Readers began joking around, "Even if you call me 'dear reader,' I still won't admit defeat."

Then they started thinking more seriously.

"But why was Chenxi so certain about giving the treasure chest to A Tu? Why didn't anyone object?"

"I went through everything very carefully. A Tu only appears a few times. The relevant details are: he was exceptionally permitted by the museum director to mourn inside the museum; he knocked over the display case; he is old, blind, and mute, living in a monastery... And yet Detective Chenxi awarded the gems to A Tu! I simply cannot figure it out. Why?!"

A little later, Yongye added a clarification:

"This bonus puzzle is unrelated to the murder case. The truth might seem a bit strange, but once revealed, both readers inside and outside the story will accept it without hesitation."

That only made the alien readers more intrigued. What kind of truth could satisfy both conditions at once? What exactly did Yongye write? They stared at the text like starving wolves eyeing a feast.

"I failed to guess the main story before, but I'm definitely cracking this bonus question!"

"I've got a new hint: this identity has nothing to do with the murder."

"Logical deduction isn't my strength, but when it comes to wild imagination, Yongye might not beat me."

With everyone determined to redeem themselves, discussion threads exploded once again.

One reply gained massive support:

"I've got it! A Tu is actually that wealthy merchant! Has everyone noticed? Jin, Mu, Shui, and Huo are all described as middle-aged men in their prime, but only A Tu is described as 'old and blind.' And who else in the story is elderly? The wealthy merchant! So maybe there was never any wager about transporting the chest away. The truth is: Jin, Mu, Shui, and Huo kidnapped A Tu and poisoned him mute. After three years, when A Tu's family gave up searching and declared him dead, the four of them could split the loot."

"Sounds very plausible," many readers agreed. "Given Yongye's usual approach, the truth of this case might really be something like that."

"Watch your wording. It's not Yongye committing crimes, it's the villains in Yongye's stories."

"In past cases, Yongye has written both good and bad characters dying, but the good ones always receive some form of compensation in the end. If A Tu gets the treasure chest, that at least proves he isn't a bad guy."

"Don't omit the subject. It's in the cases Yongye has written before..."

A small number of readers raised objections: "This explanation feels too abrupt, and there isn't enough evidence in the text to support it. Yongye's usual style is meticulous, with every clue laid out clearly... though perhaps the bonus question is designed to test imagination."

As readers gradually converged on a consensus, Yongye released the final passage of The Mystery of the Primitive Skull.

 

[

People from the monastery brought A Tu over. Under the watch of Mr. Chenxi and a crowd of onlookers, he received the inheritance from the wealthy merchant.

"We are deeply grateful to A Tu," said the lawyer handling the estate in an elegant tone. "Through his diligence, he endured harsh days in the monastery; through his foresight, he knocked over the display case, thus exposing the mystery behind Mr. A Jin's death; through his great strength, he successfully carried away the chest filled with gems..."

A Huo stamped his feet and tore at his hair nearby, unable to believe that the prize slipped from his grasp.

Mr. Chenxi, signing autographs for a police officer beside him, glanced at the absurd scene and remarked:

"The world is always full of drama, isn't it?

"Back then, the five companions went gold panning along the Danpi River. Given the size of those two chests, one meter long and wide and half a meter tall, if filled with gems, an ordinary adult couldn't move them. Only A Tu could. After they went their separate ways, only A Jin showed a trace of kindness, placing A Tu in the monastery and calling him a friend. That's why, when A Tu was exceptionally allowed to mourn in the museum, he knocked over the display case... Though A Tu ruined A Jin's reputation, he also exposed A Jin's killer.

Frankly, some so-called scholars in academia have less integrity than A Tu."

Chenxi removed his hat in salute.

Though A Tu was old, blind, and mute, he could still sense the goodwill of those around him.

So he wagged his tail.

The abbot of the monastery beamed with joy, thanking the lawyer: "Thank you, kind benefactors! Thanks to A Tu's gift, the women and children will survive this winter! We will take good care of him and ensure he lives out his remaining years in peace!"

The lawyer and the bank staff smiled knowingly. "It's only a small portion of the estate. The merchant's family fully supports this decision. Besides, we should thank him for providing quite the joke to the archaeological world..."

"A Tu really is a lucky donkey!"

]

 

A reader leapt from their seat upon reading the last line, knocking over a stack of canned food. But they had no time to care because the truth hit them like a hammer.

"What?!"

"A Tu... is a... donkey?!"

In an instant, everything clicked.

Why was A Tu's presence in the museum described as an exception? Why did Jin, Mu, Shui, and Huo never concern themselves with A Tu? Why did Yongye say that once the truth was revealed, Chenxi's judgment would immediately make sense?

