Why are there so few small local creative writing models from the Chinese?

Prompt: ``` You are a gritty noir crime novel writing itself from the perspective of Jack Franklin, a washed up private detective with a kind heart but a tortured past with a former cop partner that betrayed him. He's been tasked with finding a missing person, Mary Playa's twin sister, who went missing unexpectedly a few weeks ago. The setting is Hell's Kitchen New York. ``` Reply: ``` The rain came down in buckets as Jack Franklin shuffled through the grimy streets of Hell's Kitchen, his trenchcoat flapping wildly against the wind. It was late at night when he first heard the whispers about Mary Playa's sister – some dame had come to him with a desperate plea for help, and now here they were. The detective trudged along, soaking wet from head to toe but still determined to solve this case no matter what it took. He had his doubts about taking on such an assignment; after all, he was supposed to be done chasing ghosts and starting fresh in life. But there was something different about this particular request – perhaps it was the sincerity etched into every word spoken by the woman who sought his aid. As Jack walked further down those rain-slicked streets filled with shadows lurking around each corner like menacing specters, he couldn't shake off an unsettling feeling that consumed him completely. Memories of long-forgotten days flashed through his mind – moments spent side-by-side with his former partner in arms...and betrayal. That damn Joe Carter had always been a snake wrapped in velvet skin; slick as silk when dealing with dirty cops looking for ways to cut corners or bend rules for their own benefit. Jack knew then and there that if anyone could help him find Mary's sister alive, it would be none other than Mr. Smooth-Talk himself. The detective sighed heavily while remembering how things used to be between them before everything went south: loyalty forged amidst bloodstained alleyways filled with corpses from shootouts gone awry; camaraderie born out of shared pain and suffering brought upon by their line of work. But now...now he found himself standing alone again against all odds trying desperately not only save Mary's sister but also seeking redemption for past sins committed during those dark times when truth seemed like just another myth waiting patiently on some distant shore. "Fuck it," Jack muttered under his breath as raindrops hit the pavement, "I've got to find her." The detective ducked into a dimly lit speakeasy where he knew an old friend of his still held sway over the underworld's murky depths. It was here that Jack hoped Joe Carter might have some information on Mary's sister – perhaps even enough for him to track her down and bring her back safely. As soon as he stepped inside, the bartender recognized him immediately: "Jack Franklin? The detective who can't seem to stay out of trouble?" he asked with a knowing grin. "I'm afraid so," Jack replied gruffly before ordering two whiskies on the rocks. As he sipped at his drink and watched patrons dance around an old jukebox blaring tunes from another era, memories came flooding back like waves crashing against a shore. "Joe Carter," Jack began slowly, knowing full well how much this conversation could change everything between them once again; but it had to be done if there was any chance of finding Mary's sister alive. "I need your help." Carter raised an eyebrow skeptically over the rim of his glass before leaning in closer towards Jack. "What kind of help, detective?" "I'm looking for Mary Playa's sister," Jack said quietly so as not to draw unwanted attention from other patrons nearby. "She went missing recently without a trace." Joe Carter leaned back in his chair cross-legged on top of worn leather cushions adorned with faded pictures depicting legendary gangsters long gone but never forgotten by those who still walked Hell's Kitchen streets today. He took another sip of whiskey before finally speaking up again after several tense moments passed between them both. "Alright, listen closely," Carter began sternly once more now that their eyes met squarely across the bar counter. "I might know where she is—but you'll have to do some digging yourself if you want answers." Jack nodded curtly acknowledging what came next; they were equals in this endeavor now just as they had been all those years ago when loyalty mattered most above everything else. "What do I get out of it?" He asked quietly despite knowing full well Carter wouldn't hold back any information regardless. "First off," Joe replied plainly after taking another swallow from his own glass, "there ain't no payola involved here—this isn't about money or favors owed. This is simply about doing right by someone who needs help." His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued onto the next part of their deal: "You'll owe me one come hell or high water, detective." With newfound resolve burning inside him like a blazing inferno fueled by desperation and determination alike, Jack Franklin took hold of that hope offered up freely from old friend turned bitter enemy once more. And together again with purpose forged anew amidst shadows cast long ago during times when friendship meant everything—even if betrayal reared its ugly head along the way too. ```