Chapter 12: Fengxing Is About to Suffer Social Death
Between the lines of Meng Xingchong’s words there was only one meaning: as long as Song Wenlan was willing to write, they could sign the contract even if her current word count wasn’t enough.
This was an editor willing to bend the rules for a good story.
That was Song Wenlan’s first impression of Meng Xingchong; her second was that he was clever.
She was only two thousand words short of the required count. Anyone who had seen her updates knew two thousand words was nothing to her — she could make it up in a day after signing.
So Meng Xingchong wasn’t handing out freebies; he was showing an attitude.
Song Wenlan smiled and exited the message.
She wouldn’t reply right now — she’d finish the remaining words first, then respond.
After leaving her private messages, Song Wenlan began reading the novel’s comments.
The moment she opened the novel page she was startled by the current stats.
There were over seven thousand bookmarks — nearly eight thousand!
How many had there been when she last stopped updating? It seemed like only a few dozen.
Song Wenlan felt a little baffled. How had the bookmark count exploded like this?
After studying it for a few minutes she pieced together what had happened, and when she understood she couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.
Who would have thought?
All she’d done was miss one update, and because those readers couldn’t see new chapters they felt aggrieved and actually went to the forum to draw in more readers!
Now the comments under the book were all begging for updates.
[Author, I’m a “star thief” — if you don’t update soon I’ll come rob your drafts box.]
[Author, I can’t sleep. I want to see the next plot. Can you still sleep?]
[Got drawn over here by a forum post. Even though I now know it was a scheme by the old readers, I’m still glad I found this book. So… does that make me a shameless person?]
Of course, what made Song Wenlan happiest was realizing from these comments that readers seemed quite receptive to the concept of the demon race.
Some readers remarked that the demon race felt like a fantasy species but was interesting. Others said the book’s background felt rather ancient, with many elements like antiques, which made it fun to read. However, one of them admitted he didn’t quite understand what a gas stove was.
Seeing that, Song Wenlan once again felt that adding annotations was definitely necessary.
After reading through all the comments, she was full of motivation as she opened her author’s backend and began writing the continuation.
At that moment, within the net-insect community—
Meng Xingchong stared at the chat window with a tangled expression.
What did it mean that Great Zao Si had read his message but not replied? Did she not want to update? Or not want to sign the contract?
Or perhaps… she already had an editor she wanted to sign with?
Meng Xingchong glanced furtively at his colleagues. They were all connected to the light-brains with their silken threads, none showing any unusual reaction.
Great Zao Si probably hadn’t signed with any editor yet, Meng Xingchong thought. If she had signed with him, he’d definitely be so excited he’d be jumping around.
And so he fell into another round of inner turmoil.
The only good news for him was that Great Zao Si had finally shown up. Maybe, just maybe, he’d see an update soon!
Meng Xingchong knew Song Wenlan had logged in to her author account, but Fengxing and Yumo didn’t.
They were busy attending a matchmaking gathering in the Snake Clan.
Before the gathering began, all the unmarried men and women of the Snake Clan gathered at the chief’s house, waiting for the chief to announce the event.
When Yumo appeared, no one was surprised. Ever since he’d first felt the stirrings of springtime desire, he had attended the matchmaking gathering every single year.
His presence was something the tribe was already used to.
But what shocked them was that the chief’s son—Fengxing, who had always resisted marriage—had shown up as well!
The young snakefolk who came couldn’t help glancing at Fengxing.
Among the male youths of the tribe, Fengxing was a formidable rival.
Setting aside his status, even just his hunting ability alone was something few could surpass.
The young men looked at Fengxing, and a spark of competitiveness began to burn in their eyes.
The young women, on the other hand, were more focused on why Fengxing had come.
Could it be that he already had someone he liked?
The female snakefolk swarmed, but not toward Fengxing—they crowded around Yumo instead.
As for why not Fengxing, his cold face said it all: the words “keep your distance” were practically carved onto his features.
Yumo, on the other hand, looked much more approachable.
Still, Yumo had already promised to keep Fengxing’s secret. No matter who came asking, he wouldn’t say a word. All he would tell them was that Fengxing didn’t have anyone he fancied yet, so anyone interested could give it a try.
Not only the young women—even the tribe chief himself was curious about the change in his son.
And so, Yumo was directly summoned to the chief’s side.
The stern old man sat at the highest seat. His long blue-green hair was gathered into a small braid. His eyes were narrow and, when slightly arched, gave him the look of someone not to be trusted.
Yumo faced the chief’s pressuring gaze and spread his hands helplessly.
“Chief, I really can’t say. I promised Fengxing I’d keep it a secret. Why don’t you go ask your son yourself?”
“It’s fine, you don’t need to say.”
The old man moved swiftly to Yumo’s side, gave him a smile, and quickly grabbed his arm.
Yumo was startled, but immediately realized what the chief was doing.
This branch of the chief’s lineage had a special ability of perception.
No matter what they touched, they could sense past events—before the chief, no secret could remain hidden.
Fengxing had never used this ability on him, so Yumo had let his guard down.
Before Yumo could pull away from the chief’s grasp, the old man had already let go, his face curling into a smile.
Because of his features, even his smile looked sinister.
“So that’s how it is. Why be embarrassed about this? Mating and reproduction have always been major matters in the tribe.” The old man spoke unhurriedly. “We beastmen have never shied away from such things. It’s only humans who look at these instincts with strange eyes.”
Yumo curled his lips. He didn’t care about opinions on humans; he only cared about one thing.
“Chief, this is something you found out yourself—it wasn’t me who said it. If Fengxing comes asking, don’t pin it on me,” Yumo quickly clarified.
“I know, don’t worry. Do you really think I’m someone who doesn’t understand the rules?” the old man replied helplessly.
Yumo muttered under his breath, “You understand them, sure… but you never exactly follow them.”
“All right, enough muttering there. Go on back—those beautiful young ladies are waiting for you.”
The old man waved him off.
Once Yumo had left, the chief began to think.
It was just a novel, yet it had such great power—enough to awaken that slow-witted son of his. If he spread this novel throughout the whole tribe, could it perhaps bring about better results for the tribe’s reproduction?
