civilwarnovels Chapter 1622 Scum
Chapter 1622 Scum
Dingqi.com's interview column is called "Authors Face to Face," which airs at 3 PM on weekdays. It doesn't have a large audience, mainly consisting of avid readers and industry professionals.
But quite a few people showed up at today's recording.
Lin Zhanqiao arrived at the dressing room half an hour early. She wore a white suit jacket over a black camisole, and her hair was tied in a low ponytail, making her look capable yet gentle.
"Xiao Zhang, has Guyan arrived yet?"
"We've arrived. They're waiting outside."
"Let him in."
The door to the dressing room was pushed open, and a tall, thin boy walked in.
He looked to be in his mid-twenties, wearing a faded gray hoodie with the drawstring uneven, and his hair was a mess, as if he'd just been dragged out of bed. His expression was stiff; he didn't know where to stand after entering the room, eventually leaning against the wall with his hands in his hoodie pockets, then, feeling it was impolite, he pulled them out and put them back in.
Lin Zhanqiao saw his reflection in the mirror and the corners of her mouth curved slightly.
"Sit over there."
She pointed to the chair next to her.
Gu Yan walked over and sat down, his back straight, knees together, and hands on his thighs, like a primary school student.
"Nervous?" Lin Zhanqiao turned her head to look at him.
"A little." Gu Yan's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing someone: "Do I really have to go on TV?"
“It’s not on TV, it’s a live stream online.” Lin Zhanqiao turned around, her tone very calm: “Just think of it as a chat with someone, talking about how you started writing, talking about your new book. I’ve already read the script, the questions are all mild, they won’t make things difficult for you.”
"But I... I don't know what to say."
"I'll answer your questions, and if you're really stuck, I'll help you out."
Gu Yan nodded, but his expression remained tense.
The makeup artist came over to apply his makeup. He kept his eyes closed, his eyelashes trembling. The moment the powder puff touched his nose, he recoiled.
The makeup artist smiled and said, "Don't be nervous, it won't hurt you."
"I wasn't nervous," Guyan said, but his voice betrayed him.
Lin Zhanqiao, watching from the side, couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"Alright, I'll do it."
She stood up, walked to Guyan, bent down, and reached out to adjust the drawstrings of his hoodie—pulling them to the same length.
Gu Yan looked up at her, his eyes filled with undisguised dependence.
"Editor Lin..."
"Ok?"
"Could you sit next to me later? Don't sit too far away."
Lin Zhanqiao paused for a moment, then patted his shoulder.
"Ah."
Only then did Guyan relax a little.
The recording took place in the studio on the second floor.
The lights were bright, and there were two sofas, a coffee table with bottled water and a pot of artificial flowers on it. The host was a man in his thirties, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a casual suit. His voice was gentle, like that of a late-night radio host.
The moment Gu Yan sat down on the sofa, she seemed to be nailed to the spot.
He placed his hands on his knees, his fingers interlaced, knuckles white. As the camera zoomed in, his gaze wandered aimlessly—he looked at the ceiling, the floor, the artificial flowers on the coffee table, but never at the camera.
The host began with a smile: "Our guest today is currently a hot commodity in the online literature world. His new book surpassed 80,000 pre-orders and 500,000 favorites on its first day of release, earning him the title of the strongest new author of the year. Let's welcome—Gu Yan!"
Gu Yan's lips twitched, as if she wanted to laugh, but the smile that came out was particularly stiff.
"Hello everyone, I am Guyan."
His voice was dry and hoarse, as if it were being squeezed out of his throat.
The chat in the live stream room has already started to fill up:
"This guy looks so nervous, hahaha."
"Confirmed to be a writer with social anxiety"
"I suspect he's going to run away any second now."
"Like a frightened cat"
The host asked him a few more questions about his new book. Guyan's answers were very short, basically just the three-piece set of "um," "yes," and "yes." Occasionally he would say a few more words, but the sentences were broken, as if he forgot the second half of what he said.
