amaotonovel Chapter 1600 Sleepless Night
Chapter 1600 Sleepless Night
The night was as dark as ink, and the city had long since fallen asleep, but the headquarters building of Dingqi.com was still brightly lit.
In the open-plan workstations of the technical department, six programmers sat side by side, with various data monitoring panels flashing on the screens in front of them—server load, concurrent connections, database read/write speed, CDN node status—dense numbers and graphs shimmering against a dark background.
Team leader Lao Wu, holding a cup of strong tea, glanced back and forth between the screens, muttering, "President Fan is really something, is it really necessary? It's just putting a book on the shelves, making it seem like Singles' Day."
The young man next to him pushed up his glasses: "Brother Wu, you wouldn't believe it if you didn't read online novels. 'The Great Feng Night Watchman' is currently the most popular book online. Even my dad posted that 'Nothing to do today, just listening to music in the brothel' meme on his WeChat Moments."
Old Wu curled his lip: "That doesn't mean our whole team has to work overtime, does it?"
"How many readers do you think will flood in after it goes live at midnight today?" the young man asked in a low voice. "I bet at least a million."
Old Wu nearly choked on his tea: "One million? Are you crazy? Even He Han's last new book didn't reach that number!"
Before he could finish speaking, the office door was pushed open, and Uncle Fan walked in with his hands behind his back, followed by Editor-in-Chief Zhou.
"Is everything ready?" Uncle Fan glanced at the technical team's setup, his tone calm, but Lao Wu noticed that his right index finger was unconsciously rubbing the watch strap on his left wrist, a small gesture that Uncle Fan only made when he was nervous.
"Everything's ready, Mr. Fan." Old Wu quickly stood up. "The server capacity has been doubled in advance, and three more CDN nodes have been added. Even if a million readers flood in at the same time, there won't be any lag."
Uncle Fan nodded, said nothing more, and turned to walk towards the conference room next door. Editor-in-Chief Zhou followed, closing the door behind him.
In the conference room, Uncle Fan finally dropped the pretense, put his teacup on the table, and leaned forward: "Old Zhou, how many orders do you think we can get for the first month tonight?"
Zhou Zhengyang adjusted his glasses, carefully considering his words: "Breaking 10,000 is certain. Given Da Feng's current popularity, it's only a matter of time. The key is whether it can break 30,000."
“Thirty thousand…” Uncle Fan squinted and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice.
"With first-day subscriptions exceeding 30,000, as long as the subsequent plot doesn't fall apart, average daily subscriptions exceeding 100,000 are almost a certainty." Zhou Zhengyang paused, then lowered his voice: "President Fan, He Han's current novel only has 58,000 first-day subscriptions."
Uncle Fan didn't reply, but a glint of light flashed in his eyes.
Fifty-eight thousand words is the ceiling for Dingqi.com and even the entire online literature circle. It's a number that He Han etched into the industry's pinnacle with his masterpiece. Countless people have tried to break this record over the past two years, but all have ultimately failed.
"Qin Hao..." Uncle Fan murmured the name, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I'd like to see just how far you can go."
-
Meanwhile, various author groups in the online literature community have been in an uproar.
In the Dingqi.com expert group, message notifications were constantly ringing, making it almost impossible for anyone to have a proper conversation—before you could even finish reading the previous message, more than a dozen messages had already appeared below.
"Brothers, it'll be midnight in ten minutes. How much do you think we can get for the first order in Da Feng?"
"Breaking 10,000 views is definitely not a problem, right? This book is so popular lately, even the pancake vendor downstairs knows about 'Listening to Music in the Brothel'."
"What's the suspense about breaking 10,000? What I'm concerned about is whether it can break 30,000."
"Thirty thousand? You're dreaming. What does thirty thousand in initial subscriptions mean? You can count the number of companies on the entire Dingqi.com that can reach that number on one hand."
"He Han's score is 58,000, but that's He Han. He's a top-tier figure in the online novel world. Although Da Feng's authors are talented, they're still a bit lacking compared to He Han, right?"
"You can't say that. The popularity of *Da Feng* is indeed phenomenal right now, and don't forget, this book started without any recommendations; it built its success purely on its content. Its value is far greater than those books that rely on recommendations to climb the ladder."
The debate grew increasingly heated, and messages flooded the group chat, until an author with the ID "Word Machine" suddenly posted a message:
"Brothers, sitting here waiting is too boring. How about we play a game? I'll be the banker, and we'll bet on whether the first bet of the 'Big Feng Night Watchman' can break 30,000. If it breaks 30,000, the odds are 1.5 to 1; if it doesn't, the odds are 0.7 to 1. How about that?"
