Chapter 42: "Mad Fans"

As soon as Zhou Ran’s new book was released, it sold out completely. Two-thirds of the copies were bought up by fans alone. Although Zhou Ran’s fans weren’t sure if the book would be any good, each person buying a copy was a purchase they could easily afford. Nevertheless, even among Zhou Ran’s fans, not many managed to get a copy. That was because a small group of Zhou Ran’s wealthiest, most zealous fans bought without restraint, seeing this new release as the only chance to support him directly.

Su Ting, the leader of one of Zhou Ran’s fan groups, had established very strict entry requirements for her circle—asset verification was mandatory, and anyone without tens of millions to their name need not even consider joining. For this book launch, Su Ting initiated a “Zhou Ran Book Purchase Plan,” encouraging members to buy as many copies of Zhou Ran’s new novel as possible. Afterward, they would donate the purchased books to impoverished mountain regions in Zhou Ran’s name.

As soon as Su Ting announced the plan, the group’s members unanimously embraced it. After all, a night out for them could easily cost hundreds of thousands; supporting Zhou Ran’s new book cost a pittance in comparison, and they could do a good deed at the same time. Why not? As a result, Su Ting’s group alone bought more than six hundred thousand copies. Some bought ten thousand, others eight thousand; in their frenzy, these fans snapped up over a tenth of the entire stock in one go.

Such collective buying by fans is hardly rare; in Zhou Ran’s previous life on Earth, it was a common phenomenon. Some fans, to celebrate their idol’s birthday, would directly purchase ad space on Times Square’s giant screen, or buy out entire subway stations to plaster them with their idol’s posters. Others would buy up every copy of magazines featuring their favorite stars, causing them to sell out completely. The purchasing power of fans is truly astonishing—far beyond what ordinary people might imagine.

When Zhou Ran learned of this, he was both amused and exasperated. He knew such things happened, but when it occurred to him personally, he found himself at a loss. (Why waste all this time? Next time, just send a bank account and let them wire the money!) Originally, Zhou Ran had planned to let the “Harry Potter series” grow slowly through word of mouth. He had full confidence in the book and believed it would eventually become a sensation on its own merit. Now, thanks to his fans’ actions, it had gone viral overnight—though this sudden explosion of popularity was not entirely a blessing. Almost immediately, a barrage of criticism appeared on social media.

“What’s this? Just brute force buying?”
“Fan culture is just about burning money?”
“I don’t get it!”

Zhou Ran found these comments laughable. It was obvious the critics hadn’t even read the book—they were simply venting. He ignored such people completely, knowing they were only out to disparage him because he had encroached on their territory. Their jealousy was transparent. The industry was only so big, and seeing Zhou Ran’s new book sell out in hours at the hands of crazed fans was sure to upset others.

It was, after all, only noon. “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” had been out for just three or four hours. How could there possibly be any genuine reviews already? As anticipated, the real opinions in the comments section only began to appear after a few hours, when the first batch of readers finished the book.

“Harry Potter is amazing!”
“Zhou Ran, you’re my idol!”
“I love the magical trio—Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They’re perfect!”
“The term ‘Muggle’ is so spot-on.”
“You’re all a bunch of Muggles!”
“Flying brooms and the magical Sorting Hat!”
“This is what a true magical world should be!”
“Zhou Ran’s ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’ has completely changed my view of fantasy!”

Once the first readers finished the book, the comments section was flooded with praise. Yet even that wasn’t enough—what was needed was a truly authoritative figure to offer a definitive judgment.

Xiao Mu, known as “No Cilantro,” was a leading figure in the world of fantasy novels, having won the nation’s Best Fantasy Novel Award two years in a row and once nominated for the Blue Star Best Fantasy Novel Prize. In recent years, however, he had retired from writing, and rumors about his withdrawal abounded online. Some said he was ill, others that he had made enough money and left to enjoy life—there were many versions.

Only Xiao Mu himself knew the truth. He had not run out of inspiration—he was simply burned out. He’d grown utterly disinterested in fantasy novels. One day, he realized he was writing the same story over and over; even when he tried to change things, it amounted to little more than old wine in a new bottle. He attempted to alter his style and seek new inspiration, but the more he tried, the less satisfied he grew, until he began to loathe the very genre he once prided himself on.

After hastily finishing the novel he was working on, he never touched fantasy again—until a few days ago, when a call from Li Xi broke his resolve. Li Xi asked him to read a fantasy novel and give his opinion. He intended to refuse, but Li Xi vouched for it with her reputation. She claimed it was a truly original work.

Reluctantly, Xiao Mu agreed to read a chapter. He didn’t believe in so-called originality, suspecting it was just the same formula with a new twist. But as soon as he started reading, he realized how wrong he was. From the very first chapter, he sensed something new and different. He was immediately hooked, forgetting his promise to stop after one chapter. He read straight through from midday to evening, only stopping because he was starving. Otherwise, he would have kept going.

For him, it was like rain after a long drought—he was utterly captivated by “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.” After sending Li Xi a hurried message—“Give me a few days, and I’ll write you a review!”—he returned at once to the enchanting world of the book.