The chat is getting more and more lively:
"His style is hilarious, completely different from the book's."
"The book portrays him as ruthless and decisive, but in real life he's like a quail."
"Why do I love this contrast?"
Lin Zhanqiao sat in the first row below the stage, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his gaze fixed on Guyan.
She could tell—the child was about to give up.
When the host asked, "What do you think is the secret to your success?" Guyan opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word for a long time. His face turned bright red, and his fingers twisted together so tightly that his knuckles looked like a pretzel.
Lin Zhanqiao stood up.
She didn't go up on stage, but just waved to Guyan from below, as if calling a lost child.
Gu Yan's gaze immediately fell upon her.
In that instant, he felt like he had found his anchor. His tense shoulders relaxed a little, and his breathing became easier.
"Don't be nervous." Lin Zhanqiao's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough in the quiet studio: "Just think of it as a chat with me."
Guyan nodded vigorously.
Lin Zhanqiao sat down again, but this time she didn't look away.
Guyan's condition had improved significantly. Although he still spoke slowly, his sentences were no longer broken. He began to recount his writing experience—how he first opened the writing software in an internet cafe, and how he painstakingly wrote the opening of his first book, word by word.
"Actually, I never thought I would write a book." Gu Yan's voice gradually calmed down: "Back then, I opened an internet cafe with a friend. It was the most ordinary kind of internet cafe, with twenty or thirty computers and a so-so environment. Most of the people who came to use the internet were students from nearby schools. My daily work consisted of cashiering, repairing computers, and eating instant noodles. Life was... well, just like that."
He paused for a moment, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the audience.
Lin Zhanqiao nodded slightly to him.
Gu Yan took a deep breath and continued.
"One night, there weren't many people in the internet cafe. I was bored, so I wrote a short story on a forum. It was very short, only about 60,000 or 70,000 words. I posted it as soon as I finished writing it without thinking much about it. Then the next day, I received a private message."
His voice trembled slightly.
"It was posted by Editor Lin."
There was a two-second silence in the audience.
"She said she read my story and thought I had talent, and asked if I was interested in writing a complete book. At the time, I thought... this must be a scam, right? I'm just an internet cafe owner who didn't even go to college, what kind of book could I write?"
As Gu Yan finished speaking, she smiled. This time, the smile was more natural, tinged with a touch of shy embarrassment.
“But she kept sending me messages, one after another. At first I didn’t reply, but she kept sending them. After about a week, I felt really bad, so I replied to her. Then she called me that day and we talked for almost two hours.”
As he spoke, he glanced down at the audience again.
Lin Zhanqiao leaned back in her chair, a smile playing on her lips.
"Later I found out that she was the boss of Zhixing, a top editor. The authors she chose were at least top-tier writers. I asked her why she chose me, and she said, 'Your story may be rough, but it has emotion and a sense of life. These things can't be taught.'"
Lone Smoke started speaking faster.
"Back then, I didn't know anything, not even how to format. She taught me word by word, showing me how to divide paragraphs, how to control the rhythm, and how to make the characters stand out. I would write a chapter and she would revise it, and when she finished, she would send it back with a screen full of annotations—red, green, and blue, more than the words I wrote."
“I’m actually quite slow, and I can’t learn many things no matter how many times I’m taught. But she’s never been impatient. Sometimes I’m so frustrated with writing that I want to give up, and she’ll call me. She doesn’t try to persuade me, she just listens to me complain on the other end of the phone. After I finish complaining, she’ll say, ‘Then you can revise it again tomorrow. If it’s not good, I’ll help you rewrite it.’”
Gu Yan's voice lowered.
"Sometimes I feel... meeting her might have used up all the luck I've ever had in my life."
The studio was silent for a few seconds.
The comments section was flooded with messages like crazy:
I cried, I really did.
"What an amazing editor!"
"I want an editor like that no matter where you look."
"Talented horses are common, but discerning judges of horses are rare."
"Just for this reason, I'm going to read Guyan's books."
