Chapter 51: A Slight Reprimand

These days, the online audience laps this up— even male celebrities are raking in fans by selling homoerotic vibes. In all sorts of films, shows, and novels, characters are paired up as couples. Naturally, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are among the most popular ships. There’s a saying: “With a fujoshi’s eye, all men are gay.” While Zhang Chu’s “Detective Sherlock” contains no such implications in its prose, under the interpretations of these female netizens, it’s suddenly become the grand homoerotic hit of the year!

Unsurprisingly, the hired posters employed by Liu Zhuo and Xu Fei unwittingly became accomplices, giving the push everyone had been searching for to fuel a new ship. With such an opportunity delivered straight to their doorstep, how could the fans not jump on board? Thus, the vote count for “Detective Sherlock” soared at an unprecedented rate, shooting up to 900,000 votes in just an hour—an unstoppable force.

Originally, Zhang Chu had given up all hope, but now, it seemed there was a glimmer of light. There were still more than twenty hours left; it wasn’t impossible for the votes to rise from 900,000 to 1.3 million!

Though this underhanded attack had unexpectedly turned into an assist, Zhang Chu had not forgotten the mastermind behind the scenes. He entered the system and asked, “System, can you find out who’s behind this, given the situation?”

The Savior System was typically very quiet, never interfering unless there was a mission, silently providing support to Zhang Chu. Now, it responded in a synthesized electronic voice: “Of course. For 50,000 points, I can lock onto the culprit. Would you like to proceed?”

At present, Zhang Chu’s reputation points totaled 1,080,000. Spending 50,000 was no hardship at all.

“Proceed.”

With that command, Zhang Chu watched as his computer screen suddenly transformed. Lines of code flickered and refreshed at lightning speed, so fast they were incomprehensible, as if he’d stumbled into the world of “The Matrix.”

“What’s happening? Did my computer get a virus? Or am I being hacked?” Zhang Chu’s eyes widened in alarm. A virus was scary enough, but what really mattered was that the five thousand words he’d just written couldn’t be lost!

“No need to panic. The system is using the posts of the hired posters for reverse-tracking. The comments have all been traced to Blue Whale Public Relations. Chat logs show Liu Zhuo as the main contact, with Xu Fei, author of ‘The Testament of Holmes,’ as the client. The full conversation is now displayed on your screen.”

In less than a minute, the Savior System had transferred the chat logs between Liu Zhuo and Xu Fei straight onto Zhang Chu’s computer. The efficiency was downright terrifying!

Zhang Chu read through them carefully; the logs seemed as if the system had directly cracked both of their accounts. Xu Fei’s dissatisfaction and complaints about him were clear, as was Liu Zhuo’s instigation.

“So it really is the two of them. Now, how should I get back at them?”

He wasn’t one to let others walk all over him. He didn’t go looking for trouble, but he was never afraid of it, either. Without hesitation, he began searching the system store for anything that might be useful. No matter how many reputation points it cost, he wasn’t concerned—after all, his points had been steadily increasing all this time.

“How does this Truth Sticker work?”

“Specify a target’s name, write it on the sticker, and it will compel them to speak only the truth for thirty minutes. Cost: 100,000 reputation points.”

A smile surfaced on Zhang Chu’s face. He snapped his fingers and said, “That’s the one. Redeem it. I’ll use it on Xu Fei.”

His reputation, once at 1,080,000, dropped to 930,000 after spending 50,000 and then 100,000, but he still had more than enough for his daily writing needs.

…

“This Liu Zhuo is just too unreliable. He’s always bragged about how many explosive stories he’s helped suppress with his hired posters, and now he’s ended up helping my competitor. Did he do this on purpose?” Xu Fei was restless at work. The 50,000 yuan he’d spent was as good as flushed down the drain. He’d essentially paid to advertise his rival’s work, and now he’d have to scrimp and save just to pay off his credit card.

It felt as though a herd of wild beasts was stampeding across the Gobi Desert—Xu Fei could barely contain his fury, wanting to jab his pen into both Zhang Chu and Liu Zhuo.

“If anyone finds out about the vote rigging, forget about the 500,000 or 200,000 yuan prize money—I’ll probably be disqualified from the competition altogether. My luck can’t be that bad, right?”

It’s said you should never jinx yourself, for when you’re down on your luck, even drinking water can get stuck in your teeth.

Xu Fei thought he felt someone tap him on the back. He turned, but everyone in the office was busy at their desks.

“Sigh, this world is just too fake. I must restore its clarity and justice!”

As if struck by a fit of adolescent passion, Xu Fei felt a rush of hot blood to his head. He opened his microblog, posted screenshots of his conversation with Liu Zhuo, and wrote: “Hello, everyone. I’m Xu Fei, author of ‘The Testament of Holmes’—or rather, I snatched this manuscript from one of my interns. Starting yesterday, I hired Liu Zhuo from Blue Whale PR to buy 200,000 votes and spread negative rumors online.”

After posting, Xu Fei stood tall and proud, marching straight into his supervisor’s office.

“Xu, just the person I wanted to see. Come in, I’ve got a few words for you.” Liu Haohui, whose bald spot gleamed under the lights, beckoned him to sit.

But Xu Fei shook his head. “Old Liu, I’ve tolerated you long enough. You’re always holding up the works, making our lives miserable. When the higher-ups set the target at one, you turn it into ten! You dock our pay, and I bet all the deductions end up in your pocket, don’t they? We complain about you behind your back every day. Even your wife has left you for someone else, but you’re too clueless to notice that green hat you’re wearing.”

Liu Haohui was so furious he was trembling, pointing a shaking finger at Xu Fei, his face flushed with rage, unable to speak.

“What? What’s wrong with me! All I do is read novels during work hours and pass the real tasks off to the interns. So what?”

The office door was ajar, and the entire exchange was perfectly audible to everyone outside.

All the colleagues gathered and stared at one another in disbelief.

“Has Xu lost his mind?”

“He must’ve swallowed dynamite, unless he’s found a better job somewhere.”

“I can’t believe he’s dragging us all down with him.”

“Old Liu is going to have a stroke—should we call an ambulance?”

“Well said! I’d love to tell him off like that too, but I just don’t have the guts.”

Inside, Liu Haohui slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the office.

“Xu Fei, get out!”

“Fine, I’m leaving. I don’t want to stay in this dump anyway. Working with you losers is the biggest insult to me.” Xu Fei pushed open the half-closed door, paused at the sight of his colleagues, then sneered, “I’m not singling anyone out—I’m saying all of you here are trash!”

The onlookers were stunned. How had the fire suddenly leapt to their side?

For several minutes, no one spoke; everyone was intimidated by Xu Fei’s audacity. Truly, still waters run deep—what a shocking outburst!

Just as Xu Fei reached the elevator, he shuddered, his body nearly collapsing. What on earth had he just done? Had he been possessed?

**************

When it comes to bonus chapters for tips, not many readers participate.

Let’s switch to bonus chapters based on recommendation votes. Right now, there are 6,811 votes—every additional thousand will unlock a new chapter.

Today is the author’s birthday, so let’s make sure to get these three chapters out!