Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Ji Daoting was watering the flowers in the yard when he heard coughing coming from inside the house, and he looked somewhat worried.

Such a bright and sensible child as his own granddaughter has been plagued by serious illness since childhood.

Bei Xuancheng waited for three years, but Zhaixinglou avoided him, which was truly infuriating and frustrating!

Just as he was cursing the group of fortune tellers in his heart, he heard his granddaughter laugh again for some reason. Ji Daoting was puzzled for a moment, then remembered that today was the day the bookstore was sending over the collection of writings.

She was always in a good mood on this day.

Inside the house——

Ji Yuezhang held the handkerchief in her hand, the bloodstains spreading out like blooming red plum blossoms.

She was holding a volume of "The Collected Works of Canglang" in her hand, and she carefully avoided coughing, for fear of soiling the pages.

While others didn't enjoy reading collections of writings, she was particularly fond of them.

I especially love the feeling of surprise, not knowing if I'll survive to see the ending.

Whenever a new issue of the anthology arrived, she was always grateful to have lived a few more days. If she had accidentally passed away prematurely, she would never have known what would happen next.

Ji Yuezhang frowned, unable to hide her pain; she had just laughed too excitedly.

Her life was always dull and boring. If it weren't for her grandfather, why would she suffer day after day? She would rather die.

Therefore, she would read every issue of the anthology.

It's like trying to find some new hope to make the days a little easier to endure.

And so, something new and interesting appeared.

Ji Yuezhang is currently reading "Mr. Silent"'s new book. She has never heard of this writer before, let alone seen this writing style.

Perhaps because his daily life was too monotonous, Ji Yuezhang was filled with joy upon seeing such a unique writing style.

Her health was poor, and she had never seen many of the scenes described in the books. She was also tired of reading those monotonous and ornate words over and over again.

But Mr. Wuyu's books are different.

The first few lines sparked her endless reverie—so this is what it's like to roam the martial world with a sword, and she wondered if she could ever live a chivalrous life like the ones described in the book.

Ji Yuezhang laughed and cried along with Zhou Zhi in the book, and when she saw the sword immortal's judgment, she was overwhelmed with sorrow.

As the eldest daughter of a family specializing in talismanic arts, she possesses the greatest talent among her peers. If it weren't for her frail health, she would undoubtedly have a place in the cultivation world!

Instead of what it is now, when people mention the eldest daughter of the Fu Daoji family, all they can think of is a useless medicine pot.

After reading Mr. Silent's articles, she found other people's books to be much less interesting.

Ji Yuezhang always saw the image of that down-on-his-luck young swordsman in his mind, because he was worried and concerned about him. He wondered what kind of writer had penned such a story.

I wonder when Mr. Speechless will be able to write the next chapter...

Thinking of this, she became a little worried. What if Mr. Silent thought that no one wanted to read it and stopped writing?

Ji Yuezhang quickly put on her cloak, went into the courtyard, and solemnly recommended it to her grandfather:

"Grandpa, look at the storybook written by this Mr. Speechless! It's so interesting!"

Mr. Speechless?

Ji Daoting looked slightly puzzled, recalling the apple thief who had stolen apples some time ago, and the "Poor Man's Post" that he had named on his own initiative.

Could they be the same person?

He took the book with curiosity, and his eyes widened as soon as he saw the title. The writing style was so simple and unadorned!

Ji Daoting immediately concluded that this speechless man who wrote storybooks was the same speechless thief who wrote the "Poor Man's Post" with charcoal.

As for the reason—they were all exceptionally talented, but their families were poor and they didn't seem to have much education!

After reading through these chapters, Ji Daoting felt even more regretful.

This article is crude in language and lacks literary flair, yet it captivates readers with its plot. Such a talented person was held back by poverty.

Not only could they practice calligraphy with charcoal sticks, but they could also only write books in vernacular Chinese.

Yet, he has mastered both of these skills to an unparalleled degree. With such perseverance, what can't he accomplish?

Moreover, this story is so well-written that it truly makes one's heart itch with anticipation.

