The version of Black Dawn that Xie Lanze continuously refined is indeed nearly perfect. Even his typewriter nephew, Fang Rui, got drawn into it while organizing the materials.

He looked at the manuscripts filled with corrections and revisions, observing how sentences and phrases were altered multiple times until they reached perfection. It felt as if he could sense the emotional journey Xie Lanze experienced while writing these.

More importantly, unlike the dry writing style of scripts and the limitations imposed by the time and space of television dramas, there was much more room for creativity here. Fang Rui felt that… Xie Lanze’s writing was truly captivating! It was far more enjoyable than any television drama!

What happens when an assistant responsible for organizing a writer’s manuscripts ends up becoming that writer’s reader?

“Fang Rui.” Xie Lanze called out to Fang Rui, who was still typing away after finishing today’s update for The Sword Bearer. Fang Rui was merely organizing and entering the manuscripts, so he didn’t need to think much—yet he had been faster than Xie Lanze just a few days ago.

Fang Rui lowered his head, reading the manuscript aloud, his fingers flying over the keys: tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap…

“Fang Rui?” Xie Lanze walked up behind him and was surprised to see the progress of Fang Rui’s typing on the screen. “How come you’ve recorded this much?”

Fang Rui flipped the page and continued: tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap…

Xie Lanze watched Fang Rui’s hands, his expression complicated. Normally, both of them could write ten thousand words without issue, but today Fang Rui had been at it from morning till night, likely exceeding thirty thousand words by this point. Was he really okay?

What was the point of this self-inflicted torture? Had Fang Rui finally developed a sense of conscience upon seeing his own manuscript? Did he start punishing himself instead of waiting for Xie Lanze to do it?

Xie Lanze knocked on the table beside Fang Rui and asked, “Are you planning to skip dinner today?”

“Tsk.” Fang Rui didn’t look up. “Shh, let me finish this chapter.”

Xie Lanze was confused. What did he mean by “finish”? Wasn’t he here to input data for him? Had he actually started enjoying it?

He reached out to pull the manuscript away from Fang Rui, but Fang Rui yanked it back, asking, “What are you doing?”

“Give me the typed document; I’ll check for any issues before sending it out for the update.”

Fang Rui quickly grabbed a USB drive and handed it to him, saying, “I’ve recorded thirty thousand words; let’s send them all together.” Then he pulled the manuscript back. “Give it back.”

Xie Lanze was speechless. Was it even his? The little angel in the comments was driving him crazy every day, and he hadn’t lost his mind yet, but Fang Rui seemed to be going a bit crazy in front of him.

Seeing the complex expression on Xie Lanze’s face, which seemed to be on the verge of saying something, Fang Rui added, “Is it so wrong to love my job and want to work overtime?”

“Not at all.” Xie Lanze thought that under this self-inflicted pressure, Fang Rui might have discovered a new way of looking at things, taking in what he saw and writing it down on the keyboard.

That was good—very good, in fact. He might as well let Fang Rui keep writing; finishing up sooner would be best. After all, Fang Rui didn’t know that once these tasks were completed, he would become Fang Rui’s uncle.

After checking everything, Xie Lanze sent out the update for the thirty thousand words.

【Ahhhh, going to Xu Qingli to grind monsters really works! KK, I actually got a thirty-thousand-word update!!!】

【So updates can really drop!!!】

【That guy! I don’t regret bravely venturing into the unknown for you! Love it, love it!】

【Thirty thousand words!!! Amazing! The Sword Bearer has even updated with ten thousand more; I suspect Shuanghua has some drafts saved!】

【Definitely has saved drafts! I want to dive into the draft box, wuwuwuwu!】

【If only we could get the drafts to drop faster!】

【I have a bold idea…】

【I have a bold idea too…】

【Let’s shake hands! Let’s happily go grind Xu Qingli together!】

Fang Rui, possessing all the unpublished works of the author, felt immensely satisfied as he read through the text. He took great pride in the thirty-thousand-word update he had typed out, considering himself a benefactor to many readers.

Unable to resist, he logged onto the Qingshui website to check the comments, eager to know how the readers reacted to the thirty-thousand-word update—were they shocked? Did they think it was fantastic?

However, what he found instead was everyone holding hands, preparing to continue their campaign under Ah Li’s Weibo, eagerly anticipating a forty-thousand-word update to drop tomorrow.

Fang Rui was stunned. “?! You’re looking at the benefits I’ve given you, yet you want to go after my man? How heartless are you!!!”

Black Dawn was not a long work, and the several tens of thousands of words released earlier already made up a quarter of it. It didn’t take long for readers to start making comparisons and analyses with the television drama.

They discovered that many of the highlights in the book were absent from the drama, while several points that had received criticism in the show were handled perfectly in the novel.

This left many book fans questioning: which came first, the original work or the television drama? If the original came first, then what on earth was the writing team for the drama doing?

Recently, Xu Qingli had faced immense pressure from public opinion. Even deleting comments couldn’t gloss over the situation. He had no choice but to contact Fang Rui daily, dropping various hints, and ultimately resorting to pleading.

However, Fang Rui had nearly finished reading Xie Lanze’s book and realized that Xie Lanze’s writing was far superior. He also noticed that the points Xu Qingli had insisted on changing were, in fact, flaws in the script. Fang Rui was clear in his mind about who the script truly belonged to.

Yet, after holding onto his feelings for Xu Qingli for so many years, he still felt some attachment. He said, “Ah Li, why don’t you apologize to Xie Lanze on Weibo? I’ll think of a way to handle the rest.”

“Why should I apologize?! I didn’t do anything wrong!” Xu Qingli feigned ignorance, pretending that since everyone had written the script together, it was hard to determine who deserved the credit.

