The popularity of the newest search engine called Wishmaker has taken over the Alpha City. People spend their time inside an AR man-made Wishmaker app to visualize their wish, so is Aria Schneider. 

The 20-years-old girl who loves being alone and mentally unstable. Not long after the release of the search engine, the Alpha City was hit with a sudden terrorist attack that involves millions of people dying.

"For those clueless souls, those lights means salvation. However, that light was the opposite of the salvation of what mankind wanted".

In the 22nd Century, Alpha City was built in order to make mankind prosper with the help of advanced technology. Alongside the neighboring city, Omega City is the second best after Alpha City the main capital.

Due to the advanced technology, people spend their time inside an AR man-made Wishmaker app to visualize their wish, so does Aria Schneider. 

A 20-year-old girl loves being alone and mentally unstable. Not long after the release of the search engine, Alpha City was hit with a sudden terrorist attack that involves millions of people dying.

What will Aria do to survive this chaotic terrorist attack?

Tahun 2024 manusia berhasil menciptakan game engine yang bernama Exagear Engine. Game pertama dari engine ini adalah Lost Crystall bergenre VRMMORPG. Pemain akan memasuki dunia virtual.

Namun mereka terkejut saat mendapatkan sebuah pesan dari seseorang yang tidak diketahui namanya. Mereka terjebak di dalam dunia virtual yang sudah mereka impikan selama ini.

Their attention was taken when Qing Lok suddenly zoomed on the screen. "What's that?" Wuming asked.
"That's the background," Qing Lok answered. There were two pyramids—like the ones in the ancient times. All man-made. There was a small patch on the lower part which they took as a small body of water. "I think I've seen this before."
"I don't know," Qing Chen said. "You," he pointed to a random person. "Look this up on the net. Find which country it belongs."
Qing Lok also made his hands busy. Feng Xuan wrung out hers. Qing Chen turned to her. "I feel so useless," she told him.
"Believe me, we'll only get in their way. We should leave the technicalities to them."
Feng Xuan was also starting to get nervous. They were nowhere near an answer but this was something. They had leads. What if when they search for her mother they would also find something and she would have to deal with it? How would she react? Did she really want to find her mother?
No, she scolded herself. This was not about her. She needed to be there as support to her husband. If she was feeling this way, she could not even begin to imagine the turmoil he was feeling.
"What if she's alive, Chen?" she asked, licking her lips nervously. "Are you going to see her? Are you going to introduce yourself?"
Qing Chen downed his drink, not wanting to answer the question he himself did not know the answer to. Thankfully, he was cut off by Qing Lok.
"I don't think this is from anywhere in this world."
There were now a bunch of pyramid pictures on the screen and none matched the ones from Qing Chen's back.
"I thought you've seen it?" Wuming raised an eyebrow.
"I know but… I don't think it was a picture… I think it was a movie." He put his fingers back on his keyboard, not knowing what to search for. "It was a children's movie. A cartoon. Foreign."
He tried to make his words something that the search engine would understand. "I think it was a musical?" he frowned. "Or not," he said as he scrolled through movie posters.
"I really haven't seen this before," Qing Chen said. Not even with Qing Lok's clues, he could not remember anything.
"Me neither," said Wuming.
"That's what happens when all you wanted to know about was how to kill a person with a laundry basket," Qing Lok said.
His fingers continued to scroll and more information came to his mind. "It was about two friends who were mistaken as the lost kings of a city… of a lost city."
Then the idea struck him and the next second, there was a picture on the screen. Two men were riding a horse and on their background was the same pyramid on Qing Chen's back.
"Mom painted something from a children's movie?!" Wuming laughed. "Can you believe that, Chen? You have something from a kid's movie on your back!"
"El Dorado," Qing Chen said the title. "Should that mean something?"
Qing Lok felt it like a punch to his chest. It was a forgotten movie. But seeing this picture brought back memories of it. His fingers froze on his mouse. "It was something that mom made me watch before. I was… six or seven I think? We've watched it together a few times. She said she wanted to live in that city."
"What's in that city?"
"Gold. It's the Lost City of Gold."
Qing Chen dropped his glass on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Sir, I have something," said a thin and small voice.
"Send it," Qing Lok said and there was another page of a poem on the screen.
"It's another poem by Edgar Allan Poe. It's called El Dorado."
Qing Chen felt like he was going to faint. He felt like the ground that he was standing upon was shifting and that the walls of their house was going to fall and the ceiling would crumble any second now.
Wuming cursed silently under his breath and Qing Lok felt like he was going to throw up.
Was it possible that their mother left them a puzzle to solve? Of all the people that she could base it off, it had to be Edgar Allan Poe. None of her children had been in favor of literature. 
Wuming tried suggesting something. "Or maybe this is just a tribute for the poet?"
"Then why would she want to burn it?" Feng Xuan asked.
The three paced the room in small equal steps. That was the question that would not let them fall asleep any time soon.
"I didn't even know that she was a fan of the dead man," added Wuming.
"Well," Qing Lok said, "if you weren't so busy being our father's son then maybe you could've learned a thing or two about our mom."
Wuming's jaw tightened. He wanted to counter what his brother said. But counter it with what? He was stating the truth. Ever since his father started taking him to the things about the mafia, he grew farther and farther away from his mother. It did not meant that he didn't love her. It was just that, they grew apart.
"WE could've learned more about our mother," Qing Lok followed. True, they were all guilty of it. They all wanted to be their FATHER'S SON. They all wanted to be the crowning glory of The Mr. Qing.
"What are we supposed to do with this?" Qing Chen asked. "That place do not exist."
They all turned to the screen and read the poem. The first few stanzas were about a certain knight on a long journey.
"Now, these look like directions," said Qing Lok.
He met a pilgrim shadow— 
 'Shadow,' said he, 
 'Where can it be— 
This land of Eldorado?' 
 'Over the Mountains 
 Of the Moon, 
Down the Valley of the Shadow, 
 Ride, boldly ride,' 
 The shade replied,— 
'If you seek for Eldorado!"
Feng Xuan shivered again. This was not happening. This was not real. They were not receiving instructions from a painting that was meant to have been burnt to ashes. She shook her head. She refused to believe it.
"Do you think," began Qing Lok, "Do you think she wants us to look for this city? Do you think she's there?"
He asked this with his head bowed, like he was embarrassed to be even asking about it. It was Wuming who walked to him and squeezed on his shoulder. But in truth, Wuming did not know what he was going to say to him. He had been so against on looking for their mother and he couldn't believe what was happening either but apparently, it WAS happening.
Qing Lok tried again. "Can we at least say that we're in the right path?"
Qing Chen nodded and breathed out. His heart was drumming against his ear. "Yeah, I can say we're going in the right path."


This message is to let you know that we're coming for you.

Yours truly,

The Mafia's Rose
— 

After her mother’s death, Feng Xuan was sent overseas to continue her studies and was under strict instructions to never come home.

Feng Xuan had always known she was going to marry someone she did not love. That was why she was not surprised that when her father finally allowed her to come back, she was off to be married immediately.

Upon marrying the handsome, somewhat brooding but caring, Qing Chen, a hotelier and the new mafia boss on the side, Feng Xuan started to realize that she might not be the woman whom she thought she was.

