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What’s Wrong With Liking My Busty Adopted Daughter? (Web Novel) - Chapter 5 — Baiyu is a Fan of My Novel
Chapter 5: Baiyu is a Fan of My Novel
I, Zong Jun, am currently writing stories for a living, but I’ve never introduced myself as a novelist or an author. I can only say that I’m someone who not only likes web novels, but is also good enough to make revenue off of it.
If anyone I personally know knew that I was writing novels, I would probably bury my head in the dirt like an ostrich in embarrassment. So when others ask how I support myself, I reply with the same old “Just enough jobs that I can handle.” I would never confidently state “I am a novelist” to anyone.
When I was in middle school, I used my spare time to write a teenage romance series called “Make Mischief, Lilith!”, and sent it to a publishing company. But the proposal was quickly rejected, so I put my book in a web novel hosting site in despair under the pseudonym “Qianniao”. Surprisingly, the series received a lot of positive feedback.
In the following years, I fought for the goal of “career novelist”, writing novels while studying in school. Because my first series was so successful, I gained many followers, and each new series’ results were satisfying. I never experienced the newcomer’s feelings of anguish and misery, causing a “So maybe I’m a genius” misconception within myself.
Indeed, the fallacy paid back dearly later on. Ratings started to drop, and my novels almost got cut off and rejected by the site. Readers also complained of “the trash author who always lives off his own fat”, “This is just ‘Lilith’ with a different cover and title”, “So trash, I’m not going to read this any longer”.
When my revenue dropped down to the point where my living expenses were starting to become an issue, I started to write two or three series at once. Because I was a relatively fast author, I caught on just barely with daily release schedules. However, the extreme fast-paced releasing speed caused my chapters’ quality to curve down even more.
I, Qianniao, was already at the point of abandonment by readers.
Honestly, the pressure at that time was really high. I would refuse to sleep, but not be able to write any interesting novels.
After getting yelled at by the supervising editor, I decided to focus on writing only one novel, while experimenting with a new genre.
Just like that, a mystery book called “The Interim Notebook” was born. The novel was praised endlessly on the day of release; although it didn’t make a fortune overnight, it was definitely a lot better than the teenage romance series that I wrote earlier. Its popularity wasn’t any lower than “Make Mischief, Lilith!”
I knew that I had some readers out there, but I never would have dreamed that my own cute daughter would be my… fan.
One week has passed since I found out about Baiyu’s livestream, and I still can clearly remember her cosplay of Elisha. She did look beautiful while wearing it, but…
Why would I, the original author, not know what Elisha’s cosplay look like?! Those kind of clothes would never be able to portray the chilly, sorrowful elegance that I described!
My projects were always uploaded online, but they were never popular enough to be drawn into manga. I didn’t have the money to hire an artist, either, so I didn’t have any art cameos for the series. The so-called “cosplay” was purely from the readers’ interpretation, and I wasn’t happy with the result at all!
I walked to the second floor with a cup of warm milk in my hand. As I neared her room. I heard Baiyu’s singing voice through the hallway.
“…”
It was a Japanese song that sounded really nice. I didn’t understand what the lyrics were talking about, but the melody was totally compatible with Baiyu’s sweet, falsetto voice! If she opened a concert, tickets would definitely soar to unfathomable prices.
It’s so awesome that I can listen for free!
I waited in front of the door until the song ended, and knocked quietly.
Tap, tap……
No response.
Tap tap tap……
She still won’t open the door.
Boom boom boom!
The door finally opened, and Baiyu stuck her head out. “What do you want!”
“Er, I was thinking if you wanted to drink some milk or not.” I held the cup for her to see.
“I don’t want it, and stop bothering me when I’m working!” Baiyu snapped with a nasty expression, and started to close the door.
Because I had found out about her livestream and wasn’t against it, Baiyu canceled her room in the apartment building and started streaming in her own room instead.
“Wait!”
“What else are you going to say?”
I saw that she was upset, but I still tried to cheer her up: “Er… Your singing is really good, don’t lose hope.”
Baiyu’s face reddened slightly, and she turned her head with a “humph”, and slammed the door shut.
Looks like… Our relationship hasn’t really improved. But, this was expected.
Since I didn’t tell her about me being Qianniao himself, she didn’t know that her favorite author was her guardian that lived with her under the same roof. Even though I felt that our relationship would improve if I told her the truth, but!
I really can’t tell her!!
Because of the audience’s interests, I added a lot of romance aspects in my works, and wrote about many unspeakable events. Well, it’s really nothing but intimate contact between characters.
I’ve never particularly stressed about this, but now that my cute daughter is reading my borderline-H novels, I feel like slitting open my stomach.
As an otaku who’s never even held hands with a girl, I’m really letting my readers down!
But if someone asked me, if you’re so embarrassed, why don’t you just stop writing novels?
I’ll jump up, grab the person’s shoulders, and shake them violently while yelling:
What’s wrong with liking large breasts?!
……
After drinking the milk, I returned to my room and sat down in front of the computer. I stared at the blank document, and tried to give myself a pep talk.
“Come on, try your hardest, Zong Jun!”
My fingers tapped with lightning speed across the keyboard. I’ve already finished the detailed outline for the next volume of “The Interim Notebook”, so my creativity was at its peak. Besides some other small features, the majority of the remaining work was making the story and sentences flow.
I average at about three thousand characters per hour, and I can get to four thousand if I’m lucky. But as soon as I hit writer’s block, it would be so painful that I wouldn’t even know when I could finish it. My speed wasn’t the best, and I heard rumors that some people could even hit ten thousand characters an hour. Those individuals are definitely not humans, but rather tentacle monsters with a fake skin.
