stjorthotic Can Chapter 9 be called plagiarism? It's called letting a classic bloom ahead of time.
Can Chapter 9 be called plagiarism? It's called letting a classic bloom ahead of time.
What kind of novel are you writing!
Familiar names flashed through Chen Zhiyuan's mind: *Child of Light*, *The Search for Gods*, *A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality*, *Swallowed Star*, *Covering the Sky*...
But it is now 1999.
The internet was not yet widespread, and the concept of online novels was even more distant. Publishing works still mainly relied on print journals and newspapers.
These fantasy-heavy novels, often numbering in the millions of words, are clearly unsuitable for contemporary media.
We need to change the subject matter; it needs to be suitable for newspaper serialization, and it also needs to have sufficient depth of knowledge and reading appeal.
Soon, a book title suddenly lit up in the darkness of memory like a lamp—"Those Things of the Ming Dynasty".
In his previous life, he had read this book no less than five times. The vivid characters, lively narration, and humorous yet sharp writing style were already deeply engraved in his mind.
More importantly, it was originally serialized online as posts, and later compiled and published, becoming a hit across the country, reportedly bringing the original author unimaginable huge profits.
This genre of writing official history in a popular style is both novel and interesting, and has solid content. Isn't it just right to publish it in media such as the Jiangnan Daily?
It's it!
Having made up his mind, Chen Zhiyuan no longer hesitated.
He returned to his quiet little room, sat down at his desk, spread out a stack of brand-new graph paper, and unscrewed the familiar fountain pen.
The pen tip falls, producing neat and powerful regular script.
The handwriting is clear, the structure is upright, and the strength penetrates the paper. This excellent handwriting alone is enough to catch the eye.
We'll start with a file.
Name: Zhu Yuanzhang
Aliases (nicknames): Zhu Chongba, Zhu Guorui
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Han
blood type:?
Education: No diploma; he was neither a scholar nor a provincial graduate; he later studied on his own.
Occupation: Emperor
……
The pen tip scratched across the paper with a smooth, almost effortless motion.
Chen Zhiyuan was secretly surprised that his memory was so clear. Not only the general plot, but also many exquisite sentences and details seemed to be imprinted in his mind and could be recalled at will.
Could this be one of the incredible "talents" brought about by rebirth?
He had no time to delve deeper and quickly became engrossed in "transferring" the goods.
As for the thought of "plagiarism," it only flashed through my mind for a moment before being overwhelmed by a stronger sense of purpose—can a scholar's work be called plagiarism? This is called letting the classics bloom ahead of time.
More than an hour slipped away quietly at the tip of the pen.
When he put down his pen and stretched his stiff neck, there were two more pages of manuscript paper in front of him, filled with writing. A rough count revealed that he had written more than a thousand words.
The handwriting on the manuscript paper is not only a carrier of content, but also pleasing to the eye. The more one writes, the more relaxed and free the brushstrokes become, and it even has a hint of the flavor of a calligraphy work.
He examined his work and nodded in satisfaction.
Although handwriting is slow, it has its advantages—it allows for calmness and focus, and incidentally, it also improves one's penmanship.
He had considered using a computer to type, but his family couldn't afford it right now; a computer costs several thousand yuan, which was a luxury.
Go to an internet cafe? Just thinking about the smoky, noisy environment, and the possibility of onlookers standing behind me... I'd better not.
Writing stroke by stroke in a quiet study feels quite nice.
In the days that followed, Chen Zhiyuan's life settled into a regular and peaceful rhythm.
He spent most of his time hunched over his desk, single-mindedly "replicating" the epic history of the Ming Dynasty, producing five or six thousand words every day.
I plan to write 30,000 to 40,000 words before sending them out to test the waters.
Occasionally, when I feel tired or my mind is foggy, I'll invite Jin Liang to an internet cafe to play a few games to relax, and we'll laugh off any wins or losses.
These days are quiet, fulfilling, and filled with a sense of accomplishment in creating the future with one's own hands.
In stark contrast to the tranquility on his side, Zhao Sisi's days were rather difficult.
She had been waiting.
Chen Zhiyuan, as he had done countless times before, took the initiative to contact her and apologize for his "indifference" and "immaturity".
She had even rehearsed in her mind several times: how to maintain her composure when he apologized, how to appear reserved and aloof, how to make him understand that she was not easily appeased, and that she needed to make him value and flatter her even more.
but……
One day, two days, three days... Time passed day by day, and page after page of the calendar on the windowsill was torn off, but the phone remained silent.
Almost a week has passed, and the person who used to be there whenever I called and whose eyes always followed me has truly disappeared without a trace.
That day, her best friend Luo Manxue invited her to go shopping together.
Walking on the bustling commercial street, Zhao Sisi seemed somewhat absent-minded. Her eyes darted around when trying on clothes, and she often couldn't keep up with conversations. She was enveloped in a low-pressure atmosphere.
"Sisi, what's wrong? You seem distracted," Luo Manxue asked with concern, linking her arm with hers.
Zhao Sisi pursed her lips, shook her head, and didn't say anything, but unconsciously rubbed the ground with the tip of her shoe.
Seeing her like this, Luo Manxue guessed what was going on, but still deliberately asked, "Are you still worried about your college entrance exam score? Don't think about it so much, believe in yourself!"
"...It's not because of that," Zhao Sisi finally said in a low voice.
"Why is that?" Luo Manxue leaned closer, her voice softening. "Sisi, could it be... because of Chen Zhiyuan? With how enthusiastic he is about you, shouldn't he have rushed over to apologize by now?"
"He didn't." Zhao Sisi's voice was even softer, with a hint of barely perceptible grievance. "I haven't seen him since the day I filled out my college application, and I don't know... what he's been up to."
It turned out to be the case.
Luo Manxue knew perfectly well what was going on.
Looking at her friend's slightly furrowed brows and dim eyes, a thought suddenly became clear to her: Could it be that Sisi has... fallen for Chen Zhiyuan?
Ugh, what a mess!
When someone likes you and is pursuing you, you hold back and refuse to reciprocate; now that they seem to have really turned away, you're starting to feel lost and nostalgic.
Luo Manxue sighed inwardly, feeling it necessary to give her friend, who was too caught up in the situation, a wake-up call.
She tentatively suggested, "Sisi, you two live in the same neighborhood, so close by. If you really want to see him, or find out what he's doing... you can just go find him, right?"
"I'm not going!" Zhao Sisi immediately raised her head, her tone stubborn and defiant. "Why should I go to him? If anyone should apologize, it should be him apologizing first!"
Seeing her friend's obvious concern yet stubbornly insistent, Luo Manxue could only shake her head and smile helplessly, ending the conversation.
But she thought to herself: Let's wait and see. Maybe you won't be able to hold it in for more than a few days.
…………
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