“Here...” Brian Carter was sitting in front of the computer, pointing at the outline draft on the screen: “This is the next part of the plot. You hear that there might be a Qinglong shedding its scales in the Ten-Thousand Snake Pit, ten thousand miles southwest, which would be beneficial for you to set up the Four Symbols Grand Formation, so you lead your people there. Deep in the snake pit, you encounter Victor Black and fight at the Fallen Dragon Pool. Originally, you had the upper hand, but he used a sinister magical artifact to ambush you, causing you to fall into the pool and be poisoned by a strange serpent.”

Henry Clark said with a stern face, “How could Victor Black possibly be a match for me?”

“That’s right, that’s exactly the attitude.”

“……”

“Your sect’s disciples are also in the outer part of the cave. Ryan Carter... hmm, of course the protagonist’s luck is different from others. He stumbles upon a snake saliva fruit, which just happens to be your antidote.”

“Antidote?” Henry Clark became alert. “Are you going to write one of those cliché stories where I get drugged with an aphrodisiac?”

“Come on, I’ve never written that your world has such stories. Is that some kind of self-completing social foundation of the world?”

Henry Clark said angrily, “Get to the point!”

“You already know that’s a cliché, so how could I write it that way? Writing such tired tropes these days is just asking to flop. It’s just that Ryan Carter makes a contribution and thus catches your eye even more. My style has always been to lay the groundwork step by step. The key to this plot is actually the protagonist’s adventure—he gains a lot himself, and helping you is just incidental. After all, the gap between him and you is still huge; it’s far from time yet.”

Henry Clark gritted his teeth. “You just have to drag some romance into a perfectly good adventure. Is this the kind of stuff you make money writing?”

“You think anyone can write romance well? That’s a skill! Alright, stop looking at me like that. I already said I’d revise the outline... Eh, wait a minute...” Brian Carter’s expression slowly turned odd. “Actually, you’ve already seen the plot, so Victor Black shouldn’t be able to ambush you anymore... But if I still write it this way, will you still fall for it?”

Henry Clark was also taken aback, his expression turning strange as well.

Does this count as foreseeing the future?

If he’s foreseen the future but doesn’t change the plot, do I still have to fall for it?

Is fate inescapable?

Brian Carter hesitated a bit and asked, “How about we don’t change it and see what happens? Can you accept being poisoned? It might be a bit uncomfortable.”

“Getting injured or poisoned is nothing...” Henry Clark hesitated as well. “I want to try it too... but no more of those touchy-feely scenes.”

Brian Carter readily agreed, “Of course, I’ll write that you find the antidote yourself at the bottom of the pool. Because starting yesterday, Ryan Carter and you have had no further interactions.”

Henry Clark pursed her lips and tentatively asked, “You didn’t seem willing to revise the story before.”

Brian Carter, busy deleting scenes and revising the draft, casually replied, “This is your life. No one has the right to dictate it—not me, not even fate. This test of ours is just to see... what fate has in store.”

Chapter 11: From Now On

Henry Clark watched as he deleted those few scenes of interaction between herself and the protagonist, her gaze growing softer.

Maybe his original intentions were rather questionable... but just as he said, “From now on, we’ll discuss things together,” and that’s exactly what he was doing.

Henry Clark thought that if he had revised the story before, it was because she had threatened him. But this time, it really didn’t feel that way—it truly seemed like he wanted to do it himself.

Because “this is your life.”

Brian Carter didn’t continue adjusting the rest of the outline and just started writing the new chapter directly. He felt there was nothing left to fix in the outline anyway. The heroine was right behind him watching; if she wasn’t satisfied, he’d have to revise it again, so what was the point of more revisions? He’d only taken one day off—if tomorrow’s new chapter still didn’t get published, that would be a real disaster. Better to just write first.

He was writing the follow-up plot where Henry Clark gets poisoned. This was a small side quest, and there was quite a bit of content—at least a dozen chapters before the poisoning actually happened. With the content set, and since it wasn’t a particularly deep or emotionally tangled project, it was easy to write.

Brian Carter typed rapidly, quickly becoming immersed in his work, even forgetting that Henry Clark was standing behind him.

Henry Clark just stood behind him, watching. The lines on the screen like “Henry Clark said calmly” and “Henry Clark stepped away on the moonlight, her robes fluttering” all looked increasingly awkward and strange to her. She kept wondering if, when she went back and said those lines or made those gestures, she’d be so embarrassed she’d fall out of the sky.

What if she just refused to speak that way? What if, when flying away on the moonlight, she deliberately held her robes down so they wouldn’t flutter?

Would that count as part of the test? Maybe not. Major events might correspond, but these little details probably wouldn’t always match. Maybe when he wrote about other people’s actions, they would correspond, but since she had already broken through the boundary and seen the truth, her actions weren’t entirely under his control, so obviously they couldn’t match up completely anymore.

Just like what she was doing now—this wasn’t something he had written.

Looking at how absorbed Brian Carter was, Henry Clark didn’t say anything to disturb him. She glanced around the room, then turned and walked out.

There was a guest bedroom next door. Henry Clark remembered sensing someone there last time she came, but today it was completely empty—not even bedding left. There were still traces of someone having lived there, like cups left on the table.

Did they move out today?

Is that why he feels lonely? Is that why he said, “You came at just the right time, thank you”?