"Crack!"
Lu Xiao typed the last period, let out a long sigh of relief, and collapsed on the gaming chair, like a salted fish with its bones removed. On the computer screen, the title of the word document was particularly eye-catching—The Finale of "Canglan Sword Master" (First Draft).
Outside the window, the night was dark, with only a few lights from the teaching building in the distance and a few stars in the sky. This rental house in the family area of Linjiang University has approximately zero sound insulation. The sound of the second-year brother taking postgraduate entrance exams next door flipping through books, the whispers of the young couple upstairs, and the chatter and laughter of the aunties after the square dance downstairs, interweave into a slightly noisy lullaby that is unique to the late night.
Lu Xiao rubbed his sore eyes and glanced at the word count of the document: 30542. It's very good, it's watery... No, it's another three thousand words that I worked hard to create. As a junior student in the Department of History and an author of online novels, his daily life is to jump back and forth among old stories and fantasy worlds. During the day, he studied the operation of the bureaucratic system in "Records of the Ming Dynasty", and at night, he constructed a fantasy world called "Canglan Realm" on the keyboard, where swords are the most important.
"Oh, another one to kill." He muttered, took a sip of the already cold instant coffee at his hand, and frowned at the bitter taste. In the chapter he just finished writing, the heroine of his novel, the stunningly talented and as cold as frost "Sword Master Frost" Ling Shuang, was under siege by traitors and demon masters in order to protect the sect's inheritance.
"The plot needs it, the plot needs it." Lu Xiao said to himself in front of the empty room, trying to convince himself.
