Chapter Four: The Enemy of the Sword Washer

While the project team was busy with development, Zhao Zejun went to the computer market and bought a Dell laptop himself. After topping up the internet fee at his rented apartment, he logged into his QQ account, only to be greeted by a continuous stream of beeping sounds. The QQ avatars kept flashing from beginning to end. Just as he was about to click and check, a pop-up suddenly appeared: the software had crashed. Well, he decided to log in again. This time, everything was smooth.

Most of the messages came from the online novel writers’ QQ group he had created. Having been offline for a while, the group of 500 members was already packed to capacity! The row of flashing avatars on QQ were mostly not Zhao Zejun’s friends but people he had found through the group.

There were nearly thirty thousand unread messages in the group, likely the reason for the earlier QQ crash. The group announcement caught his eye with a prominent list:

“Congratulations to Blood Cloud for ‘Storm Rising’ hitting a new record, securing first place in Huanjian’s collections!”

“Congratulations to Linglong for her new book ‘Scarlet Heart’ surpassing ten thousand collections!”

“Congratulations to ‘Zhu Xian’ for breaking five hundred collections on its debut day!”

“Congratulations to…”

Zhao Zejun stayed under the radar for the moment, quietly scrolling through the group messages. There were simply too many to read through; most announcements congratulated various writers on their new books' successes. Several writers he had previously guided appeared proudly in the list, along with some unfamiliar names.

Most private messages sent to him in the group were questions about writing novels. Linglong and a few others expressed their thanks and even sent him subsequent outlines for his advice.

He sent a message to Yu Zhe: “Are you there?”

Yu Zhe’s avatar flickered soon after. “Boss, aren’t you supposed to be in military training? How can you be online?”

“The adult education college doesn’t require military training,” Zhao Zejun replied, “I didn’t go.”

“No way! You can really get away with that?”

Zhao Zejun typed a word: “Voice.”

Immediately, Yu Zhe sent a voice message. Upon connecting, the familiar voice sounded:

“Listen, my website is about to go live. How many writers can you pull over?”

“We were just discussing this in the group a few days ago. I think one or two hundred is definitely doable. The few guys who came to dinner last time, except for Zhuang Buzhou, are willing to come. Linglong has been deliberately releasing books slowly lately and even asked me when your site would launch. Boss, that girl might even have a crush on you…”

“Cut the nonsense,” Zhao Zejun shook his head with a smile, interrupting Yu Zhe’s rambling. One or two hundred writers weren't many, but these people wouldn't come empty-handed; each would bring a number of readers. Especially someone like Yu Zhe, a top-tier author with a large following, could singlehandedly sustain a site's traffic during its early days.

Moreover, these one or two hundred referred to those who could come on launch day. After all, the group only had a few hundred members. Once the site was officially running and news spread, more authors would learn about the new platform and join the watchlist.

From there, competition would begin—competing for readers and authors. Readers attract authors willing to write, which was why Zhao Zejun was focusing on Yu Zhe to secure the first batch of writers: they had significant readership. At the same time, the website needed offerings attractive enough to gather more authors and enrich its library, thus drawing in more readers.

In the early stages of a site’s creation, authors are more important than readers—even recruiting lower-tier writers unconditionally to fill the library. Once it reached the level of Huanjian and became the nation's largest platform, readers would far outweigh the importance of authors. If you don’t write, someone else will.

“What’s the reaction from Huanjian’s side?” Zhao Zejun asked.

“Nothing that I’ve heard. I thought they’d come talk to me—I even prepared my lines—but turns out, they don’t really care much. Besides, even if they did, what could they do? The authors didn’t sell to them. Where they choose to write is up to them,” Yu Zhe whispered mysteriously. “Boss, I’ve got some inside news. Interested?”

“Don’t keep me in suspense. What inside news?” Zhao Zejun asked.

“Huanjian doesn’t see you, Boss Zhao, as a competitor at all. They’re busy dealing with something else right now,” Yu Zhe said.

