"The script was stolen again?"

"Yes, it was stolen again, but this time it wasn't some fool among us who sent it to others personally, but the opponent sent someone undercover to steal it."

Ye Lan's face turned slightly red: "It's boring to keep talking about the past! Tell me about the specific situation, how did you operate? What kind of undercover?"

The origin of the turmoil came from a random order made by the manager of "Qingyan" Zhong Susu. She ordered Qiu Ze to dig Wang Zixu over.

After thinking about it all night, the hard-working worker suddenly realized: Isn't it many times easier to get the other party's work than to invite the other party's people?

So he did just that. He packaged up all the Little Prince's scripts from past to present, and sent them to the group of core speech therapists of "Qingyan" in the name of learning materials for their reference.

Ye Lan bit her teeth and said, "Sue them!"

Zuo Ziliang smiled bitterly: "The legal process is already underway, but don't expect too much. It's a bit difficult to determine that they plagiarized. This may be a protracted lawsuit."

Ye Lan said: "Have you found the undercover?"

"We have found him, but even if he is eliminated, our registration for speech therapists is open, and they can add another one at any time."

Ye Lan said: "Then we will only send it to core speech therapists, and the script will not be made public."

"That's right, in order to prevent them from plagiarizing, we first cut ourselves off."

"Then what should we do!" Ye Lan was anxious, "Are we just waiting for them to copy the copycat? In the future, they will beat us up and say that we are the copycat!"

Zuo Ziliang stared at her for a while and suddenly laughed for no reason.

"why are you laughing?"

"Actually, they are already doing this. Look at the latest ratings of our app."

Ye Lan took his phone and took a look at it. She suddenly felt chest tightness and shortness of breath, and even her breast glands were blocked.

[Sisters who came to "Little Prince" to avoid lightning, internal news that "Little Prince" is actually not a person but a team. This team recently broke up and the core writer ran away to the house next door, so the two companies used speech therapy

It’s all the same now, sisters, be careful, don’t buy the mountain or look at the mountain, otherwise you will be the accomplice of the mountain!]

Comment reply: [Thank you sister for demining, which company are you talking about? I can support the genuine version.]

Comment reply: [The first one recommended by the app store is, sorry I can’t say the name, otherwise it will be judged as an advertisement by the system.]

Ye Lan beat her chest and returned the phone to Zuo Ziliang:

"Quick! Find a way to make Qingyan go bankrupt! I can't stand it anymore!"

Zuo Ziliang spread his hands: "I do think so."

Ye Lan lay on the sofa and rubbed his chest, raised his head and said: "I'm going to maintain the community and try to improve public opinion. You go contact the official app store to see if this rumor-mongering comment can be deleted... Who are you talking about?

Call up?"

Zuo Ziliang said: "Little prince."

Ye Lan walked over and pressed his phone.

"Why are you calling him? He is concentrating on his creation. Don't disturb him."

Zuo Ziliang raised his head and looked at her in surprise: "I called him just to ask him to concentrate more on his creation. Qingyan's channels and funds are more than ours. Before we win the lawsuit, we want to fight in the same way."

To survive, we must continue to expand production capacity and keep using new scripts, otherwise we will really become a copycat!"

Ye Lan stamped her feet: "But Wang Zixu has reached his limit!"

Zuo Ziliang raised his eyebrows: "Ye Lan, you were not like this before. Why, you finally feel the charm of the little prince?"

Ye Lan turned his head and said, "Don't talk nonsense. Have you visited the base? With Wang Zixu's condition, I wouldn't be surprised if he urinates blood. Let's keep it as it is. If his body collapses, we will be completely doomed."

Zuo Ziliang picked up the phone and carried it to his seat. He continued to make the call unmoved:

"It's a good thing that you can deepen your relationship a little bit, but it's best not to let your feelings affect your work. You have to tell him about this."

"Is it really okay for you to squeeze him like this?"

"Creators can only gain new life through oppression."

"You don't mean to squeeze him to death first, right?"

"The little prince is stronger than you think."

…

After listening to Zuo Ziliang's words on the phone, Wang Zixu looked calm and nodded: "...Okay, I know...Okay. No problem."

After hanging up the phone, he glanced at the script writers: "We will double the script output today. This will also be the case in the future."

"Ah?" The lost believer opened his mouth.

Wang Zixu said: "I know what you are going to say, and I also know what you are thinking, but don't ask why, and don't disobey orders, otherwise you will be eliminated."

The poet chewed gum and wrote lightly: "Yesterday it was four thousand words, today it is eight thousand words? It's just a joke. When I serialized two books at the same time, I have written more outrageous word counts than this."

"Hey!" The Lost Believer turned to look at her, "That's because you are gifted!"

Cheng Xing lowered his head and wrote on his notebook with a pen: "It is said that "Life and Death Fatigue" was created at an average speed of 10,000 words per day. Who do we have to make excuses?"

