Chapter 43: "When Authority Speaks"

Li Xi had long anticipated the range of critiques that would befall "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," and he had meticulously prepared his strategy to address them. Now, all that remained was to await the opportune moment.

On June 1st, at three o’clock in the afternoon, a lengthy post suddenly appeared on Weibo, silencing the most vocal detractors in an instant.

The author’s ID was “Komura Doesn’t Eat Cilantro.”

This was Li Xi’s ace up his sleeve, carefully orchestrated to settle all disputes once and for all.

Komura Doesn’t Eat Cilantro’s post read as follows:

“Hello, everyone! It’s been a while since we last met. I hadn’t planned to appear online again, but ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’ compelled me to return.

I had assumed that the world of fantasy novels would see no real innovation for years, that the stories would simply repeat themselves in tiresome cycles.

Yet the arrival of ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’ proved me utterly wrong.

The world that Zhou Ran depicts is breathtakingly beautiful—there’s the mysterious Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the enchanted Sorting Hat, and countless delightful magical trinkets.

The magical realm Zhou Ran describes is flawless; it’s the very fantasy world I have always dreamed of.

There are Muggles who cannot learn magic, and prodigiously talented wizards!

Zhou Ran created an entirely new magical world from his own imagination, and I genuinely admire him for that. His inspiration is truly remarkable.

Moreover, Zhou Ran has constructed a complete world within ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.’ I can hardly wait to see how the story unfolds, to discover what secrets lie within that enigmatic forest!

I, Komura Doesn’t Eat Cilantro, offer Zhou Ran my personal apology. I once looked down on so-called singers-turned-authors, dismissing them as mere jesters. Only now do I realize that I was the real fool all along.”

“I hope Zhou Ran updates soon! I am so eager to see where the story goes, and that amusing owl is simply delightful.

The above is merely the perspective of an ordinary reader.

Allow me now to speak as a writer.

In my view, Zhou Ran’s story marks a new direction for fantasy fiction, breaking free from the traditional constraints of the genre.

This new ‘academy style’ of storytelling can open the door to an entirely fresh approach to magical fiction—one well worth studying!

Of course, these are only my personal opinions.”

Komura Doesn’t Eat Cilantro’s post spread like wildfire across the internet. Once it appeared, it effectively stifled most of the online vitriol aimed at Zhou Ran. After all, Komura Doesn’t Eat Cilantro was the most accomplished figure in the country’s fantasy literature scene, and his words carried great authority.

Securing his endorsement had cost Li Xi dearly. Favors are a finite resource, and even the leading fantasy publishing house in the nation must value them highly.

Yet Li Xi harbored no regrets for expending such a valuable favor on Zhou Ran. Given Zhou Ran’s current achievements, there was no doubt their choice had been the right one.

While the outside world was in an uproar over Zhou Ran’s new release, Zhou Ran himself paid little attention to the commotion.

At that very moment, he was once again boarding a plane, preparing to travel overnight for another training session.

After signing a contract with Huayu Entertainment and briefly discussing its terms, Zhou Ran headed straight for the airport without delay.

This time, he was on his way to meet Chef Huang as promised.

During the filming of “Hello, Life!” Zhou Ran and Chef Huang had agreed that Zhou Ran would be given the opportunity to audition for the lead role in a film written and directed by Chef Huang himself.

Though Zhou Ran now had access to top-tier resources—and could easily secure a lead role in any film he pleased, with offers pouring in like a spring tide—the terms would be entirely up to him. He could even demand to use a stand-in for every scene, and with today’s technology, a simple face-swap would suffice. All that mattered was that Zhou Ran’s name appeared on the cast list.

Zhou Ran had become the very embodiment of popularity. Wherever Zhou Ran went, fame and audience numbers followed. “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” was the best evidence of this; even before he had any writing experience, flocks of fans eagerly bought his book.

In the world of film, the effect would only be more pronounced. With a few well-shot promotional clips and scenes designed to delight his fans, box office revenues would flow relentlessly into the investors’ coffers.

Zhou Ran understood this perfectly, which was why he and Li Mi were extremely diligent in their script selection.

He did not want to squander the goodwill he had built with his audience. Goodwill is easily lost—just a few poor films would be enough, and thereafter, any film starring Zhou Ran would be instantly dismissed as a disappointment.

He was reminded of a top-billed actress from his previous life, whose popularity soared after a reality show but plummeted after starring in several box office flops. Her reputation was ruined, and any film featuring her was automatically branded as a failure. She was left with only minor cameo roles, never again invited by renowned directors.

Zhou Ran considered two main factors in accepting Chef Huang’s film.

Firstly, the protagonist’s profession aligned with his own—both were musicians of similar age and background.

Secondly, Chef Huang had promised him two months of dedicated training, personally teaching him the professional skills he would need for the role.

This was what Zhou Ran valued most, as he had no acting foundation whatsoever. If he were to step straight onto set as the lead, he could already imagine the outcome.

He couldn’t even cry on cue; if the director asked for tears, he would probably need eye drops to manage it.