Chapter 116: Named Shion
What was this story about?
It revolved around a male protagonist from a harmonious and happy family who one day time-travels eighty years into the future and encounters the most important person in his life. It was a ballad of love.
Who would have thought this story was churned out in just a week? In the industry, such rushed work was generally considered subpar. However, Yu Linna, after reading through her story, felt it was decent enough, especially considering it was her first independent creation. This was her child; there was no reason not to love it.
It contained all her sweat, her dreams, the crystallization of her efforts.
She had always faced setbacks, always met with failure. But from this moment on, she would break free. She was embarking on a journey, towards higher, farther destinations.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard, typing a few lines.
Ballad of the Enchantress.
This was the title of the novel she had spent seven days creating, her first independent work.
She didn’t know if this book would change her life. If it failed, she would accept her fate. But until then, she wanted to give it her all.
Next came the pen name.
Truthfully, Yu Linna didn’t know what to choose. She had never considered this before.
She had always lived a carefree life. How about “Carefree Heroine”? No, too cliché, not elegant enough.
She thought about her past, the happy memories, the beautiful moments. She longed for those days, yearned to return, but it was impossible. Those memories could only be treasured within her heart.
So many years of hardship, of worrying about survival, of crying herself to sleep countless nights. These painful experiences, though unpleasant, were memories she didn’t want to forget. Forgetting them would render her struggles meaningless.
She wanted to remember all her hardships.
All her unhappiness.
Shion.
Finally, she typed her pen name.
Yu Linna opened Wenqing’s submission email, attached her compressed manuscript, and clicked send. The deadline was only three minutes away. She had finished writing and submitting her novel just three minutes before the cutoff. Her mission was finally accomplished.
“Phew…”
With everything done, exhaustion crashed over her. Yu Linna collapsed onto the bed, her body burning with fever, the ice pack tumbling to the floor. Her vision blurred, her body weak, every movement a struggle. Touching her forehead, she realized it was scorching hot.
Her throat was dry, her body drained of energy. She slumped onto Ye Zhiyun’s bed, unable to lift her arms.
Yu Linna was sick. The excessive work, the relentless exertion, had taken a toll on her already frail body, causing her to collapse. Worse, she was alone in the house. Even sick, there was no one to care for her. She could only lie there, motionless.
“Ugh…”
Her gaze drifted towards the ceiling. She managed to pull the blanket over herself, but she was shivering, too weak to do anything else. She felt like anyone could easily push her over.
Her body felt like it no longer belonged to her.
So this was what it felt like to push oneself to the limit, a draining, almost out-of-body experience, like ascending to heaven.
Yu Linna rarely got sick. In the past, she couldn’t afford medical care, so she tried her best to avoid getting sick, and even when she did, she couldn’t go to the hospital. Over time, she became less prone to illness, but that didn’t mean she was healthy. Because she rarely got sick, when she did, it was usually severe.
Yu Linna closed her eyes, feeling her consciousness slipping away.
Ye Zhiyun felt a pang in her chest, gazing out the window. Despite the bustling cityscape outside, she felt a sense of loss, an emptiness within her.
“What’s wrong, dear? Thinking of someone?”
“Mind your own business. Just give me some work to do. I’m not here for blind dates. This is so boring.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have work soon.”
No one knew that from this moment on, the world would begin to change.
Since rising to fame, Nangong Ying had been constantly in the spotlight, her privacy invaded, much to her annoyance. As a newcomer to the entertainment industry, many were curious about her background, but she never spoke about her family. Consequently, few in the industry, apart from Chenghe, knew she was the daughter of Nangong Zhuo, a nationally acclaimed athlete. If people knew the daughter of an Olympic gold medalist and star athlete had become an actress, they would be astonished.
“Miss Nangong, please go to the makeup room to prepare. The recording will start soon.”
Nangong Ying had planned to dedicate her winter break to studying for the art school entrance exams in March. She had decided to pursue acting professionally. However, things hadn’t gone as planned. Chenghe had contacted her, requesting her participation in a variety show to boost her popularity.
