Chapter 42: A Website Taking Shape

Saturday brought a shower to Linda University, washing away days of stifling heat.

Su Nai's auto-reply system was up and running on the site, and the test results were solid. Keyword triggers were spot-on, and the rainbow-fart comments didn't repeat too much—six or seven out of ten felt human enough.

Jiang Qin tossed the URL to Cao Guangyu without mentioning the bots, just telling him to try posting. Sure enough, that clown got hooked, thinking he was some king among men.

"Old Jiang, this site you gave me is freaking hilarious—damn fun!"

Cao Guangyu was hunched over his shiny new computer, hammering the keyboard like a maniac, grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Jiang Qin turned around, all casual. "What's so fun about it?"

"It's my first time flexing online, and I've never had so many people agree with me! Some girl even said she admires me. Gold shines anywhere, huh? And they don't even know I'm barely trying—I haven't even gone full throttle yet!"

"???"

Jiang Qin sneaked a peek at the admin backend. This guy had started a whole series called My Plain and Simple Rich Kid Life, flexing left and right.

He posted a pic of his Nokia 5230 with the caption: Total trash, no wonder it's only 3,000 yuan—so cheap. Can't even compare to the Vertu I've used.

Then he dropped a stock photo of a BMW 5 Series: Gonna buy a car after training. Torn between a BMW, Benz, or Chevy. Family says go straight for a Porsche, but I think that's too flashy—might ruin my down-to-earth vibe.

Those posts hit a jackpot of keywords, triggering a flood of bot praise: Bro, you're so hot! So jealous of your life! Such literary flair—must be a poet's heir! Cao Guangyu got high on the fumes, replying to the bots, hitting more triggers, and soaking in fresh waves of flattery.

By the end of the loop, he'd convinced himself he'd found the meaning of life.

Ren Ziqiang watched from behind, green with envy. The site only had a PC version for now, so he couldn't join in, which bummed him out.

"People on here talk so nice, Old Jiang. When's the mobile version dropping? I wanna play too."

"Soon—tomorrow or the day after."

Jiang Qin eyed the two of them, marveling inside. My little dorm's got both a hidden dragon and a baby phoenix—chatting up auto-replies like it's a party. Unbeatable. Freaking unbeatable.

But it proved his hunch was right: auto-replies could fake a buzz, especially early on when real users were scarce. The effect was damn good.

By 10 a.m., the rain kept pattering, cooling Linda down to a crisp, comfy chill.

Jiang Qin was scrubbing socks when an email from Yao Yanling of the Literature Club popped into his inbox. Attached was a novel called Lone City—a story about a girl with loneliness syndrome who, with her class's encouragement, gets into a top university.

The first 10,000 words were all narration, Yao Yanling waxing poetic about how lonely this girl was—down to writing, Even her eyelashes smell of loneliness.

Ten yuan per thousand words—100 bucks for that chunk.

She wants 100 bucks for this?

Should I just call the cops?

This is straight-up robbery!

"Senior, the writing's really solid. Even a layman like me can feel the loneliness."

"Thanks for the praise, Junior. So, ten yuan per thousand, yeah? I'm cutting you a deal."

"But Senior, my site's a tacky, lowbrow gig. It can't handle something this high-class."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Can you switch genres? Skip the inspirational stuff—give me some juicy, trashy drama. Love triangles, cheating, that kinda thing. That's what we wanna see."

"Junior, you don't get literature at all. I misjudged you!"

Yao Yanling fired back, then her avatar went gray—she'd logged off.

Jiang Qin didn't give a damn. His site, like Weibo, thrived on bite-sized reads. Novels were a nice bonus, but no big loss without them.

Still, he worried a bit. Yao Yanling was the Literature Club president—what if this soured their content deal? His site couldn't just run on Cao Guangyu's flex posts, right?

But half an hour later, Dong Wenhao called, saying the first batch of drafts was ready and asking if he could check them out. Jiang Qin threw on some clothes and hauled ass to East Campus.

·Accidentally Crossed the Line with My Bestie—What Do I Do?

·Boyfriend Graduated First: My Journey from Long-Distance to Breakup

·First Time at a Hotel with My Girlfriend—Got Some Thoughts, Should I Say Them?

·Ex Caught a Cold, I Went to Help, Now My Current Wants to Dump Me?

·What's It Like Dating a School Beauty? 100% Real!

The Literature Club submitted 20 pieces. After Jiang Qin's thorough review, only eight passed muster.

Dong Wenhao looked embarrassed, rambling about how it was their first shot at this kind of writing, still getting the hang of it, but the pass rate would climb with time.

Jiang Qin waved it off and pulled 150 yuan from his wallet, handing it over.

"Didn't just eight make the cut? Six bucks each—that's 48."

"First batch, good or bad, I'm taking them all. It's to spark some motivation. Cash in hand right away—they'll think I'm a generous boss. Plus, it'll boost your clout in the club, make things smoother down the line."

Dong Wenhao took the money, his expression a mess. "Bro, your family's in business, right?"

Jiang Qin stuffed his wallet back. "Nah, just a plain-backgrounded, drop-dead gorgeous guy."

"…"

Dong Wenhao pocketed the cash, hesitated, then spoke up. "Senior Yanling's been pissed all day, saying you don't get literature. Trouble with the novel?"

"Not a huge deal. It's decent—all pretty Chinese characters—but put together, it's just not fun. Weird as hell." Jiang Qin shrugged.

"So, your site still taking novels?"

"I'd like to, but good ones are rare. I'm running a business, not a charity."

Dong Wenhao paused, then fished another draft from his bag. "What about this? Worth taking?"

Jiang Qin took it skeptically. Titled You're the Hue of Mortal Fireworks, he skimmed a couple pages and frowned, impressed. "This has chops—hits the sweet spots, super addictive. Who wrote this? Why'd you hide it?"

"A former member, Shi Miaomiao."

"Former?"

"Senior Yanling chewed her out 'til she quit. Said her writing had no soul, told her not to waste time here."

"Seven bucks per thousand. Daily updates, copyright's mine. If she agrees, I'll take it."

Mid-talk, the clubroom door swung open. Yao Yanling strode in, froze when she saw Jiang Qin, then ignored him with a stone-cold face.

She'd liked him at first, but not anymore. To her, Jiang Qin was just a philistine who didn't get literature.

She grabbed a pair of colorful flags from the room's right side and stormed out without a backward glance.

"Don't mind her. That's just how she is—can't stand anyone dissing her work," Dong Wenhao said, covering for her.

Jiang Qin waved it off. "Senior's a dreamer—gotta respect that. Me? I've just got a few measly bucks."

"…"