My comrades from the Heaven Division and I

My Comrades of the Sky Group

Some say that heaven, in its mysterious wisdom, will arrange for our destined companions to appear at our side, awaiting our acquaintance, our understanding, our affection, and perhaps even our love.

I once believed this with unwavering devotion. In the innocence of childhood and the vibrant bloom of youth, whether in classrooms or beside the lake, I entwined my fate with those inseparable classmates and childhood friends. We were thus bound together, growing from spiritual naivety to physical adulthood, and became lifelong companions.

Until one day... I grew up. My body shot up several inches after adolescence, and my eyes, after double eyelid surgery, widened half an inch beyond those of my childhood. Yet, this physical broadening of vision did not help me find the bonds heaven had sown among humankind. On the contrary, they grew ever more distant.

The city that nurtured me expanded day by day, but in its ever-changing splendor, it became ever more unfamiliar. The population swelled, but those with whom I could form true connections grew ever fewer.

I left home early for work and returned late. At dusk, standing before my building, I looked up in astonishment, realizing that after months of living there, I did not even know what color it was under daylight. Sharing an elevator with an older man and alighting on the same floor, I discovered he was my neighbor.

So, I ceased to believe in destiny. It is the castle in the sky of fairy tales, the mirage of reality—beautiful, yet insubstantial.

From then on, I closed that part of my heart tuned to fate, shut myself within my room, hunched by my computer, and wove my childhood impressions and fantasies of destiny into strings of fictional words, commemorating my past yearning for all things beautiful.

Since childhood, I dreamed of becoming a great professional writer like Stephen King, to have my work adapted into films like "The Shawshank Redemption" and nominated for the Oscars. So I began to sow the seeds of my passion along my literary path.

Back then, I believed an author’s only duty was to craft good prose. Reality, however, proved far more complex.

Completing a work brings the author a heartfelt joy—a mother watching her child mature into a worthy member of society, a farmer who, toiling "back to the sun, face to the earth," earns the harvest of his labor. It is happiness, pure and sweet.

The harvest is joyful, but how many days in a writer’s life are spent reaping the fruits of their labor?

Only a handful.

Unlike film and music stars, who can live comfortably off a single song or film, most writers spend the majority of their lives innovating tirelessly, penning words in solitude, loneliness, and the misunderstanding of others. Many cannot endure such hardship and abandon their craft before the season of harvest, web novelists most of all.

I was once among them, until one day I met Brother Feitian, mentor of the Men's Group 3 for the 2014-2015 season. With his support and encouragement, I came to realize I was not fighting alone.

After midnight, somewhere in this city, a desk lamp glows. Beneath its light, a computer screen shimmers softly, lines of adventure and suspense appearing one by one with each movement of the cursor—this is Brother Feitian’s story, "The Hidden Master."

I know, too, that in a city a hundred miles away, someone just like me, after a day of toil and chores, returns home, soothes his wife, placates his child, and then does the first thing he truly desires: opens his computer, clicks open that folder a thousand times favored, selects a Word document, and presses ENTER to step into a world he has meticulously fashioned. He is the author of "Ghost-Eyed Driver," Yudang'er, a teacher shaping young minds.

I am also aware that, on this New Year’s night before the Lantern Festival, someone is toiling hundreds of miles from home. Away on business for days, his luggage is already burdensome, yet he never forgets to pack his heavy laptop. Even in exhaustion, he vows not to rest until he has written three thousand words. He is our inspiration. Here, I want to say, "Jiman, you do us proud. Your novel 'Mystery City' does us proud."

...

It is our shared pursuit and dreams that brought us together in the Sky Group.

The hardships and frustrations known only to fellow writers have given us common ground. Through the language of binary, we have built a bridge—unreal in the physical world but strong within our hearts—communicating, encouraging, and advising one another.

We quickly coalesced into a unit, comrades-in-arms in the trenches.

Yudang'er is the group's talker. In our group chat, he posts the most messages, and unlike in ordinary chats, his are never brief. He always sends long passages—either sharing his latest thoughts on writing or offering invaluable advice on promoting and planning for our nine group works.

He is our strategist.

Jiman, on the other hand, is the least confident among us. Sometimes he questions his own statistics, asking us if his numbers are too low, or if they will drop even further after publication.

To this, my answer is: if you think your numbers are low, take a look at my "Grand Pontiff of the Three Kingdoms." After 940,000 words, a dismal 160,000 clicks—then you’ll know the taste of accomplishment.

...

We who gather in Group Three, through self-deprecation and mutual encouragement, have worked together, enduring the toils of our labor, hacking through brambles of hardship, crossing the lonely, monotonous mire, and walking hand in hand to this day—and we will continue toward our shared ideal.

On this sleepless night, at 1:10 a.m. Beijing time, March 4, 2015, I open the Sky Group chat window and gaze at the colorful avatars. Suddenly, I feel that destiny truly is wondrous beyond words.

My spirit brightens.

From midnight, March 6, 2015, Yudang'er, Jiman, and I will represent the Sky Group in the league. Everyone strives for our group’s honor, and I cannot lag behind. Therefore, I write this piece to show our readers the efforts our team is making in the competition, and sincerely ask those who love our works and all fellow writers who know the trials of our craft to cast your precious vote for us this Friday. Here, Starcloud Fire offers you the most heartfelt gratitude in advance.

Thank you, and thanks as well to my comrades in this field of toil.

"Grand Pontiff of the Three Kingdoms" by Starcloud Fire

"Ghost-Eyed Driver: Chronicles of the Supernatural" by Yudang'er

"Mystery City" by Jiman