Actually, Lynn couldn’t be blad for being excited.
The gathering this ti was indeed quite high-end.
Most of this year’s bestselling authors had co, not to ntion the large number from past years.
Even Wang Jian had spotted several Nobel Prize in Literature winners.
Of course, for well-known reasons, the Nobel Prize in Literature tends to favor Western literature.
Thus, there were quite a few Western writers who had won this award.
But this was enough to show the importance the New York Tis placed on this gathering.
Wang Jian, holding his wine glass, began to socialize like everyone else.
"By the way, which work do you think will win the Pulitzer Prize this year?" so realist writers discussed.
One young writer even looked up at Wang Jian.
"Hehe," Wang Jian turned and left the group chat.
Then, he moved on to another group of people.
"Hugo Award," "Goncourt Prize," "Booker Prize"...
Well, fiction with virtual thes really had a niche audience at this ti.
Let alone, fantasy literature as one of its branches.
Wang Jian finally understood why the likes of George Martin and Robert Jordan did not attend the dinner.
Fortunately, the deputy editor of the New York Tis tily clinked his glass to remind everyone that he was about to speak.
"Today, we have invited many famous writers. Your words have moved tens of thousands of readers."
The deputy editor paused, waiting for the applause to finish.
Then he continued, "And we also want to take this opportunity to announce that a great writer will be collaborating with the New York Tis.
"His new novel, ’The Green Mile,’ will be serialized in the newspaper."
"Next, please welco the master of contemporary horror and suspense, Stephen King!"
The writers at the scene first fell silent, then burst into applause.
Wang Jian felt a stir in his heart.
Was another industry giant preparing to test the waters in the publishing field?
The New York Tis had prepared a grand entrance ceremony for Stephen King.
The lighting at the banquet venue dimd.
Then, as the curtain on the stage was unveiled, a large electronic screen appeared before everyone.
Photos of a young Stephen King, followed by his works from the sa period, were displayed on the big screen.
After that, the screen shifted to show the nas of movies adapted from his works.
"Non ho sonno," "Carrie," "The Shining," "The Shawshank Redemption"...
Then, the screen began to play horrifying clips from these movies.
Wang Jian applauded along with everyone else while inwardly admiring Stephen King’s renowned mastery of creating a terrifying atmosphere.
And Lynn beside him exclaid softly, "Stephen King!"
Next, a middle-aged Caucasian man, led by staff, walked up to the microphone to speak.
At that mont, it was as if the hierarchy among the writers had been disrupted.
These writers of reality, classical, and science genres also turned into fans, crowding towards the stage.
"Aren’t you going?" Lynn asked curiously as she watched Wang Jian stand still.
He shook his head, indicating that she could go as she pleased.
It wasn’t that Wang Jian considered himself superior or was putting on airs.
But while watching the horror scenes just now, the third book in his mind had suddenly fully erged.
After Lynn also moved towards the stage,
Wang Jian inwardly prayed that this book would not be too difficult to adapt.
He then focused his attention on the work in his mind, observing it carefully.
The na of the novel appeared on the dark-toned cover in white Chinese characters,
possessing a strangely eerie aesthetic.
"Extre Heavenly Demon"?
Fantasy, not fantastical?
That’s a bit tricky.
Wang Jian’s attention continued to be imrsed in his work as he roughly skimd through the content of the novel.
Uh...
Golden Finger is actually an attribute bar?
The protagonist is also a martial artist?
How am I to translate this into English!
Just as Wang Jian was stricken with a headache, applause from the audience woke him up.
Stephen King had already finished speaking.
He forced himself to shift his attention back.
All the writers present wore expressions of great enrichnt.
As for whether it was genuine, that was left unsaid.
Wang Jian had thought that today’s gathering was almost over.
Everyone was about to casually eat so more food and chat idly before leaving.
Suddenly, a middle-aged white man reeking of alcohol walked straight towards him.
"Are you the author of ’Arcane Throne,’ Wang?" the man asked.
"Yes." Wang Jian looked at the man with confusion, puzzled by his intentions.
"The creativity and structure of ’Arcane Throne’ are fantastic, but it remains a fictional story," the man continued. "You should focus your creative energy on realistic subjects."
Wang Jian looked at the man, dumbfounded.
This man...
Where did he pop up from?
The man then took out a business card and handed it over, saying, "I’m John, a reporter from the New York Tis."
"Young man, let give you a piece of advice."
"Place your talents in the right spot."
Due to John’s voice being quite loud,
the surrounding writers turned their heads to look.
So of them, who followed the news regularly, started to tell those around them the story between the New York Tis and ’Arcane Throne.’
"Is this John the one who publicly apologized for the inaccurate reporting?"
"Yes," soone responded.
However, as most of the writers present primarily focused on realistic subjects,
they inherently held a disdain for the boundless fantasy in fantastical literature.
Moreover, given the boom of fantasy literature in the first half of this year,
these people naturally chose to remain onlookers.
John, seeing so many people watching,
amplified his voice by an octave.
It was as if doing so could vent his frustration from being demoted.
"Everyone else has no special function, only the protagonist has a special function. Isn’t this nonsense?"
Wang Jian first looked at this John as if he were a fool.
Then he coughed lightly, preparing to tell the man that ’Hundred Years of Solitude’ could arguably be considered a fantasy novel too.
But before Wang Jian could speak, a deep voice ca from behind him.
"Actually, my upcoming novel ’The Green Mile’ also contains elents of fantasy,"
Stephen King slowly erged from the crowd, looking at John.
"In it, an important supporting character can transfer others’ diseases away."
"Is that considered nonsense?"
"Oh, perhaps it is very different from a reporter who publishes articles without investigation."
With that, the well-known writer did not cast another look at John.
He turned around, extended his hand, and shook hands with Wang Jian, "Your ’Arcane Throne’ is brilliant; my entire family loves it."
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