The group chat was silent for two seconds, then it exploded.
"Let's do it! I bet a hundred that it won't break! Are you kidding me? A first-order deposit of 30,000 isn't that easy to break!"
"I'd bet 100 and still not break it, 20,000 might be a chance, but 30,000 is too difficult."
"Hehe, I bet a hundred I can break the record! Fortune favors the bold, what's the point of a 0.7 payout? The winnings wouldn't even cover a meal."
"Brother, you're a true fan if you can break the bet."
"It's not about being a die-hard fan; it's about trusting the data. Da Feng's readership rate has consistently remained above 45% for the past month. Do the math yourselves—we now have 500,000 favorites. What does a 45% first-time subscription conversion rate mean?"
"Holy crap, now that you think about it, it actually seems quite possible?"
"Don't just look at the conversion rate. First-time subscriptions and favorites aren't linearly related. The more favorites you have, the lower the conversion rate will actually be, because many casual users favorite just to follow the trend and won't actually pay to subscribe."
"That makes sense, then I'll still bet on it not going to fail."
"Wait, where's the bookmaker? Why aren't they saying anything?"
The "typing machine" finally appeared after a while: "Sorry, there are too many people betting, I'm making a spreadsheet... Currently, the bet is on 4700 yuan that can't be broken, and the bet is on 1200 yuan that can be broken. Does anyone else want to place a bet?"
"I'll add another hundred; the bet can't be broken!"
"Add me to the list, fifty, the bet will be broken!"
"You have the nerve to pull out fifty?"
"I'm poor, what can I do? I haven't received my royalties for this month."
The group chat was filled with laughter, and the atmosphere was as lively as during the Chinese New Year.
-
On the other side of the city, in Lin Zhanqiao's apartment, warm yellow light shone on the living room sofa.
Lin Zhanqiao sat cross-legged at one end of the sofa, with a laptop on his lap. The screen displayed the page of Dingqi.com. The pages of Da Feng Da Gengren's book had been refreshed countless times, but the new chapters had not yet appeared.
Zhou Mei emerged from the bathroom, her long, wavy hair still damp, casually draped over her shoulders. She wore only a purple silk nightgown, the neckline loosely open, revealing her delicate collarbone and a patch of fair skin. She leaned languidly against Lin Zhanqiao's shoulder, like a cat that had just finished a bath.
"Why is time passing so slowly?" Zhou Mei yawned. "I'm still waiting to read Da Feng's latest update."
Lin Zhanqiao glanced at her best friend, her face full of suspicion: "When did you start liking these kinds of erotic novels?"
Zhou Mei sat up straight, striking a seductive pose, her eyes sparkling: "I've always liked it, didn't you know?"
Lin Zhanqiao rubbed his forehead, looking like he had been defeated.
Zhou Mei explained with a smile, her tone earnest: "I'm under a lot of pressure at work. Staring at those reports and clients every day, my brain feels like it's going to explode. After get off work, I just want to read something that can make me forget about everything. 'Da Feng' perfectly suits my needs; the writing style is witty and humorous, and it's easy to read."
Lin Zhanqiao didn't reply, but instead frowned thoughtfully and asked a seemingly casual but actually pointed question: "So, which do you think is more attractive, He Han's or 'Da Feng'?"
Zhou Mei paused for a moment upon hearing this, her fingers unconsciously twirling the ends of her hair as she pondered seriously for a few seconds.
“He Han’s writing is also very good.” She carefully chose her words: “His writing style is more solid, and his scope is broader. Reading his books gives you a feeling of… how should I put it, a feeling of being awestruck, like standing on a mountaintop looking at the scenery.”
"but?"
"But I think 'Da Feng' is more suitable for people like me who are under a lot of work pressure. He Han's books require you to calm down and savor them slowly; you need to be in that state of mind. But 'Da Feng' is different. You can open it anytime and read it anytime. You can start from any part and continue reading. You'll be amused as you read, and then you'll be moved as you laugh. You don't need to use your brain, but when you reflect on it, you find it quite meaningful."
She paused, then added, "It's like... He Han is a main course, you need to sit down and enjoy it properly; Da Feng is afternoon tea, you can have a sip anytime, anywhere, and it will make you feel better."
Lin Zhanqiao's heart skipped a beat.
