History At The Library Chapter 3

'I thought such things only existed in novels.'

To think the first s.e.xual intercourse I'd see would be like this. Unexpectedly, it seemed the carnal relations.h.i.+ps that seemed to pop out of novels were rather common in the world.

'…Hmm, there's no way that's true.'

If it was so, then women would have no reason to go wild over such erotic novels.

——The relations.h.i.+ps in erotic novels don't exist in reality. There are no such men. I believe that erotic novels should be separated into romance and fantasy.

Vivian recalled the banter between two madams she heard in pa.s.sing. No matter how she thought about it, the only conclusion she could come to was that she was rather lucky today.

As her eyes sparkled, Vivian let her pen tip dance across the page. The combination of the man's experience and the woman's pure and innocent responses to how he handled her, was pure gold. If these two were characters in a novel, they would have been fated partners, no – fated lovers. They fit the roles of an erotic novel's female and male protagonists perfectly.

Vivian thought of how she wished to interview that man if the opportunity showed itself.  She knew if she missed the chance, she would punch the ground in regret. Of course, before she could even let the syllable 'in' of the word 'interview' out of her mouth, she knew that she would be treated as a pervert and have her head separated from her body. As Vivian thought about the repercussions of her idea, she quickly ceased thinking about the interview.

Hah! The woman's waist bent backwards again. Vivian observed how the woman's sweat ran down the beautiful arch of her back as she turned pliant in the man's arms. As she saw this scene, ideas gushed out of Vivian's brain like a freshwater spring. All of a sudden, Vivian was so touched that she almost cried.

How had she not thought of this method before? The burden of the writer's block she bore for months with no end in sight, which made her unable to write a single letter for her novel, felt as if it had disappeared into thin air.

I do feel a little guilty for acting like a l.u.s.tful pervert, but…

No – wasn't this merely the struggle of a writer as they gathered materials of inspiration from beginning to end of the novel?

Those people, too, wouldn't have not known there was a night librarian present in the first place.

As an adult, if one was unable to keep public order, it was only natural that they bear the consequences, Vivian thought, as she threw off her feelings of guilt.

In reality, the reason she had been so brazen tonight was because the fountain of ideas where she drew inspiration from, had run dry. Vivian couldn't pen her new novel out of nothing.

Vivian frowned as she recalled the conversation with a certain someone a few days prior.

“This is my limit.”

Vivian threw the ma.n.u.script onto the table, and as if she wanted to avoid the upcoming nagging. She turned around, walked to the sofa with heavy steps, and sat down with a huff. With her night job at the library, she didn't have the chance to get a wink of sleep in the last couple days and felt as though she would collapse at a moment's notice.

She even tried to put on a pitiful appearance with those dark, heavy bags underneath her eyes. However, the president of the Malicornia Publishers and Perdi's manager, Thatcher flipped through the ma.n.u.script and opened his mouth with a stony face that showed no semblance of pity.

“Miss Perdi.”

Unlike usual, he had even used a t.i.tle. Vivian shook her head back and forth as if she wanted to say, 'Whatever! I don't care!' Ah, I don't hear you, I don't hear you. I'm on the brink of exhaustion and death right now.

“Seeing your reaction, it seems you, too, understand the problem.”

Thatcher put down the ma.n.u.script with a slam, and gazed at Vivian, who looked away and blocked her ears on purpose. His deep sigh was ignored by her.