"Is Zixing still hiring authors? I'll write a leave request."
The host was stunned for a moment before he could reply.
"So you're saying that your achievements today are entirely due to President Lin?"
Lonely Smoke nodded without hesitation.
"Correct."
"Without her, I wouldn't be who I am today. Her vision, her patience, her perseverance—without these things, I might still be making instant noodles for people in an internet cafe."
After he finished speaking, his gaze fell back on the audience.
Lin Zhanqiao's eyes were a little red.
But she didn't let her expression get out of control; she simply tilted her head slightly to avoid being captured by the camera.
The live stream was still going on, but He Han, who was watching it on his computer, had already closed the page.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
The computer screen displayed the recommendation page that appeared after the live stream ended—Gu Yan's new book cover, data, and number of favorites. His gaze lingered on it for a few seconds before shifting away.
My phone vibrated.
He picked it up and saw it was a message from Qin Hao.
"You watched the live stream?"
He Han typed a few words, then deleted them. In the end, he only replied with one word:
"Um."
"How does it feel?"
He Han stared at this question for a long time.
He didn't know what he was feeling. It felt like someone had squeezed his heart.
"That's good, congratulations to her. But I'll let her know that Gu Yan is far inferior to me!"
After sending the message, he turned his phone face down on the table and didn't look at it again.
-
Dingqi.com acted very quickly.
On the afternoon of the day the interview aired, Uncle Fan had the operations department make two posters—one was a report card of Guyan's new book, with 87,000 first-day subscriptions and 530,000 favorites; the other was a promotional image for "One Book Makes Him a God," which read, "Following Qin Hao and He Han, another genius author is born on Dingqi.com."
The poster was displayed on the homepage for three whole days.
Featured ads, pop-ups, SMS push notifications—we used every available channel.
The effects are immediate.
Gu Yan's new book saw its readership surge from 47% to 53% within a week, climbing into the top three on the donation charts and closing in on He Han's "Six States Break" on the monthly ticket charts. The book review section is receiving tens of thousands of new comments daily, and the fan group has expanded from two to eight, but it still isn't enough.
In the editorial group of Dingqi.com, someone sent a message:
"The number of new users has increased by 40% this month, most of whom came after reading Guyan's interview."
Uncle Fan replied with a thumbs-up emoji in the group chat.
"Very good, keep pushing."
He left the group chat and then checked Guyan's data backend again.
The average subscription rate is rising rapidly, and the retention rate is also very high. This kid's data is unmatched, not to mention newcomers, even some veteran authors who have been writing for three to five years can't catch up.
Uncle Fan leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
Qin Hao was unwilling to renew his contract, and He Han was also wavering—these two pieces of news had been weighing on his mind for months. But now it seemed that the situation wasn't so bad after all.
They have an extra card in their hand, and it's a good card.
He picked up his phone and made a call.
"Hey, Mr. Lin, thank you for providing our platform with such a great author."
Lin Zhanqiao on the other end of the phone said calmly, "Mutual benefit."
"Haha, well said." Uncle Fan laughed a few times. "So you must come to the annual gala, and bring Guyan with you. I want to thank you properly in front of the entire industry, my mentor."
Lin Zhanqiao was silent for two seconds.
He's not ready yet.
"How could you not be prepared? You performed very well in today's live broadcast. Although you were a little nervous at the beginning, you got better and better as you went on. Don't worry, I will personally oversee the process of the annual gala and won't make things difficult for him."
Lin Zhanqiao did not respond.
Uncle Fan added, "Besides, you have to give him a chance to make a formal appearance, right? He can't stay hidden behind the scenes forever."
"...I'll think about it."
"Don't think about it anymore, it's settled."
Uncle Fan hung up the phone with a smug smile on his face.
-
At the same time, Qin Hao was shopping with Zhou Mei at the mall.
Zhou Mei had walked around a women's clothing store three times, carrying two dresses in her hands, a black camisole and a burgundy velvet maxi dress, and was trying them on back and forth in front of the mirror.
