After The Web Novel Great God Transmigrated As A Scummy Online Dating Top - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

In the world of Green Dog Literature, a novel with strong data can dominate several natural rankings the moment it hits the VIP (paid) stage. Between the New VIP list, the Monthly Points list, and Lin Muxue’s still-active Newcomer list plus a high-traffic manual recommendation from her editor, Liu Lü The Arcane Case Files was receiving massive exposure.

On her first day as a paid author, her account balance jumped by over 800 yuan.

Her subscriber-to-view ratio was crushing the vast majority of the site. This was the beauty of the mystery genre: once you hook the readers, they rarely skip chapters.

Seeing the steady income, Lin Muxue didn’t withhold content. She scaled back from three daily chapters to two. But by the stroke of midnight on the fourth day, the Rising Stars list refreshed, and a new name sat at the throne.

The Arcane Case Files? Wang Tianchong, a veteran author and night owl, squinted through her glasses at the top spot, her brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

Wang Tianchong was a Little Goddess on the platform with several hits under her belt. She had used her massive existing fan base to hype her new book, and by all logic, she should have been Number One. Being suppressed by a “cold” genre like mystery felt like a personal insult.

She clicked in. The newcomer, Mu Qianshan, had barely 9,000 bookmarks, yet her comments exceeded 10,000, and her Tips and Monthly Tickets were astronomical. Usually, bookmarks are the highest stat. Here, the engagement was eclipsing the fan count.

A total newbie beating my 25,000 bookmarks? She must be a brusher (someone who pays for fake data), Wang Tianchong thought bitterly.

She messaged her group of author friends. The rumors flew: She’s a big-shot from another site using a smurf account. She’s the lucky winner of that viral “accidental marketing” incident.

Forget it, one friend consoled her. “People who pay for data won’t last. If the writing is bad, readers aren’t stupid. It’s just a temporary hype.”

Wang Tianchong wasn’t comforted. Fuelled by petty rage, she posted a passive-aggressive update on her Weibo, sighing about how talented new authors were and wondering if her own writing had “lost its touch.” It was a dog-whistle to her fans to go investigate and potentially attack the newcomer.

The “Grandpa” Routine

Unaware of the storm brewing on the forums, Lin Muxue’s life remained boringly disciplined.

She woke up early for a jog, ate a quiet breakfast, tended to her plants, and spent the morning writing. At 11:00 AM sharp, she prepared a meticulous lunch. In the afternoon, she’d nap in an old rattan chair, watching the clouds, before returning to work. After 5:00 PM, she’d prep dinner, wash up, and check her social media or prepare for her voice-acting collaborations with Zhou Jiajia.

To her uncle, Zhong Cuili, this was terrifying.

He watched her from the kitchen door, clutching a bunch of chopsticks. He’d spent years worrying she’d ruin her life with late-night clubbing and drinking. Now that she was “good,” she was too good. Her lifestyle resembled a retired old man in the park.

Xue’er, he called out as she stepped out of the bathroom in her loungewear. He tried to force a cheerful smile. Now that you’ve graduated, why don’t you come to the film set with me? Didn’t you always want to see the big movie stars?

Lin Muxue looked at him flatly. Uncle, when was the last time you worked on a set with actual stars?

The smile vanished. Well maybe the set next door? Or the one next to the one next to that might have one?

Seeing her unimpressed gaze, he finally broke. Look, you’re just so sedentary. Did something happen? Are your friends not inviting you out? Are you heartbroken?

Lin Muxue finally understood his worry. He thought she was a depressed hermit. She felt a bit of mischief bubble up.

“It’s nothing like that,” she said vaguely, a small glint in her eyes. I’ve actually made a ‘friend’ online.

A friend, she thought. Or technically, according to this phone, I have ninety-nine of them.