Sitting back at her computer, Chu Lian checked the video she had uploaded. It was already under review. She glanced at Weibo and MySong, where many people were already praising her singing.
Seeing those comments stirred a sense of urgency within her—she couldn't wait to see how they'd react after watching the breathtaking visuals in this new video.
Her previous video had been playful and flirtatious, filled with teasing and charm. But this one had suddenly turned solemn and elegant, transporting viewers to a distant world where two peerless beauties performed together—one singing, one dancing, one playing an instrument—with all the grace in the world.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she created a new folder on her desktop labeled "Novel," then opened it and created a new document. After some hesitation, she typed the title: Chinese Paladin.
Inside the Word document, she stared at the blank page and slowly typed:
"If there are still immortals in this world, do they continue to watch the ever-changing mortal realm? Life is like a dream, filled with countless matters left unsaid and endless sorrows that cannot be fully expressed."
"He was merely an ordinary young man, yet in the face of a catastrophe threatening all living beings, he became the backbone of the world. Times change, the world shifts. A single parting may become forever. When we look back on this moment, perhaps we'll sigh and say, 'It all seemed so ordinary then…'"
This opening wasn't taken from any published novel. It was her own prologue to The Legend of Sword and Fairy. Her version of Chinese Paladin wasn't the same as the official novel co-authored by the game series' creator and Guan Ping Chao. Instead, it was based on the heart-wrenching stories from the Chinese Paladin game series.
Those were the tales she loved—and she didn't want to use someone else's writing to tell them. So she decided to write the story herself, using her own words and the complete plot of The Legend of Sword and Fairy 1 (game version), which she had redeemed from the system.
Her aim was to recreate a magnificent, emotional xianxia saga. She wanted to merge myths and legends from both worlds, fill in the gaps in the Chinese Paladin series, and elevate this poignant yet stirring tale into a true classic.
She had three reasons for doing this: first, her deep love for the series; second, she didn't want to just redeem a story and copy it over without any changes; third, she had a bold ambition.
Some might think that a thirteen-year-old girl who had just published a fantasy fairy tale should focus on preserving her current success. But she disagreed.
She knew that the Chinese Paladin series had appeal for readers ranging from her age to college students. Those who loved such stories would be passionate about them.
And for those who didn't—well, the series still had many classic tales in the future. She was confident they'd be moved eventually.
Even if her novel lacked the visuals and music of the original games, once the plot developed, the power of words and imagination would easily bridge that gap. She believed she could write a story that stayed true to the original while being even more engaging.
Her typing speed wasn't fast—around 1,000 words an hour. Compared to online writers, or even quick handwriters, that was slow. But every paragraph, every line of dialogue, every single word was chosen with care. Her dedication surpassed that of most writers.
Today, she wrote about Li Xiaoyao and the inn he lived in. The plot was interesting, but not particularly eye-catching just yet.
That didn't matter. She had no plans to rush. She wanted to gradually unfold the story, laying the groundwork with early chapters and planting subtle clues, so she could later guide readers into a breathtaking world of wonder.
She wasn't afraid some readers might lose interest—after all, this book was intended to be serialized in a magazine. Those who enjoyed reading (physical books, specifically) usually had patience and loved to slowly savor the stories and emotions within. To them, it didn't matter whether a story had a fast or slow burn—it was still a story.
The former provided immediate impact and excitement early on, but if it couldn't sustain the reader's interest, it would quickly fade into blandness. The latter, however, built up gradually. Once it reached its turning point, the story would take off and become irresistibly gripping.
Neither style was superior; it all came down to personal preference.
Coincidentally, because of certain cultural and historical losses, this world had taken a different literary path. With the government actively encouraging reading, the societal atmosphere here was much more literature-friendly than in her previous world.
Though major cities still had their share of hustle and bustle, there were always quiet corners where people read in peace. Even the most restless individuals wouldn't bother those immersed in books. This culture of respect had developed over decades, forming a tradition that suited her storytelling approach perfectly. So she wasn't in a hurry.
It took her over two hours to write just a little more than 2,000 words. It was slow, but at least she could meet the weekly magazine word count if she kept this pace for five or six days. She'd keep writing for a while and talk to her parents about publishing later.
"Yawn..." Stretching lazily, she realized writing wasn't easy. When she wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, she had simply transcribed the story from her memory, only adjusting a few elements to suit this world. It had been quick and effortless.
This time was different. She had to carefully integrate elements from two worlds, plug story gaps, and make minor changes that didn't disrupt the plot. Writing was slower and more exhausting—two hours in the same spot really took a toll.
But after reading what she'd written, even with a few imperfections, she felt drawn into the story. It was worth it. She had spent 80,000 Culture Points to redeem some essential background knowledge:
"The Legend of Sword and Fairy 1 (Game Version) Full Plot: 5,000 Culture Points."
"Chinese Classical Mythology Simplified Edition: 35,000 Culture Points. Grants general knowledge of Earth's Chinese mythology. Further expansions (Concise, Detailed, Full, Comprehensive) available for 150,000 / 300,000 / 500,000 / 1,000,000 points respectively. Note: must be redeemed sequentially."
"Huaxia Classical Mythology Simplified Edition: 40,000 Culture Points. Grants general knowledge of Chinese mythology in the Huaxia world. Further expansions available for 160,000 / 320,000 / 560,000 / 1,120,000 points respectively. Note: must be redeemed sequentially."
Seeing that, she didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. This world had lost many classics, yet still held deeper cultural roots than her previous world.
That's the difference between lacking support and having it—one lost culture by neglect, the other never had the chance to begin with. Shaking her head, she reminded herself: she now lived in Huaxia, not China.
Compared to that world, which she no longer felt connected to, this one—with her parents, siblings, system, and Ayase—was her true home.
After saving her document, she skimmed through Weibo and saw a lot of activity. She'd originally planned to read through it carefully, but after working the entire evening, she was exhausted. Her body, conditioned by years of healthy habits, had a strict internal clock. By ten o'clock, if she wasn't already asleep, she'd be too drowsy to function.
Her eyes drooped. Normally, she'd be fast asleep or already in bed—not sitting at her computer.
"I'll check it tomorrow… tomorrow… tomorrow…" she murmured, switching off her computer and light. Her body collapsed onto the bed, and even half-asleep, she instinctively slipped under the covers. A peaceful smile graced her delicate face as she drifted into slumber.
What she didn't know was that the video she'd uploaded—and nearly forgotten—was already stirring up a small storm.
In it, Ayase was stunningly cold and elegant, and Chu Lian's performance—serene as an orchid in the valley—left viewers breathless. One strummed and sang softly, the other danced with grace. Beneath that silent willow-lined riverbank, the pair looked like immortals from a dream, and many who watched were left heartsick by their ethereal beauty...