Because only a strong donkey could carry away those two chests of gems.

And A Tu was a donkey!

The unbelievable truth echoed in every reader's mind. Looking back at all the elaborate theories, the answer, so simple it could be summed up in a single sentence, cut through them like a blade.

Some readers, having taken it very seriously, felt a surge of anger at being misled, glaring at Yongye as if he were a scoundrel.

Why? Weren't previous cases complex? Weren't the deductions always well-reasoned? And now the answer was so simple that all their effort felt like a joke. Failing to solve the main mystery could be accepted as a lack of skill, but failing this simple bonus question meant being completely toyed with.

Yet no better explanation existed.

That feeling, wanting to argue but having nothing to argue with, was suffocating. A hundred times worse than failing the main puzzle.

They could only grit their teeth and type furiously at their optical computers:

"You scheming, devious novelist... Yongye!"

Meanwhile, other readers laughed heartily in front of their optical computers.

"This is brilliant! What a twist!"

"I admire Yongye. Are there more of his works to read? I thought detective fiction was always serious; I didn't expect it to have such a fun side. I'm going to binge everything he's written!"

"Hahahaha! A donkey?! I have to show this to my close friend and see if they can guess it."

The two very different reactions drove even more traffic to Yongye's post, with newcomers reliving the same emotional journey. As both sides grew larger, they noticed each other's opposing responses and found them baffling.

"It's just a novel. It's clearly humorous; why take it so seriously?"

"This isn't just any novel. It's detective fiction; it needs logic!"

"Does Yongye lack logic?"

"It's because he's so logical that I'm this annoyed!"

Gradually, a third group of readers emerged.

"I think I've figured it out..."

"What did you figure out?" others asked.

"Yongye is using the main story and the bonus puzzle to showcase two different approaches to detective fiction!

"I'm from another star system and have read all his works. He's the founder of the detective flow genre. Countless writers want to follow his lead, but they all face the same enormous question: how should detective fiction be written?

This story demonstrates three key elements.

First, rigorous logical deduction. Just like the main story of The Mystery of the Primitive Skull, every method and every truth has a traceable basis; nothing comes from nowhere. The truth is built entirely through reasoning.

Second, surprising twists. Some concealment is permitted here. Narrative perspective can be used to mislead the reader, delivering a final blow. It may feel frustrating, but it's the most memorable approach.

Third, and this was mentioned in Yongye's earlier stories, that detective fiction is still fiction. It must have storytelling. Engaging plots, unforgettable characters, reflections on society... these are things that readers love.

These three aren't mutually exclusive; they can blend together. Rigorous deduction, unconventional narrative, and thematic storytelling, that is the future of the detective flow genre!"

This comment stunned the alien readers. Even those who had been upset were now convinced.

So Yongye wasn't toying with their emotions. He was simply demonstrating the possibilities of his genre. After all, his style was difficult to imitate. Writing such stories alone must be very lonely for him.

He was simply inviting readers to join him.

Some onlooking novelists were moved by the comment as well.

"This kind of detective fiction really does look interesting..."

"I want to write stories that readers can't predict!"

"If Yongye can do it, maybe I can too?"

The forum filled with posts about Yongye. Some discuss the story, while others debate detective writing techniques.

Meanwhile, the interactive literature exchange with Blue Planet faded entirely from view.

Interactive literature had a fatal flaw. Without new readers constantly joining, even the best story could not move forward.

Some interactive literature novelists stared at their optical computers, feeling disheartened. They didn't just lose to Yongye's puzzle; they completely lost to Blue Planet civilization.

Suddenly, one of them burst out laughing, causing others to turn toward the sound. The culprit quickly covered their face and, apologizing under their companions' glares, said: "I was reading interactive literature from another civilization..."

"Which species?"

They crowded around, only to discover it was Blue Planet's Investigator Files, where many beings were having a thoroughly good time. They were so annoyed they could only roll their eyes.

The traitor was among them all along.

Xi Yujin watched the changes on the AI Forum with satisfaction and switched to another interface.

Blue Planet's first diplomatic partner, the Ctulrt, was about to depart on a long voyage. They weren't suited to the atmosphere of the Deep Space Prison and were heading to their next destination. Before leaving, they wanted a proper farewell.

"My Blue Planet friend, we've all heard your colleague caused quite a sensation on the forum; we're delighted. But knowing we won't be able to play cards together anymore fills us with a deep sense of longing..."

Xi Yujin felt a twinge of reluctance too. Then an idea suddenly struck him, and he asked the Ctulrt to wait a moment.