There was only one condition that allowed Qing Chen to marry Feng Xuan: he is to keep her protected from the world, and from herself.

****

This is a story about a woman who uncovers the long buried details about her life, the society, the world, and her mother’s untimely death. Along the way, she discovers who she really is; smart, ruthless, cunning, and powerful.

****

WARNINGS: (If you comment anything about this, I will direct you to read these AGAIN)
1. This is a slow-paced story, because of this ROMANCE CAME LATE FOR THE LEADS. I'm saying this again, LATE. There's a huge reason behind this, if you will be patient you'd get there. 
2. Male Lead is weak AT FIRST. As this story is slow-paced, character development took a while. 
3. Female Lead will start to reawaken around Chapter 80 and ML will rise into his full potential shortly afterwards--once you start reading you'll know why it took this long. 
4. This book is not just about the romance part, it is also has a lot of mystery and later on, action in it.

English is not my first language. Please do not hesitate to comment corrections regarding spelling and grammar. Thank you!

This is an original story.
The picture on the cover is not mine. Credits to the real owner.


Update schedule: One chapter a day.

The dining room was large, and a long table sat in the middle. It was so long that the people who sat at opposite ends needed to scream to hear each other. On top of the white tablecloth, it was dotted with several empty plates and utensils as well as four candelabras that had toppled over. There was a chandelier right above the dining table, and it was even larger than the one in the living room. However, it did not seem to be working; the light in the room came instead from the lamps on the wall.
The wooden chairs were a mess, and a few were even lying on the ground. Some of them had not been moved for so long that there were spider webs attached to them. When Passing Rain heard the system announcement, she paused for just a second before continuing her search, the expression on her face still as cold as snow.
It was Laughing Soul who first chuckled and said, "That big brother who looked quite formidable is dead."
"Formidable?" Passing Rain asked. "From where did you see that?"
"Well, his level is high, and he's a professional player," Laughing Soul answered.
Passing Rain used her sword to lift a part of the tablecloth. She answered without stopping her investigation, "Our level will continue to rise, and we too can call ourselves professional players."
"Cousin… you're purposely bickering with me again." Laughing Soul rolled her eyes at Passing Rain and grumbled, "Are you sure we can be so calm when the professional player is dead?"
Then, Passing Rain removed a letter from underneath the table. She said matter-of-factly, "Plot item."
———
Item Name: Ink-stained Letter
Item Type: Plot Item
Quality: Normal
Effect: Unknown
Can be taken out of the scenario: No
Remark: Parts of the letter are blotted with ink stains, making it not fully comprehensible.
———
She handed the letter over to Laughing Soul and said, "I doubt this thing has been lying underneath the table all this while. I believe it was placed here after the death of that 'Invincible Champion'."
Laughing Soul accepted the letter and opened it to read. Then she quickly placed it into her backpack. She licked her lips. "Hmm… If this letter is one of the important items to solve the main quest, then there is one possibility where the people who possess the letter will be assaulted by the mysterious power within the house, placing them in a dangerous spot, so…"
"So that is why the professional player is dead?" Passing Rain continued.
"Hmm… but it's strange," Laughing Soul argued. "There are four of them, so why only one of them is dead? And it is the strongest among them. Unless…"
"There's no need to guess." Feng Bujue's voice suddenly appeared, and he walked through the door. "Obviously, we split up."
Laughing Soul and Passing Rain turned their heads to look at him, and Feng Bujue said, "And from the fact that he was the first to die, we have to seriously question if he's the 'strongest' among us."
"But his level is higher than you, and he's a professional player," Passing Rain told Feng Bujue, using the words that were used to convince her earlier.
"But our level will increase, and we can call ourselves professional players too, does that make us strong players as well?" Feng Bujue retorted with a smile. Laughing Smile smothered the laughter with her hand over her lips.
Passing Rain's expression shifted slightly. "How long have you been here?"
"Just arrived, what's wrong?" Feng Bujue answered. He really did not overhear the two girls' conversation earlier; he only heard the last sentence Laughing Soul said. Passing Rain was silent for two seconds before asking, "Are you the one who discovered the side quest for The Haunted Palace?"
"Yes," Feng Bujue answered. "I found the first and fifth stanzas. Are you the ones who found the other two stanzas?"
Laughing Soul shook her head. "No, but we did find plenty of traps along the way."
"What exactly is this The Haunted Palace?" Passing Rain added. "Is it a book or some kind of object?"
"It's a poem." Wang Tanzhi also appeared at the door, and trailing behind him was Long Aomin.
"Your timing is perfect," Feng Bujue said. "Which stanzas have you found?"
"The good news is… we've found two of them," Long Aomin said.
"The bad news is… we cannot memorize them." Wang Tanzhi did not look a bit ashamed. In fact, he looked quite proud of that fact.
"Try to recite the key points," Feng Bujue urged. The two combined their memories and forced out as many terms as they could remember.
After hearing that, Feng Bujue said, "That should be the second and third stanzas…"
Then he did something shocking. He recited the two stanzas that Xiao Tan and Brother Long had found perfectly, without missing a word, and asked them whether he was correct or not.
"Brother Jue… what's going on?" Wang Tanzhi gasped. "Have you been following us?"
"This house is formed by the memory I have in real life. Actually, I am a serial killer and this is one of my hideouts," Feng Bujue said nonchalantly. "The Haunted Palace that you saw is something that I wrote on the walls out of boredom."
Wang Tanzhi's jaw dropped, and he looked at Feng Bujue with a shocked look, his mind a complete mess.
Ten seconds later, Feng Bujue told him, "You know, you're the only one who doesn't realize I'm kidding."
"Ha ha ha…" Long Aomin suddenly burst out laughing. He was quick to understand that this was a joke from Feng Bujue, but he did not think it was that funny. However, he was tickled by Wang Tanzhi's gullibility.
"Mr. Feng, is it? The time for jokes is over—can you tell us the actual reason already?" Laughing Soul said. "You not only knew about the arrangement of those stanza and even managed to recite them perfectly. Then, you have to know about the origin of this Haunted Palace, yes?"
"This short poem came from Edgar Allen Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher," Feng Bujue answered. "I believe this scenario is derived from that as well."
He moved a chair over to sit down. "Have any of you read it before?"
"No…" Other than Passing Rain, the other three answered his question in unison like kids in class.
"You're not missing out; his works are not that interesting," Feng Bujue said. "Poe is a poser, a fan of gambling and alcohol. His life was stained by the marks of many women. He focused his life on writing, but most of his novels only paid attention to atmosphere and ignored the plot. Sometimes, he resorted to dubious means to complete his work. For example, at the start of Ligeia, he copied a long paragraph and added a dash and said that it was a statement made by Joseph Glanvill. If there was a search engine in the 19th century, the man would have been dragged out to the street by his critics already."
"Sounds like you're a big fan," Passing Rain said coldly.
"Sounds like someone's jealous…" Laughing Soul tossed him a condescending look.
"The more you describe him, the more it sounds like you," Wang Tanzhi said.
"Brother Feng, take care of yourself…" Long Aomin did not know what to say, so he chose to advise the man.
Feng Bujue stood up and continued to argue his case without a change to his expression. "I'm not his fan. I just happen to know a thing or two about the man…"
"You can even memorize his poem. Please don't try to argue anymore," Passing Rain interrupted him.
"Big sister…" Feng Bujue began.
"How old do you think I am to be calling me your big sister?"
"Little girl…"
"Say that again if you dare."
Feng Bujue took a deep breath. "Beautiful lady… Actually, I am merely a studious person…"
"Mr. Feng, you really don't need to explain yourself to me." An indiscernible smile appeared on Passing Rain's lips.
Feng Bujue was stunned for three seconds before turning around like nothing was out of the ordinary. "The wind tonight sure is loud…"
Even Long Aomin felt embarrassed for him. "Brother Feng, don't mind it even if you're exposed. We should focus on looking for clues."
Feng Bujue almost coughed out blood, thinking to himself, You should have just said the last sentence. Is there a point to you saying the first sentence other than to poke at my wound?
"By the way, I was meaning to ask, don't you think there is something strange at work here?" Feng Bujue asked solemnly. "Why are we all gathered here? The layout of this house shifts, and the fact that we're gathered together, does this mean…"
Before he finished, there was a loud bang, and the only door leading to the kitchen closed on its own.
 