As a top editor, she knew all too well what this meant. For online novels, a low reading threshold is never a bad thing—on the contrary, it's a huge plus.
Online literature isn't a literary award; it doesn't require judges to repeatedly savor and meticulously analyze it. Online literature is fast-moving consumer goods—something readers casually open on the subway, in the restroom, or in the ten minutes before bed. Whoever can capture the reader's attention in those ten minutes wins.
He Han's books are good because of their depth and scope, but depth and scope themselves mean selection—not all readers have the patience to appreciate such a weighty narrative.
Da Feng… it lowered the barrier to entry to the bare minimum in a seemingly frivolous yet ingenious way, yet subtly drew the reader in. This effortless writing style is precisely the most difficult to achieve.
"Could he really reach He Han's level?"
This thought was like a thorn, piercing into Lin Zhanqiao's heart.
Just as she was lost in thought, Zhou Mei suddenly screamed and jumped up from the sofa, not even bothering to pull the strap of her purple pajamas that had slipped halfway down.
"It's midnight! Da Feng has updated!"
-
Midnight.
The 50,000-word update of "The Great Feng Night Watchman" has arrived as scheduled.
In an instant, as if someone had pressed a switch, all the curves on the server data monitoring panel of Dingqi.com surged simultaneously—
The number of concurrent connections jumped from 120,000 to 370,000 and is still climbing at a visible rate. Database read and write requests are piling up, and the bandwidth utilization of CDN nodes surged from 30% to 78% within three seconds.
Old Wu nearly dropped his teacup: "Damn it!"
The young programmer was too busy typing to speak, his hands flying across the keyboard as he adjusted the load balancing strategy. The other four programmers also went into battle mode almost simultaneously, their eyes glued to their respective monitoring panels.
"The database connection pool is almost full!"
"CDN East China node bandwidth alert!"
"Expand capacity! Expand capacity now!"
Old Wu shouted as he made the call, his voice trembling: "The server room? Emergency capacity expansion! Yes, right now! Get the backup servers up and running!"
Fortunately, Uncle Fan had foresight and had arranged for technical personnel to be on standby in advance, and the expansion plan had been rehearsed twice. All backup servers were online within ninety seconds, the database connection pool was expanded threefold, and the two newly added CDN nodes also began to distribute traffic.
The data has finally stabilized.
Old Wu let out a long breath, his back covered in cold sweat.
At this point, less than three minutes had passed since midnight.
-
In the conference room, Uncle Fan held a teacup, his posture calm and composed, as if the chaos outside had nothing to do with him. But Zhou Zhengyang noticed that Uncle Fan's hand holding the cup tightened slightly, and the water in the cup swayed gently.
Time passed by, second by second.
Uncle Fan took a sip of tea, then another sip, put the teacup down, and then picked it up again.
Zhou Zhengyang wanted to say something to ease the strange silence, but before he could speak, the office door was suddenly pushed open—it was Xiao Cai, his face flushed and panting, as if he had just run 800 meters.
"General Manager Fan! Editor-in-Chief Zhou! Da Feng's first subscription...has surpassed 10,000!"
Uncle Fan glanced at his watch instinctively.
00:09.
Less than ten minutes.
The teacup was slammed heavily on the table. Uncle Fan finally couldn't hold back any longer and stood up abruptly: "Over 10,000 first-day subscriptions in less than ten minutes?"
His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.
Zhou Zhengyang was also checking his watch; his hands were trembling, but his mind was unusually clear. He quickly did some mental calculations—how long did it take for He Han's book, the number one book on all platforms, to break 10,000 first-day subscriptions upon release?
Twenty-three minutes.
Da Feng, on the other hand, only used less than half the time.
"President Fan," Zhou Zhengyang suppressed his surging emotions, trying to make his voice sound calm and professional, "I suggest we immediately increase publicity efforts, push this data out, and strike while the iron is hot."
Uncle Fan didn't hesitate: "Push! Push it now! Push it across all channels, homepage pop-ups, app splash screens—don't miss a single one! Tell everyone that 'The Great Feng Night Watchman' broke 10,000 subscriptions in just nine minutes!"
"Yes!" Xiao Cai turned and ran.
Zhou Zhengyang followed immediately, relaying Uncle Fan's instructions to the operations, marketing, and content departments one by one.
