Chapter 77: Round-headed Kitten Writing Online
Entertainment novels always have flaws. The flaws in Yu Wei’s book are so obvious that even Zhang Lingye can spot them, let alone readers who have read countless books.
But there’s no way around it. Web novels are tens of thousands of words long, and in the high-frequency creation process, any author will have moments of stupidity.
Thousands of words per day—who can guarantee they’re always in top form with meticulous thinking? Even Platinum Great Gods have moments of taking things for granted; it’s just that their rich experience allows them to avoid it as much as possible.
Yu Wei is different; he’s a failure. Readers are there for the spectacle, and few nitpick the novel plot. If truly deconstructed, he’d have written a whole book on flaws.
Finally, the person coming to settle accounts with him arrived…
Blind girl Lin Yuting fired the first shot against Yu Wei and against the novel. Have you ever met a blind person before writing a blind extra? Writing recklessly, taking things for granted?
Yu Wei hadn’t expected to have such affinity with visually impaired people. He wrote about them, and he even acted as one. Now, he actually ran into a real one on the program.
Tong Yulu’s blind box contained his little reader, wearing black-rimmed glasses and looking gentle and refined—most likely an otaku, possibly even into anime.
Calling them anime otaku fat guys is a bit of a stereotype. Actually, many otakus nowadays are quite slim, dressing all in black when going out. They don’t do outrageous things; they just want to lurk darkly in the crowd and watch the show…
Ever since the reveal began, he kept looking toward Yu Wei, but things didn’t go as planned—he was drawn by Tong Yulu.
Meng Han drew a chef this time. Being stuck in the back kitchen in such hot weather must be tough; hope the uncle is okay.
Yu Wei was quite looking forward to his musical creativity. Who knows, he might end up doing wok-tossing rock music—that would be truly lit, in the physical sense.
Rock music isn’t dead; it’s just well-done.
The blind box Su Xinnan opened was impressive—it actually contained an esports player, who came wearing his team uniform and looked like he was great at gaming.
This one is really good. While recording the program, he can also rank up with a pro player, provided they don’t pressure the newcomer…
After the program recording paused, Yu Wei immediately went up to greet Lin Yuting. Given her special situation, it was only right for him to take the initiative.
“Is this Teacher Yu Wei? Your voice sounds like it.”
Lin Yuting was about the same age as him. Perhaps because she didn’t go out much, her skin was somewhat pale, looking like steamed rice cake—much whiter than all these stars.
“Just call me Yu Wei. Are you a fan or a book friend?”
The keyword she gave was a song title. If she’s a fan, that’s fine; if she’s a reader, it’ll be awkward—especially the part of the plot related to the blind girl.
“Both.” Lin Yuting “looked” toward Yu Wei following the sound of his voice. “I like listening to your songs, and I make time to listen to your books too.”
Audiobooks—that’s even more impressive.
Many web novels seem fine when skimmed at ten lines per glance, but when listened to as audiobooks, everything feels off: sentence breaks, wording, phrasing—every sentence is awkward; expressions, plot, character emotions—all clichéd.
Marketing accounts’ promo videos are smoother than his.
“You’ve gone through a lot.”
God closed one door for her but opened a window—yet this window isn’t for listening to brainless novels, hey…
“Not at all. I find it quite interesting.”
Lin Yuting waved her hand with a smile on her face, clearly meaning it sincerely.
Thinking about it, if it weren’t for genuine fondness, who would travel thousands of miles to meet him on the program? True haters wouldn’t have that kind of time.
Yu Wei understood this reasoning. Though he kept yelling about screwing over readers, when it came to the blind box selection, he always picked his own people. Readers and fans who came from afar—he couldn’t disappoint them.
The two walked to backstage, where Lin Yuting fumbled and handed over a kraft paper bag containing handmade braille content, the raised dots on the pages like imprints of stars.
“This is the first chapter of your novel.”
Yu Wei’s fingers traced over those raised dots, as if seeing her earnestly pressing them on the braille slate, writing word by word. Braille writing is slow; two or three thousand words might take days…
“Thank you. I’ll definitely treasure it!”
Yu Wei’s mood was complex—moved, yet inevitably a bit sad and emotional, and he held respect for Lin Yuting’s optimism.
He didn’t think highly of himself, but if his existence could give her a bit of strength, Yu Wei was pretty happy.
Logically, after teaming up began, the program should enter the experience life stage, but Yu Wei couldn’t record the program with his eyes covered, could he?
He was good at acting blind, but that didn’t mean he could truly adapt to total darkness. If he really couldn’t see, he’d trip and eat dirt going down stairs…
“What do you do for work?”
He couldn’t fully empathize, but experiencing life was doable.
Blind people’s career choices are very limited: either related to blind people—like braille editor or visually impaired teacher—or in music, radio, voice fields.
Squeezing into ordinary workplaces is tough. Even if capable, many companies politely refuse—not really discrimination, since they’re not running charities.
Without special talents or musical ability, and from an ordinary family background, they’d probably end up doing massage.
Though it deducts some merit, Yu Wei suddenly recalled the image of a master at a blind massage shop playing on a mobile phone—technology’s power, magical, right…
“What if I said I’m a sound mixer? Would you believe it?”
Lin Yuting blinked, cracking a very timely joke. Her vacant gaze gained obvious vitality under the drive of her smile.
She had followed all of Yu Wei’s works, including microfilms and MVs. The one she liked most was the song “Sound of Rain,” which was why she used that keyword.
Is this song suitable in the plot? Not really, since the song’s theme is love, but Lin Yuting did like it—liking needs no reason.
“I have to believe it.”
Sound mixer requires some seniority, and Lin Yuting’s age made it unlikely, but since she signed up for the program, she was probably into music.
“I’m a singing streamer, just started not long ago.” Lin Yuting paused, a bit embarrassed: “But I’m at most a music enthusiast, no singing skill.”
“Originally wanted to just get a regular job, but family didn’t want me to suffer, and I wanted to help out at home, so I just sing casually.”
Her family pampered her, which was a blessing amid misfortune. Having a physical disability and struggling alone would be too hard.
Compared to someone like Qi Luo An with a foundation, Lin Yuting was a pure civilian—interested in music, but techniques were barely passable.
Still, her voice was quite clean. Picking a steady, gentle song should be no problem…
Yu Wei was pondering what song to assign her when it suddenly hit him the next second: Lin Yuting was a streamer, so experiencing her life meant he had to do live broadcasts too?
Seemed not bad—pretty relaxed, process not too complex, not a skill-heavy job.
The program team meant the same but emphasized he shouldn’t use his star account for streaming.
“It’s about experiencing life. If you stream with your star account, is that still a streamer’s daily life? Experiencing streamer life definitely starts from zero.”
These were the exact words of “Music Blind Box” director Cheng Xu. Yu Wei agreed it made sense—streaming on the main account would be hype, not experiencing life.
Like reality show stars experiencing an ordinary person’s day but getting free meals by flashing their fame—who’s ordinary person has that privilege?
The program team’s idea was mainly for authentic experience, and secondarily for program effect. Yu Wei streaming directly would boost popularity more, but it’d have nothing to do with the variety show.
They cared about popularity after the program aired, not during recording. Switching accounts for streaming would create contrast once formally broadcast.
Yu Wei agreed. Streaming on the main would be chaotic, and he couldn’t handle it anyway. He didn’t stream for money, so an alternate account for a few days would do…
“What name for it?”
No more punny names; Yu Wei decided on something random. Everyone knows cats love fish, so Round Head Elder it is.
Then hang a gif of a kitten typing to live stream writing—perfect.
