Hospital. In the ward.
Fang Yi sat on the bed, peeling a tangerine. He carefully removed every bit of the white pith from each segment with the patience of a jeweler refining a gemstone. Only after he had thoroughly cleaned it did he break off a segment and hold it out.
Zhao Wanqiu leaned forward slightly, took the piece with her lips, and chewed. "Yi-ge, I can get discharged the day after tomorrow."
"That soon?"
Fang Yi blinked in surprise. It had barely been four days since the surgery.
"The doctor said my wound is healing really well." As she spoke, she opened her lips ever so slightly, looking exactly like a little bird waiting to be fed.
Fang Yi chuckled and broke off another piece, popping it into her mouth. "Still feel like coughing?"
"Sometimes, yeah. But it's way better than yesterday!" Zhao Wanqiu narrowed her eyes into crescents. Her white feet swayed playfully above the blanket—classic signs that she was in a really good mood.
After feeding her the last piece of the tangerine, Fang Yi was just about to get up to wash his hands when Zhao Wanqiu grabbed his wrist.
"Yi-ge, I want more! Peel another one for me, please~"
"Alright, alright."
Fang Yi nodded indulgently and grabbed another tangerine from the bag. He started peeling it, slowly and meticulously, once again picking away every stubborn thread of pith.
Zhao Wanqiu just watched him quietly, a soft smile resting on her lips. She had seen this image countless times before—Fang Yi peeling tangerines just like this when they were kids.
Chewing on a segment, Zhao Wanqiu suddenly asked, "Yi-ge, what've you been so busy with lately?"
He had visited her two days in a row but each time, he said he had to rush off to handle something urgent. She'd been dying to know.
"I told you the other night," Fang Yi said, "I've been working on a novel."
"A novel? What's it about? Can I read it?"
Just as he predicted. There was no way Zhao Wanqiu wouldn't ask to read it.
He grinned. "I'm in talks with a publisher. When the book comes out, I'll send you a copy."
"You better not forget!" she said, mock-threateningly.
As they were chatting, the door opened, and Wang Juan walked in, wearing a sunhat that shielded her from the afternoon blaze.
"Hi, Auntie Wang!" Fang Yi greeted her.
These past two days, Wang Juan had barely left the hospital, staying at her daughter's side night and day. Today, knowing Fang Yi was coming to visit, she finally went home to wash their laundry and tidy up the house a bit.
"Xiao-Yi, thank you so much. I wouldn't have had time to do anything without your help," she said with a warm smile.
Though she smiled, the fatigue in her voice made Fang Yi's heart ache. He chatted with the two of them for a bit longer before taking his leave.
Once Fang Yi left, Wang Juan looked fondly at her daughter and said, "Wan'er, want me to peel a tangerine for you?"
"Nope!"
Zhao Wanqiu shook her head like a rattle drum.
She had a secret—a secret no one else knew, not even her mother.
Truth was, she didn't even like tangerines.
…
Riding his bike to Feiyu Internet Café, Fang Yi felt a wave of scorching heat blast out as soon as he approached the entrance.
No way. I've gotta sell the rights soon and buy a computer. I can't keep coming here every day like this. I'm gonna melt.
With that thought, he sat down at his usual spot. But instead of updating the novel right away, he opened the writer's backend and scanned the page.
No internal messages.
Fang Yi frowned.
Heh. Playing hard to get, are we? Alright then. Let's see who's more patient.
He sneered and began typing furiously. Another round of pa-ta pa-ta echoed through the internet café.
Fifteen thousand words later, he hit save.
But instead of uploading the chapter as usual, he dropped a bomb right at the end of the latest update:
"Due to certain circumstances, this novel is on an indefinite hiatus. Update schedule: TBD."
He published it.
Then, like fanning the flames of chaos, Fang Yi made the rounds on the forums—Tianya, Xici, Sina, Sohu—every major BBS and chatroom. He left just enough breadcrumbs for the readers to find.
Only after that did he log off and leave.
To anyone unfamiliar with the publishing world, this might've seemed reckless. But Fang Yi knew exactly what he was doing.
The publishers were trying to play the long game. Make him sweat. Wait him out. So that when it came time to negotiate, they could lowball him.
A classic move.
But Fang Yi wasn't about to dance to their tune. Not anymore.
Because unlike before, he had leverage now.
"Ghost Blows Out the Light" had only been serialized on Under the Banyan Tree for a few days, but it had already blown up. It topped every chart on the site.
And more than that—its popularity had spilled out into the open internet. Tianya, Xici, Sina, Sohu, random BBS forums, even chatrooms—people were talking. Buzzing. The name was spreading like wildfire.
Just days ago, he'd been a nameless high school graduate.
Now, he was a breakout sensation—an online literary star.
He wasn't chasing the publishers anymore.
He was meeting them eye to eye.
After leaving the café, Fang Yi pedaled home through the blistering heat. He had a date tonight.
…
What he didn't know was that back at Under the Banyan Tree headquarters, all hell had broken loose.
At precisely 3 PM, the first call came in.
Then the second. Then the third.
By the tenth call, it was no longer a trickle—it was a storm.
In just one hour, Li Jie, the editor in charge, had answered over a hundred calls. She barely had time to breathe.
All the callers—different tones, different dialects—had only one burning question:
Why the hell did Ghost Blows Out the Light go on hiatus?!
"Damn it! I was this close to the climax, and now it's TBD?! What does that even mean?!"
Thousands of readers, young and passionate, had just experienced their first heartbreak—the kind only a cliffhanger from a disappearing author can deliver.
Li Jie gritted her teeth and forced a professional smile into her voice. "I'm really not sure why he stopped updating. If I get any updates, I'll be sure to let you know."
But she was at her wit's end.
She couldn't figure it out either.
Why would the author suddenly halt the story just when it was getting good?
Writer's block?
No way. From what she read of today's upload, the writing was sharper than ever.
She wanted to call and ask, but Fang Yi hadn't left a phone number.
All she had was a QQ account.