This is a game beyond dimension–the pursuit of truth. 
The unknown seal, the gambit between gods and demons… 
The defiance against data, the retribution of human… 
In a virtual world connected with reality, consciousness dictates us, consciousness chooses us, and consciousness dictates our consciousness. 
Now, throw away you fear. 
Throw away your selfish interest, question, and disbelief… Free your thought. 
Welcome to Thriller Paradise. 
Feng Bujue lost his ability to fear because of an unknown psychological disorder. Through a virtual reality game designed for players to experience fright and despair, he began his search for his lost fear. Could he finally regain his ability to fear? Could he outwit the scenarios presented to him? Could he finally uncover the truth hidden inside Thriller Paradise?  


The plane was arriving an hour late due to the air traffic congestion at the main airport in the country's capital city of Malen. Flight delays have been the norm lately, thought Jon Aster as he looked around the crowded terminal. He has been travelling extensively in the past three years since he took on his job for one of the most prestigious companies in the world. It was a good job, he thought, but the constant delays in the airports were starting to make the job less and less enjoyable. Already, he missed Lisa, and would rather stay longer with her than go on this business trip that could last a few days.

The pleasant voice of the airline staff came on the speaker again as if announcing something delightful rather than another hour of delay. Jon looked around and saw a family of three with the father holding a baby girl and his young wife hanging on to his arm. Jon thought again of Lisa and how hurriedly he said his goodbyes because he was running late for his flight. Not that it mattered now, but he could have waited another hour.

Jon took out his laptop and opened it. He opened his favorite search engine and typed 'Orsica'. I might as well know where I am going, he thought. He clicked on the topmost link given by the search engine and immediately, the screen filled with amazing scenery of turquoise waters and white sand beaches as well as rolling hills and tree-covered mountains.

For a moment, Jon felt elated that he would be going to a place he had not visited before. Already, he thought of inviting Lisa to fly over to him after a few weeks when he had already finished with his work. She did say she has a cousin in Cardena, the city in the mainland that was closest to Orsica and she had been planning to visit her.

Jon  clicked on another link on the website to find out more about the island.

Orsica is an isolated island sixty-six kilometers from the mainland which meant travelling another four hours by ferry. Jon groaned as he felt his stomach sink. He gets extremely dizzy and nauseous when travelling by sea and three hours of tossing around while on a small ferry did not bode well. He remembered his last ferry ride a year ago and how he felt nauseous all throughout the trip.

An email notification popped up from below the screen telling Jon that an email has arrived from his client.

Dear, Mr. Aster,

Thank you for agreeing to come to my beautiful island to meet me in person. The matter we are going to discuss is too important and confidential that I could not talk to you about it on the phone. I hope that you will be most comfortable on your trip. My staff will be meeting you when you arrive at the airport and he will take you to the dock to board my private boat. 

Your friend,
Dante

Jon closed his laptop and heaved a sigh. At least there will be someone to meet him at the airport when he arrives and… a private boat! Jon tried to recall the contents of the dossier that his boss handed him just a week ago. Jon remembered reading the client's net worth and whistling at the huge amount. His client has a vast property on the western coast of Orsica with an enormous house on top of a mountain that was accessible mainly through cable car. Of course, he can afford a private boat!

Jon took off his eyeglasses and stood up. He looked at the large monitor with the flight schedule. Near the bottom was his flight with red capital letters indicating DELAYED.

Jon decided to stretch his legs and walked to a nearby bookstand where he looked for a travel guide on Orsica. Finding nothing, he asked the store clerk if there were any brochures or maps, but the clerk merely gave him a shrug and turned away  to serve another customer.

For such a beautiful island, I wonder why it was not too well known, thought Jon. Giving up, Jon decided to buy himself a cup of cappuccino from one of the coffee shops and sat at one of the empty tables. He brushed off the crumbs left by the previous customer with his hand and rested his elbow on the table's polished wooden surface. After taking one sip of the hot beverage, he thought of using his laptop again to research on his destination, but decided against it as he had his phone out already.

Using his phone's browser, he once again typed 'Orsica', but nothing came out this time. He looked at the signal at the top of his phone's screen where it was indicated to be 'very strong'. He wondered if the network was as congested as the air traffic. 

He remembered the short email he got from his rich client, Dante. "Dante… Dante…" He murmured as he recalled the 14th century Italian writer and his Divine Comedy. There were three parts to the epic poem, but for some reason, Jon only thought of the first one – Inferno. The images of hell flooded his mind – tormented souls that reside in the nine circles of hell. For a moment, he thought he could hear cries of anguish and pain as well as see writhing bodies amidst the red flames and scorching heat. 

Suddenly, he felt as if his hand was burning and he was back in the terminal sipping his hot cup of coffee. He sighed and drank the rest of his cappuccino and thought how it would be like living with Lisa when they get married. He has not asked her yet, but the thought had already crossed his mind hundreds of times in the past few weeks. Lisa does not show it, but he is sure that she misses him during these long business travels as much as he misses her.

When he said goodbye that morning, he remembered Lisa clinging to his hand as he bent down to kiss her on the forehead as she sat at the breakfast table. He wondered how she was and how she thought about where their relationship was going. Nowhere, he thought, as his work always came first. Perhaps this should be his last assignment before he transfers to a new job. What if he just leaves the terminal and go back to Lisa? Forget the flight… forget his work… forget his client… forget Dante…

Jon would think of this moment a few days later and regret deeply that he chose to board the plane and made the decision that led him to the path of disaster and ruin.

Yi Fei and Wu Chen walked in the parking lot until Wu Chen stopped in front of a black car. The car looked expensive.

"Wow! Chen Chen, is this one of your cars? It looks expensive. What kind of car is this?" Yi Fei didn't know much about a car, but the car in front of them screams 'money.'

"It's okay, nothing much. Just Porsche Cayenne GTS" Wu Chen entered the car. Yi Fei entered too. She admired the elegant interior of the vehicle. Curious about how much the car would cost, Yi Fei took out her phone and tried to search on the internet.

"$ 159 600" Yi Fei let out a dramatic gasp. "Chen Chen, are you that rich like THAT RICH?"

