly agreed, then meekly added, “Yes, Editor-in-chief, I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time. But just now, I managed to contact the author of ‘Zhu Xian’!”

Before she had finished speaking, a loud exclamation rang out.

“What?”

“You got in touch with him?”

A rotund figure flashed past and appeared in front of Wu Qianqian with startling agility. He was breathing heavily, his voice urgent.

“Where? What did he say? Let me see!”

His sudden transformation left the office in silence. But having occupied the editor-in-chief’s seat for years, he was unfazed—his thick skin impervious to embarrassment. He pressed Wu Qianqian for updates with a steady face and unflustered heart.

Wu Qianqian hurriedly opened the chat history. Colleagues who had caught wind of the situation gathered around. The fame of “Zhu Xian” was well-known among them; nearly everyone had read the book, and most were fans. Eager to know the upcoming plot, they understood the author’s importance to their department. Yet the author remained elusive, never showing himself. Now, with this rare close contact, they naturally crowded in for the excitement.

Under the editor-in-chief’s guidance, Wu Qianqian typed out a message.

“It’s been hard to reach you. May I have a chance to chat with you for a while?”

Su Chen considered it—after all, they had helped him a lot, arranging recommendation slots without even contacting him first. It felt wrong to refuse, so he replied.

“Of course. If you have any questions, ask away—I’ll answer them one by one.”

His reply left the Singularity Fiction Network editorial staff momentarily stunned. His tone sounded like a celebrity fielding questions from reporters—strangely formal. But given he was their most promising potential star author, they rationalized it to themselves.

Yes, a star writer! A little distance is normal!

“I’d like to ask about your plans for the book’s future—about how many words do you expect to write? Do you have drafts saved up? Is the plot already outlined? Any specific update schedule?”

Su Chen smiled and shook his head. As expected, these were the editors’ chief concerns.

“I plan to write about one million words for this book. I don’t have any drafts saved yet, but the plot is already mapped out in my head—I can write it at any time!”

Wu Qianqian and the others in the editorial department were delighted by his answer. With the plot planned, he intended to continue writing. The book currently had less than half a million words, and with a plan for more than a million, it meant it was not even halfway through. This was a tremendous piece of good news!

Their greatest fear was that Su Chen would abandon the story, wasting such a strong foundation. Now, knowing he intended to continue—and with plenty left to write—they were overjoyed.

There would be at least another half a million words to come. They could truly invest in promoting the book now.

As the innovation department of Singularity Fiction Network, their goal was to catch the latest trends in online fiction and discover new genres. On the surface, this seemed promising, but only they knew how difficult innovation really was. Creating a new genre required time and validation from a legendary book, but such masterpieces were rare. Moreover, a long novel took at least a year to finish—a huge investment of time.

Their department had produced nothing for nearly a year and was on the brink of desperation. Then, by chance, Wu Qianqian discovered “Zhu Xian”—a novel in the immortal fantasy genre, one that had never existed before. The writing style and emotional depth were exceptional, and the structure was impressive. A star author in the making!

The editorial team had been so excited they held a meeting for half a day, discussing how to operate and promote the book. But when it came time to execute, they couldn’t reach the author. Worse, the author stopped updating. Such a promising opportunity threatened to stall over a minor obstacle. Because of this, the editor-in-chief had always harbored doubts about Wu Qianqian’s abilities, visible from his attitude earlier.

Only now, with Su Chen’s reply, did they see hope again.

“Regarding future updates, will you have time to maintain a regular schedule?”

“No.”

Everyone in the editorial department held their breath. So direct? Not even an excuse?

“I often have unexpected obligations that take up my time, so I can’t guarantee regular updates. But if I have time, I’ll write more.”

Phew!

The group sighed in relief. At least he wasn’t planning to abandon the book.

Then, with input from the many strategists present, Wu Qianqian and Su Chen continued their conversation, discussing not just promotion but also plot details. Su Chen patiently answered each question. The chat lasted more than half an hour, until no further questions remained.

“All right, then. Let’s proceed as discussed today. I’ll continue updating as I have time. If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to me.”

Seeing that Su Chen was about to log off, the editor-in-chief urgently nudged Wu Qianqian’s arm.

“Quick, ask him to leave his contact information!”