Shuanghua suddenly went on a productivity spree with updates, reviving fans who had been at peak Zen. They had been living peacefully, unbothered by the world, and only Shuanghua’s updates could make them rise from the brink of despair as if kicking the lid off their coffins.

The Swordbearer quickly climbed back onto various charts on Qingshui Network, and the promotional accounts sprang into action.

In the past, when discussing Shuanghua’s writing, people in the circle would often warn others about the massive pit that was his story. If someone recommended it, others would respond, “No, don’t drag me into this.” But now, recommendations included screenshots of Shuanghua’s daily updates of 20,000 words or more. As a result, cautious readers who had been hovering around the edge of the pit began to jump in.

Shuanghua’s name was once again heating up in the community, and even his long-dormant Weibo account gained a couple of thousand followers.

Although Xie Lanze was delighted to dictate The Swordbearer to Fang Rui every day, he was starting to feel a bit weary of the routine.

Thinking of Black Dawn, the work that was filled with his passion and effort, Xie Lanze felt a deep sense of resentment. Black Dawn was a manuscript he had begun writing in his teenage years. It had taken him many years to finish, and he continued to revise and improve it as he grew older.

Because there were several parts he had never revised to his complete satisfaction, he had never published the work. It wasn’t until he started dating Fang Rui, who expressed a desire to adapt the story into a drama, that Xie Lanze finally brought it out, painstakingly adapting it into a script.

However, he was disgusted to see his work taken and misappropriated by Fang Rui’s first love, Xu Qingli. Xie Lanze felt utterly sickened by their actions.

Still, during the script adaptation process, he had clarified some aspects that had previously puzzled him, leading to new insights on how to improve it. Now, with Fang Rui’s help, he planned to organize and submit it, demonstrating exactly who had poured their heart and soul into this work.

As Fang Rui looked at the stack of Black Dawn manuscripts, scripts, and a flash drive filled with documents, he furrowed his brow and asked, “What do you mean by this?”

Xie Lanze raised an eyebrow. “I need you to help me input and organize these. I’ll handle the writing for The Swordbearer myself.”

“Who asked you about that?” Fang Rui retorted. “Even though your uncle helped you become the chief screenwriter, this script is the collective effort of the entire writing team, right? You can’t just take it to publish on your own.”

Over the past few days, as he helped input Xie Lanze’s work, Fang Rui had indeed recognized Xie Lanze’s talent. He acknowledged that there had been some issues with the division of labor in the writing team, which had led to some of Xie Lanze’s contributions being overshadowed. But no matter how much credit Xie Lanze deserved, Qingli had also put in effort, and it wouldn’t be right to claim the script as solely his.

Xie Lanze sneered, “Are you still believing Xu Qingli’s nonsense?”

“He has written quite a bit of good stuff, but the pile of garbage he produced is something I wouldn’t even let appear in my work.” At that time, he had already endured the frustration of others randomly altering his work for Fang Rui’s sake. The several points that Xu Qingli forced Fang Rui to change were simply mistakes, and now, as he prepared for publication, he naturally wanted to revert them.

Although Fang Rui had already sensed that Xie Lanze was better than his previous impression, he still loved Xu Qingli. He shouted angrily, “What kind of talk is that?!”

Xie Lanze, however, replied coldly, “Hurry up and enter it. I’ve already written down the order. If there’s even a single word in my manuscript that Xu Qingli wrote, you can conveniently sue him on my behalf.”

Fang Rui sensed the signs of an impending argument: “Do you think what you wrote is…”

Xie Lanze interrupted him, wielding a feather duster like a command baton, “Your uncle is still outside; anyway, he doesn’t have to work this month.” He had already been rendered indifferent by Fu Yunshen; what did arguing matter? Did it make Fang Rui any happier about typing?

Sure enough, Fang Rui went pale at the mention of his uncle, backing down. He opened Xie Lanze’s manuscript, saying, “Then let me see just how good your own writing is.”

…

Shuanghua’s column has published a new piece called Black Dawn.

Huh? This familiar move gives off a hint of something ominous.

Wasn’t it the case before that after writing for several chapters, a new book would suddenly pop up, leaving the old one forgotten in some obscure corner?

【No!!! You’ve only written for a few days, and now you’re going to favor another little fairy?!】

【Shuanghua! You fickle man!】

However, fans quickly noticed that this title was the same as the recently awarded Best Screenplay TV drama Black Dawn. Those who had watched the show found that the first three chapters released closely mirrored the content of the drama, suggesting that this was indeed the original work or a script adaptation of the series.

【Since this is the original work or an adaptation, Shuanghua should be able to write it quickly, right? (hoping against hope)】

【Today, Swordbearer didn’t have a hiatus! Still daily updates! I love you, author.】

【Let me dream for a moment that Black Dawn was already written long ago.】

【As long as you keep updating Swordbearer daily, I’m willing to stay at the bottom of the pit for Black Dawn.】

【Hand over the updates for Swordbearer, and give us the data for Black Dawn.】

Soon, some readers uncovered a major scoop behind the Best Screenplay award for the Black Dawn TV drama.

Shortly after the Golden Bell Awards ceremony, the production team updated the information for the drama, stating that the head screenwriter had been changed to someone named Xie Lanze, and a correction notice was issued for the Golden Bell’s Best Screenplay award, which was now awarded to Xie Lanze.

This incident sparked a wave of heated discussion, but the involved party, Xie Lanze, did not make a public appearance at the time. The production team and the Golden Bell Awards organizers were also unlikely to heavily publicize such matters, so the public sentiment quickly subsided.

