Chapter Eleven: Each Follows Their Own Path

The next day, as soon as he arrived at school, Yu Zhe anxiously asked whether the outline was ready. Zhao Zejun didn't hand it over immediately, saying it still needed some refinement.

All day, Yu Zhe was distracted. After school, Zhao Zejun finally handed him two pages of notes.

“You were too impatient. I wrote these drafts during class, so there’s only this much for now. Take it, write this section according to the outline, and publish it to see how people react,” Zhao Zejun said, giving Yu Zhe only two pages, enough to write over a hundred thousand words.

“That's plenty,” Yu Zhe replied, grabbing the pages and reading them straight away.

At first glance, seeing the novel’s title, Yu Zhe was dumbfounded.

What?

I Am a Thug?

“Is there a problem?” Zhao Zejun asked knowingly.

“This novel’s title…” Yu Zhe was careful not to upset Zhao Zejun and spoke gently, “Isn't it a bit... ‘odd’? Who makes a thug the protagonist? Who would like a thug?”

He was quite talented; the other day, Zhao Zejun had explained how online novels must consider readers’ feelings—write what readers like. Today, that insight came in handy.

“See, there's the intrigue. Readers will wonder, how can the protagonist be a thug? They won’t be able to resist checking it out,” Zhao Zejun replied.

“Hmm? Why is it that every time you talk me into something, it always sounds so reasonable?” Yu Zhe thought about it and realized it made sense, so he patiently continued reading the outline.

By the time he finished the first page, Yu Zhe was completely absorbed in the story.

This thug protagonist, though living in the underworld, did things that made one's blood boil with excitement. He was reminiscent of those heroes in gangster films—loyal, principled, decisive, and resourceful.

Such a thug was nothing like the schoolyard bullies who smoked, fought, and extorted pocket money at the gate. Instead, he had the flavor of an outlaw hero.

Yu Zhe dared not speak for the readers, but he felt he genuinely liked this character.

In just two pages, a series of captivating plot twists unfolded. One could imagine that, once written as a novel, it would be utterly compelling.

“Oh, remember to write in the first person,” Zhao Zejun added.

“First person? Me?” Yu Zhe paused. Nowadays, online novels were heavily influenced by traditional literature, so hardly any used first person.

Writing a novel wasn’t writing a memoir. Besides, using ‘I’ meant the protagonist was the author himself, didn’t it?

“I can’t fully explain the reason yet. Just start writing. When you’ve written tens of thousands of words, I’ll talk to you about immersion,” Zhao Zejun said mysteriously.

As it turned out, Zhao Zejun didn’t need to say more. After writing only a few thousand words, Yu Zhe already felt what ‘immersion’ meant.

“A row of underlings greeted me respectfully...

Although I’m a senior in high school, I never once thought about college. With my grades, even a third-rate university wouldn’t want me. Better to start my own business early in society...

”

Even a third-rate university wouldn’t take me… Wasn’t that a perfect picture of his own academic performance?

In reality, Yu Zhe wasn’t popular. Apart from Zhao Zejun, no one truly considered him a friend. But deep down, who didn’t wish to command a crowd? To be surrounded by classmates, idolized like a star?

Not just Yu Zhe; any high school student, even adults, who doesn’t long to shine in public, to become the center of attention? Otherwise, why would so many people show off and flaunt their wealth?

Everyone needs a sense of presence!

Using the first-person ‘I’ in his writing, Yu Zhe found himself completely immersed in the novel, as if the protagonist were himself.

“Boss Zhao is a genius. He used to be so quiet, but his mind is so sharp? To think of this!

Hmm, now I’m a boss too, no worse than Zhao Zejun!”

Yu Zhe’s greatest flaw was letting success go to his head. Once he identified with the protagonist, he immediately felt invincible, dismissing everyone else.

Unknowingly, he’d already sat at the computer for three or four hours. The wall clock showed midnight, but he wasn’t sleepy at all—his passion surged, his mind filled with the plot as the protagonist swept through all obstacles.

Tap tap tap tap tap… Late into the night, the room echoed with the rapid clatter of keys.

The poor boy could only experience such exhilaration through this method…

Days passed. During writing, Yu Zhe always brought new content to Zhao Zejun for review and advice.

Zhao Zejun hadn’t misjudged him. This bespectacled, seemingly timid youth, who looked as unremarkable as a rainy night, was, at heart, a standard hot-blooded type. Judging by his writing style, he was no worse than the original author. The content he crafted from the outline left Zhao Zejun with little to criticize.

Time flew by. Yu Zhe wrote feverishly, and schoolwork grew more intense.

To prepare for college entrance exams, Fourth High School finished all new courses by the second semester of junior year, starting comprehensive review in the first semester of senior year.

After giving him the outline, Zhao Zejun enjoyed some peace—Yu Zhe rarely dragged him out to play CS anymore, so Zhao Zejun happily spent most of his time at home, doing homework and assignments.

For the reborn Zhao Zejun, attending class and doing homework wasn’t a burden. On the contrary, it was relaxation.

In his previous life, he dealt with all sorts of people in society, calculating every move, speaking and acting with caution, thinking over everything again and again. Even eating and drinking was mostly for work, exhausting both body and mind.

Now, he could sit quietly at his desk, study, and accompany his family—a luxurious pleasure.

Yu Zhe, who hadn’t experienced life in society, couldn’t feel this. Before writing ‘I Am a Thug,’ he simply disliked studying. Now, asking him to stop writing and do homework was like asking for his life!

But he had his own solution: he spent some money and hired a poor but capable student from another class to write his assignments for him.

Zhao Zejun, using foresight and skills far beyond his peers, kept Yu Zhe closely within his circle; Yu Zhe used money to solve his homework problem, dedicating all his time to what he loved; the poor boy next door, seemingly having nothing, worked diligently because he had nothing, earning commission from Yu Zhe.

Dragons can fly, horses can run, mice can burrow; each person lives in their own way, step by step becoming the self they were destined to be.

Everyone has their path; destiny has its own design.