Wu Chen chuckled at the shocked expression on Yi Fei's face. His right hand caressed Yi Fei's cheek. "So what if I am rich? Will you fall in love deeper with me now?" 

"I know you are rich, but I didn't expect that you would be so rich. No wonder the media likes to write news about you" Yi Fei looked at Wu Chen seriously. "Chen Chen, I'm not rich."

"I know" Their luggage was put in the trunk and Wu Chen started the engine and they were on their way to City B. "I don't care whether you are rich or not. My money is enough for the two of us."

Along the way to City B, Yi Fei had a lot of thought. Now that she knew how wealthy Wu Chen was, she was not sure anymore whether all of these were real or not.

"Chen Chen, do you watch a lot of drama?" Yi Fei's question was so random that Wu Chen decided to play along.

"Why? Do you want to make a drama out of your novel?" Wu Chen was always entertained when Yi Fei asked random questions.

"Not really. You see, in the drama, when the rich male lead fell in love with the poor female lead, the rich parents will always get in the way" Yi Fei suddenly had this gloomy aura around her, and she started acting.

"When she loves him, he doesn't love her back, and when he loves her, she had fallen out of love from him… And when they love each other, there will always be this crazy ex-girlfriend who will try to ruin everything. Ahh, love is so complicated. Tonight I can write the saddest thing" Yi Fei was so immersed in her poetic language of love.

Wu Chen who was driving laughed loudly because of Yi Fei's antic. "Idiot. That only happened in movies" Wu Chen knocked on her head softly.

But Yi Fei was not laughing; she was not even smiling. She was very serious. "But seriously Chen Chen, I feel as if we live in two different worlds. I'm pretty sure there are a lot of those rich, beautiful women lining up to be your girlfriend. Compared to them, I'm just…" Yi Fei made an up and down gestured with her hands frantically. "I am just…this!"

Before things get worse and before Yi Fei could think of anything else, Wu Chen stopped the car at the side of the road.

"Eh, why are we stopping? Is it because I am annoying, so you want me to get off the car?" Yi Fei was panic. "After this, I promise that I will be reticent, I will not…" Before Yi Fei could finish speaking, Wu Chen grabbed her cheek and kissed her passionately.

Yi Fei was shocked, but kissing is better than being left on the side of the road for being a chatterbox.

By the time Wu Chen let go of her, Yi Fei was all red from the kiss. She was calm on the outside, but inside her heart, she was squealing like crazy.

"I have named you queen. There are taller than you, purer than you and lovelier than you. But you are the queen. We shall always be you and me."

Yi Fei was touched when Wu Chen said that. She felt that Wu Chen was getting more and more poetic each day. Then Yi Fei realized, she seemed to remember something Queen, but she can't seem to pinpoint where she heard something about it.

Wu Chen had this satisfied look on his face. Last time, when he went to pick up the drunk John and Yi Fei from the Misty Bar, John tried to kiss Liu Shi to shut him from laughing. Even though John was annoying, Wu Chen was amazed that he learned something from him and that can be used to make Yi Fei stopped her unnecessary rambling.

The mood was romantic until Yi Fei ruined it again.

"Hey, that was Pablo Neruda's poem. How do you know that? Do you like Pablo Neruda as well?" Yi Fei was excited. She was even more excited to talk about a particular poet than talk about their passionate kiss.

Wu Chen shook his head and started moving towards City B again. Yi Fei clung to his limb, urging him to answer whether he liked Pablo Neruda or not. Truthfully, Wu Chen didn't know who Pablo Neruda is. He saw that poem from the poetry book that Yi Fei lent him. There was a DIY bookmark with a unicorn and the verse printed on it. For some reason, Wu Chen remembered it well because it was a suitable poem for Yi Fei because she was his Queen.

Wu Chen left Yi Fei hanging, and he didn't even answer her question. Instead, he asked the most critical question that he should know.

"Fei Fei, what're your parents like?" Wu Chen wanted to make a good impression in front of Yi Fei's parents because he needed their blessing to be with Yi Fei.

When Wu Chen asked her a question, Yi Fei forgot about her previous question to Wu Chen. "Both my parents are a teacher. My dad is teaching History, and my mom is teaching Mathematics. Don't worry; they are cool. It's just that…" Yi Fei paused.

"It's just what?" Wu Chen was serious when he asked Yi Fei about her parents.

"To be continued…" Yi Fei smiled broadly. If Wu Chen didn't want to tell her whether he liked Pablo Neruda or not, then she could play the game too.

Wu Chen's lips twitched. He was serious, but the lady beside him was playing around. Wu Chen pinched her cheek. "Don't be naughty. You should tell me so that I could impress your parents. How am I going to ask for your hand in marriage if they don't like me?"

The word 'marriage' seemed to work its magic. Yi Fei's face flushed scarlet, and she was not making any sense when talking.

"Marri…Marriage… What are you…What do you mean? What marriage? I don't know what you are talking about… Ha haha ha… Don't play around" Yi Fei laughed awkwardly because she didn't expect that the word 'marriage' will come out from Wu Chen's mouth when they only dated for almost four months now.

"I'm dating you with marriage in mind; I'm not playing around okay. So, tell me what are your parents like?" Satisfied that he made Yi Fei flustered, Wu Chen asked the serious question again.

The scarlet face Yi Fei looked at Wu Chen in a new light. She fell in love with him over and over again.

"Chen Chen, I want to grow old with you."

Her words full of promise for their future and Wu Chen smiled because he knew.

Two different people from two different background fall in love with each other.

He thinks she is troublesome and sometimes, an idiot.

After hanging out for quite some time with her, he begins to think that the idiot looks cute when she is stupid around him.

He doesn't know when suddenly he begins to call her 'my idiot'.
 
p/s

English is my third language, so expect some grammatical mistakes/errors as this story is not edited and I have nobody to proofread it for me.

Do check out my other stories:-

1. Not At First Sight

2. The Accidental Witch

Remember summer?
The summer of year 2018?
I was tired… bored.
But what overcame me was…
That haiku poem I wrote

It's that very thing
That I don't regret sharing
That "Poison" poem
I don't regret sharing it
With my eighth grade teacher, right?

I remember how it began and ended
Though I still have it with me
On this year, 2020…
I would like to think back two years ago
July of 2018 when I first wrote
"Poison" the haiku poem
Without taking
A single
Glance
Of that it now…

Dear now and future
I wish to remember these
Lines it began with

"I hate how it reeks
of its death metalic smell
Yes, it's called 'Poison'"

It's the very first stanza
That may have shook my ELA teacher
And a social worker
He shared it with in the winter
Of early 2019

That haiku poem
Made up of eighteen stanzas
Became powerful… 
What went through my mind as I
Wrote this with no intentions?

After reading it
All I remember are these:
Deep rain and dark grave

I thank the past me
For sharing that dark poem.
I feel so evil… 
Yet my heart is in Eu. Pho.
Ri. A. Yes, euphoria.

I'll never forget
That sudden pounce of courage
But that fear I felt
When I was suddenly called
To see the social worker

That quiet and peaceful engine in my brain
Became a sudden ruckus of confusion
And panic of fear
It felt like all I could hear from those millions
Of tiny working cells scream out,
"W-what is happening?!"
And all that emergency alarming, beeping
And wee-wooing like a broken siren
All for the sake of this one thought… 
"What have I done for the social worker to seek me?"

