Chapter Twelve: Overnight

When Zhao Zejun saw that the manuscript had reached a hundred thousand words, he signaled to Yu Zhe that it was time to publish. The plan was still to upload the novel to Swords and Ink Alliance—the most popular website at the time, despite the emergence of several other fiction platforms in China. Swords and Ink boasted a traffic volume several times greater than all its competitors combined, dominating the market with an industry status even more formidable than Qidian in its heyday.

Yu Zhe needed to change his pen name. He had previously used "Wandering Cloud," which made Zhao Zejun want to spit in his face. Such a poetic pseudonym, yet writing fierce, blood-pumping stories of domination? Was he suffering from a split personality?

They decided on a new name: "Crimson Cloud," or simply "Bloodcloud." Silly as it was, it suited Yu Zhe’s style far better than "Wandering Cloud."

In 2001, online fiction was just beginning to take shape, the industry still in its exploratory phase. Even the leader, Swords and Ink Alliance, had a rudimentary website that functioned more like a reading forum. A novel’s popularity could be gauged only by three metrics: comments, views, and bookshelf additions.

Since all works were free to read, many users didn’t even bother creating accounts, let alone adding books to their shelves. Comments were, therefore, the most telling sign of a novel’s engagement and the greatest motivation for any writer. It wasn’t like the later era, when paid subscriptions became the most direct measure of a work’s quality: write well, subscriptions soar; write poorly or lose momentum, subscriptions dwindle.

Late that night, Yu Zhe finished his latest chapter and began uploading "I Am the Hooligan" from the very beginning. With over a hundred thousand words in reserve, he felt secure and released ten chapters—more than thirty thousand words—in one go.

After uploading, he sat at his computer for more than an hour, refreshing the page repeatedly to check his statistics.

He was disappointed. After more than an hour, the novel had fewer than ten views and just one comment.

“What a stupid title! Is the author brain-dead? Killing people, really? Kill someone and let me see…” wrote a user named "Moonlight Over Lotus Pond."

Yu Zhe’s heart sank, feeling utterly vexed.

“Thank you for your attention. The author will do his best, please keep reading…” He gritted his teeth and forced out a polite reply, though he had silently cursed the commenter in his heart.

As Zhao said, a novelist should not fear criticism; being scolded means people are actually reading. Far worse were his previous books, which hadn’t even been insulted—those were the true failures. Zhao called such authors "street flops," the kind who fall flat on their faces in the middle of the road—a striking image.

There were few readers online in the middle of the night, and as a new release, "Hooligan" was barely visible. Yu Zhe waited a little longer but, exhausted, eventually drifted off to sleep.

He awoke groggy near noon the next day—it was Saturday. Without brushing his teeth or washing his face, he tore open a pack of rice crackers and sat down at his computer, logging in to Swords and Ink Alliance.

The moment he entered the page for "I Am the Hooligan," he froze. Blinking in disbelief, he stared at the screen, then suddenly let out a wild scream: “Damn it!”

His shout shook the house. Out in the living room, his mother, startled, dropped her chopsticks and rushed into his room, asking anxiously, “What’s wrong, son?”

“Uh? Nothing, mom, it’s nothing,” Yu Zhe replied, not even raising his head, his cheeks flushed as he kept his eyes glued to the screen.

Seeing him like this, his mother grew more concerned. She coaxed gently, “Son, is the pressure from studying too much? It’s all right, you know your father said he’d send you abroad after you graduate high school. Foreign universities don’t care about our college entrance scores…”

“I’m not going abroad! Go have your lunch, I’m busy here,” Yu Zhe waved her off impatiently, still staring at his computer.

“All right, all right, you don’t have to go abroad. Whatever you want,” his mother relented, but couldn’t let it go. “How about a new phone for winter break?”

“What do I need a new phone for? The one I have works just fine.”

Finally tearing his gaze away from the screen, Yu Zhe realized his tone had been too harsh. He forced a smile. “Really, mom, I’m fine. I just saw something funny online. Go have your lunch, really—don’t worry.”

Noticing his red cheeks and the way he kept glancing at the computer, his mother had a sudden epiphany. Her son was growing up, after all—secretly surfing the internet in his room… there were things a mother didn’t need to know.

“Ahem… Son, take care of yourself, all right? There’s tissues in the living room if you need them.” She chuckled awkwardly, closing the door as she left.

“Tissues? What for?” Yu Zhe muttered, not thinking much of it. He refreshed the page again.

In just a few minutes, the numbers for comments, views, and bookshelf additions had all climbed.

There were now 101 comments, 38 bookshelf additions, and views had passed a thousand!

Yu Zhe knew exactly what these numbers meant on Swords and Ink. Authors on the site had developed their own methods for estimating real reader engagement, which were even acknowledged by the platform.

Typically, the ratio of bookshelf additions to actual readers was about 1:40 or 1:50. Most avid readers didn’t bother clicking “Add to Bookshelf” on the site itself; instead, they bookmarked the novel in their browsers. Since reading was free and accounts served little purpose except for commenting, many readers didn’t even register. In fact, one reader often followed books across several sites, so adding to the site’s bookshelf was less convenient than simply bookmarking it.

Once a novel matured, the ratio could exceed 1:100. The site might show only a few hundred bookshelf additions, but tens of thousands could actually be reading it.

His previous three books, combined, hadn’t even amassed ten bookshelf additions.

The most telling sign of a novel’s potential, however, was the ratio of bookshelf additions to comments, reflecting how engaged the readers were.

Those who added a book to the site’s bookshelf were mostly seasoned readers, who, more often than not, preferred to read quietly without commenting. And those without accounts couldn’t comment at all.

So, for a hot new book, a 1:1 ratio of bookshelf additions to comments in the early stage was already a sign of great promise.

Now, the ratio was approaching 1:3!

Though these were still early days and the data only offered a limited perspective, it was enough to prove the novel’s explosive potential.

Yu Zhe gasped. In his memory, no novel on the site had ever achieved such results so soon after publication. He even worried that the numbers might be a glitch.

He carefully opened the comment board, reading through every message, even counting them one by one. Satisfied that there were no errors, he finally relaxed.

Some comments were critical, even harshly so, but the majority were positive.

“Can a novel really be written like this? Bloodcloud, you’re incredible!”
“If I had to describe it in one word: exhilarating! If I had to add a qualifier, it’d be ‘absolutely exhilarating!’”
“A true hooligan indeed—hahaha, but I love it!”
“The content is explosive!”
“Bloodcloud, keep it up! Write faster! When’s the next chapter? I’m waiting at my computer!”
“This author must be nuts. Has he ever studied literature? The writing is trash, the ideas vulgar and corrupting the youth. The site should ban him!”

At the same time, Yu Zhe received a private message from the fantasy section’s deputy moderator at Swords and Ink Alliance.

The site was planning to give "I Am the Hooligan" a major recommendation and promotional push.