Seeing her grandfather's attitude, Ji Yuezhang knew what was going on and asked in a coquettish tone:

"Grandpa, this Ms. Speechless is truly a fascinating person. May I meet her?"

Ji Daoting remembered the IOU, stroked his beard, and said mysteriously:

"Perhaps she'll come to me on her own."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Today is the day that "The Collected Works of Canglang" goes on sale.

Zhu Wuyao, however, seemed indifferent, sipping coarse tea in the inn's lobby and listening to the diners arguing endlessly about the storybook she had written.

Just as Manager Li had predicted, this groundbreaking writing style was bound to cause some waves.

There was no talk of it in the morning, but by nightfall, a couple of tables of guests had come specifically to scold her.

And so, the young man in the lead was cursing with righteous indignation—

"This is truly a disgrace! How can my book be placed alongside it? Tomorrow, I will definitely go to Ink Trace Bookstore to demand an explanation!"

Some of the surrounding guests were curious and asked:

"Brother, what did the person you're criticizing write that made you so angry?"

The young man angrily said:

"This 'Mr. Silent' wrote about a young swordsman named Zhou Zhi."

"At the beginning of the article, Zhou Zhi is sitting by the window drinking when he hears a fight going on downstairs. One of the villains tries to use a beggar on the street as a shield. Zhou Zhi draws his sword and stands in front of the beggar, the tip of the sword pointing directly at the villain's neck, just an inch away from killing him."

He downed the strong liquor in his flask and said, "Who gave you the audacity to hurt someone in front of me?"

Upon hearing this, the person who had asked the question couldn't help but slap the table and cheer, then asked, "And then what?"

The young man got even angrier and said, "What's so good about this book?"

"I wrote this 'speechless' exactly as I said it, without any excessive embellishment, while my article contained four poems in its first two thousand words..."

He wanted to say something more, but the people around him wouldn't have it and insisted that he tell them what happened next.

Left with no other choice, he repeated the story, which drew cheers and applause from those around him, who kept asking for more details.

The young man angrily said, "What happens next? How would I know what happens next? That 'Mr. Speechless' has already written so much!"

"How can you listen to such a poorly written book? It's a waste of ink and paper, it's utterly vulgar and shallow!"

One of the mischievous ones, upon hearing this, asked, "You've memorized it all, and you still say it's bad? What, don't you want to know what happens next?"

The young man blushed instantly, pointed at the customer, and stammered, "What do you know!"

"Yes, yes, I don't understand. I'm only suited to this kind of vulgar book. I'll go buy it and read it tomorrow."

The people around him chimed in, saying, "You little rascal, you're just jealous because others write well, that's why you're making a fuss. I think this book is quite good!"

"Who says otherwise? Even someone like me who can't stand reading wants to know what happens next."

"Is Mohen Literature House still open? I'll go buy some now. That kid's explanation was unclear; the original book must be much more interesting."

……

Zhu Wuyao listened while shaking his head helplessly.

To be honest, the young man spoke very well; he was indeed a cultured person, and he even embellished her story.

Unexpectedly, her storybooks sold so well, even though she had to rely on haters to criticize her.

She even considered bringing two pounds of apples as a gift to that scholar, hoping it would encourage him to complain at several inns and restaurants.

This isn't an insult to her at all; it's clearly a generous act of helping her tell stories for free.

The commotion just now had lifted Zhu Wuyao's spirits somewhat, and she was no longer so gloomy. She paid for her meal at the innkeeper's and went upstairs to her room.

To his surprise, as soon as he opened the door, he saw a woman sitting on his bed.

He was still flipping through her manuscript.

Seeing the room owner return, the young woman raised her head, didn't even move from her seat, and asked matter-of-factly:

"Hey, that's all you wrote?"

Zhu Wuyao almost thought she had entered the wrong room.

Coming to her senses, she had some guesses and stepped forward tentatively to ask, "Is she Brother Shen's junior sister?"

The girl raised the corners of her mouth and smiled:

"I will not change my name or surname, I am Ye Xiaozhou of Zhaixinglou."