Chapter 83: A Token of Appreciation

“Writing brings me joy!” Jiang Zheng muttered to himself.

He was trying to psych himself up; after the initial burst of happiness, he was starting to feel fatigued. That’s just how it is with writing novels: in the beginning, it’s exhilarating, with a mind overflowing with ideas and inspiration. As the story progresses, however, most of those ideas get used up, and you inevitably hit a wall.

Writer’s block is every author’s torment. Although Jiang Zheng had the support of his system’s skills, and didn’t get stuck as often as others, he wasn’t completely immune. Plus, after writing for a while, the exhaustion just swept over him.

After cheering himself up, Jiang Zheng returned to his writing.

As he was typing away, the doorbell rang.

Jiang Zheng went out to answer the door and was momentarily stunned before saying, “Auntie, please come in and have a seat.”

His third aunt stepped inside.

“I just came by to check in. By the way, is your mother home yet?” she asked.

“Not yet, but judging by the time, she should be back soon,” Jiang Zheng replied.

“I’ll wait, then.” She lifted the bag in her hand and said, “It’s nothing much, just some vegetables from our garden and a few plums.”

“Auntie, you shouldn’t have. There’s no need to bring anything,” Jiang Zheng said.

“It’s nothing valuable, just homegrown,” she replied.

Jiang Zheng poured some tea and brought out some fruit. “Please have some tea, Auntie. There’s fruit here as well.”

“It’s fine, I’m not thirsty,” she said, sitting awkwardly on the sofa, unsure what to do with her hands.

“Auntie, should I call my mom and have her come home a bit earlier?” Jiang Zheng offered.

“No need, I’ll just wait here. You go ahead and do what you need to do,” she replied.

Jiang Zheng hesitated for a moment—he did have things left unfinished, his writing wasn’t done yet.

“Then, Auntie, feel free to rest here. If you need anything, just call for me—I’ll be in my room,” he said.

“Alright, go on,” she told him.

With that, Jiang Zheng returned to his room and continued to write.

Not long after, his parents came home from work. Seeing their guest, they greeted her warmly.

They tried to persuade his third aunt to stay for dinner, but she refused, saying she needed to catch a bus back home. After chatting for a while, she left.

When Jiang Zheng finally finished his writing and came out, he noticed his aunt was gone. “Mom, where’s Auntie?” he asked.

“She left. We tried to get her to stay for dinner, but she wouldn’t,” his mother replied.

“Mom, what did Auntie need?” Jiang Zheng asked casually.

“She came to borrow money,” his mother said.

“Borrow money? What for?” Jiang Zheng was curious.

“Your cousin is getting married, but they’re short on funds, so she came to see if we could lend her some,” his mother explained.

“My cousin is getting married?” Jiang Zheng was a bit surprised.

“Yes, he’s not young anymore—he’ll be thirty after the new year. Getting married now will finally put your aunt’s mind at ease,” his father chimed in.

“I see,” Jiang Zheng nodded.

He didn’t ask further. He wasn’t particularly concerned about how much his aunt wanted to borrow. His parents’ money was their own; whether to lend it and how much was their decision. He didn’t need to pry.

“You’ll be getting married before we know it, and we still don’t know where we’ll find the money for your wedding,” his mother said worriedly.

Although they lived in the county town, they really didn’t have much money. These days, weddings usually require a car and a house, and even without those, the cost was still significant.

“Mom, it’s still early for me. Don’t worry about that now. Besides, when I get married in the future, I’ll use my own earnings—you don’t need to worry,” Jiang Zheng said.

“I hope so!” his mother replied with a smile.

Jiang Zheng moved his lips as if to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

After dinner, he watched some TV with his parents before returning to his room.

When he opened his backend page, he was stunned.

Why had his monthly votes suddenly increased so much today?

He did a quick calculation—he’d gained seventy or eighty thousand votes just today.

His first thought was of his moderator.

He immediately messaged them: “Did you organize everyone to vote?”

After a while, the moderator replied, “No, you said before that you didn’t want to organize voting, so I didn’t.”

“Then why did my monthly votes increase so much?” Jiang Zheng asked.

“I’m wondering the same thing, but I really didn’t organize anything,” the moderator replied.

“Then what’s going on?” Jiang Zheng was puzzled.

“Wait a moment, I’ll ask around,” the moderator said.

A long while later, the moderator messaged back: “I’ve checked. No one organized a vote. Everyone voted of their own accord.”

“I see, thank you,” Jiang Zheng replied.

“No problem,” the moderator said.

Staring at the monthly votes, Jiang Zheng fell into deep thought.

Though he hadn’t asked everyone to vote, since they had, he couldn’t just ignore it.

With so many votes coming in at once, it wouldn’t be right not to respond.

Voting was a show of goodwill from his readers, and he should reciprocate.

After a moment’s thought, he dug into his reserves and added twenty thousand words as a bonus update.

At the end of the chapter, he wrote: “Thank you all for your monthly votes. Here’s an extra twenty thousand words as a token of my gratitude.”

After finishing the bonus chapters, he didn’t dwell on it any further, returning to his writing.

He thought it was just a normal bonus update, but little did he know what a stir it would cause.

...

Bai Dacheng was a man approaching middle age. He worked hard every day, and one of his few ways to relax was reading novels.

He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and didn’t play cards—he just enjoyed reading novels, spending only a few hundred yuan each month, much less than what smokers would spend.

Part of that money was for tipping authors, while the actual subscription costs were far less.

He didn’t read many novels, nor did he spend much time on them.

Recently, he’d become hooked on a multiverse novel, one rooted in the world of domestic animation.

The novel was very popular lately—not only was the plot gripping, but the writing was also exceptional, standing out among online authors as top tier.

Beyond the story and writing, the updates were massive.

In less than a month, the author had released over a million words—a staggering pace.

Readers jokingly called the author the new “King of the Grind,” “Tentacle Monster,” and “Human Typing Machine.”

It was the end of the month, and Bai Dacheng still had some monthly votes left. He liked to cast his votes at month’s end.

His voting method was simple and direct—he’d vote for whichever book he liked most at the moment, not fixed on any one author.

He chose to vote for the currently popular multiverse novel, not just because it was good, but also because the author was so industrious.

However, since the double-vote period hadn’t yet begun, Bai Dacheng didn’t use up all his votes, just a portion.

After voting, he read the day’s update and was about to go to bed when, suddenly, a new update notification popped up.

He was taken aback.