In less than five minutes, readers and authors on Dingqi.com saw a huge banner pop-up when they opened the app's homepage, with large gold lettering on a bright red background—
Congratulations to Da Feng the Night Watchman for surpassing 10,000 subscriptions in just nine minutes!
The effect is immediate.
In the expert group on Dingqi.com, messages are being refreshed even faster than before.
"Holy crap! Over 10,000 first-day subscriptions already? That's awesome!"
"Nine minutes? Are you sure? I haven't even had a chance to subscribe and it's already over 10,000 views?"
"Ugh, it's so frustrating to compare yourself to others. I could work myself to the bone for 24 hours straight and still not get a hundred first-day subscriptions, while they easily broke ten thousand."
"These are just the initial subscription figures; they'll definitely rise further. Even those readers who were asleep will subscribe tomorrow."
"Do you think the author of *Da Feng* will become the next He Han?"
"You know what, judging by this trend, it really might be possible."
"Wait, have you guys forgotten who the author of *The Great Feng* is?" someone suddenly blurted out. "The chief eunuch, the one who had seven books banned in two years. Who knows, he might pull some crazy trick and ban the whole book sometime."
The group chat suddenly went silent for a moment.
"Uh... now that you mention it, I'm starting to feel a little uneasy. I'm also a loyal reader of Da Feng."
"Don't jinx it! The Great Feng Dynasty is different from the previous books; this time it's noticeably more restrained, and the content is very well controlled."
"Alright, alright, don't spoil the fun, today is a day of celebration!"
The topic quickly returned to the initial subscription data, with everyone speculating on the same question—how many initial subscriptions would Da Feng achieve? Could it break 30,000?
-
"Does Qin Hao really have the ability to contend with He Han?" Uncle Fan murmured to himself, his eyes deep.
He suddenly laughed.
Whatever the answer, it's good news for Dingqi.com. In fact, it's incredibly good news.
The online literature industry has never lacked authors; what it lacks are top-tier IPs that can support a platform. He Han single-handedly supported half of the Zhixing platform. If Qin Hao could reach the same level—no, even just 80% of He Han's level—it would be enough to leave other platforms far behind.
Thinking of this, Uncle Fan put down his teacup, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
"Operations department? Double the promotion budget for 'Da Feng Night Watchman' again, roll it out across all channels, don't skimp."
After hanging up the phone, he thought for a moment and added, "Oh, by the way, have the editorial department prepare an interview article titled 'The Night Watchman of Dafeng: A Miracle from Zero to Over 10,000 First Subscriptions,' and publish it first thing tomorrow morning."
-
Zhou Mei was completely immersed in the world of Da Feng.
She nestled in the corner of the sofa, her legs curled up beneath her, the light from her phone screen reflecting on her face as her expressions shifted with the plot—sometimes covering her mouth to stifle a laugh, sometimes widening her eyes, and sometimes bursting into laughter.
Lin Zhanqiao sat next to her, not reading, but secretly observing her best friend's reaction.
Zhou Mei isn't easily moved. Working at a public relations firm, dealing with clients every day has honed her invulnerability. What could elicit such an expression from her is far more than just "good-looking"—it's an experience of being precisely struck emotionally, each scene hitting her sweet spot perfectly, leaving her wanting more.
Lin Zhanqiao silently analyzed in her mind: This kind of writing style requires either talent, experience, or both. Qin Hao's progress in controlling the reader's emotions to this extent far exceeded her expectations.
Lin Zhanqiao even had some doubts about whether she had limited Qin Hao's performance back then.
Twenty minutes later, Zhou Mei finally put down her phone, let out a long breath, as if she had returned from another world.
"Finished reading?" Lin Zhanqiao asked.
"Hmm." Zhou Mei picked up her phone, skillfully opened the tipping page, and casually tipped Da Feng two hundred RMB.
Lin Zhanqiao shook her head: "Two hundred is nothing to him. You'd be better off giving it to those new authors; they need encouragement more."
Zhou Mei smiled nonchalantly and tossed her phone onto the coffee table: "I only pay for my own emotions. He made me happy, so I'll tip him—it's only fair. As for new authors..." She paused, her tone becoming clear and indifferent: "What they need isn't my two hundred yuan encouragement, but to be seen by the platform and by editors like you. I won't steal your business."
Lin Zhanqiao was taken aback, then gave a bitter smile. Zhou Mei's words, though casual, incisively pointed out the underlying logic of the online literature industry: reader donations are never the foundation of an author's survival; platform resources and editorial promotion are. A two-hundred-yuan donation might bring a new author a moment of感动 (gǎndòng, a feeling of being moved/touched), but it cannot change their predicament.
