11:59 p.m.
Shen Miaomiao sat cross-legged on her sofa in oversized pajamas. A single floor lamp cast a warm yellow glow through the living room. On the table sat an unsweetened Americano that had long since gone cold, beside a completely blank leather-bound notebook.
She stared at the white capital L on its black background, holding her breath, fingers hovering over the phone's keyboard. Her heart had the nerve to speed up a beat or two.
Not because of some girlish flutter. It was simply... far too much like walking into an exam room and waiting for the paper!
Ding.
With a crisp notification tone, a message appeared at the top of the screen, right on time.
[L]: It's midnight. Let's begin.
Shen Miaomiao took a deep breath and silently rallied herself. Come on, Shen Miaomiao. Use that imagination you bring to your immortal-fantasy plots! Sweet contemporary romance was just a man and a woman playing tug-of-war, wasn't it? Take this!
She quickly typed a line.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Hiii, darling~ Long day at work? Did you miss me? (GIF of a kitty rubbing its face)
After sending it, she shuddered first, nearly shedding a carpet of goosebumps. But then again, wasn't this how the girls in all those sweet online romances talked to their boyfriends? Enthusiastic, clingy, and full of hearts!
Silence from the other end lasted two whole minutes.
For those two minutes, Shen Miaomiao could practically picture him frowning at his screen.
[L]: ...Unsend that.
[Anonymous User 9527]: ??? Why?! Isn't that standard sweet-romance heroine dialogue?!
[L]: First, the excessive interjections and stickers make you sound less than intelligent. Second, we've known each other for under five hours. Calling me “darling” already isn't sweet by real-world standards. It's artificial sweetener. You even sound like one of those tea-selling scam accounts.
[L]: Third, if your male lead were confronted with that sudden enthusiasm, a normal person's response wouldn't be a fluttering heart. He'd suspect your account had been hacked—or that your next message would ask whether he wanted to buy stocks.
The long, meticulously organized analysis, complete with “first, second, third,” nearly made Shen Miaomiao hurl her phone.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Dude! We're PRETENDING to date! Trying to get a feel for it! Must you tear me down with all this objective rationality?!
[L]: I told you I have high standards. If you only want to write superficial, fake sweetness with no texture of real life, take it to your editor from hell on Monday. He'll throw it straight in the bin.
Like a bucket of icy water, the words doused her temper while striking a nerve.
Right... What Lu Chen hated most was forced sweetness that made no logical sense.
Gritting her teeth, Shen Miaomiao hugged a sofa cushion and resigned herself to typing.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Then tell me. How should normal, believable people talk when they're first flirting online?
[L]: Keep it grounded in everyday life. Don't try to perform “romance.” Make the other person feel your presence.
[L]: Start again. Suppose it's midnight. We're a man and a woman with a slight attraction to each other, still testing the waters. You've just finished work and notice I'm awake too.
Shen Miaomiao rubbed her chin as she read the instructions. Presence? Everyday life?
She closed her eyes and imagined what she was actually like on those nights she wrote until midnight, stomach growling as she stared out into the darkness. If someone she didn't dislike happened to be online then...
[Anonymous User 9527]: It's 12:05 a.m. I've just finished sorting out my work files. I noticed your avatar was still lit up... Working late again?
She sent it and stared nervously at the screen.
This time, L didn't keep her waiting long. About ten seconds later, a reply appeared.
[L]: Yes. Reviewing a report that's giving me a headache. The writer's logic is a mess. They've turned an urban drama into a martial-arts film.
Her mouth twitched. Did he have to insult his subordinates even while role-playing? Still, she couldn't deny how instantly that specific situation created an atmosphere!
[Anonymous User 9527]: Bad luck. But keep reading reports this late and you'll go bald. Why not have some water and take a break?
[L]: Right now I'd prefer a hot Americano, no sugar. Unfortunately, all the cafés near the office are closed.
Something flashed through Shen Miaomiao's mind. Yes! This was it! No extravagant declarations, no inexplicable “darling.” Just two adults late at night, quietly testing the waters and showing concern through real details—coffee, overtime, exhaustion!
