I am not a literary giant

Chapter 97 Dance! Dance! Dance!

"The script has been stolen again?"

"Yeah, we got hacked again, but this time it wasn't some idiot on our side who sent it by hand. It was someone from our rivals who infiltrated and stole it."

Ye Lan blushed slightly: "It's no fun talking about the past! Tell me the specifics, how did the rivals operate? What kind of undercover agent?"

The trouble originated from a chaotic order given by Manager Zhong Susu of "Qingyan" that she instructed Qiu Ze to poach Prince Xu.

After pondering all night, the miserable working class in Ba suddenly realized: Isn't it much simpler to bring over the other party's work than to invite the other party's people over?

So he did just that. He packaged up all the scripts from The Little Prince throughout history, and sent them to the group of "Light Talk" core speech therapists under the guise of learning materials for their reference.

Ye Lan gritted her teeth: "Sue them!"

Zuo Ziliang smiled wryly: "The legal process is already underway, but don't get your hopes up too high. It's going to be difficult to prove they plagiarized; this could be a protracted lawsuit."

Ye Lan asked, "Did you find the undercover agent?"

"We found him, but even if we eliminate one of him, our speech therapist registration is open, and they can easily add another one."

Ye Lan said, "Then we'll only distribute the scripts to the core speech therapists, and we won't make them public."

"That's right, in order to prevent them from plagiarizing, we'll cut ourselves first."

"What are we going to do then!" Ye Lan exclaimed anxiously. "Are we just going to sit and wait for them to copy us? Then they'll turn around and accuse us of being the copycats!"

Zuo Ziliang stared at her for a while, then suddenly laughed for no apparent reason.

"What are you laughing at?"

"In fact, they've already been doing it. Look at the latest ratings for our app."

Ye Lan took his phone and glanced at it, and immediately felt a tightness in her chest and shortness of breath, even her breasts felt blocked.

[Sisters who came for "The Little Prince," please beware! Insider information: "The Little Prince" isn't actually a one-person operation, but a team. This team recently had a falling out and split up, with the core writer leaving for a competitor. Therefore, both companies are now using the same scripts. Sisters, be careful! Don't buy from unreliable sources, or you'll become an accomplice!]

Comment reply: [Thanks for pointing this out, sister. Which publisher are you referring to? I'd like to support the official version.]

Comment reply: [It's the first one recommended in the app store, but I'm sorry I can't say the name, otherwise the system will mark it as GG.]

Ye Lan pounded her chest and handed the phone back to Zuo Ziliang:

"Quick! Think of a way to make Qingyan go bankrupt! I can't take it anymore!"

Zuo Ziliang spread his hands: "I'd like to."

Ye Lan lay on the sofa rubbing her chest, then looked up and said, "I'll go and maintain the community and try to manage public opinion. You contact the app store officials to see if they can delete this rumor-mongering comment... Who are you calling?"

Zuo Ziliang said, "The Little Prince."

Ye Lan walked over and hung up his phone.

"Why are you calling him? He's focused on his creative work, don't disturb him."

Zuo Ziliang looked up at her in surprise: "I called him to tell him to focus more on his creative work. Qingyan has more channels and funding than us. Before we win our lawsuit, if we want to survive using the same tactics, we must continue to expand our production capacity and keep piling on new scripts, otherwise we'll really become a copycat!"

Ye Lan stamped her foot: "But Prince Xu has already reached his limit!"

Zuo Ziliang raised his eyebrows: "Ye Lan, you weren't like this before. What, have you finally fallen for the Little Prince's charm?"

Ye Lan turned her head away: "Don't talk nonsense. Have you been to the base? Given Wang Zixu's condition, I wouldn't be surprised if he was urinating blood. Let's just leave it as it is. If his health collapses, we're all doomed."

Zuo Ziliang picked up the telephone and took it to his seat, continuing to dial the number without flinching.

"It would be good if you two could deepen your relationship, but it's best not to let it affect your work. You really need to tell him about this."

"Is it really okay for you to exploit him like this?"

"Creators can only be reborn through exploitation."

"You don't mean you want to exploit him to death first, do you?"

"The Little Prince is stronger than you think."

……

After listening to Zuo Ziliang's explanation over the phone, Wang Zixu remained calm and nodded, saying, "...Okay, I understand...Alright. No problem."

After hanging up the phone, he glanced at the scriptwriters: "We need to double our script output today. And we will continue to do so in the future."

"Huh?" the lost believer opened his mouth.

Prince Xu said, "I know what you're going to say, and I know what you're thinking, but don't ask why, and don't disobey orders, or you'll be eliminated."

The poet chewed gum and casually remarked, "Yesterday it was four thousand words, today it's eight thousand? No big deal. I've written even more outrageous word counts when I was serializing two books at the same time."

"Hey!" The lost believer turned to look at her. "That's your special talent, okay!"

