Chapter 101: A Sharp Retort (Please Recommend)

Zhang Chu felt quite wronged. He wasn’t writing poetry to gain fame; if that had been his goal, he would have long ago crafted a dazzling masterpiece that left no room for criticism. This was simply a narrative device tied to the novel’s internal continuity—who could have predicted it would catch the eye of a literary giant? Moreover, the current decline of the poetry scene was not Zhang Chu’s doing; he was merely targeted because of his recent rise in prominence.

“This is simply an undeserved calamity,” Zhang Chu sighed. Still, he didn’t forget to post the day’s update of The Journey to the West Diary. Despite the heavy criticism, life had to go on.

However, some disgruntled young talents and indignant netizens had cast Zhang Chu as the villainous boss, convinced that his appearance in Poetry Journal was the result of backstage dealings. As a result, their negative comments completely overshadowed the genuine readers’ replies beneath today’s novel update, as if this was some form of revenge against Zhang Chu.

“Trash author! Why can't you just write novels? Why ruin Poetry Journal with this garbage!” one comment garnered over three thousand likes. As the saying goes, the more famous you become, the more trouble you attract. The more people knew Zhang Chu, the more people disliked him.

Today’s update covered the 105th day in The Journey to the West Diary—Tang Monk had arrived at the Five Elements Mountain and was about to meet Sun Wukong. Ordinarily, the meeting of master and disciple would be the most eagerly anticipated moment for readers. Seeing the quirky, unconventional master, they surely wanted to see what kind of rebellious monkey the eldest brother would turn out to be.

Yet the comments beneath the Weibo post were utterly disheartening.

“Writing poetry beyond your ability? Just stick to fanfiction.”

“What kind of mess is this? Treating a diary like a novel—ridiculous.”

“To be frank, you shouldn’t have gotten involved in this mess.”

“Because of people like you, our young poets are disappearing!”

“Seeking attention, dragging internet nonsense into reality—like a clown.”

“The worst are those who rely on popularity or connections to take others’ spots—bad money drives out good.”

…and so on.

During the advanced algebra class, Cui Xinxi placed his phone on the desk, holding a pen in one hand while lightly swiping the screen with the other.

In a class like this, there were only two ways not to fall asleep: either zone out and play on your phone or be a diligent student.

He glanced at his phone twice, then sheepishly looked up at the blackboard. Seeing the teacher still earnestly explaining the textbook, he felt safe to continue checking his phone.

“Today’s update is once again short and weak. We’re already at Five Elements Mountain—why not show Monkey Brother’s appearance? This cliffhanger is ridiculous, must be from a writer’s training class, just like all those other authors,” he muttered in a barely audible voice.

Then he opened the comments to see what netizens were saying, as these remarks were what sustained him after each update. Sometimes, the comments were even more brilliant than the novel itself—true talent hides among the people.

But today, when he opened the Weibo comments, he was shocked by the overwhelming flood of abuse. He thought Zhang Chu must have done something unforgivable.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out the uproar was caused by the very first poem at the beginning of The Journey to the West Diary.

“Wow, making such a fuss over something so trivial, but that poem is clearly well-written,” Cui Xinxi thought. Seeing people belittle a work he loved and degrade the author to nothing, he felt deeply upset. The usually pleasant comment section had been polluted by these troublemakers.

He immediately fired back: “Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean it’s bad. That kind of thinking is bizarre. Respect others’ tastes. Since it was published in Poetry Journal, there must be merit to it. If you want an explanation, take it up with the magazine, not Zhang Chu!”

Many readers shared Cui Xinxi’s sentiment. Plenty of self-proclaimed “righteous” netizens spoke out, while Zhang Chu also had many fans. His current serialized work wasn’t just the niche psychological thriller The Mentalist but the wildly popular Journey to the West Diary that had the entire internet laughing uproariously.

“Don’t bully our Zhang Chu; he’s just a sharp-tongued rookie writer.”

“Are you blind? ‘Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossoms’ is so beautifully written, portraying an adorable Monkey Brother fulfilling his wish beneath the Five-Finger Mountain!”

“Hey, haters, please leave! This is a place to discuss the plot.”

“Why can’t this poem be published in Poetry Journal? Do you think your appreciation is better than the editors’?”

“Seriously, the Pacific Ocean police are too strict. If Zhang Chu could really ruin the entire poetry scene, do you think he’d still be stuck like this?”

…and more.

Zhang Chu was quite angry when he saw these comments. If people insulted him elsewhere, he could ignore it—out of sight, out of mind—but this time, some unpredictable characters had come to cause chaos under his update, seriously disrupting normal reader interaction. This was intolerable.

Repaying insult with insult, Zhang Chu, a small but fiery cannon, immediately opened fire on Weibo.

“‘Sorry, please keep your distance!’”

“‘Why?’”

“‘I’m allergic to jerks.’”

“Could the haters shake their heads and listen—do you hear the ocean’s voice?”

“Please curl up and disappear from my sight.”

“2B is just a pencil; please spare it! Why must you always pair 2B with stupidity? Isn’t ‘250’ enough for you?”

“Did you just go eat maggots from a cesspit? Why do your mouths smell so foul?”

Zhang Chu posted five Weibo messages in a row, showing no composure typical of a writer—he went all out, rolling up his sleeves and diving in.

How to insult with elegance? Zhang Chu provided the perfect example. His flood of posts was practically a textbook.

He vented every ounce of his anger with no concern for image. After all, he had long been labeled a sharp-tongued youth; now, adding a few more barbs didn’t matter.

Having gotten it off his chest, Zhang Chu felt refreshed. The thrill of throwing shade was quite satisfying—even if he lost a few fans, it was worth it.

But the internet seemed to love this. Instead of losing followers, Zhang Chu’s Weibo fanbase grew!

People were drawn in by his witty remarks. Keyboard warriors were everywhere, causing frustration, and now someone was standing up and fighting back—so cleverly and entertainingly—that naturally attracted attention.

Even Zhang Chu’s fans felt vindicated: “You rant all you want, but the only ones getting kicked out are the smooth-talking trolls. Even the 2B pencils are crying; they’re about to lose their name to those keyboard warriors. What a world!”