"I hate how it reeks
of its death metallic smell
Yes, it's called 'Poison'"
It was this very poem
This dark and sad haiku one

Remember winter?
In mid-winter, one poem
Became my treasure
I thank myself for this piece
Written perfect on a whim

Stories of lessons, life, and many other things aren't always long and just stories. It can also be small and short...like poems.

The plane was arriving an hour late due to the air traffic congestion at the main airport in the country's capital city of Malen. Flight delays have been the norm lately, thought Jon Aster as he looked around the crowded terminal. He had been travelling extensively in the past three years since he took on this job. He liked the mobility and the freedom it gave him, but the constant delays in the airports were starting to make it less and less enjoyable. Already, he missed Lisa and remembered her face and her tender gaze as he left her that morning. He would have stayed longer with her if not for this business trip that his manager said could last a few days.

The steady buzz of conversation and noise that accompanied human activity inside the terminal was drowned by the pleasant voice of an airline staff. With a light tone that sounded like the female host of a radio morning show, she spoke the words as if announcing something delightful rather than another hour of delay. There were groans of disappointment from waiting passengers and a woman spoke loudly to her companion that she would not fly with the perennially late airline again.

Jon had heard such protests before and could understand the dismay from the waiting passengers. He knew as well that the delayed flights were mainly due to the inadequate capacity of the existing airport and the increase of flights using the international hub. There were plans to build two new airports in the outskirts of the capital (perhaps a decade too late, he thought), but until these were finished, there was not much that the passengers nor the airlines could do. That is, except wait as patiently as possible.

Jon looked around and saw a family of three rising from where they were seated. The father was carrying a baby girl who was sleeping peacefully in his arm. His wife held on to him as she pulled their luggage from behind. After hearing the announcement, the young family was probably walking to the food court.

Jon thought again of Lisa and imagined how they could be that small family. He remembered how he hurriedly said his goodbyes because he was running late for this flight. Not that it mattered now, but he could have waited another hour, or two.

Jon took out his laptop and opened his default search engine. He  typed 'Orsica' and pressed 'search'. I might as well know where I am going, he thought. Immediately, the screen filled with amazing scenery of turquoise waters and white sand beaches as well as rocky mountainsides and a pictureque coastal village in the Mediterranean. Jon frowned as he realized that the search engine's algorithm suggested the French island of Corsica instead of his original query. 

He next typed 'Cardena', his port of destination, and from which he would be travelling by boat to the island of Orsica. He clicked on the topmost link given by the search engine and was taken to the tourism web page of the island province. Instead of the Mediterranean, he saw the tropical beaches of the Pacific with coconut trees casting shadows on white pristine sand. 

Cardena was one of the biggest provinces south of the capital and going there and visiting its many amazing islands had been one of the items on Jon's bucket list. As his clients were mostly located in the capital and the mountainous northern regions, he felt elated when he was told by his manager that he finally got an assignment to the south.

With renewed enthusiasm, Jon thought of inviting Lisa to fly over to him after a few weeks when he had already finished his work. She did say she had a cousin in Cardena and had been planning to visit.

Not finding any information on Orsica from the web, Jon clicked on the file explorer icon and opened the brief sent to him by his manager to find out more about his destination.

Orsica is an isolated island sixty-six kilometers from the mainland,  Jon read. Getting there would require travelling a few hours to a small dock and another three hours by ferry. Jon groaned as he felt his stomach sink. He gets extremely dizzy and nauseous when travelling by sea and three hours of tossing around while on a small ferry did not bode well. He remembered his last ferry ride a year ago and how he felt nauseous all throughout the trip.

An email notification popped up from below the screen telling Jon that an email had arrived from his client.


Dear Mr. Aster,

Thank you for agreeing to come to my beautiful island to meet me in person. The matter we are going to discuss is too important and confidential that I could not talk to you about it on the phone. I hope that you will be most comfortable on your trip. My staff will be meeting you when you arrive at the airport and he will take you to the dock to board my private boat. 

Your friend,
Dante


Jon closed his laptop and heaved a sigh. At least there will be someone to meet him at the airport when he arrives and… a private boat! Jon tried to recall the contents of the dossier that his boss handed him just a week ago. Jon remembered reading the client's net worth and whistling at the huge amount. His client had a vast property on the western coast of Orsica with an enormous house on top of a mountain that was accessible mainly through cable car. Of course, he can afford a private boat!

Taking off his glasses, Jon stood up and approached a large LED screen near the center of the terminal. Jon hoped to see the updated time of departure. He found his flight near the bottom, but instead of the new ETD, there were only red capital letters indicating DELAYED.

Jon decided to stretch his legs and walked to a nearby bookstand where he looked for a travel guide on Orsica. Finding nothing, he asked the store clerk if there were any brochures or maps, but the clerk merely gave him a shrug and turned away to serve another customer.

Giving up, Jon decided to buy himself a cup of cappuccino from one of the coffee shops and sat at an empty table. He brushed off with his hand the crumbs left by the previous customer. Jon then rested his elbow on the table's polished wooden surface. If Orsica really were a beautiful island, I wonder why it's not too well known, Jon thought. 

After taking one sip of the hot beverage, Jon then took out his phone to look at the weather at his destination. He frowned as his phone returned a 'no connection' message. He looked at the wifi strength indicator at the top of his phone's screen - all bars were shaded, indicating very strong signal. Pocketing his phone, he wondered if the airport's wifi network was as congested as the air traffic. 

Jon recalled the short email he got from his client and thought it curious how the client closed his message - 'your friend'. Jon knew that they had not met before. He had no idea what his client looked like, much less remember talking to him.

"Dante… Dante…" Jon murmured as he recalled the 14th century Italian writer and his Divine Comedy. There were three parts to the epic poem, but for some reason, Jon only thought of the first one – Inferno. The images of hell flooded his mind – tormented souls that reside in the nine circles of hell. For a moment, he thought he could hear cries of anguish and pain as well as see writhing bodies amidst the red flames and scorching heat. 

Suddenly, he felt as if his hands were burning and he was back in the airport holding his hot cup of coffee. He sighed and drank the rest of his cappuccino. He tried to clear his mind of hellish images and decided to think again of Lisa and how it would be like living with her when they get married. Jon had not asked her yet, but the thought had already crossed his mind hundreds of times in the past few weeks. 

Jon remembered Lisa holding his hand as he kissed her cheek that morning before he left. Lisa did not show it, but he was sure that she missed him during these long business travels as much as he missed her. He wondered what she was doing that very moment and how she thought about where their relationship was going. Nowhere, she would probably tell herself, as Jon's work always came first. 

Jon took his empty cup and threw it into the recycle bin. Perhaps this should be his last assignment before he transfers to a new job, Jon thought. What if he just leaves the terminal now and go back to Lisa? Forget the flight… forget his work… forget his client… forget Dante…

Jon would think of this moment a few days later and regret deeply that he decided to board that plane and made the choice that led him to the path of disaster and ruin.