“Hmm? What’s going on? Tell me in detail.”

Indeed, inside Huanjian, there had been attention paid to unusual activity among writers on Zhao Zejun’s new site. The whole affair began with a public quarrel between veteran author Zhuang Buzhou and the rising star Blood Cloud.

After being ridiculed and sharply mocked by Zhao Zejun in Yijiang City, Zhuang Buzhou immediately posted a single chapter attacking the vulgar trends emerging in online novels, calling them a “cancer.” Between the lines, it was pointed squarely at Yu Zhe’s rogue series and the ensuing formulaic copycats.

Yu Zhe naturally did not take this lying down and launched a swift counterattack.

Qin Hui had three good friends, let alone Zhuang Buzhou, an established writer with a loyal following and solid relationships with other veteran authors at Huanjian. Regardless of their novel-writing skills, these veterans had significant standing within Huanjian.

Yu Zhe had gathered a group of supporters too, mainly new-generation writers and readers, setting off a chaotic online battle between the two camps.

The flame war was less about reasoned debate and more about insults, with no clear winner. However, Zhuang Buzhou’s nickname “Pretentious Author” and Boss Zhao’s articulate critiques during the dinner had spread widely.

News of Zhao Zejun’s new website had also reached the ears of Huanjian’s upper echelons.

There were plenty of online novelists; if you didn’t write, others would. With tens of millions of internet users in the country and rising, the birth of new talents was assured.

Therefore, Huanjian didn’t care much about writers leaving or staying, as there were no direct financial ties or legal bindings between parties.

Moreover, this overnight “Boss Zhao” had no deep roots or background in the industry, so Huanjian didn’t take him or his new site seriously, not even mentioning him in high-level meetings.

Huanjian’s biggest rival at present was a platform founded in May 2002.

“Its predecessor was the National Fantasy Novel Alliance. Though it was a loose organization, it had its own group of writers and held considerable influence in the country’s online novel scene. Since Longkong shifted to the traditional Chinese publishing market, Qidian has become our biggest competitor in digital reading. You can see these data curves…”

As the industry leader, Huanjian’s headquarters was far from the luxurious image outsiders imagined—rather modest, just a three-bedroom office in the capital city.

In the conference room, several key figures of Huanjian were present. Speaking was the technical director, known online as Tingge, affectionately called “Brother Ting” by Huanjian insiders. Pointing at the data curves on the large screen, he analyzed:

“Within one month of Qidian’s establishment, Huanjian’s total number of writers decreased by 16%, nearly a sixth of our authors left. We don’t have detailed data on how many went to Qidian, but it’s certain that several well-known ones did. Meanwhile, user registration growth has slowed, and website traffic, represented by this black curve, has been declining... In short, Qidian’s founding has had a tremendous impact on Huanjian. Rizhao, please share your thoughts.”

Among the group, a young man who looked weak and pale nodded. He was the main moderator responsible for several major sections of the site and had once strongly supported Yu Zhe—Rizhao.

“I manage several sections and interact with authors and readers a lot. I think the key issue now is how to retain authors. Huanjian isn’t short on readers, but losing authors so quickly will reduce the site’s appeal to readers.”

“I disagree. In the online economy, traffic—that is, readers—is most important. Writing novels has a low threshold; if you can read, you can write. Huanjian is the big platform and the top choice for new-generation authors. If some leave, others will come,” said Kong Decheng, Huanjian’s major shareholder and true owner. It was thanks to his 200,000-yuan investment that Huanjian was founded.

“Mr. Kong, if authors come to a consensus that going to Qidian is better than staying at Huanjian, will new authors still join Huanjian? Without pastures, the grassland won’t have cattle and sheep,” Rizhao insisted.

“So, what do you suggest for retaining authors?” Kong asked.

Rizhao hesitated for a moment before replying, “Offering appropriate financial incentives.”