Chapter 102: The Suspense Literature Summit

“My goodness, his cursing skills are incredible!” Wei Wenlin stared dumbfounded at his phone. While the person on the other side of the computer was choosing a hero, he opened his phone and saw that his friend was being bullied by others. Just as he was about to defend him online, he suddenly noticed a flood of messages from Zhang Chu.

At that moment, he didn’t even care that the game had started. His eyes quickly scanned through the messages, liking and sharing them one by one.

Previously, he had worried that Zhang Chu would be harshly criticized, but now he wasn’t worried at all. With that guy’s sharp tongue, even two more rounds of insults wouldn’t be enough.

“That was so satisfying to hear!” Wei Wenlin slammed his hand on the desk. Now he could fully concentrate on the game—Zhang Chu could handle this on his own.

No writer had ever cursed so fiercely online, yet many people, though aware of Zhang Chu’s insults, couldn’t find a witty comeback.

A writer’s image? Idol baggage?

Zhang Chu simply didn’t care; he was just an unrefined man.

Netizens nearly burst with laughter. Who cared if the poem deserved to be published in the Poetry Journal? Most didn’t even know what the Poetry Journal really represented.

These phrases quickly went viral online. Now, instead of directly telling someone to get lost, people would say “leave gracefully.”

“I’m allergic to jerks—same here.”

“Who’s the best at cursing? Find Zhang Chu in Jiangdong, China!”

“The 2B pencil is innocent—I’m just passing by.”

“Hearing the ocean sounds when shaking their heads? Are their brains filled with water? Hahaha!”

“I can’t take it anymore, I’m dying of laughter!”

“Suddenly laughed during class, this cursing technique must be saved. Next time those little bitches mess with me, I’ll hit back immediately.”

“Zhang Chu is awesome, so domineering! Sending love.”

“I already have a feeling the people behind the computers must be fuming.”

Usually quiet, never showing his strength, Zhang Chu felt refreshed after cursing. Those people deserved it.

He became a target simply because his popularity had soared recently. Most so-called poets or critics dragged him out for public criticism to gain some media attention.

As for these critics, they hardly had anything worthwhile to say. Most just echoed others with low literary standards.

Zhang Chu didn’t mingle in the poetry scene and didn’t mind offending them completely.

If he hadn’t been so attached to his precious notebook, the name Zhu Ziqing would have long appeared in it.

...

“This newcomer is a bit too arrogant, don’t you think?”

Within the mystery writers’ group chat, these authors watched the commotion from the sidelines. The poetry world had nothing to do with their mystery circle; they were merely curious about Zhang Chu’s uproar.

“But he’s got the right to be arrogant. Young fame often comes with this—can’t handle criticism. By the way, what do you all think of his poem?”

“I think it’s fine—full of charm. Some people are just nitpicking.”

“The quality isn’t the best, but it’s not as worthless as the critics say. I think it deserves to be published in the Youth Edition of the Poetry Journal, not the masters’ edition.”

Since it wasn’t their concern, the mystery writers were more objective. They had no vested interest in Zhang Chu or the Poetry Journal.

They all admired Zhang Chu a little—he gave up writing mysteries and instead serialized a hilarious Journey to the West novel online. Now a poem of his was published in the country’s top poetry magazine.

“If even the Pear Blossom style counts as poetry, then Zhang Chu’s ‘Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossoms’ definitely qualifies!”

“Do you think he’ll attend this year’s Suspense Summit?”

“Not sure, we should ask Editor Gu in the other group.”

“He should be invited; his book sold well. Probably the hottest newcomer this year.”

...

At that moment, Zhang Chu was splashing water in the swimming pool. Growing up in a southern city by the water, he had swum and bathed in small streams since childhood, though he was banned from ponds and rivers once he got older.

The Jiangcheng swimming pool was crowded. Even at noon, swimmers were everywhere.

Wiping water droplets from his face, Zhang Chu leaned on the edge, hoping to spot a beautiful woman in a swimsuit. He was sorely disappointed—most swimmers were elderly men and women, children, or people with beer bellies trying to lose weight. Beautiful women were as rare as giant pandas.

“Sigh, I wonder if Yanda has a pool. There must be beauties there,” Zhang Chu said with faint hope. As a psychological thirty-something-year-old uncle, he really wanted to find a partner during his university days.

After swimming for over an hour, he climbed out, showered, and changed back into regular clothes.

The trip from the pool to home was long; the bus alone took over half an hour. Zhang Chu found a seat by the window at the back and finally had time to check his phone.

He was surprised to see several messages from Gu Xinxue.

“Zhang Chu, are you there?”

“This year’s Chinese Suspense Literature Summit will be held at the Yanjing Exhibition Center from August 29th to 31st. Are you available to participate?”

“If you want to join, please reply immediately upon seeing this. We’re planning to launch ‘Psychological Crime’ at the summit’s exhibition.”

Tapping the bus window with his hand, Zhang Chu thought the summit sounded interesting. It just so happened he could avoid the school rush and arrive early in Yanjing.

It was necessary to familiarize himself with the campus and find a place to rent.

He quickly typed his reply: “Editor Gu, what exactly is this Suspense Literature Summit?”

Both in his past life and now, Zhang Chu had little knowledge of such events but was curious to check it out.

Gu Xinxue had been waiting for the reply and promptly explained: “The summit is part of the large-scale ‘Book Fragrance China’ exhibition, gathering top domestic suspense and detective literature authors, filmmakers, major film companies, and related business representatives. They discuss the development trends of Chinese suspense literature in the digital age, the film adaptation of suspense works, and the close relationship between suspense literature and everyday life.”

“Then I’ll participate. Sounds pretty good,” Zhang Chu agreed cheerfully. After writing for so long, he had never truly communicated face-to-face with writers or filmmakers. Even if he was just a minor participant, it would be meaningful.

“Then it’s settled. We can organize a ‘Detective Sherlock’ book signing and the nationwide launch ceremony for ‘Psychological Crime’.”

“Wait, isn’t that too grand? I can’t handle that kind of attention. What if no one shows up? Let’s just quietly release ‘Psychological Crime,’ okay?”

The summit would mainly feature big names; Zhang Chu, as a newcomer, shouldn’t take up too much space.

Gu Xinxue sighed and said, “Looks like you need to quickly find a cultural company to be your agent. It’s too troublesome to handle everything yourself.” Their Nanhai Publishing House wanted an author who could cooperate with promotions, and Zhang Chu’s laziness meant he needed someone to push him!

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An experienced author, with guaranteed quality and updates. Fans of xianxia should definitely add it to their collections.