He switched to his Yujin identity and privately contacted the liaison for the interactive literature brand.

At the interactive literature base, they were still in an uproar over the traitor in their midst. Upon hearing that Blue Planet civilization had reached out, they immediately raised their guard.

The creature in charge of communication focused intently on understanding Yujin's intentions. The wariness on its face gradually gave way to astonishment.

"Blue Planet civilization wants to collaborate with us!"

"They're willing to provide ideas; all they need is for us to help build and maintain the platform..."

"Who needs their charity of inspiration? That's downright insulting."

"But..." The liaison's eyes lit up as it looked at its companions. "This idea... is actually really interesting!"

"It's a role-based deduction game called Human Detective. Players are divided into three factions: Heaven, the Human World, and Hell. Each role has different abilities, and in each round, players vote to execute someone based on discussion... The last surviving faction wins. I can already picture how this would work as interactive fiction!" The creature's eyes shone with excitement. "Here are the rough rules."

Human Detective is set in a Western medieval world. Heaven collects indulgences from humanity, while Hell sends demons to infect them. One day, Hell announces it has infiltrated a certain small town. The townspeople can either seek help from angels, at a price, or execute someone suspected of demonic infection based on the available clues.

The story alternates between day and night until an ending is reached. At night, players from different factions take their actions. During the day, players discuss and vote to execute someone.

Initially, there is only one demon, who can infect one human each night and assign them a different role. If all humans are successfully infected, the Hell faction wins.

Two players act as angels, with publicly known identities, and can be killed by the demons. If the angels eliminate all demons and the surviving population is fewer than half of the original, the Heaven faction wins, and the townspeople must pay indulgences for a hundred years.

The remaining players are humans, each with different roles and abilities: for example, checking whether a companion has been infected, or receiving additional support from angels. If the humans successfully execute the demons and more than half the population survives, the town lives on in peace.

Depending on the identities of the surviving players, there are also more nuanced ending variations.

After reading the rules, the interactive literature writers couldn't help swallowing hard. This kind of setup practically begged to be played.

The setting itself was captivating with a Western medieval world, Heaven and Hell, which draw them in from the very first line. It had strong replay value too, since different players' discussions would ensure a fresh story with every game. The descriptions of the various endings also gave the whole thing a thought-provoking quality, entertaining yet genuinely literary.

"Is this... the prototype of a high-level narrative derivative?"

"Besides the Investigator Files, I had no idea Blue Planet had so many treasures in interactive literature..."

The others were even more astonished, and then fell silent.

Finally, a highly respected figure stepped forward to speak.

"In this exchange, we lost because we were not as skilled. But a novelist's worth is not decided by one or two contests. This is only a temporary defeat. There is no eternal number one. As long as we strive to improve, what we write has meaning."

The others nodded, visibly moved.

"For now, let us learn under Blue Planet civilization!" the leader declared with passion.

On the other side, Xi Yujin received the reply that they agreed to collaborate.

"Good," he sighed in relief. "Building black-box websites isn't really my strength anyway..." Then he sent them a collection of multiplayer interactive text game rules unique to Earth.

He set up two platforms, EARTH: POKER and EARTH: DETECTIVE, and left the content to be developed by the interactive literature team.

Then he told the Ctulrt that once they were connected to the network, they could play together anytime.

"Our friendship with Blue Planet is the most precious treasure of our journey," the Ctulrt said with emotion.

"So Blue Planet actually has so many forms of interaction, yet chose to send only independent novelists to compete," the interactive literature novelists mused. "Even though this Yongye alone was enough to defeat us, we were too narrow-minded before..."

With that, the exchange between Blue Planet civilization and interactive literature came to an end.

On the Intelligent Machines' end, the electronic displays flickered with wildly changing numbers, never settling.

Xi Yujin wasn't sure whether that was a good sign. What were they thinking? Since he had stopped going to the surface, he could only infer their intentions through indirect clues. He still didn't feel that he had fully grasped the Intelligent Machines' entire way of existing, so he acted with extreme caution.

After looking through some material that felt incomplete, he turned back to the AI Forum.

There were now many new posts about "Blue Planet civilization," but none of them were his.

 

[

Serial Novel:

Can a Passing Knight Defeat a Comet?

Author: PuffPuffStrike | [To Blue Planet Civilization] [Western Fantasy Flow]

—

I think I've finally grasped Blue Planet's Western culture; it's so interesting that I had to try it myself. But this isn't set in an isolated-planet era. I've placed the story in the present, within a Blue Planet-like star system. Each planet has a lord who can recruit knights, with many commoners beneath them...

—

Sigh, Blue Planet's language is just a bit too difficult to learn, otherwise I'd write it in that. It would feel more authentic that way.