The concept of a white moonlight—a distant, unattainable ideal—remained beautiful only in memory. Back then, Xu Qingli had been high and aloof, indifferent to Fang Rui, who was eager to be a sycophant and win his favor. Now, as Xu Qingli frequently pleaded with him, Fang Rui found that his enthusiasm for pursuing him had faded, leaving only a mess behind.

Fang Rui had no choice but to insist on an apology. “If you apologize, we can consider this matter settled. We can get along well, so please stop causing trouble. If you refuse to apologize, then you’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”

Now, Fang Rui understood why his uncle had asked him to assist Xie Lanze. He recognized that he had been blind to the situation, irresponsible, and had taken advantage of others. Only through genuine remorse and making amends could he have a chance for redemption with his uncle.

Xu Qingli, on the other hand, was baffled as to why things had turned out this way. He didn’t understand why Fang Rui’s attitude had changed so rapidly. Nevertheless, he felt intimidated by the Fu family and reluctantly had his assistant draft an apology statement to post, announcing his retirement from the industry before uninstalling Weibo.

Xu Qingli had initially intended to shape himself into a talented screenwriter and marry into the Fang family. However, now that his career had fallen apart, he felt grateful that Fang Rui was still willing to be with him. With that in mind, he decided to retire from the industry altogether. Perhaps their relationship could be rekindled, and with the support of the Fang family and the backing of the Fu family, there was still a chance for a comeback.

Yet, Xu Qingli failed to grasp the deeper truth: that what is unattainable often seems the best, and that the white moonlight he yearned for could ultimately turn into something as mundane as a grain of rice, while the fleeting yet impactful things he overlooked—the metaphorical mosquito blood—might transform into cherished mementos.

With Xu Qingli’s apology and retirement announcement, Fu Yunshen received a system prompt: 【The plot reversal value of “After My White Moonlight Returned, I Married the Disabled Big Shot” has reached 80%.】

The system remarked: 【Fifth Master! This book’s reversal is happening so quickly!】

Fu Yunshen leisurely reviewed the plentiful updates from Shuanghua, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It seemed his nephew was ready to turn over a new leaf and become a better person.

The popularity of Shuanghua had also shifted from the original plotline. Previously, he had been preoccupied with “taking care” of his disabled self, resulting in a lackadaisical update schedule. In contrast, now, his diligent writing efforts were propelling his popularity to new heights. Indeed, with more writing, his skills were bound to improve.

As the plot shifted, Fu Yunshen no longer felt the need to stay home and watch his incompetent nephew. Consequently, Fang Rui’s role as Xie Lanze’s writing assistant would come to an end.

Before leaving, Fang Rui sincerely apologized to Xie Lanze, knowing full well that the damage from the past could not be undone. He had no expectations of forgiveness from Xie Lanze; he understood that some wounds run too deep to heal.

As Fang Rui concluded this chapter with Xie Lanze, he felt a sense of responsibility toward Xu Qingli. “Lanze, I promise to be with Ah Li and take good care of him. I won’t bother you anymore. I wish you all the best in the future.”

During this time, he had come to understand that his uncle and Xie Lanze did not share a complicated relationship; rather, his uncle was just an enthusiastic reader keeping a close eye on the updates.

Xie Lanze had long since let go of any lingering feelings. He smiled calmly, “I wish you both happiness. Goodbye.” What Fang Rui didn’t realize was that he was soon to become Xu Qingli’s uncle, and Xu Qingli would eventually call him “uncle” as well.

Fang Rui gazed at Xie Lanze, his expression serious. “Goodbye.”

Their parting felt bittersweet, like two opposing forces separating yet still evoking a sense of lingering attachment. Fang Rui was reluctant to part with the literary world that Xie Lanze represented, while Xie Lanze felt a twinge of regret for losing a reliable human typing machine.

As they moved on, both were left with the quiet recognition of what they had shared—a bond woven through words and aspirations, now slipping away like sand through their fingers. The chapter may have closed, but the story continued, with new paths unfolding ahead of them.

…

With matters settled, Fu Yunshen follows through on his word and prioritizes the idea of a sworn brotherhood with Xie Lanze. Coincidentally, Old Master Fu also wishes to take this young man as his godson, so he steps in to contact Professor Xie, allowing the two families’ elders to communicate first.

Both men are of the same age and share a familial connection through their ancestors, so Professor Xie doesn’t have any personal objections. However, he is a meticulous person who believes that the bond is between Lanze’s great-grandfather and the other party’s maternal grandfather. Wouldn’t that complicate the hierarchy? According to social norms, Old Master Fu is his elder, and he and Yunshen are peers, which means Lanze should technically refer to Yunshen as “uncle.” It feels a bit inappropriate for Lanze to suddenly take on such a title without consideration.

While playing chess with Xie Jingxing, Professor Xie brings up this issue, feeling quite troubled. He is a humble person and isn’t sure if he should comply with the Fu family’s wishes and level the hierarchy between himself and Old Master Fu.

Xie Jingxing says, “Mr. Fu hasn’t fully recovered from his leg injury due to the car accident, and Old Master Fu is his elder. As a cousin, you should personally visit the Fu family to check in on him. Besides, Lanze is living there, so everyone can discuss the terms of this arrangement together.”

Professor Xie agrees with this line of thought and nods. “You’re right, Jingxing. The two families haven’t interacted in many years; it’s time to reconnect.”

Xie Jingxing seemingly casually remarks, “My grandfather has a long-standing relationship with the Fu family. As his grandson, I should also pay a visit.”

Professor Xie nods in agreement. “Of course, you should go.”