Chapter 5: Where on Earth Am I Supposed to Get That Many Readers?
“What have you been up to lately, all secretive like?”
To his teammates, Yu Wei had always seemed a bit aimless, but these past few days he was downright distracted...
No dancing, no singing—just constantly glued to his phone, typing away. Was all that chatting really necessary?
“Nothing much.”
Could he really admit he was writing a novel? Of course not.
Back when Yu Wei was struggling for so long, fewer than three people around him even knew he wrote online fiction, and none knew the titles of his works.
It wasn’t that he was distant; in this line of work, there was simply no need to broadcast it. If outsiders asked too much, and if someone with a loose tongue let it slip, it would only invite more questions.
Some were harmless, just curious to see what he wrote, but others always assumed there was some secret technique to novel writing and wanted lessons.
If it were so easy to teach, there wouldn’t be so many failures.
Yu Wei was just one of those failures. Let alone teaching others, his work was so trashy he felt embarrassed to show it, so he kept quiet.
“Stop prying. I bet this guy’s in a relationship, chatting up his girlfriend.”
Zhang Yeling chuckled without waiting for Yu Wei to protest, teasing, “Dating’s great. We really envy you…”
His words hit sorely. Boy band idols lived off their youthfulness; if they dared date, female fans would tear them apart!
Not only would fans forbid it, the company wouldn’t allow it either. After investing so many resources into crafting idols, a romance scandal would ruin everything.
Some did hide secret relationships, but if it’s too well concealed, it might as well be an online romance.
Yu Wei’s popularity was lukewarm, but that meant freedom in love—something they truly envied. Even a simple date felt like a covert operation to them.
“Doesn’t seem like it. Couples don’t text that much.”
Qi Yuan frowned in thought. “With his fingers flying like that, it looks like he’s juggling two or three at once, can’t keep up…”
As for those player rumors, it wasn’t that Yu Wei was overwhelmed—he was busy typing, not playing the field.
“Yuan Shen really gets it.”
Qi Yuan was their most successful member, starring in blockbusters with two historical romance dramas soon to air.
Not just their RUIKO1 group—within the entire entertainment industry, he was the hottest male idol of his generation.
“Yuan Shen” was a well-deserved title.
Of course, Yu Wei never called him that, always reminded of an open-world adventure game whenever the words crossed his lips.
Taking advantage of a rehearsal break, Yu Wei returned to the dance studio to keep writing. Time was tight; he hoped to finish the song section today.
In the latest chapter of the entertainment novel “Why Are Stars Always So Obsessed with Ratings?”, the grand ceremony finally arrived at the “Artist with the Lowest Annual Score” award.
The male lead calmly accepted this symbol of shame, then launched into his performance.
Before this song, the trophy was his dark past, but after this song, it became the road he traveled.
“Heartwall” made its official debut.
Yu Wei felt the atmosphere was captured well in this chapter; the emotions were there—it should be a small climax.
But readers clearly had no time for the plot now, because with the new chapter’s update, they realized “Heartwall” wasn’t a typo.
This was a song they had never heard before!
An entertainment novel author writing their own song—was this even human?
“Poisonous, deadly poison! Run!”
“Tagged as a fanfiction but writes original songs? Lured us in just to kill us.”
“A genius author! If you’re so good at songwriting, why not be a top producer? This whole ‘Heartwall’ is making me sick.”
“Oh my god, the singing god has come to write novels—what a waste of talent.”
“Have you ever been a star? You’re making things up, just assuming stuff?”
Hate lasts longer than love. Today’s negative reviews outnumbered yesterday’s and were harsher. One reader even followed him, posting several scathing comments in a row, as if tearing him apart alive.
It wasn’t the readers’ fault. Among entertainment novelists, few dared to insert original works this way.
Even if some did, they clearly marked their works as non-fanfiction. Yu Wei’s novel started as a straightforward fanfic with public admiration, then suddenly went off on a wild tangent. Readers couldn’t avoid it even if they wanted to.
Why didn’t Yu Wei clarify in the synopsis?
Because if he did, who would click on it? Non-fanfiction audiences were limited. Without readers, the novel would be a total flop.
He’d be scolded into oblivion but had to keep the numbers up.
Besides, he never lied. From his perspective, it was still a fanfiction entertainment story, and the song wasn’t his creation.
No worries—just endure a few more days. Once they hear the song, they’d forgive him.
Yu Wei planned to power through and finish the “Heartwall” section today, letting readers continue their furious scolding.
He wasn’t a masochist—he just feared readers abandoning the novel, which would tank the stats.
He had to keep updating while they were mad to keep the attention. Better to be cursed than ignored.
Singing scenes in entertainment novels always required a few lines of lyrics—to stay authentic and help readers immerse themselves.
But quoting too many lyrics would be excessive; after all, this was a novel, not a lyrics booklet.
[There’s a wall in your heart
But I found a window
Occasionally letting in a warm, gentle light.]
He remembered the lyrics well, so he casually slipped them into the text—this gave the story that genuine entertainment novel feel.
After the song ended, focus shifted to describing the audience’s expressions and thoughts. This was the real payoff in entertainment fiction.
Besides shock and surprise, the audience’s lingering emotions should be portrayed, giving the performance a sense of “words exhausted but meaning endless.”
“Finally!”
Completing the performance scene left Yu Wei feeling clear-headed—not from creative excitement, but the relief of finishing a grind.
No need to overpraise; he knew exactly how good his writing was.
If he stopped, he felt stiff—aching waist and neck, palms numb and rigid.
He longed to squeeze something soft, big, and bouncy to soothe his weary hands...
Like a plush toy.
He didn’t stretch but, after publishing the new chapter, immediately opened the system panel.
[Entertainment Master System]
[Host: Yu Wei]
[Bound Novel: “Why Are Stars Always So Obsessed with Ratings?”]
[In-Novel Artistic Work: “Heartwall”]
[Redemption Requirement: Over 100 chapter followers for Chapter 10]
[Available Works for Redemption: None]
[Already Redeemed Works: None]
Obviously, “Heartwall” met the criteria for unlocking the work, but when Yu Wei saw the data requirement, he felt doomed.
One hundred followers sounded small, but for a newly listed novel on its first day, it was astronomical.
The book only had 67 favorites—where would a hundred readers for the latest chapter come from?
When he was a flop, he never had a hundred followers by the time the book was listed. Now, on day one, it demanded a hundred. Would future releases require a billion preorders?
“I’m just a flop. No loyal readers for the new book, and you’re making it impossible.”
“How am I supposed to get that many followers?”
Big-name authors launching new books had armies of fans rushing in—no worries about such figures.
But he was just a flop. Getting fifty followers was a stretch, let alone a hundred.
With the song so close, he wished he could create a hundred fake accounts overnight to boost the numbers.
Of course, that wouldn’t count.
Yu Wei checked again and saw favorites had dropped to 53.
In the time it took to update one chapter, over ten readers had unfavorited the book.
Bots might add favorites, but only real readers would remove the book—angry enough to quit reading.
Misfortune piled upon misfortune.
The data was already low; now it had dropped by ten. How was he supposed to survive?
“I was wrong! Please come back.”
“Keep scolding me, I really was wrong.”
He didn’t just know he was wrong—he knew he was finished.
If the readers who unfavorited the book saw this, they’d surely say knowingly:
“Perfect!”