Chapter 64: Please, No More Extra Updates

"Are you there?"
Jiang Zheng replied, "Yes, is there something you need, Editor?"
"Don't add any more chapters," the editor responded.
Normally, editors wouldn't go out of their way to say such things to authors. How much can someone add anyway? If you add a hundred thousand words, that's already impressive.
But Jiang Zheng updated three hundred thousand words in one day; aside from the original thirty thousand, he had added two hundred seventy thousand.
Most authors’ extra chapters wouldn’t worry an editor, but at this scale, it did.
If he kept up this pace, the book would likely be finished within a month.
And in a month, the full cycle of recommendations wouldn’t even be completed, which would be detrimental to the book’s performance.
“I won’t update any more today,” Jiang Zheng replied.
The editor was somewhat speechless at his response. Today was already over, so of course he wouldn’t update. To be precise, he shouldn’t have updated yesterday.
“My point is, don’t keep adding so much in the future. Even if you do add more, keep it moderate. Otherwise, your book will end too soon,” the editor said.
Jiang Zheng understood what the editor was getting at. Before the book went live, during the new release period, the editor had already talked to him about this.
He’d told him to slow down his update speed, to stretch out the timeline and make sure all recommendations were utilized.
The same principle applied after the book went live.
Jiang Zheng knew this, but the task was pressing; he had no choice but to accelerate, planning to finish within two months.
“I understand. I’ll try to slow down from now on,” Jiang Zheng replied.
The editor looked at Jiang Zheng’s message and sighed silently.
With other authors, he wished they’d write more every day—if possible, he’d want to lock them in a room to write nonstop.
Large updates attract and retain more readers. Otherwise, with only four thousand words a day, how much content can there be? Readers would easily drift away.
But with Jiang Zheng, he had to do the opposite, hoping he’d update less.
“This book is performing very well. You have a real chance to become a legendary author—keep it up!” the editor encouraged.
“Thank you for your kind words,” Jiang Zheng replied.
After that, neither continued the conversation; it was getting late.
If he hadn’t waited specifically to discuss this issue with Jiang Zheng, the editor would have been asleep already.
On Jiang Zheng’s end, as he looked at his subscription and reward stats, he felt a bit dazed.
His initial subscriptions had already surpassed ten thousand, with more than twenty major donors, three silver sponsors, and one gold sponsor.

His monthly ticket count had reached over thirty thousand. Before the book went live, he had only about eight thousand, but now it had soared past thirty thousand.
He hadn’t updated for monthly ticket bonuses yet, since it was impossible to tally everything, and the day wasn’t even over.
He hadn’t realized how much it amounted to; when he calculated, Jiang Zheng was startled.
Based on his previous promise—five hundred monthly tickets for five thousand words—he owed nearly thirty thousand words in bonus chapters.
He hadn’t expected that monthly ticket bonuses would result in almost three hundred thousand extra words.
Clearly, he’d underestimated the scale.
Jiang Zheng had never written a novel before and only knew that monthly tickets were difficult to earn.
Compared to free recommendation tickets, monthly tickets—which require payment—are much more precious.
Many readers habitually use the monthly tickets earned from subscribing to this book and vote for another favorite.
For Jiang Zheng, a newcomer, offering five hundred monthly tickets for bonus chapters wasn’t a simple promise.
And the time limit for the bonus was just one day.
How many monthly tickets could be added in a single day?
He thought maybe two or three thousand, at most, and figured he’d just add twenty or thirty thousand words—a trivial effort for him.
He hadn’t counted on having three silver sponsors; each could provide six hundred sixty-six monthly tickets, all of which went to him. The gold sponsor gave six thousand six hundred sixty-six monthly tickets, also to him.
Adding the monthly tickets from over twenty major donors alone amounted to more than ten thousand.
With other readers voting, reaching thirty thousand was entirely plausible.
Jiang Zheng wore a bitter expression. Adding twenty or thirty thousand words was nothing to him; even a hundred thousand was doable with extra effort.
But nearly three hundred thousand words—he felt his hand might give out.
He was able to add so much today only because of his previous drafts; now that those were gone, things would get tough.
Jiang Zheng could foresee that, for the next half month or more, he’d have to work overtime, writing furiously to pay off his debt.
His joy at the subscriptions and rewards was quickly dampened.
Originally intending to sleep, Jiang Zheng lifted his hand again, preparing to write another ten thousand words.
The more drafts he prepared, the sooner he could clear his debt.
Jiang Zheng wasn’t someone who liked owing favors.
He had barely written a few hundred words when his phone began ringing incessantly.
He picked up the phone to see who kept messaging him.

It turned out to be the administrator of his book review section.
"Sir, a lot of people are asking about a reader group. Do you want to set up a few?" The administrator, "Fleeing in Panic," asked.
That was the online name; Jiang Zheng didn’t know the real one.
"There's no rush about reader groups," Jiang Zheng replied after thinking for a moment.
He didn’t have any reader groups and wasn’t keen on establishing them.
Fleeing in Panic said, "Sir, I think you should set up a few reader groups. If you really find it troublesome, I can help you create them, and then you just need to come in as the group owner."
"Uh... let’s talk about it later," Jiang Zheng deflected.
"You’re not thinking of not creating a group at all, are you?" Fleeing in Panic suddenly asked.
Jiang Zheng paused and replied, "I don’t really want to."
"Can you tell me why?" Fleeing in Panic asked.
"It's probably because I find it troublesome. Everyone likes reading, so I'll just write more. I don't have the energy to manage reader groups," Jiang Zheng replied.
It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either.
"You don't need to manage the reader group. Just focus on writing, and check in when you have free time.
Honestly, creating reader groups is very beneficial for you—you should pay attention to it," Fleeing in Panic said.
"What benefits?" Jiang Zheng asked.
"There are plenty of benefits, but the two most important are increasing reader loyalty and uniting everyone.
With greater fan loyalty, when you start your next book, you’ll have immediate support.
Uniting readers helps you compete for monthly ticket rankings. If you want to fight for honors, you can rally everyone in the group to support you," Fleeing in Panic explained.
Jiang Zheng read the message and fell into deep thought.
It seemed there were indeed many advantages to establishing reader groups.
Of course, everything has its downsides—for example, managing such a large group would be a challenge.
All things considered, the benefits outweighed the drawbacks.