Which one looks better, this one or that one?
Qin Hao sat on a beanbag chair in the store, legs crossed, holding a cup of milk tea in his hand, the straw in his mouth, and mumbled, "They all look good."
Zhou Mei glared at him in the mirror.
"You didn't even look carefully."
"I looked at them carefully." Qin Hao sat up straight, his expression exaggeratedly serious: "The black one looks classy, and the burgundy one looks luxurious. Both are beautiful. How about we buy them both?"
The sales clerk chimed in with a smile, "Sir, you have excellent taste. Both of these dresses are our newest styles this season and would suit your girlfriend's taste perfectly."
Zhou Mei snorted and shoved both dresses into the hands of the sales clerk: "Wrap them up."
The salesperson left happily.
Zhou Mei walked up to Qin Hao, bent down and leaned close to him: "Are you just giving me the runaround?"
"How could that be? I'm so sincere." Qin Hao solemnly raised his right hand, as if making a vow.
Zhou Mei stared at him for two seconds, then reached out and pinched his cheek.
"Okay, I'll trust you this once."
The two had just stepped out of the store with their shopping bags when Zhou Mei's phone vibrated. She took it out and glanced at it, her smile fading slightly.
"what happened?"
"My dad," Zhou Mei turned her phone over, "asked me how I've been lately."
Do you want to go back?
"No return."
She put her phone back in her bag and took Qin Hao's arm: "Come on, let's go to the second floor and look at the men's clothing. I'll pick out a shirt for you."
Qin Hao was pulled along by her for a couple of steps when he suddenly felt Zhou Mei stop.
He followed her gaze—
A man and a woman were standing in front of the luxury store across the street.
The man was in his fifties, with graying hair, wearing a dark blue polo shirt, and a slightly protruding belly. Standing next to him was a woman in her early forties, dressed very brightly—a peach-pink dress, sequined earrings, a white handbag, and heavy makeup as if she were going to a banquet.
Zhou Mei's face darkened.
Qin Hao squeezed her hand.
"Pretend you didn't see it, or go over?"
Zhou Mei bit her lip, but before she could speak, the man opposite her had already seen her.
"Xiao Mei?"
A complex expression flashed across Zhou's father's face—surprise and embarrassment—before he quickly adjusted to a loving father's demeanor.
Looking at Zhou Mei, Zhou's father softened his tone: "Xiao Mei, Dad hasn't seen you in a long time. How about we find a place to sit down and have a meal together?"
Zhou Mei's expression was tense: "Together? Forget it, I can't eat at the same table as her."
Mr. Zhou's face stiffened as he turned to Zhou Mei and said, "You're an adult now. I have no right to interfere with what kind of boyfriend you choose, but you don't need to lie to me. No matter what, I'm still your father. I wouldn't harm you, would I?"
Faced with her father's questioning, Zhou Mei turned to the flamboyantly dressed aunt beside him: "No matter what, I am still your daughter, and I would never harm you. So why did you lie to me? Why didn't you tell me that you had two bastard children outside?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to freeze.
Zhou's father's face turned bright red.
The woman in the pink dress was displeased and shrieked, "How dare you speak to your father like that? My child with Old Zhou is your half-brother—"
Then she turned to Zhou's father and yelled, "Old Zhou, she's treating our son like this, are you dead?"
Zhou's father's face flushed red and then turned pale. He walked up to Zhou Mei, gritting his teeth, "You shouldn't have spoken to your brother like that. This is the first and last time—"
He raised his hand.
He slapped Zhou Mei across the face.
But the hand failed to land.
In mid-air, he was held tightly by an arm.
Qin Hao's hand was like an iron clamp, gripping Zhou's father's wrist. His face was expressionless, but his fingers tightened more and more.
Zhou's father's face went from red to white, then from white to ashen. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead, and his lips trembled as he stammered, "My hand...my hand is broken! Let go!"
