“Hey,wherehaveyoubeen?“oneofthesked.“orriedaboutyou.“

    Andwiththat,ShenRuipingsatbackdownathisdeskandbegantotypeonceagain.Thisti,however,heknewthathewasn‘tjustwritingastory-hewaswritingtheirlives.

    “I‘lldoit,“hesaid,deternationcoursingthroughhisveins.“I‘llwriteourwayoutofthisss.“

    Butasthesunbegantosetonanotherday,ShenRuipingrealizedthathehadbeensocaughtupinhiswritingthathehadn‘tevennoticedtheti.Helookedupfroisdeskandsawthathisphonewasblowingupwithtextsfroisfriends.

    ShenRuipingsledandthankedtheHeknewthattheywerejustbeingkind,butitdehieelbetter.

    Ashehungupthephone,ShenRuipingcouldn‘thelpbutthinkabouthowsurrealhislifehadbeco.Hewasanauthor,trappedinaworldoffantasy,withaprotagonistwhowasalsohisownconsciousness.Itwascrazy,buthewouldn‘ttradeitforanything.

    Andashebegantowriteonceagain,ShenRuipingfeltasenseofexcitentandanticipationbuildinginsidehiWhatlayahead?WouldtheybeabletodefeatZhiyanandsaveShenXiong‘slife?Onlytiwouldtell.

    Hewentbacktohisdesk,feelingrerefreshedandfocusedthaneverbefore.Heknewthattheroadaheadwouldbedifficult,buthewasreadyforwhatevercanext.

    Hisfriendsnoddedsyathetically.“Well,we‘rehereforyouifyouneedus,“oneoftheaid.

    ShenRuipingsighedandrubbedhiseyes.Hehadottenallabouttherealworldoutsideofhisnovel.

    “I‘ine,“hesaid,tryingtosoundnonchalant.“Justalittleoverwheldwithworkrightnow.“

ShenRuipingnodded,eventhoughheknewthatShenXiongcouldn‘tseehi

    Asthehourspassed,ShenRuipingfoundhielfbecongreandreiersedintheworldofhisnovel.HefeltlikehewaslivingthroughShenXiong‘sexperiences,anditwasexhilarating.Hewrotefeverishly,deternedtogiveShenXiongthebestchanceatsurvivalpossible.