Sakura-chan clenched her fists together: "It means that since someone is born with extraordinary talent, why can't it be me, right?"

Xiaoba nodded: "The first rule of the Wenwen Club, everything the teacher Little Prince says are rules. Stop talking, my machine soul is already awakening."

"That's rule six, okay?"

After the believer finished complaining, he smiled slightly like Lelouch and closed his eyes, stretched out his finger and put it between his eyebrows, saying:

"Ah, ah, ah, since you have all been injected with chicken blood, I won't pretend anymore, I can only show my strength."

Before he finished speaking, everyone dispersed. Sakura-chan patted him on the shoulder and said, "I know you are under a lot of pressure, but if you play too much, it's a bit embarrassing, brother."

"..."

Wang Zixu returned to his computer and adjusted the previously set target word count from "4,000 words" to "8,000 words." The second he clicked the confirmation button, Sartre appeared again.

"If you put so much pressure on yourself, is it still too late for the Xihe Literary Society's call for papers? There is only one left..." Sartre looked down at his watch, "The call for papers ends in two days!"

Wang Zixu said: "Just write it down."

"Are you really trying to kill yourself?"

The little prince appeared across the dining table: "Sometimes you have to play with your life. If you don't play with your life, life will play with you."

Sartre said: "The key is who are you playing for? If you are playing with your life for the eyes of others, isn't that punishment?"

The little prince sneered and said: "Only people like you who live in a high-welfare society will care about this. Living here, living in Xihe, is there any day when you are not punished?

"Zhang Qian, Gou Yingbiao, Shen Qingfeng, these cunts, as long as you show off a little bit, they will come over and pinch you. This time, they just have another opponent. What can you do? You only have life!

"

Sartre stopped talking and lit his pipe silently.

The little prince did not intend to stop, and continued: "Have you seen "Saint Seiya"? Seiya was lying on the ground, almost dead, and told Athena that I can't do anything as a goddess, and I have nothing left. Athena said

, how come you have nothing? Don’t you still have life?”

The little prince looked at Wang Zixu: "We have never had anything. We are born with only one life to die. What can we do?"

Sartre's face fell into the smoke and he said: "You East Asians' involution always puzzles me."

The little prince said: "Do you still have a pipe? I want to try it too."

Sartre transformed one out of thin air and handed it to him.

The two of them were puffing away at the dining table one after another, one mouthful at a time and one mouthful at a time, filling the restaurant with steaming clouds and a fairy-like air.

Wang Zixu said: "There is a plot in "Norwegian Wood". I don't remember it clearly. Please help me recall it. It was when Watanabe and Nagaze separated. Nagaze gave Watanabe some advice, among which

What is one of them?"

"'Don't pity yourself, pity yourself is a coward's behavior.'" the little prince reminded, "Is this the sentence?"

"That's it."

"What do you have to sympathize with?" said the little prince. "Is it because your parents are divorced? Or is it because your father is mentally ill? Or is it because your girlfriend stabs you in the back, or because you haven't received an excellent rating for nine years?"

Sartre said: "Stop talking, I will cry if you talk anymore."

The little prince raised his pipe at him: "Only an old white man with a soft heart like this will sympathize with you. Who cares about you?"

He leaned forward and blew the smoke into Wang Zixu's face: "Remember, middle-aged men who have accomplished nothing are the most miserable creatures in the world. They are regarded as competitors by men and as money-making machines by women.

Young people do not have the immunity to make mistakes, and they shoulder the heaviest responsibility. If they make one mistake, they will become the world's fun.

"Zuo Ziliang is right, you must keep dancing, because no one appreciates your dancing. Squeeze yourself while you can still squeeze out the juice. This may be your last chance..."

"That's enough." Wang Zixu stood up unsteadily.

The little prince glanced at Sartre: "Did I go too far just now?"

"Who knows? I don't understand the spiritual world of you East Asians. Don't you have some bushido?"

"Go away, Bushido is a Japanese thing, I am Chinese."

Wang Zixu walked towards the bathroom: "Shut up, I just went to pee."

After saying that, he turned around and smiled: "How could my self-esteem be frustrated because of such a trivial matter? Who do you think I am?"

The little prince and Sartre both stared at him. They didn't know what definition he gave himself this time.

"I am a man who still has 50 chances to win the Nobel Prize in Literature."

"Come on," said Sartre, "although I refuse the prize."

The little prince slapped him: "Can't you let him pretend to be nice?"

The prince made no fuss with them, smiled to himself, walked into the toilet, unbuttoned his belt, and was still thinking about the script and the novel.

The fluid in his body was drained and the bladder pressure was relieved. He breathed a sigh of relief, but when he lowered his head, he found that the blue toilet was filled with dark red.

He tilted his body and fell to the ground.
Chapter completed!