Because of the book Bird of Paradise, Connor became famous—extremely famous. He was so popular that the website directly gave him a full-site promotion. As the editor who contacted Connor put it: “The entertainment industry is severely homogenized right now, and it desperately needs a different voice. Young people love individuality. The heated discussions about Bird of Paradise have already gone beyond its usual audience. This is the perfect opportunity for the website to spread and promote itself—and for you to make a name for yourself.”
Connor and the website ended up benefiting each other. When he started a new book, the obstacles he faced were significantly smaller. Even if the book flopped terribly, it would still be a “flop” in the sense that a top author fails—it was a completely different situation now. No matter how much he denied it, Connor was someone Ryan had “raised single-handedly.” The stubbornness and pride in his bones pushed him to do everything as well as possible. Hard work does pay off—Connor maintained his popularity, proving that he wasn’t just a fleeting success riding on the shock value of Bird of Paradise.
Just when Connor thought Bird of Paradise was a thing of the past—something he might recall fondly years later while holding his child and reminiscing—he received a private message through his personal terminal. The sender called themselves “Bird of Paradise.”
For a moment, Connor thought the book had come to life…
Connor was a writer, full of ideas, but his life remained simple. He was just an ordinary person living on a plantation star, with no ties to politics or any protest organizations that operated on the fringes of the law. But after that first contact, “Bird of Paradise” appeared two or three more times—each time opening a new door for Connor.
Because of what lay behind those doors, Connor was drawn in. It was only when he was exposed to radiation that he suddenly realized the true nature of the massive ship he had boarded—Connor had become a member of the ancient organization known as Bird of Paradise.
Becoming a member meant loyalty to the organization and dedicating his life to its cause. Connor truly put Ryan’s teachings into practice—whatever you do, love it, and strive to be the best at it. Over the course of several years, he rose to become the successor to the leadership of Bird of Paradise. A few more years later, that leader died, and Connor inherited everything, officially becoming a high-ranking figure within the organization, holding absolute authority.
But when Connor finally reached the organization’s core, he realized that Bird of Paradise was no longer the pure entity it once was. It had become entangled with too many interests and conflicts, infiltrated by the highest levels of the government, turning into a weapon wielded by others—one that repeatedly carried out actions harming ordinary citizens. Connor found himself trapped at the heart of this enormous vortex. He was no longer an insignificant member; he was now a leader, followed by many, unable to simply walk away.
In his struggles, Connor considered confiding in Ryan. He believed Ryan would find a way to help him escape. But every time he met Ryan’s gentle yet composed gaze, the words would get stuck in his throat. He lost the courage to speak, forcing himself instead to search for a way out on his own. His turmoil seeped into his writing—those years, his words became tense, losing their usual ease and flair. Even his protagonist started rebelling against everything, picking fights with the heavens, the earth, and even the air itself.
Readers didn’t find it strange—on the contrary, they loved it. The sheer thrill of it was irresistible, and Connor’s wallet only grew fatter.
Life continued, unaffected by where one stood. Connor chose to lie low. Within Bird of Paradise, the radical faction had become the dominant force, and the organization’s influence on the outside world grew stronger—so much so that it had become synonymous with danger.
Yet, Connor began to view life with the same composure and calmness as Ryan. Once his mindset changed, it was as if his entire life transformed—the path ahead became clearer.
One day, as Connor sat before the light screen, gazing at the beautiful scenery outside the window, an idea struck him. He wanted to write a story about Emperor Qin Feng Anderson. Without hesitation, he began writing. He poured out ten thousand words a day, and the story quickly grew in length.
By the time Song of Beacon reached 300,000 words and hit its first major climax, Connor received a message from Ryan.
Ryan: I’m coming back.
Connor: Are you bringing that person back with you?
Ryan: Mm, we’re going home together.
Connor: Haha, congratulations, congratulations! We haven’t even seen what your other half looks like since you got married. This time, we’ll finally get to see them in person.
Ryan: Better prepare yourself.
Connor: Even if you brought back General Dalton, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Ryan: Sorry to say… but you guessed right.
Connor: …No way. I mean, I did have a bit of a hunch.
Ryan: You’ll see when we meet.
Connor had personally witnessed Ryan transform from a clueless novice in love into a seasoned expert at romance. He truly couldn’t imagine that the person Ryan had managed to win over was none other than the Empire’s youngest General, General Auston Dalton!
Being in Bird of Paradise, Connor had seen countless tragic and indifferent stories born from compatibility marriages. Few people ever found real happiness in those unions; most simply muddled through their lives. Perhaps his cousin would bring a rare touch of happiness to the world of compatibility marriages—after all, Ryan worked so hard to make the most of life.
Ryan’s messages kept coming in. After a brief distraction, Connor noticed seven or eight unread messages.
Ryan: One of my comrades is a huge fan of yours.
Ryan: I promised to bring him to meet you, but he said he’d only come if you agreed first. Isn’t that respectful? His name is Fan Lanting Francis, and he’s an excellent scout.
Ryan: [Photo.jpg] Look, he even wrote you a letter by hand. I’ll bring it home for you—you can open it yourself.
Connor: Alright.
