Chapter Thirteen: A Week’s Holiday

Zhao Zejun had been keeping a close eye on the performance of his book online.

Three days after its release, the novel had already been placed in the most prominent new book recommendation slot on the website. With just over half of the recommendation period gone, "I Am the Hooligan" had set the Huanjian Book Alliance website ablaze, amassing over 150,000 clicks and nearly a thousand messages in the discussion forum!

Back in 2001, Huanjian also had a ranking board called "Popular Books." As the name implied, this ranking featured the hottest titles on the site. Zhao Zejun was unsure of the exact ranking metrics, but from the second day after being featured, "I Am the Hooligan" was already on the list.

In the following days, the book was like a powerful little drill, tearing through the rankings and smashing its way to number one, leaving the runner-up far behind.

Zhao Zejun closed his browser, satisfied that the outcome was decided.

Ever since Yu Zhe had begun writing tens of thousands of words based on the outline Zhao provided, Zhao was certain that the book would become a hit.

At any time, human desires remain unchanged. As long as a story fulfills what readers want, they will buy into it. That is the fundamental premise for a novel’s success.

If this book had been released a decade or so later, it might not have become such a sensation—not because people’s desires had changed, but because many online readers had gone from novices to veterans, having read too many of this kind of story and grown tired of it. The three great web novels of that era, if revisited by veteran readers in 2016, would also seem riddled with flaws and unbearably clichéd.

But now, "I Am the Hooligan" was the only classic, blood-pumping, violent, exhilarating story of its kind—unique and unmatched!

Of course, it also benefited from the times.

In 2016, with sites like Qidian boasting a library of over a million books and thousands being updated daily, a new book had no chance of overnight success. But now, even on a top-tier site like Huanjian Book Alliance, the book library was pitifully small, with only a few dozen titles updating. Yu Zhe’s rapid update speed only boosted his exposure.

When Zhao Zejun returned home from the internet cafe, his mother told him that a classmate named "Yu Zhe" had called the house seven or eight times, asking Zhao to call back as soon as he got home.

Zhao Zejun sat by the phone in silence for half a minute. Instead of returning the call, he turned to Zhou Ya and said, “Mom, I’d like to take a week off from school to study at home.”

“Why do you want to take time off out of the blue?” Zhou Ya was taken aback. Although it was the final year of high school and, strictly speaking, there were no new lessons—so it shouldn’t matter much where he studied—Zhao was still a student. Requesting a week off for no reason didn’t seem right. Besides, attending classes meant teachers could guide their review in a focused way, and the atmosphere among classmates helped set the mood for the college entrance exams. It was usually more effective than studying alone at home.

Zhao Zejun rattled off a host of reasons he’d already prepared, ending with the claim that he felt under too much pressure lately and was close to breaking down…

Final-year students were precious and fragile; if they were unwell or under mental strain, both teachers and parents would tiptoe around them, terrified of harming their well-being before the exams. The Zhao family had always had a democratic atmosphere. Though Zhou Ya and Zhao Tao hoped their son would attend a good university, they never forced him. So persuading his parents to let him take a week off was not difficult.

“Son, nothing is more important to us than your health. Take this week to rest at home,” Zhou Ya said, still a little worried.

Zhao Tao patted his son on the shoulder. “Zejun, a real man stands tall. Having a degree isn’t the most important thing—what matters is having confidence in yourself. Your dad believes you’ll get yourself back on track.”

“Don’t worry, Mom and Dad,” Zhao Zejun nodded. “Oh, and if any classmates call, just tell them I’m not home, that I’m out on some business. That way, I can study in peace.”

Zhao Zejun was, of course, confident—he’d never been worried about the college entrance exam.

It was Yu Zhe who was truly anxious.

Yu Zhe had been writing novels for over a year, composing nearly four hundred thousand words across three previous books—each of which had flopped disastrously.

To be so harshly crushed at something he loved most was devastating. If not for his deep passion for writing, Yu Zhe would have given up long ago.