Cheng Xing lowered his head and wrote in his notebook: "It's said that 'Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out' was written at an average rate of 10,000 words per day. What right do we have to make excuses?"

Sakura-chan clasped her fists together: "So you're saying that since some people are born with extraordinary talents, why can't it be me, right?"

Xiao Ba nodded: "The first rule of the Wen'ai Club is that everything Teacher Little Prince says is a rule. Enough said, my machine spirit is already awakening."

"That's rule number six, okay?"

After finishing his rant, the believer smiled faintly, closed his eyes like Lelouch, and placed a finger between his eyebrows, saying:

"Well, since you're all all fired up, I'm not going to pretend anymore. I'll just have to show you my true strength."

Before he could finish speaking, everyone dispersed. Sakura patted him on the shoulder and said, "I know you're under a lot of pressure, but if you act too childish, it'll be a bit awkward, bro."

"..."

Wang Zixu returned to his computer and adjusted the target word count he had set from "4000 words" to "8000 words". The second he clicked "OK", Sartre reappeared.

"If you put so much pressure on yourself, will you even make it to the Xihe Literary Society's essay contest? There's only…" Sartre glanced down at his watch, "...and the deadline is in two days!"

Prince Xu said, "Write it as is."

"Are you really risking your life?"

The Little Prince appeared across the table: "Sometimes you have to risk your life. If you don't, life will take you by the nose."

Sartre said, "The key question is, for whom are you playing? If you're risking your life for the sake of others' opinions, isn't that torture?"

The Little Prince scoffed and said, "Only someone like you, living in a high-welfare society, would care about that. Living here, living in the West River, isn't every day torture?"

"Zhang Qian, Gou Yingbiao, Shen Qingfeng, those bitches, the moment you show the slightest bit of interest, they'll come and strangle you. This is just another opponent for them. What can you do? You only have your life!"

Sartre fell silent and lit his pipe in quiet contemplation.

The Little Prince, however, had no intention of stopping. He continued, "Have you seen Saint Seiya? Seiya was lying on the ground, dying, and told Athena, 'Goddess, I can't do anything for you; I have nothing left.' Athena said, 'How can you have nothing left? You still have life!'"

The Little Prince looked at Prince Xu and said, "We have never had anything, we were born with only a worthless life, what can we do?"

Sartre's face was shrouded in smoke as he said, "You East Asians' involutionary behavior always confuses me."

The little prince said, "Do you still have a pipe? I'd like to try it too."

Sartre conjured one out of thin air and handed it to him.

The two took turns puffing on cigarettes at the dining table, one after the other, filling the restaurant with a fragrant, ethereal atmosphere.

Wang Zixu said, "There's a scene in 'Norwegian Wood' that I don't remember very clearly. Can you help me recall it? When Watanabe and Nagasawa parted ways, Nagasawa gave Watanabe some advice. What was one of them again?"

"Do not pity yourself; pity yourself is the act of a coward," the Little Prince prompted. "Is that it?"

"It's this sentence."

"What do you have to be pitied for?" the little prince said. "Is it because your parents are divorced? Or because your father is mentally unstable? Or because your girlfriend betrayed you, or because you haven't received an award for nine years?"

Sartre said, "Stop talking, or I'll start crying."

The Little Prince flicked his pipe at him: "Only a soft-hearted old white man like you would pity you. Who cares about you anyway?"

He leaned closer, blowing smoke onto Wang Zixu's face: "Remember, a middle-aged man who has accomplished nothing is the most pathetic creature in the world. He is seen as a competitor by men and a money-making machine by women. He has neither the exemption from making mistakes that young people have, nor the burden of the heaviest responsibilities. If he makes one wrong step, he will become the laughingstock of the world."

"Zuo Ziliang is right, you must keep dancing, because no one appreciates your dancing anyway. While you still have the energy to squeeze out as much as you can, make the most of it, this might be your last chance..."

"That's enough." Prince Xu stood up unsteadily.

The little prince glanced at Sartre: "Did I go a bit too far just now?"

"Who knows? I don't understand the spiritual world of you East Asians. Don't you have that Bushido thing?"

"Get lost! Bushido is a Japanese thing, I'm Chinese."

Prince Xu walked towards the restroom: "Shut up, I'm just going to pee."

After saying that, he turned and smiled, "How could my pride be hurt by something so trivial? Who do you think I am?"

The Little Prince and Sartre stared at him. They didn't know how he was defining himself this time.

"I am a man who still has 50 more chances to win the Nobel Prize in Literature."

"Good luck," Sartre said, "though I declined the prize."

The little prince slapped him: "Couldn't you just let him finish his act properly?"

Wang Zixu didn't argue with them. He just smiled to himself, went into the bathroom, loosened his belt, and his mind was still preoccupied with the script and the novel.

The fluid in his body was expelled, the pressure on his bladder was relieved, and he breathed a sigh of relief. But when he looked down, he found that the blue toilet bowl was covered in dark red.

He swayed and fell to the ground.

(End of this chapter)