Chapter 36: One More Person

After the afternoon class ended, Jiang Zheng returned to the dormitory and uploaded today’s updates. Then, he added an extra chapter for the Silver Alliance. He directly posted twenty thousand words, accompanied by words of gratitude to the benefactor.

After updating, Jiang Zheng checked his backend, where several private messages awaited him. Upon opening them, he found requests to manage operations. Without much thought, he granted access. The rest of the messages were inquiries about the reader group. Jiang Zheng felt hesitant about this; he still had reservations, so he ignored them for now. It was fine to go without a reader group for the moment, perhaps later.

After replying to a few comments, Jiang Zheng began writing. The Silver Alliance’s support that day gave him a tremendous boost, making him more motivated than ever.

A single Silver Alliance brought a surge of readers, increasing the popularity of Jiang Zheng’s novel. Both collections and serial readers grew significantly. Many came to take a look and left again. Everyone has their own preferences; Jiang Zheng’s novel wasn’t suited for everyone, so it was natural some wouldn’t like it.

With an operations manager, the comment section improved greatly. Malicious insults were deleted. Jiang Zheng didn’t set any thresholds for commenting; as long as the remarks were rational, he welcomed them. Whether positive or negative, he allowed all opinions, believing the comment section shouldn’t be exclusively filled with praise. Critical or unfavorable comments were permitted as long as they weren’t malicious.

He hadn’t forgotten that when he first wrote this book, it stemmed from expressing critical opinions in another book’s comment section. If he could voice his thoughts, others certainly could as well—there was nothing to argue about.

The operations manager once suggested deleting all negative comments and setting a threshold, which would make the comment section appear much more favorable. Jiang Zheng felt this was unnecessary; novels were written for everyone to read. Whether someone liked it or not was a matter of personal taste—no book could please everyone. Purely discussing the novel, he saw no reason to delete comments.

Recommendations for Jiang Zheng’s novel never ceased. Each channel brought more readers, rapidly boosting its popularity. With his superb writing and engaging plot, the novel’s monthly votes steadily increased. Its ranking rose as well, now breaking into the top three hundred.

This ranking meant the novel was still invisible on the monthly vote chart. As a newcomer with a debut work and no prior audience, reaching this level was already remarkable. Yet Jiang Zheng felt a slight urgency; he only had three months to complete his task, with just over two months remaining. His book had the potential to become popular, but hadn’t caught fire yet. Despite the Silver Alliance, favorable reviews, growing collections, and votes, his foundation remained thin.

At that moment, final exams began. During the exam period, Jiang Zheng focused mostly on his studies, dedicating only a small amount of time each day to writing—just a thousand or two words, enough to maintain his momentum. Previous drafts kept his daily updates steady, so there was no risk of missing or reducing chapters.

The exams didn’t last long. Once over, everyone packed their bags for the summer break, each with their own plans. Some chose to go home, others to find summer jobs, and some to participate in “Boys and Girls Charge Forward.”

Jiang Zheng and Zhou Quanyi were among those heading for “Boys and Girls Charge Forward.”

“Fourth, are you all packed? Our flight’s tonight,” Zhou Quanyi said.

The show was being recorded out of province, so they had to travel. The question of transportation sparked a lively debate. Jiang Zheng initially advocated for the high-speed rail—fast, comfortable, and affordable. He’d earned ten thousand from playing piano last time, but hadn’t planned to spend extravagantly, still preferring to save where possible.

Zhou Quanyi favored flying, arguing it was faster and saved time. While high-speed rail wasn’t slow, it couldn’t match the speed of a plane.

Both held their ground until Zhou Quanyi said something that changed Jiang Zheng’s mind: “Flying saves a lot of time. With that extra time, you could earn back what you spent. Buying time with money is the best deal.”

This difference stemmed from their upbringing. Zhou Quanyi’s perspective was shaped by his environment. In the past, Jiang Zheng wouldn’t have agreed, but now he thought things through. High-speed rail took several hours more. Those hours would be spent on the train, unable to do much—no exercising, no writing. Though the train was steady enough for writing, Jiang Zheng suffered from motion sickness and couldn’t look at a screen for long.

He also didn’t want to reveal too much. When writing, his system’s temporary skills made his typing so fast it nearly smoked the keyboard. With Zhou Quanyi nearby, many things would be hard to explain.

Saving those hours meant more time for writing and earning. With this realization, Jiang Zheng agreed to Zhou Quanyi’s suggestion.

They bought their plane tickets. Zhou Quanyi originally intended to pay for both, knowing Jiang Zheng’s family situation—not poor, but not wealthy, just ordinary. The ticket cost over a thousand, a considerable expense for Jiang Zheng. Zhou Quanyi didn’t mind the money, planning to cover Jiang Zheng’s costs, especially since it was his idea to participate and covering travel and lodging was a small matter for him.

Jiang Zheng declined the offer, insisting on paying his own way. This trip was also for completing his own task, and he was capable, so there was no need to rely on others.

Unable to persuade him, Zhou Quanyi agreed.

“All packed,” Jiang Zheng said, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

Zhou Quanyi stood beside him with his own backpack. Both traveled light, bringing only a few changes of clothes—short sleeves and shorts, hardly taking up any space. Besides clothes, they each carried a laptop, easy enough to stow in their packs.

Guys always preferred simplicity, especially when traveling; the fewer items, the better.

They walked to the school gate, where Jiang Zheng was about to hail a taxi to the airport.

“Wait a moment,” Zhou Quanyi said.

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” Jiang Zheng asked.

“No, there’s someone else,” Zhou Quanyi replied.