【Shuanghua, the head screenwriter for Black Dawn, couldn’t possibly be you, right?】

【It has to be, after all, the author has written, ‘The musk accompanies Lanze, while Shuanghua enters the apricot paste.’】

【Then you’re really in a tough spot… your work’s credit got stolen, and now you have to face criticism from that writer’s fans. Meanwhile, they’re on Weibo enjoying a peaceful life and almost managing to clear their name.】

【I kept wondering why the update frequency was so pitifully low over the past year!!! So it turns out you’ve been busy writing scripts behind our backs! You used our updates to write a script that nearly got snatched away?! I can’t take it!】

【That ‘male god screenwriter’ who got promoted is just bullying you because you don’t have fans, right?】

【Stay here and update properly, author! I’ll go buy you two oranges to smash that guy’s head!】

【We’ve been lying around waiting for updates for so many years; do they really think we’re too peaceful to fight? Also: stay here and update properly, don’t move!】

【With Shuanghua boldly venturing into the world, author, wait for me to come back and drink your beer—uh, I mean, see your updates!】

Xie Lanze’s revelation sent the readers into a righteous fury: how could they treat my author like this after not updating for an entire year? No way, we want our updates back!

Seeing the readers’ comments, Xie Lanze felt warm and touched. When his credit was taken and he hadn’t yet met Fu Yunshen, he had been filled with despair about the world. Little did he expect that there would still be a group of warm-hearted little angels defending him.

He turned to Fang Rui and said, “Since it’s still early, I’ll add an extra 5,000 words.”

Fang Rui thought, don’t say that to me! It’s not you who’s tired; it’s me! You’re being generous with someone else’s hard work!

Xu Qingli had always marketed himself on Weibo as the “male god screenwriter.” With looks that rivaled those of a star and a touch of talent, he often posted polished personal photos or selfies, presenting himself as both handsome and stylish, attracting a large wave of female fans.

After winning the Golden Bell for Best Screenplay, he capitalized on the momentum to market himself even further.

As for the later debacle of the head screenwriter being replaced, nobody knew Xie Lanze’s name; there were no fans to back him up. Only bystanders watched the drama unfold, and once the excitement wore off, no one cared about the incident anymore.

Anyway, Xu Qingli’s name was still on the list of screenwriters, but how much he actually contributed was just a matter of the script team’s workload distribution. He sent out some brainwashing packages to his fans, claiming that the company wanted to market him as the “male god screenwriter” and insisted he go up to accept the award, portraying himself as a victim.

Meanwhile, he encouraged his fans to vent their frustration at Xie Lanze for “abusing” the loyal fans, keeping his image as the “male god screenwriter” intact in their eyes.

However, today, the “male god screenwriter’s” Weibo was bombarded.

This group of people had a unified slogan—“We want our updates back!” Their identities seemed to be “a group of Shuanghua fans” determined to venture into the world.

Xu Qingli’s fans quickly reacted and started arguing with the Shuanghua readers, only to realize they were outmatched. QAQ?

【Oh, I barely put in any effort to push Shuanghua to update, and you can’t handle it already?】

【Who even is Shuanghua? Just someone trying to hitch a ride on Qingli’s fame, hoping to get popular.】

【Hahaha, Shuanghua has been silent on Weibo for years and has finally decided he wants to be famous.】

There are actually many hidden readers of Shuanghua on Weibo, as several of his completed works have already produced numerous derivatives and secured a place in the fan fiction community. It’s just that he himself has a very laid-back attitude.

Now, with Shuanghua readers and Xu Qingli fans arguing publicly, many people saw the drama on their timelines. The most classic remark came from a Xu Qingli fan: “Who is Shuanghua? Just someone trying to ride on the coattails of popularity.”

This infuriated a bunch of laid-back hidden readers, who initiated an activity called “Let’s get Shuanghua trending so you can see who he is.” The trending topic turned out to be: #Did Shuanghua update today?

Unexpectedly, once this topic was bought by wealthy readers and started trending, it soared up the charts quickly, soon landing in the top twenty. Even those who had initially set out to stir up trouble were taken aback.

The comments on the trending Weibo posts quickly reached the tens of thousands, with everyone sharing their tragic experiences of being let down by Shuanghua. Some were left hanging after reading a magazine piece, others bought physical books but never saw a sequel, and many were still stuck in the dozen unfinished stories on various reading sites in this digital age.

If it weren’t for this trending topic, they wouldn’t have realized just how many people had been let down by their beloved author over the past decade.

So, did Shuanghua update today?

Longtime readers who stumbled upon Shuanghua’s column on the Qingshui website were suddenly taken aback—he actually updated with 25,000 words today? Had Shuanghua gone crazy after two years of silence?

Readers who had just switched back from Weibo were equally thrilled to find out that Shuanghua indeed hadn’t moved an inch but had added another 5,000 words!

As for Xie Lanzhe’s heartfelt thanks, it was seen by everyone as proof that scolding Xu Qingli on Weibo really worked!

Hungry readers rushed towards Xu Qingli’s Weibo like a herd of Mario jumping toward a question block, eagerly bouncing up and down, trying to hit it with their heads—du~du~du~

With every jump, the question block would display a message about the additional 5,000 words.

“Today, a du~ gives us an extra 5,000; if we jump a few more times, will Shuanghua update with 30,000 tomorrow?!”

As a result, Xu Qingli’s Weibo exploded with activity.