"Little brother, come down to eat."
No one knew how long he had been writing when his elder sister, Lin Shufang, called him down for dinner.
"I'm coming!"
Lin Baicheng shouted back, stretched his body, and shook out his sore arms, stiff from all the writing.
"So tiring…"
Although he had written novels part-time before his rebirth, he had never worked at it nonstop, day after day, for more than half a month. More importantly, back then he had typed on a keyboard — not written everything by hand.
But to earn his first pot of gold, to have money to invest and make even more money, this kind of hardship was something he could endure.
To him, Hong Kong in 1977 was filled with golden opportunities. Once he earned his first pot of gold, he could multiply it quickly, becoming a millionaire, then a multimillionaire, and eventually more.
In the past, he had never had such a chance. Now that the opportunity to become a tycoon was right before him, there was no way he would give it up. A little fatigue was nothing. If he couldn't even handle that, he might as well stop dreaming about being a magnate and settle for just being a billionaire.
Yes — Lin Baicheng was that confident. Even if he failed at becoming a tycoon, he was sure that once the 21st century arrived, he could still become a billionaire.
There was no doubt about it. The property and shop his family owned would one day be his. Once he had money, he could buy more property and then sell it before Hong Kong's return to China. With the cash, he could invest in the internet era on the mainland — whether it was Alibaba, Tencent, or other companies — and he would make a fortune.
But in the 21st century, billionaires were everywhere. It wasn't special anymore.
Only by becoming a tycoon could he live up to this second chance at life. He wanted to stand above others and was willing to fight for it.
That was why this small suffering now was worth it.
When he went downstairs, the café was empty of customers for the moment.
"Dad, Mom, Sis."
Before his rebirth, Lin Baicheng had been an orphan. Other than the initial awkwardness, he had already come to accept these people as his real family.
Both his parents were alive. At 18, he had an older sister two years his senior and a younger sister three years younger.
His father, Lin Haishan, had inherited the family café and was a chef — with the typical round face and big belly of a cook. His mother, Zhao Huilan, was three years younger than his father. Unlike him, whose family had moved to Hong Kong before 1949, she had fled here later. She was said to have once been a young lady from a wealthy family.
His elder sister, Lin Shufang, like him, had only studied up to Form 5. With poor grades, she hadn't gone further and had simply stayed home to help with the café. That also spared her the trouble of job hunting.
But since she was now twenty, the family had started looking around for a suitable match. After all, in this era, women were expected to marry and have children around that age.
His younger sister, Lin Qin, was still in secondary school. Unlike her brother and sister, she had excellent grades, always among the top students in her class. She wasn't an absolute genius, but as long as she did well, getting into university would be no problem.
Because of her school schedule, Lin Qin usually came home after classes, ate early, rested a bit, and then went back for afternoon lessons. Otherwise, if she waited to eat with the family, she would never make it back in time for school.
The food had already been served. The Lin family lived decently — every meal had both fish and meat. While nothing fancy, in this era, many families couldn't afford to eat so well every day.
"Little brother, how's your novel coming along?"
Although people said one shouldn't speak at meals or in bed, most families chatted while eating. The Lins were no exception.
Everyone knew about Lin Baicheng's writing. The house was small, and since he spent all day writing, it was obvious what he was doing.
"The first volume should be done today. Tomorrow I'll proofread it, and then I can go to a newspaper office."
He didn't hide his progress. There was no reason to.
"That's wonderful," Zhao Huilan said with a smile. "Maybe our family will have a real literary man one day."
"I don't care about a literary man," Lin Haishan said, shaking his head and dampening the mood. "As long as he can feed himself, that's good enough."
Lin Baicheng only smiled, not refuting his father. Truthfully, he couldn't guarantee his adapted Storm Riders novel would become popular — or even that any newspaper would be willing to serialize it.
He thought it was good, but what mattered wasn't his opinion. It was the editor's. Without a newspaper's acceptance, there would be no platform for his work.
"You can do it, little brother," Lin Shufang encouraged him. Even if this one failed, as long as he worked hard and kept learning, sooner or later, one of his novels would be accepted.
"Thanks, Sis."
He returned her smile, warmth filling his heart.
His family's attitude toward his writing was one of cautious disapproval — but not outright opposition.
To his parents, especially, a boy who had only finished Form 5 and never written a novel before couldn't possibly earn money from writing. They thought it more practical for him to find a stable job or learn cooking from his father to prepare for inheriting the café.
But, in any case, writing novels at home was better than wasting his time on the streets, hanging out with hooligans, and fighting. As long as he didn't fall into bad habits, everything was fine.
Lin Baicheng knew his family's concerns. But as long as they didn't object openly, that was enough. For now, he could eat at home, live at home, and focus on writing instead of finding a job.
Otherwise, if he had to both work and write, who knew when he'd finish the first volume? The sooner the novel was written and sent to a newspaper, the sooner he could make money — and the sooner he could get rich.
After lunch, he didn't immediately return upstairs. Instead, he rested for half an hour to balance work and relaxation. Once he had recovered, he went back up to continue writing.
That night, a little after eight, Lin Baicheng finished the first volume of The Storm Riders. Next, he would proofread it carefully, and once satisfied, take it to the newspapers to seek serialization.