Stories tell of the vampire that was vanquished a century ago, but unknown to everyone, he survived to exact vengeance on the society that wanted him destroyed. Severely weakened, he sailed across the oceans until he reached a paradise island where he stayed to regain his strength until it was time to return to an unsuspecting modern world.



After dinner Polly ended up detouring from the route back to Melonpan and stopping by The Birbalinda to pick up her almighty Island Encyclopedia and map so she could decide where exactly she wanted to head next. 

According to her resources, the closest island to Sea-Island 6 was The Second Island, but unfortunately there was not much about it in her book despite the fact her encyclopedia was so heavy she had to use two hands to carry it on a good day. The only thing she was able to glean was that it was supposedly… hairy. 

There were a few places Polly planned to visit before she said goodbye to the island. The first was the currency exchange. Now a little wiser about the ways of the world, Polly decided to exchange her coins for a bit of money from each of the twelve islands. 

Her favorite currency, once she had them all, was The Third Island’s. It was simply a card that Manager Mantou assured them he put the requested amount of money into. Polly had no idea what kind of island The Third Island had to be for them to use such an interesting form of money, but she was excited to find out when the time arrived. She quite liked the fact there was only one of it and that it wasn’t impossibly hard to keep track of. 

The Second Island’s currency looked similar to hair-ties, at least to Polly. Manager Mantou had handed her a bag of colored elastics, and explained the worth of each color with burgundy being the most valuable and black being the least. There were two more, brown and blue, with brown being second most valuable and blue the second least. 

Polly planned to visit her next few stops, Not Half Bad Food, Yellow and Brown’s store, and Croix’s shop, the morning of her departure. On top of wanting to bid farewell to the kindly owners, she also wanted to pick up some food for her journey, which she would do in The Capital. Her newfound thoughtfulness was surprising even to her. 

“Look at me go, planning for the future and all that,” remarked Polly to Fethar. 

At the moment she was in her room at Melonpan Motel organizing her belongings. Polly had recently added a trunk with wheels and a handle, what Yellow had referred to as a luggage, to her list of Sea-Island 6 purchases. There was absolutely no way she was going to make twenty trips back and forth from motel to ship to carry all her goods, no siree. Not even money, which could tempt her into a lot of things, could tempt her into that. 

“Well I suppose it should be expected that you are learning from these new experiences. I think it would be more concerning were you not.” 

“You got me there. Man, I can’t believe I’m really leaving tomorrow, and by myself. Well I guess not really by myself since I’ll have you, but it’ll for sure be a lot quieter without the kiwis around.” 

“I will try to be the best company I can in their stead, though I highly doubt that I can compare. I think of myself more as a search engine with personality rather than a companion, in all honesty.” 

“Don’t know what a search engine is, but I’m sure you’re better than one. By jove it wasn’t half bad when I just up and left home by myself, but leaving alone this time feels sort of depressing.” 

“As I am sure a wise man at some point, some time, somewhere has once said, you cannot miss what you have never had.” 

“What do you gain from calling me out like this? Nothing I say, nothing. I mean yeah it was partially my fault I was a loner way back in the way back, but what about it? Absolutely uncalled for, that’s what that was.” 

“There would be nothing to call out if you had never been in that situation,” replied Fethar snarkily. “Also it is astounding to me that you are still packing that luggage of yours. Folding clothes is not that hard.” 

“You don’t know that because you’ve never folded clothes,” huffed Polly as she attempted to fold a shirt. No matter how hard she tried, the shirt was just not folding itself into a nice, pleasant to look at, perfectly symmetrical, flat square. “Why am I even folding these. I could just shove them all in and let them be wrinkly. Who’s stopping me?” 

“Your fear of scrutiny from the judgemental eyes of society.” 

Polly frowned, then straightened her mouth, then opened it, then closed it, then frowned again. “Okay, well, maybe. But only just possibly.” She made another pass at folding the shirt. “Fethar, I’m sure you have some handy dandy tricks for folding a shirt. You said it yourself that you’re like a search engine, right? Though I may not know what that is, I know what the word search means so you’ve gotta be able to pull up something.” 

“Perhaps I can. I suppose I ought to have mentioned it earlier to save you, at least a bit, from your struggles, but given the fact that you will be travelling, rolling your shirts would be the wiser thing to do.” 

“Rolling you say?” 

“Indeed. Now, what you must first do is fold that garment into thirds.” 

Polly called on the power of her inner tape measure, and folded her shirt into thirds… ish. It was close enough to thirds for her, at least. 

“Go on,” she said. 

“If you are absolutely certain you are satisfied with how your article of clothing is currently folded, then the following step would be to fold its sleeves over the center.” 

“Roger that. And what next?” 

“The next order of business would be the actual rolling of the shirt. It is recommended that you start at the collar.” 

In no time at all Polly was holding a shirt that could have passed for an uncut roll of sushi had it not been so large and made out of cloth. 

“I probs should’ve asked you for help sooner, huh,” commented Polly, looking at her rolled up shirt. 

“That tends to be the situation, yet every time you do not. I have long since given up on questioning it.” 

Choosing to be the bigger person, which was made a little easier due to the fact Fethar wasn’t really a person to begin with, Polly decided to ignore the hat and continue packing. She was planning to sleep relatively early so she wouldn’t be waving goodbye to the island in the evening. Considering she wasn’t the most seasoned of sailors, that would’ve been risky biz to say the least. Even she had enough sense in her one perpetually exhausted brain cell to know that. 

x x x 

Without fail, morning came. Thanks to her ever changing sleep schedule, Polly was wide awake at the buttcrack of dawn, and as she watched light fill the sky and turn it from a quiet indigo to a burning orange, she remembered one of her language teachers had talked about dawn symbolizing new beginnings or something like that. 

Remembering that reminded Polly of the terrible pain she went through each time she was made to analyze poetry. First there was the issue of her not having a clue of whatever the poets were trying to say most of the time, and second there was the issue of her not caring. She really didn’t. Not at all. It wasn’t that Polly hated poetry, in fact she was actually a huge fan of the craft. What she didn’t like was being forced to search for a poem’s deeper meaning and supporting her findings with textual evidence rather than simply enjoying the poem for what it was and what it had to offer. 

Pushing her thoughts about poetry out of her head, Polly popped herself out of bed to get ready so she could hit everything on her to-do list. 

“Our last day together, isn’t it,” said Polly to the kiwis. The birds had popped by her room not long after she had freshened up. 

“Just for now,” reminded Wiki. “Hopefully we’ll be seeing each other soon.” 

“True true.” 

“I trust you’re all packed and ready to blast fledge?” asked SAT. “If you’ve forgotten anything ya better not expect us to send it to you.” 

“I think I’m good to go. I just need to buy some food from The Capital, and that’s it.” 

The colorful bird nodded. Polly already knew she was going to miss the assault on her eyes that SAT’s paint-splattered-looking appearance was. 

The four walked to The Capital together to enjoy one last morning of good vibes. Rather than eating at a restaurant, they decided to go the street food route. As they stopped by vendors, Polly picked up some jerky, trail mix, chips, fruits, and of course bread to make sure she’d be able to last until she reached The Second Island. 

“I’m going to pop in there real quick,” said Polly to the kiwis when she spotted Yellow and Brown’s store. 

“What an interesting place. Don’t mind us if we follow you in,” said Ed. 