She snatched up the leather-bound notebook and scribbled down their conversation and how it had felt.
[Anonymous User 9527]: A hot Americano with no sugar? That bitter? Just how boring is your life?
[L]: Bitterness keeps you alert. Besides, life doesn't need so much meaningless sweetness. A little bitterness helps you focus—which is why I can tell you precisely that your tone in “Just how boring is your life?” was very well adjusted.
[Anonymous User 9527]: ? Was that a compliment?
[L]: It's called positive feedback. Those last three lines were natural and grounded in everyday life, with a touch of provocation and concern. That's the push and pull modern adults should have when they're testing the waters.
Reading his words, Shen Miaomiao found her lips curling up without permission. Well, well. Sharp-tongued as he was, the man really did know how to analyze a romance scene!
[Anonymous User 9527]: All right, Master L. Who knew you understood this stuff? Keep going, then. What does the male lead say next?
[L]: My turn to ask. It's midnight. The heroine is drinking iced Americano, hugging a cushion on the sofa, and has to face her boss from hell tomorrow. How does she feel?
Shen Miaomiao went still.
Wait... Drinking iced Americano and hugging a cushion on the sofa? How had he guessed so accurately?!
She looked up at her curtains in alarm. Only after confirming that they were tightly closed did she exhale and type.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Have you installed a camera in my room?! How do you know about the iced Americano and the cushion?!
[L]: A guess. Writers who feel anxious late at night often hug something for comfort. As for the iced Americano—when you sent your first message, there was the sound of ice clinking against glass in the background of your voice input.
She sucked in a breath. His powers of observation were terrifying!
[L]: Back in character. How does the heroine feel?
Shen Miaomiao looked at the screen. Suddenly, the formerly clinical “experimental conversation” seemed to have acquired a warmth she couldn't quite name. Pressing her lips together, she sent what she really felt.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Not great. Really anxious. Afraid I won't be able to write it. Afraid that editor from hell will reject it on the spot on Monday. Afraid I'll fail at changing genres... I feel like a useless failure.
This time, the chat stayed silent for a long while. She had almost decided he had fallen asleep—or thought she was being melodramatic and wasn't going to bother—when L's messages finally appeared.
[L]: You're not a failure.
[L]: Someone who can write a million-character hit is not without talent. You're just trapped in an old way of thinking. Your editor may be strict, but he picks apart your work because he knows you can do better, not because he wants to put you down.
Something seemed to give her a gentle nudge as she read those two messages.
Ever since Lu Chen had rejected her manuscript that afternoon, frustration and hurt had been lodged in her chest. She'd felt as though the entire world thought her writing was terrible. Yet L, an anonymous stranger she had never met, was telling her, calmly and with absolute conviction, “You're not a failure.”
[Anonymous User 9527]: And you know that how? You don't even know our editor. How do you know he isn't targeting me on purpose?
[L]: Because every competent editor thinks the same way. No one wastes red ink on a manuscript that's utterly beyond saving. The heavier his marks, the higher his expectations.
[L]: That's enough training for tonight. Organize our conversation and work it into your leads' late-night chat. Midnight tomorrow. We continue.
[L]: And one more thing—less iced coffee late at night. It's bad for your stomach. Get some sleep, 9527.
After that message, L's avatar quietly dimmed to show he was offline.
On the sofa, Shen Miaomiao stared at her phone, unable to settle her heartbeat. For five whole minutes, she sat in the dark living room, rereading his final messages.
“Someone who can write a million-character hit is not without talent.” “The heavier his marks, the higher his expectations.”
She rubbed her stinging eyes, then suddenly broke into a foolish smile. This anonymous L might have a sharp tongue, even a cold streak, but he was actually rather kind.
Grabbing her notebook, she rushed back to her desk and switched on the computer. Inspiration was suddenly pouring into a mind that had felt utterly dried up! Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she transformed their sparring, their tentative exchanges, and their late-night hot and iced Americanos into funny, delicately charged scenes of her leads flirting over an app.
That night, for the first time, Shen Miaomiao wrote contemporary romance until dawn.