His persistence had finally paid off—or rather, thanks to his persistence and talent, he had finally found a benefactor: Zhao Zejun.

With the outline Zhao provided, Yu Zhe wrote the first hundred thousand words of "I Am the Hooligan" and at last tasted the feeling of being adored by readers.

The backend showed over a thousand people had bookmarked the novel, which, based on standard site metrics, meant tens of thousands were following the story.

“Boss Bloodcloud, you’re amazing! I’m now your diehard fan!”

“Boss Bloodcloud, hurry up and update! Our whole dorm is waiting!”

“Boss Bloodcloud…”

“Bloodcloud…”

Each message urging updates or offering praise brought Yu Zhe a satisfaction he’d never known before.

Not just readers—even the chief moderator of Huanjian, "Zhaori," added him on QQ and chatted for a long time.

Huanjian Book Alliance specialized in fantasy novels, and Zhaori was in charge of that genre.

Yu Zhe was a bit nervous—had his writing been too violent and bloody, attracting the moderator’s attention and prompting demands for revisions?

But a professional is a professional. Zhaori did not waste time discussing whether the novel had artistic merit but instead lavished praise on Yu Zhe.

“Your style is perfect for online fiction. I have a hunch that this novel may well usher in a new era of web fiction popularity!” Zhaori said.

“Thank you, Boss Moderator, you flatter me… truly, I don’t deserve it…” Yu Zhe was so excited his legs were cramping.

Before he could recover, Zhaori continued, “It’s no exaggeration. The site’s tech team provided data: ever since your book was published—especially after it was recommended—traffic and new user registrations on Huanjian have both increased significantly. Analysis of browsing patterns shows that over seventy percent of new readers came just for your book… So, after discussing it among the moderators, we’ve decided to give your novel a major push and make you Huanjian’s first star author…”

Yu Zhe was stunned. Was he about to become a star?

But what came next quickly sobered him.

A major push from the website came with conditions.

First, the book’s quality could not decline significantly. As long as the quality held, the novel would be a top priority for Huanjian.

Second, the book had to be completed smoothly. If Bloodcloud could produce a second quality novel, then Huanjian’s focus would shift from the book to the author himself.

It was reasonable—only those with true ability would be nurtured by the site.

After speaking with Zhaori, Yu Zhe began to worry.

He was confident in his writing—Zhao Zejun had affirmed this, and so had the readers.

But the problem was, he’d always had this ability. Why had he always flopped before?

Because he couldn't craft stories—he never had a good outline! The reason for his current success was mainly that Zhao Zejun had given him a complete outline—a good story.

It was like a film: no matter how good the actors, without a great script and director, the result is still a bad movie.

However, the outline Zhao gave him was only two pages and would last at most till 150,000 or 160,000 words—right at a major climax!

At the current writing pace, he’d run out of outline in just a few days. What then?

Zhaori had especially reminded him: the early chapters had performed exceptionally well, so the second half had to maintain that standard!

Yu Zhe didn’t need Zhaori to tell him—he knew that if a novel of 200,000 words managed to hook readers, but crashed at the climax, they’d be furious!

If the ending was poor, all the effort up to that point would be wasted, and he’d lose readers for his next book too.

The trouble was, he had no outline for the rest of the story—let alone for the next book!

Yu Zhe immediately called Zhao Zejun, hoping he could spare some time to finish the outline.

But after calling seven or eight times in a single day, Zhao Zejun was never home!

Even by evening, there was no reply.

That night, Yu Zhe tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.

One moment he regretted pushing Zhao for the outline too soon, leaving him with only an unfinished plan.

The next, he was dreaming of becoming a web fiction superstar with Huanjian’s support—the top author in the country, pursued by everyone, maybe even compared in the media to Jin Yong or Gu Long, hahahaha…

One way or another, he had to get the final part of the outline from Zhao Zejun.

Thankfully, classes would resume on Monday. He would definitely see Zhao Zejun then.