The woman in the pink dress panicked and grabbed her bag, smashing it over Qin Hao's head.
Qin Hao dodged to the side, and the bag missed its target. He tripped her, and she stumbled and fell—her high heels slid several meters across the floor before she landed on her bottom, groaning in pain.
Several passersby in the mall stopped to watch, and some took out their phones to take pictures.
Qin Hao ignored those stares.
He gripped Zhou's father's wrist, his tone as cold as an iron railing in winter.
"First of all, you committed adultery during your marriage—it's not unfair to label you a scumbag."
Zhou's father's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but the pain in his wrist prevented him from uttering a single word.
"Secondly, you're still not divorced. Those children you had with your lover are bastards, and Zhou Mei is absolutely right about that."
"Finally—" Qin Hao's voice deepened, "You harmed your own daughter to please your lover. In ancient times, exile a thousand miles away would be the least of your worries."
He let go of her hand.
Mr. Zhou staggered back a few steps, clutching his wrist and wincing in pain.
Qin Hao took half a step forward and looked down at him.
"If you ever dare to touch Zhou Mei again—"
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail.
"I'll make you, your lover, and those two bastards regret ever being born. You're welcome to try."
After saying that, he flung Zhou's father's hand down.
Zhou's father lost his balance and rolled on the ground, lying there unable to get up for a long time.
Qin Hao turned around and took Zhou Mei's hand.
"Walk."
Zhou Mei glanced at her father on the ground, her expression complex, but she didn't say anything. She took Qin Hao's arm and followed him outside.
After walking a few steps, Zhou's father's hoarse voice came from behind.
"Xiao Mei—"
Zhou Mei paused for a moment.
Mr. Zhou got up from the ground, clutching his still trembling wrist. His expression changed—his eyes reddened and his voice softened.
"Xiao Mei, I know you hate your father."
“But you’ve lived with your mother for so many years, you should know what kind of person she is. I really can’t live with her anymore. I’ve asked her for a divorce countless times, but she just won’t agree. What can I do?”
Zhou Mei stood there, her back to him, without turning around.
Mr. Zhou continued, “I don’t ask for your forgiveness. But I’m getting old, and your two younger brothers are still young—blood is thicker than water. If something happens to me in the future, I hope you can help me take care of them a little…”
Zhou Mei's shoulders trembled slightly.
Qin Hao felt her grip on his hand loosen slightly.
He knew his words had worked—Zhou Mei's heart had softened.
He turned around, looked at Zhou's father, and gave a cold laugh.
"What's this?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone around him to hear.
"You can't afford to raise your mistress and her illegitimate child, so you're asking your daughter, who was abandoned years ago, to raise them for you?"
Zhou's father's face turned extremely ugly in an instant.
"I've seen a lot in my life," Qin Hao shook his head, "but I've never seen anyone as shameless as you before."
Zhou Mei was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized what she meant.
She turned her head and looked at her father's face.
Qin Hao had already seen through Zhou's act of being a loving father, but Zhou's father still wanted to struggle.
"This is a matter between my daughter and me, what does it have to do with you?" His voice changed from aggrieved to exasperated.
"Zhou Mei is my girlfriend."
"I'm still her dad!"
"If you weren't her father—"
Qin Hao's gaze swept coldly over him.
"I would have crippled you long ago."
He took Zhou Mei's hand and turned to leave.
"Get lost. Don't show your face in front of me again, you're ruining my appetite."
Zhou's father was furious behind him, but he only dared to shout and did not dare to chase after him.
Inside the elevator, Zhou Mei leaned against the wall, head down, and remained silent for a long time.
Qin Hao stood beside her without saying a word.
The elevator numbers jumped down one by one.
"It's a good thing you were here just now," Zhou Mei said, her voice muffled. "Otherwise, I would have been fooled by him again."
Qin Hao reached out and put his arm around her shoulder without saying a word.
He knew that Zhou Mei's reaction wasn't stupid—it was a sign of being unloved.
