Short, Light, Free Chapter 57: Brilliant Silver I

It's me. My stare could scare a s.e.xual predator away.

It's me, someone who would help an elderly in need without hesitation.

It's me. I'm deep in the village, shouldering our children's future.

It's me, a hero who could singlehandedly rescue disaster-stricken victims.

It's me. I could bring prosperity to our nation.

I'm the hope of people, the future of the nation, the flower of our motherland.

Everyone's waiting for me to unleash my potential.

I switched on the power and wiped my keyboard carefully.

"Obviously lip syncing. Are you idol-chasing fans brainless?" I sent.

Comments flooded the page almost instantly.

They were all attacking me but I honestly didn't care.

I was proud of what I had done and the results it got.

I browsed through the criticisms, picked one and checked the ID.

"Hahaha, what an idiot. You should read more. Are you still in elementary school? You can't even type properly so stop barking," I typed enthusiastically.

That's right. I'm a keyboard warrior.

I refreshed the page and a video about school violence popped up as the number one trending topic.

Even without watching the video, I started writing a comment.

"How can you all be so sure that the kid getting beaten up isn't the problematic one? Why else would the other kids beat him up?" I sent.

Again, criticisms flooded the page in under ten seconds.

I even received a private message that said: Are you mentally unsound?

I noticed from the display picture that the sender was actually a girl.

I immediately clicked on her blog and searched for her photos.

She was an ordinary looking girl but she had a big black mole on her face.

I grinned and returned to my inbox. "I'm not sure about that but how dare you criticize me, you ugly troll? Look at your mole. Hair is growing out of it!"

I thought about how she'd retaliate and imagined her to be reorganizing her argument.

My ID and information were, naturally, concealed. The basics of being a keyboard warrior.

There wasn't a way for her to launch a personal attack. On the other hand, I had more than enough material to attack her with.

I continued browsing through her photos and caught sight of her pet dog.

It was a toy poodle.

I sent another private message. "Your poodle must be busy humping right now. Poor bedsheet and bolster."

After that, I lodged a report against her first private message and ticked the box that said 'Inappropriate content'.

I grabbed a handful of chips from the bag on my right and started munching.

I watched as the number of replies increased steadily. It was exciting for me.

A notification informing me that I've gotten a new fan popped up.

I thought back to the time when I first started interacting on the Internet.

I spent time and effort to type out value-adding comments, but no one cared. I had no replies and no likes.

It was then that I noticed that unconventional comments sparked the biggest discussions.

Those messages were mostly negative but at least they garnered replies.

First reply: You're just a keyboard warrior.

I clicked on my profile and saw only ten fans.

I then searched 'keyboard warrior' on the net.

What I saw surprised and impressed me.

I then searched, "How to be a keyboard warrior?"

This appeared:

1. Be absolutely unconcerned.

2. Attack your opponent with all that you've got.

3. No matter how your opponent defends or retaliates, continue your bas.h.i.+ng.

4. Get yourself a good keyboard, duh.

I wiped my keyboard carefully and embarked on my new journey of no return.

Initially, I would get flamed as well.

I learned and started concealing my information and using an abstract display picture.

I changed my ID into 'pa.s.serby' and wrote a brief introduction: Just a keyboard warrior.

I started building my flaming skills and eventually learned how to a.s.sociate simple drawings and words with horrible things that would definitely trigger the other party.

I brought gender, race, and religion up when attacking. I gradually got better at it.

Every comment I make would attract a ton of replies. Even if they were all negative, I was still very pleased.

I even started joining group discussions started by other warriors.

I slowly gained fame and reputation among them.

Those who knew my ID started calling me Brother Lu, which was a coincidence since my name is Luqiao.

My fans increased rapidly from over ten individuals to tens of them.

To hundreds and thousands and even tens of thousands.

I have no idea why they're following me, but perhaps, I've successfully convinced them.

Last month, in the biggest keyboard warrior forum, the group master had decided to step down because his wife was about to give birth.

He wanted to have a brand new ident.i.ty and presence on the Internet and had decided to hand his role over to me.

Just like that, I became the leader of the biggest keyboard warrior group in China.

There were 26,000 members but only 13 coordinators.

I've been in my post for over a month now.

Since the meeting last month, I've been receiving some strange emails out of the blue.

They contained images filled with small English words.

Since they weren't in text format, I wasn't able to paste them into the translation software. I understood little of what was written.

The words were handwritten and messy and it took me a long time to even figure the alphabets out. 

I ignored them at first but the emails came in quicker and more frequently.

From one in a few days to one a day.

And then to two a day and even a few a day.

Eventually, I received one every three to four hours.

Frustrated, I started examining them more closely.

Each image contained different contents and just as I was about to take a closer look, another email popped up in my inbox. It was in Chinese and there were only a few lines.

It wrote: Since you're not replying, I'll look for you immediately, Mister Luqiao.

I shuddered as my body broke out in cold sweats. I stared blankly at my emails.

How did he know my name? I had taken extra efforts to conceal my ident.i.ty.

And what did those emails mean?

I was thinking about sending these emails to someone who was fluent in English, but then I realized I only had few friends.

Without a choice, I slowly typed the English words, one letter at a time, into the translation software.

Before I could finish a line, someone knocked on my door.

It was gentle but continuous. Definitely not my landlord chasing for payment.

A chill ran down my spine as the knocks continued incessantly.