She wanted to refuse, but knowing it would benefit her career, and unable to defy Chenghe’s influence, she had agreed. She would wait until she had more leverage to refuse; until then, she had to obey.
Sitting in front of the makeup mirror, she remained still as the makeup artist worked their magic. Being famous was different. She often noticed girls looking at her with the same admiration as boys. Her dream of being admired seemed to have come true.
But the initial excitement had faded, replaced by a profound emptiness, a loneliness.
She hadn’t forgotten that her current success had come at the expense of another.
If she hadn’t betrayed Yu Linna, she wouldn’t be where she was today. She knew that.
Towards Yu Linna, she felt only guilt. She didn’t expect forgiveness, but sometimes… she realized how painful it was to be disliked.
Only now did she understand how important Yu Linna had been to her. They used to spend their holidays eating out, chatting happily for hours. Now, that was impossible.
She missed having Yu Linna in her life.
She missed her terribly, missed the times they spent together.
But there was no going back.
“Miss Nangong, you’re ready. Please come on stage.”
“Okay.”
She responded, stood up, and walked towards the stage. Her work was about to begin. She was Nangong Ying, the celebrity, no longer the ordinary Nangong Ying.
Wenqing’s annual New Talent Awards was a competition to discover new writers, awarding prizes, publishing contracts, and boosting the winners’ popularity. However, in recent years, the awards had become riddled with insider dealings, with established authors often using pen names to win. Newcomers, no matter how talented, rarely placed higher than third.
The only exception was Air winning last year.
Air, aka Zhao Yuyan, had become the youngest winner, securing a publishing contract for her novel, “The Rich Man’s Game,” and breaking free from the label of a “short story writer.”
But who could guarantee another superstar like Air would emerge every year?
Air’s work was already being adapted into anime and manga. How many newcomers could achieve such success?
“Sister Chen, we’ve received all the final manuscripts. We need to start reviewing them and decide which ones will be selected.”
“Okay.”
The busiest time of year was manuscript review season. Mountains of submissions piled up, and the editors had to meticulously read through each one. The greatest joy of reading was getting lost in a good story, but not every novel was captivating. Some were incredibly difficult to get through, a source of constant headaches for the editors.
“Ugh, this story is so cliché. Why are five girls in love with the male protagonist right from the start? Is this a harem anime? Pass.”
The editors had sharp eyes, able to discern good stories from bad. They had no interest in poorly written manuscripts. To select the best, they had to be strict.
“This author is clearly a newbie. Typical wish-fulfillment power fantasy. A golden finger is too much. Wish-fulfillment is fine, but this is excessive. No.”
“This writing is so good, but the plot is nonsensical. The female protagonist is practically a public bus. This would be crucified online. No.”
“I don’t understand this plot. Is the male protagonist trying to NTR someone’s wife? So, the mistress is actually the protagonist? Not sure if this will work. Set it aside for now.”
After the first round of eliminations, few novels remained. Chen Xi’s eyes were sore, yet she hadn’t found anything satisfying. She recalled Luo Nan’s submission a few months ago. She had loved his manuscript and advocated for signing him.
But the other editors hadn’t agreed to Luo Nan’s terms, rejecting him. He had then gone to Qidian, becoming one of their platinum authors, his work securing a publishing deal within months, earning him a six-figure income.
Not everyone was Zhao Yuyan, not everyone was Luo Nan. Chen Xi knew this well.
Finding a good story among so many submissions was incredibly challenging.
Unless something unexpected happened, this year’s New Talent Awards would likely be uneventful, perhaps with an established author winning under a pseudonym. Last year’s situation couldn’t be replicated.
“Sister Chen, this is the last one. Let’s call it a day after this.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s see… the title is… ‘Ballad of the Enchantress.’”
Initially, the editors approached this novel with indifference, expecting another cliché-ridden story. But… two minutes in, they were hooked, losing track of time.
Leave a Reply