He had many readers, a massive fanbase, and every small-scale book signing was met with excitement and cheers. Fans were nothing new to him. But Ryan’s comrade… felt completely different. A letter treated with such care and sincerity—he had to read it.
Not long after, Ryan returned home. And sure enough, the person he brought back was indeed General Auston Dalton. After a brief moment of shock, the family quickly accepted their new member, happily pulling him into various family activities.
As for Connor, he finally got his hands on the letter. Every word carried the eager admiration and nervous anticipation of a devoted fan. Fan Lanting even tried to connect with Connor through his books, using Song of Beacon as an example to deepen their shared understanding. Through this fresh perspective, Connor saw his own work from an entirely new angle. Every now and then, he nodded in approval at Fan Lanting’s interpretations.
Lying in bed, Connor muttered to himself, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking when I wrote that part. This detail—just a bit of my dark humor, completely irrelevant to the story—none of the other readers noticed, but he actually picked up on it. Interesting. This idea is great—I need to jot it down and work it into the book. Fan Lanting… I’m really looking forward to meeting him.”
In one corner of the room, a small box was casually tossed aside. Inside was the most sought-after vaccine in the entire Empire—a cure for Elemental Deficiency Syndrome, bringing hope of life to those who couldn’t conceive. But Connor had carelessly thrown it into the corner. He was part of Bird of Paradise, and at this point, he figured he’d never be able to leave. The vaccine was useless to him. Compared to it, the letter from his little fan felt far more miraculous.
He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to talk to Ryan about it. He wanted to say it now. Without hesitation, he opened his personal terminal and sent a message: Invite Fan Lanting over as a guest.
After waiting for more than ten minutes, Connor still didn’t receive a reply from Ryan.
Connor jumped out of bed, slipped on his slippers, and walked over to look up at Ryan’s bedroom to see if the lights were on.
A gentle breeze carried waves of hushed murmurs and low, breathless gasps, sounds that made one’s ears burn and heart race—standing out so vividly in the stillness of the night.
Connor was a writer. He had written countless scenes like this. Passionate, intense, more exhilarating than reality by a thousandfold. For the sake of authenticity, he had observed, he had studied, he had even engaged in relationships that had nothing to do with love… but when it came to truly experiencing it himself—he never had. Because of his childhood, he resisted everything his parents had done including Love and Intimacy.
Connor: “……”
After a moment of silence, he turned back into his room, firmly shut the door, and pulled the curtains tightly closed.
Muttering to himself, he grumbled, “If you’re going to do… that, at least close the damn windows. Have some consideration for others!”
Connor buried his head under the covers and slept, but the sounds from before seemed to have left an imprint on his mind.
In his dreams, he tossed and turned—caught between pain and pleasure. The figure before him was always veiled in a thin layer of mist, their face obscured. He leaned in, trying to see clearly, but just as he was about to make out the features—he woke up.
Connor sat up, his head heavy and throbbing, his expression dark. By the time he dragged himself out of bed and downstairs, he had no intention of putting on a friendly face for Ryan.
Ryan, on the other hand, looked refreshed and full of energy. “I’ve already passed on your invitation to Fan Lanting. He’ll be able to visit soon. His home is in the Storm Starfield, quite a distance from here, but he’s currently stationed somewhere nearby. Connor, you’ll be meeting your little fan very soon.”
Connor yawned, nodding lazily. “Oh. Got it.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Not happy about it?”
Connor lifted his gaze slightly, his tone indifferent. “No. He’s very welcome.”
As a devoted fan, Fan Lanting arrived very quickly—dressed in a formal and overly serious suit, carrying a gleaming briefcase. The impression he gave wasn’t that of a guest coming for a visit but rather a salesman about to pitch a product.
Connor felt a little disappointed. If Fan Lanting was this rigid and uptight, he wasn’t sure he wanted to engage in conversation with him.
Fan Lanting: “Connor, may I ask where the restroom is?”
Connor (pointing inside): “Go straight, turn right. Second door in the hallway.”
Fan Lanting: “Understood. Thank you.”
His eyes were practically sparkling. The moment he stepped into the restroom, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement, he shut the door—
And screamed.
“AHHHHH! AHHHHH!! AHHHHHH!!!”
It was a cry straight from the soul.
Standing, crouching, switching postures as he let out his excitement, Fan Lanting used every possible stance to express the sheer overwhelming thrill of finally meeting Connor in person.
Time moved swiftly, and soon, they arrived at Red Mill, located in Eve City on the Imperial Capital Star. It was the most prestigious venue for dance and musical performances—not just on the Capital Star, but across the entire Empire.
It also happened to be one of Connor’s businesses.
Inside his private lounge, Connor was expecting Ryan. But before his cousin arrived, a knock came at the door.
Fan Lanting stood outside, holding up a bottle of wine.
Fan Lanting: “Hey, it’s my birthday today. Drink with me.”
Connor didn’t call him out. He knew when Fan Lanting’s actual birthday was—it was soon, but definitely not today.
Instead, he stepped aside, making room for him to enter.
Connor: “Come in. I’ll have them bring a cake over.”
Fan Lanting: “Make sure it has roses on it.”
Connor didn’t argue.
Connor: “Alright.”
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152