“Good morning Yellow, Brown,” said Polly as she walked in. “I’m setting sail today so I just thought I’d stop by and say bye. It’s been a real treat getting to know you guys and I’m hoping we can meet again sometime in the future.” 

“Oh my dear if you told us earlier that you’d be leaving we’d have done something for you,” gasped Yellow. “But thank you, really, for coming to visit everyday. That was so sweet of you. We’ll be here for a while so if you’re ever coming back to Sea-Island 6, know that our doors are always open for you.” 

“Are there any last minute purchases you’d like to make,” chuckled Brown. 

“My luggage is already stuffed, so probably not. But I’ll be sure to do a lot of shopping when I come back!” 

“Wonderful,” smiled Brown. “Stay safe on your travels dear.” 

Polly left feeling a little saddened, but nevertheless excited at the prospect of meeting other just as great people. 

“There sure were a lot of stuff in there,” remarked Wiki as the four journeyed to Not Half Bad Food. 

“I know right, that place is always packed with goods. And they switch things up all the time too. Sometimes I wonder where everything comes from.” 

“You never asked?” 

“Uh, I’ve never asked them but I’ve asked myself. It might be a trade secret or something and being nosy isn’t exactly a top-notch trait to have.” 

Polly’s goodbye with the owner of Not Half Bad Food was just as bittersweet, and she was soon on her way for her final farewell, the one with Croix. 

The shop hadn’t opened yet, it was too early for that, but Croix was there. He looked as solemn as he had the first day they met, but his mouth curved into a croissant of a smile when he saw the group approaching. 

“Last day ain’t it fellas.” 

“It is, it is.” 

“Can’t thank you enough lass for all you’ve done. I’m sure me and your bird buddies will be missing you plenty as soon as you’re gone. It won’t be the same without you around.” 

“I’ll miss you guys a lot too. I forgot how nice it could be to stay in one place for a bit, so thanks again Mr. Croix for helping to make my Sea-Island 6 experience such a great one. And Wiki, SAT, and Ed, The Birbalinda will sure be a lot less lively without y’all on it. I look forward to having you guys back on board soon.” 

“We’ll miss you lots too,” said Wiki, who actually had watery eyes. “Come back soon alright?” 

“Croix’s and our food will have reached new heights by the time you return,” declared Ed, who’s eyes were also glossy. “You would do well to anticipate it.” 

“You can count on it.” 

“Stay safe fledge,” said SAT gruffly. “Not that I doubt anything will happen to you ‘cause you’ve got Fethar who’s pretty trusty by your side, but you can be a bit half baked at times.” 

“Gee thanks, but thanks and I’ll do my best.” 

“Let’s have one last grilled cheese fellas,” said Croix who had apparently prepared five grilled cheese sandwiches for the occasion. 

They clinked their sandwiches together like champagne glasses and then bit in. It was a good sandwich, a very good sandwich. Polly wondered if she’d be able to find one like it anywhere else. 

When she had finished the sandwich, she knew her stay had come to an end. And with that, she was going, going, and gone.

Pirate with one brain cell...on a good day? Check.
Extremely specific descriptions and random trivia? This story has it.
Wild adventures where no one, and definitely not our heroine, knows what's going on? Read and find out!
... 
"Good day, good sir," she chirped in as cheerful a voice as she could manage while still being salty over the ship fiasco.

"Good day? The sun may be shining and the clouds may be gone, but today is anything but a good day," replied the pirate with a long look.

"Who rained on your parade?" went Polly.

"I shouldn't bother such a pleasant person as you with my tale," sighed the pirate. He cast a forlorn gaze towards the sea and it really would have been quite an aesthetic moment for a picture taker.

"Oh, well then, um, sea you later?" replied Polly who began turning away.

"Alas, it was just this morning when I was a younger man and had not a clue what evils would befall me," started the pirate.

Coincidentally there was a bench which Polly sat herself down on and a stage which the pirate leaped onto.
... 
Notes:
This story belongs more in the genre of fantasy adventure comedy than fantasy romance, but since this is the closest genre I could find on WN, it's what I'm going with. Also, I would like to emphasize that fact that this story is lighthearted and episodic in nature so don't expect much drama!!

The interview question was out.

Everyone looked at Zhang Ye, wondering how he was to answer. He had to follow up on a tough poem that had previously gone in Chinese language textbooks, Wang Shuixin's most famous poem, "Everything".

Zhang Ye did not speak for a long while.

"Everything"? Why did it sound so familiar?

He was sure that he had heard this poem somewhere, but he could not remember it clearly. Hence, he said, "Can I have some water?"

"Yes." Wang Shuixin turned his head.

An interviewer threw a bottle of mineral water to Zhang Ye.

Zhang Ye used the time to drink the water and opened his game ring and bought a "Memory Search Capsule". He closed his eyes, pretending to be in thought. In fact, he had swallowed the capsule while drinking water. He was searching the memories in his brain, and finally Zhang Ye opened his eyes. He had found his memory and had finally remembered why this poem sounded so familiar!

What the f**k!

Wasn't this Bei Dao's "Everything"!?

However, there were some slight differences!

For example in his world, Bei Dao had written, "Every fate is destined. Every cloud is fleeting. Every beginning is without an ending. Every search is brief." 

As for Wang Shuixin's poem, it was "Everything is fated. Everything is unreal. Everything has no end. Everything has no home to return to." It may look different, but the format and meaning were about the same. The core idea was similar. One of the lines, "Every faith comes with longing", was identical in both poems. There was not a single word different!

This world also had something similar to "Everything"?

However, there was no Bei Dao, but it was written by Wang Shuixin?

This was not surprising either. The two worlds’ cultural backgrounds weren't much different. The Four Great Classical Novels, such as Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Water Margin, still existed. Maybe it was because the Four Great Classical Novels had too strong of an effect ingrained in the country, so there was no way of changing it. So it was not modified by the game ring. Then it was pretty normal to have similar literature works from both worlds.  Of course, they were just similar. In Zhang Ye's world, Bei Dao was a very famous poet. In terms of text and profoundness, Zhang Ye clearly believed Bei Dao's "Everything" was much more excellent than Wang Shuixin's “Everything"!

This was the topic?

Zhang Ye laughed, for he could not control himself.

Bei Dao's "Everything" was considered quite famous, but the reason why Zhang Ye did not remember it to the point of needing to use the Memory Search Capsule to search his memories for it was because there was another poem that was more famous. It was written as a retort to Bei Dao's "Everything". It had completely negated Bei Dao's work, hence Zhang Ye and the people from his world had a deeper impression of that poem and had forgotten about Bei Dao's "Everything". Even if people from his world mentioned "Everything", it was to use it as a reference or backstory. It was as if "Everything" existed just to accentuate the other poem. Hence, no matter how well it was written, and had cried out the lives of people so perfectly, in front of that poem, "Everything" was just a supporting role, and considered a sidekick. It could only be hidden under a shade!

"Are you done?" a woman urged.

"Can you begin?" a young interviewer was also turning impatient.

Seeing that Zhang Ye did not speak for so long, Hu Fei guessed that Zhang Ye was unable to follow up. He sighed in his heart. Zhang Ye had low odds of success, and it would have been impossible for him to be accepted by the Leader. Wang Shuixin's attitude was very clear. Now, by not being able to answer the interview question, the chances of hiring him were close to nil. 

