Chapter Seventy-Eight: Who Does Not Know

Some people simply refused to believe it. Clearly emboldened by drink, one of them slammed his hand on the table and glared, barking, “Ziqi, are you still joking? A novel of such brilliance—how could it possibly end up in our hands?! And you all believe him? Utter foolishness!”
Though his words stung, beneath them lay a deeper note of resignation—a self-mockery that ran bitter and deep.

“Who’s joking?” Sun Ziqi’s eyes blazed, and he retorted, “If you won’t read it, then don’t, but don’t come crying later. The rest of you, hurry over and take a look. Someone, go fetch the Editor-in-Chief—quickly, lest we keep him waiting.”

His earnestness left little room for doubt. The other editors were still skeptical, but curiosity soon won out. They crowded around the manuscript, forming a tight circle at the table.

As they read, suspicion gave way to gravity, and then to disbelief. Their breathing quickened. They read and reread, growing visibly excited. “This novel is truly remarkable!”

“Yes, it’s fantastic. The scale is vast and completely original, as if the Three Kingdoms era had truly existed.”

“In ancient times, there was indeed a period of Seven Dynasties warring, later unified by the Great Lu Empire, which perished with its second ruler. Afterward, two kingdoms fought for supremacy. Could it be the story’s backdrop is drawn from this?”

“To list gods, to have a ‘List of Deification’—what grand ambition! No strange tale of ghosts and spirits has ever reached such heights. Extraordinary, outstanding, brilliant.”

“Indeed. It’s as if an astonishing scroll has been unfurled, revealing a brand-new world, narrated with grace and poise.”

While the editors marveled, engrossed, the Editor-in-Chief arrived.

He was a man past sixty, hair half-turned white, his spirit weary, his expression doubtful. For someone to submit a manuscript was already rare—how could there possibly be a novel worthy of publication?

Though Youshu Publishing had fallen on hard times, its publication standards remained strict. This was not out of editorial integrity, but because they simply lacked the funds to publish freely. The result was a vicious cycle: authors were unwilling to submit, and what they did receive was mostly unpublishable drivel. In the end, they could only pick the least bad among the poor, dragging Youshu’s reputation ever lower.

He strode in briskly, intending to ask a few questions, but immediately sensed something amiss. The editors’ expressions had grown odd, their eyes fixed on the manuscript, none noticing his arrival.

He cleared his throat to get their attention.

Yet still, no response.

Editor-in-Chief Fang Yi was taken aback. An editor at his side started to speak but was waved silent; Fang Yi pushed into the group himself for a look at the manuscript.

A strong curiosity gripped him. What secret did this novel possess to so completely absorb his staff that they failed to notice his entrance? Or perhaps they were conspiring to make a fool of him?

If it was the former, the novel must be extraordinary; if the latter, these fellows had grown reckless indeed.

Either way, it seemed rather unlikely!

“Let me see the first chapter.” He spoke up, and only then did the editors realize he’d arrived. One handed him the first chapter, still half-entranced.

“A fine passage.” At a single glance, Fang Yi exclaimed, then his expression grew more animated.

“Did someone truly submit this novel to us?” He finished the first chapter, drawing a sharp breath, unable to believe it.

Only now did the editors fully register the Editor-in-Chief’s presence. They startled, sheepishly realizing how absorbed they’d been—so much so that even the Editor-in-Chief could come and go unnoticed.

They nodded in answer.

“To think such a marvel could appear here—unbelievable. Where are the other chapters? Bring them to me at once,” Fang Yi said urgently.

Sun Ziqi handed over the rest of the manuscript.

Fang Yi read in silence, his breathing growing rapid, his excitement mounting. After finishing ten chapters, he let out a long breath and could not help but exclaim three times over, “Excellent! Excellent! Excellent! Marvelous, simply marvelous!”

Sun Ziqi asked, “Editor-in-Chief, shall we publish this novel?”

“Of course we shall!” Fang Yi declared without hesitation, then frowned, troubled. “But funds are tight. I’ll have to request a transfer from the main registry, though I can’t say if they’ll approve it—there’s been so much turmoil lately, the registry is on the verge of collapse. Still, whatever happens, this book must be published. If we squander such an opportunity, it would be an unforgivable sin.”

“The registry is truly in that dire a state?” The editors were shocked and chilled to the bone. The fall of Youshu Publishing would mean the end of their work and their future together.

They exchanged glances, then spoke in unison, “It’s all right. We’ll front the money for the first print run ourselves. Once sales pick up, we can apply for funds from the registry—they’ll have to agree then.”

Fang Yi was taken aback, looking at them with disbelief and deep gratitude. “You are the true pillars of Youshu! Very well, it’s settled.”

Suddenly recalling something, Fang Yi asked, “Is the author still here? Quickly, take me to meet him—let’s discuss publication at once!”

“He’s still at the submissions desk,” Sun Ziqi replied, and the group made their way there. Their sudden, fervent approach startled Liu Ping, who had been idly daydreaming. The way they looked at him—like a pack of admirers gazing at a peerless beauty—sent a chill down his spine.

Were these men perhaps… of peculiar tastes?

Such a young author! The editors were stunned. Only thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a scholar’s blue robe—such rare talent, and he had come to Youshu Publishing! It was almost too much happiness to bear; their eyes shone with a feverish gleam.

Though Fang Yi was no less moved, he maintained his composure, shooting the others a stern look before sitting beside Liu Ping. “It’s an honor to meet you. I am Fang Yi, courtesy name Yiyong, Editor-in-Chief of Youshu Publishing, responsible for all its affairs.”

Liu Ping nodded calmly. “My name is Liu Ping, courtesy name Fengchang.”

Fang Yi inquired, “Forgive my bluntness—did you truly write The Deification of the Three Kingdoms?”

“I did,” Liu Ping replied.

Fang Yi was overjoyed. This young man truly was the author of The Deification of the Three Kingdoms—so young, and yet such a born storyteller. The other editors were equally moved. At such an age, already a licentiate, and able to write such a masterpiece—heaven was indeed unfair in bestowing such gifts!

Just then, one editor stared at Liu Ping in disbelief and suddenly burst out, “Liu Ping? Liu Ping! I know that name! So you’re Liu Ping?”

Fang Yi frowned slightly. Even if you know him, was it necessary to blurt it out? How improper.

The other editors looked at him, puzzled—how did he know the author?

Liu Ping glanced at him quizzically. “And you are?”

“You don’t know me, but I know you. I’m not from Zhang County; like you, I hail from Shanghe County,” the editor explained, then exclaimed, “Liu Ping, courtesy Fengchang—at only thirteen, you became the top examinee of Shanghe County! A disciple of the prefect, no less. Such talent is famed throughout the county—who hasn’t heard of you? I’ve long wondered what a prodigy like you looked like, and now I see you in person, author of The Deification of the Three Kingdoms—truly, genius reveals itself in youth!”

His respect was heartfelt; clearly, he had been thoroughly won over by Liu Ping’s novel. Though older, and a licentiate himself, he addressed Liu Ping with honorifics.

The other editors were thunderstruck. To be the top examinee was worlds apart from being a mere licentiate. This youth—just thirteen last year, and already the best of his peers? And now, to have written such a masterpiece!

After the shock wore off, numbness set in, and gradually, it all began to make sense. For a licentiate capable of writing The Deification of the Three Kingdoms, could he really be ordinary? That he was also the county’s top scholar—why should that be surprising at all?