She received little warmth from her parents growing up. As an adult, she easily loses her principles if her parents give her a kind look or say a few soft words. That deep-seated longing cannot be stopped by reason.
The elevator arrived at the first floor and the doors opened.
Zhou Mei didn't move.
Qin Hao glanced down at her, then leaned close to her ear and whispered.
"If you really lack fatherly love so much—"
His tone became frivolous.
"Actually, I could reluctantly do it..."
Zhou Mei was stunned for a moment.
By the time she realized what was happening, Qin Hao had already slipped out in the last second before the elevator doors closed.
"Damn it! Don't run away!"
Zhou Mei rushed out of the elevator, her high heels clicking loudly on the floor.
Qin Hao had already run several meters away when he turned back to look at her with an irritating smile on his face.
Zhou Mei stomped her foot in anger, but finally couldn't help but burst out laughing.
-
Two days later, Qin Hao received a call from Uncle Fan.
He was lounging on the sofa at home playing video games. Zhou Mei was peeling an apple next to him, with an unknown variety show playing on TV, accompanied by noisy background noise.
"Mr. Fan, what brings you here today to call me?"
Uncle Fan's laughter came from the other end of the phone, exuding the warm and friendly energy of a seasoned veteran in the workplace.
"Teacher Qin Hao, isn't Dingqi.com's annual gala coming up soon? If you have time, how about coming to support me?"
Qin Hao put down the game controller in his hand, leaned back on the sofa, and did not answer immediately.
Uncle Fan added, "Don't worry, you don't need to do anything. Just sit in the VIP section, watch the show, and have a meal. If you'd like to go on stage and say a few words, that would be great; if not, no one would dare force you."
Qin Hao smiled.
"President Fan, aren't you asking me to carry the sedan chair for the new bride?"
His tone was teasing.
"Indeed, it's always the case that only the new faces are laughed at, while the old faces are left to weep."
Uncle Fan was silent for two seconds on the other end of the phone, then gave a wry laugh.
"Teacher Qin Hao is joking. No matter how much a newcomer tries, they can never reach your level. Our Dingqi.com has only ever had one supreme god, and that is you, Teacher Qin Hao."
"If you're willing to come back, there's no need for newcomers. Why don't you reconsider?"
Qin Hao immediately changed the subject.
"I appreciate Mr. Fan's kindness. However, I don't really like being in the public eye, so I won't be attending the annual gala."
Uncle Fan was clearly disappointed, but he understood Qin Hao's personality and didn't try to persuade him further.
"Alright, then I won't force you. I'll treat you to dinner another day, and we can have a good talk."
"No problem."
After hanging up the phone, Qin Hao tossed his phone aside and picked up the game controller again.
On the other side, after hanging up on Qin Hao, Uncle Fan dialed another number.
"Teacher He Han, what have you been busy with lately?"
He Han's voice came from the other end of the phone, a little hoarse: "What else can I do? It's just writing. What's up, Mr. Fan?"
"Well, the TopQ.com annual gala is coming up soon, and I'd like to invite you to attend. What do you think—"
"I think I'll pass..."
He Han refused decisively, without even giving him time to think.
Uncle Fan choked for a moment, then quickly added, "Professor He Han, I know you don't like these kinds of occasions. But this year's ceremony is different from previous years; we will have many important partners attending, and you, as a core author of our platform—"
“President Fan,” He Han interrupted him, “I appreciate your kindness, but I’m currently rushing to finish a manuscript and really don’t have time.”
Uncle Fan was silent for two seconds, as if he was making a decision.
"President Lin will also be coming."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Uncle Fan continued, "And Guyan. They will both be there."
There was a silence on He Han's end for about three seconds.
"...Okay. I'll make time to go there."
Uncle Fan was stunned for a moment. He originally thought he would have to spend more time explaining, but he didn't expect the name Lin Zhanqiao to be so useful.
"Alright, alright, it's settled then! I'll have someone send you an invitation. If it's convenient for you, you can bring your friends along." (End of Chapter)