]

 

[

Serial Novel:

Eternal Night Undying

Author: QuackQuackDuck | [To Blue Planet Civilization] [Detective Flow]

—

I've decided to write detective fiction! I'm going to challenge Yongye! I'll create crimes even more intricate than yours!

—

"Don't randomly drop sentence subjects! I've said it already: it's not Yongye's crimes!"

]

 

[

Serial Novel:

Murmurs and Raincoats

Author: NomNomAll | [To Blue Planet Civilization]

—

I don't even know what tag to use. I just know that the style pioneered by Ms. Fuling is irresistible. Is it called magical realism?

—

"Wow, this is so fun! So many novelists are writing Blue Planet civilization now... it's so mysterious, I can never get enough."

] 

 

Xi Yujin looked at these posts with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation.

He knew this universe had no qualms about following trends and that imitation was difficult to trace or regulate. As an outsider, he didn't feel it was his place to judge, and he also hadn't expected this kind of ripple effect.

When a writer drew on someone else's setting, they would add "To [someone]" in the title, like a reply sent across millions of light-years. These replies might be clumsy or simple, but each bore the stamp of alien civilization, infused with the writer's own way of thinking, making them uniquely their own. This kind of re-creation born from the fusion of alien and Blue Planet cultures was something Xi Yujin could never see back on Earth.

On the AI Forum, Earth civilization finally received literary replies from other civilizations in this distant future universe. Fresh creative energy poured into Blue Planet's influence, as if its call had been answered.

Earth, Blue Planet, seemed to have come alive again in another form.

Xi Yujin closed his optical computer, stood before the vast observation window, and looked out at the planet blanketed in mechanical life.

"The Intelligent Machines' philosophy is integration and equality, yet the result looks so terrifying. How did they become a dominant power?"

Beside him, the electronic display fluctuated rapidly, hovering around 70%. Xi Yujin glanced at it, feeling calmer than when he had first arrived at the Deep Space Prison. He said: "Once I get through this crisis, I'll investigate in person. After all, I've traveled all this way; if I don't uncover the truth, there won't be a second chance..."

"Yujinno..."

Gano's voice came from outside the door.

He had been even busier than Xi Yujin lately, handling translated versions and refining the dictionary entries. His thinking felt faster than usual, almost unsettlingly so. Fortunately, with Yujinno nearby, he didn't feel too worried. Seeing more beings come to know Blue Planet civilization also gave him a quiet sense of accomplishment.

Gano pushed the door open. "The interactive literature brand sent a gift package, along with a letter."

"A gift package?" Xi Yujin's face lit up; he loved collecting souvenirs from his travels. Still, he composed himself and opened the letter first.

The message said that the gift was merely a token of goodwill for the collaboration, and had nothing to do with admiration or guilt toward Blue Planet civilization. It also warned them about their next exchange partner, Longevity Literature, describing them as a group of shameless self-promoters. Though ignoring this advice was perfectly fine, as it wasn't particularly important...

"Longevity Literature has a strong reputation on the forum," Gano noted, having gathered contradictory information. "But I can't tell whether that reputation itself is the result of marketing..."

Longevity Literature, as the name suggested, was composed of long-lived species. Because they lived for so long, their writing always carried a distinctive historical depth, shaped by their extended lifespans, and was widely praised by readers.

Xi Yujin browsed through their posts and, with keen intuition, picked up the scent of marketing.

Long-lived beings inevitably outlived many friends, and readers were sympathetic to that. But on the forum, did they really have that many deceased friends?

Every time a friend passed away, a Longevity writer would post a memorial piece, and at the end, casually recommend their own novels.

A rough count suggested that the total number of their departed friends could circle an entire planet.

"Being their friend sounds rather dangerous," Xi Yujin remarked. "If this really is marketing, it's not something we can replicate."

No sooner had he said that than another memorial post from a Longevity writer appeared on the forum.

Kind-hearted alien readers flocked in to pay their respects. And at the end of the memorial, right on cue, was a preview of their upcoming exchange with Blue Planet civilization, asking for reader support.

Xi Yujin: "Their friends do seem to die exactly when needed. Impressive."

Then, suddenly, another post caught his eye, one that made his pupils contract.

 

[

Discussion:

Let's expose the literary infighting I know about!

—

Why do two Blue Planet novelists never speak to each other? Loved a Blue Planet writer's work only to discover a completely different face in private? What little-known conflicts exist between Blue Planet's official and independent novelists? Welcome to this episode of Blue Planet Literary Scene 818*!

]

 

Xi Yujin fell into deep thought.

These headlines... who exactly were they referring to?