However, Hu Fei's love for talent was very deep. He was still trying his best to help Zhang Ye fight for it, "Director Wang. Little Zhang is still young, so no matter how much talent he has, he can't compare to you. This question is indeed quite difficult. Shall we change a topic and let Little Zhang have freedom to express a poem?"

"Brother Hu, " a female interviewer said, "then what's the point of an interview? Anyone can write something freely. That's not ability."

Wang Shuixin also lightly laughed, "Old Hu, to speak the truth, I want to test Little Zhang's creative ability on the spot today. It seems all his poems in the past were created on the spot. As for the poem's quality and logic, I'll reserve my judgment. I don't believe those good works of his were written on the spot by Little Zhang. It doesn't agree with reason. Even if it was written on the spot, it couldn't be done without any stammering, right? And those poems of his had so much logic? And the parallelism was done so well? And since you appreciate this youth so much, I'm testing him this time. So I purposely used my poem to let him follow up. First, it's to see if he really can compose on the spot, and secondly, to see if Little Zhang really has as much literary skill as people say."

Hu Fei said, "But to follow up on a classic poem that even entered language textbooks, Little Zhang will..."

Wang Shuixin waved his hand to stop Hu Fei from continuing. He looked at Zhang Ye, "It's alright, Little Zhang. Take your time to think; there's no hurry. Hur Hur. At your age, you might not have heard this poem. When you were in high school, the materials for your language class might not have included "Everything". If you did not catch everything, I can recite it to you again."

A youth volunteered, "Since you already recited it once, why don't you let me, Director Wang?"

"Alright, Little Xu, you do it. Hur Hur." Wang Shuixin was in a good mood. He had been doing administrative work all these years, so for him to once again display his literary works was a rare event. Seeing Zhang Ye remaining silent, and his subordinates looking at him with admiration and respect, Wang Shuixin was very pleased.

The other interviewers and the youth completely ignored Zhang Ye. They knew that it was impossible for Zhang Ye to follow up on the poem. The only reason that they were still in here to interview Zhang Ye was to kiss ass and flatter the Leader. They wanted to see with their own eyes how their Leader defeated Zhang Ye, a newcomer who had been praised for his poetry. Besides, even without the flattering factor, Director Wang did have the absolute ability!

Zhang Ye? A newcomer!

Compared to Director Wang, what was he!?

He wanted to compete with Wang Shuixin in literature and poetry? Wasn't this do something beyond his ability!?

Director Wang's "Everything" came about due to his using all his senses to come into maximum contact with the pulse of life. He had used his critical perspective to inspect the interpersonal moral and ethical relations, as well as the sparks that arose when people clashed. He had also subconsciously pondered above love, freedom, joy, suffering, hope and death, which were all common factors of human life. It was one of the best modern poems, and could be said that he had written a poem of such a genre at its peak. Zhang Ye wanted to use the literary insight from "Everything" as a topic to exceed "Everything"? That was impossible!

Well, but it was not that the poem did not have its flaws. If one wanted to pick faults with it, it was probably the reason why it was eventually removed from the language textbooks. The poem was too dark and oppressive. There was no hope in it. This was also why "Everything" was criticized by some people. But the flaws could not obscure the splendor it possessed. This poem was still enjoying a relatively high status in the poetry world. It could be considered a "pessimism" masterpiece.

"Let me recite it, while you listen well." the youth said to Zhang Ye.

Zhang Ye ignored him, and already had his plans.

The youth frowned. You even turned haughty? Just because you were praised to the skies by people who did not know literature, you already forgot who you were? See, your original form has been revealed! I have no idea why Teacher Hu appreciated you so much. You can only have your way with Big Thunder and those slightly known poets in Beijing. But take a look; once you encounter a real master of literature, you have nothing against them, right?

The youth grunted and cleared his throat, "Everything is fated. Everything is unreal. Everything has no end. Everything has no home to return to."

Wang Shuixin squinted his eyes as he listened to his poem.

The other interviewers again revealed their reverence. Their mouths moved gently, as if they were tasting the poem, and were also reciting it along with the youth.

The youth carried on, "Every happiness doesn't come with a smile. Every suffering.."

But suddenly, a scene no one expected happened. Zhang Ye opened his vocal cords and interrupted the youth, who was having a good time reciting, rudely!

Zhang Ye shook his head, "Not every tree has been broken off by the storm; Not every seed cannot find soil to root; Not every true feeling is lost in the deserts of human hearts; Not every dream wishes to be cut off at its wings. No, not everything... is like what you said!"

Hu Fei gasped. This...This poem...

Wang Shuixin and the other 7-8 interviewers were stunned!

Zhang Ye looked at Director Wang and then at a few interviewers, then began stressing his words, "Not every torch is burning itself, but not illuminating others; Not every star indicates darkness, but does not predict the dawn; Not every song passes through the ears, but does not stay in the hearts. No, not everything... is like what you said!"

The second paragraph was also out!

It was another massive parallelism! His tone also grew stronger!

Wang Shuixin's expression instantly looked ugly, but he made no sound!

However, Hu Fei got a kick hearing this. He clenched his fists and was so excited that he wanted to stand up to cheer for Zhang Ye. This was the first time that he had such a bright smile on his face. He was happy for Zhang Ye and also happy for himself. He had not evaluated Zhang Ye wrongly! He was really a remarkable talent of the age!

Zhang Ye scanned everyone with his eyes and purposely paused before reciting the last paragraph. For this paragraph, he wiped off the solemnity and seriousness, and changed it to that of a smile. There was even mockery in his smile, "Not every appeal has been dismissed; Not every loss cannot be compensated; Not every abyss is death; Not every grief lands on the heads of the weak; Not every heart and soul are to be stepped on and buried in the mud; Not every consequence is blood and tears, but without mirth!"

"Everything in the present is creating the future!"

"Everything in the future is grown from yesterday."

"Hope, and to fight for it, please put all of them on your shoulders!"

The last shout was Zhang Ye saying it to Wang Shuixin, and could also be him saying it to himself!

Everything was darkness? Everything was suffering? Every success was accompanied by tears and sorrow?

Be it Bei Dao's "Everything" or Wang Shuixin's "Everything", Zhang Ye could not agree with them!

He knew that many people hated him, or had a grudge with him or disliked him. He also knew that he had not much hope for this interview, but Zhang Ye had never felt that his life was filled with darkness. He had never hesitated in his life. As long as he had a glimmer of hope, he would never give up!

That was everything?

Everything is like what you said?

No! Not everyone is like what you said!

At least, I am not! I, Zhang Ye, am not!


Zhang Ye was originally a mundane college graduate with aspiring dreams to become a star, but unfortunately has below average looks and height. However one day, he woke up and suddenly found himself in a parallel world! 
It’s like the same world, but wait a minute…many brands, celebrities and even famous works from his world changed and are gone in this new world! Armed with the profound literary knowledge of his previous world and a heaven-defying Game Ring that gives him magical items, stats and skills, Zhang Ye embarks on a journey to pursue his life-long dream of becoming famous!
Follow Zhang Ye as he takes the new world by storm, one plagiarized piece at a time, to hilarious reactions!

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