Zhou Mei yawned widely, tears welling in her eyes: "I'm sleepy, going to bed—"
Halfway through her sentence, her gaze suddenly fell on her phone.
The phone screen lit up; it was a push notification from Dingqi.com.
Zhou Mei blinked, her drowsiness instantly vanishing: "No way? Another update so soon?"
She grabbed her phone, opened Da Feng's book, and sure enough, saw a new chapter—along with the author's bonus chapter notes at the end of the chapter.
"If the first subscription exceeds 20,000, an additional 50,000 words will be added."
Zhou Mei's eyes lit up: "Over 20,000 first-day subscriptions in half an hour? Does that mean Da Feng could really break 30,000 first-day subscriptions?"
Lin Zhanqiao was taken aback when she heard this, and then immediately opened her phone and saw Qin Hao's extra chapter announcement.
Twenty thousand in half an hour.
Her heart skipped a beat.
How long did it take for He Han's book to break 20,000 first-day subscriptions? She remembered it very clearly—forty-seven minutes.
Da Feng only took half an hour.
"This is awesome!" Zhou Mei didn't even bother talking to Lin Zhanqiao anymore. She immediately opened the app and eagerly flipped to the new chapter: "I was just at a small climax, and I wasn't satisfied. Here's another 50,000 words! I can read to my heart's content again."
Lin Zhanqiao frowned even more. Qin Hao hadn't been updating this diligently before. During the years she worked as Qin Hao's editor at Zhixing, she knew his personality all too well—once he finished the daily update quota, he didn't want to write a single word more, and even when readers were cursing him in the book review section, he could still play dead with a clear conscience.
Why has her personality changed since we terminated the contract?
Is this still the Qin Hao she knows?
Or perhaps... the termination of the contract actually fueled his fighting spirit?
Lin Zhanqiao dared not think too deeply, because every possible answer pointed to the same painful conclusion—her impulsiveness had pushed away an author who could have been on par with He Han.
Just as Lin Zhanqiao was in a daze, the phone on the coffee table suddenly vibrated.
She looked down and saw the caller ID displayed the words "He Han".
At 12:40 a.m., He Han called her?
Lin Zhanqiao took a deep breath and answered the phone: "Hey, He Han, you're still awake?"
A bitter laugh came from the other end of the phone: "I was planning to go to sleep, but I was woken up by a few colleagues. They were all discussing whether Da Feng could break the record."
"Breaking a record?" Lin Zhanqiao's heart skipped a beat. "What record?"
"A record for first-day subscriptions!" He Han's tone carried a complex emotion, a mix of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of mixed emotions) and bitterness: "The highest first-day subscription record on Dingqi.com!"
Lin Zhanqiao certainly remembered.
That's He Han's record.
Fifty-eight thousand.
This is a ceiling that no one in the entire online literature community has been able to break to this day.
"How much is the first order for Da Feng now?" she asked, her voice a little hoarse.
"It's already over 30,000 words, right?" He Han said. "This time, Lao Qin suddenly released another 100,000 words of saved manuscript, which should be part of his promise to add more chapters once it reaches 30,000."
"A hundred thousand words of draft?" Lin Zhanqiao subconsciously looked at her best friend Zhou Mei—sure enough, Zhou Mei was holding her phone and staring intently at it, even turning the pages faster than before, her expression sometimes tense and sometimes excited, completely immersed in the story.
No wonder she's been looking at her phone for so long without putting it down.
An update of 100,000 words is a feast for any reader, but for a reader who is firmly gripped by the plot, it is an abyss that can never be stopped.
“He Han,” Lin Zhanqiao’s voice was soft, “Do you think… Da Feng can break your record?”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
He Han didn't answer directly, but instead said something that sent chills down Lin Zhanqiao's spine: "Do you remember what Old Qin said when he helped us back then?"
Lin Zhanqiao was taken aback: "What?"
“He said, ‘One day, I will write a book that everyone will have to read.’” He Han’s voice was calm: “At the time, we thought he was bragging, but now it seems… he might really have done it.”
Lin Zhanqiao's hand holding the phone trembled slightly. Even though she was being stubborn, she began to regret it at this moment.
If she had been more polite that day, would Qin Hao have refused to terminate the contract?
If she hadn't been so impulsive, would the Great Feng Night Watchman have been registered under the name of Zhixing? (End of Chapter)