It wasn’t that Wen Ying looked down on Little Carp’s trio; it was just that none of them seemed like the type to successfully stir up trouble.
If someone had to cause a ruckus, Wen Ying thought Yuan Fenghui would be a better fit.
As for whether to sign with Yuan Fenghui, Wen Ying was still undecided.
On this Saturday, due to Chief Editor Bao Lixin’s interference, Wen Ying couldn’t go to Xie Qian’s house for tutoring as usual.
Xie Qian waited until 5:30 p.m. Before preparing dinner, the housekeeper, Aunt Liu, asked, “Should I make a portion for Little Wen?”
“I’ll check.”
Aunt Liu hid in the kitchen, chuckling. Young people! Clearly so concerned about Little Wen, checking his phone countless times all afternoon. Why not just call and ask?
Since the young man wouldn’t take the initiative, Aunt Liu gave him an out. Xie Qian didn’t stay aloof and dialed Wen Ying’s phone.
The call connected, and alongside Wen Ying’s voice came heated arguing.
“Are you fighting with someone?”
“No fight, just Little Carp and Editor Song having a disagreement. I’m not coming for tutoring today; the publisher issues aren’t settled.”
Wen Ying half-covered the receiver, trying to distance herself from an agitated Editor Wan.
Xie Qian frowned, “You went to the publisher to discuss *Seeking Yong*’s publication and the quarterly royalties for your first two books. What’s there to mess up? Is the new chief editor hard to deal with?”
The contract for *Seeking Yong* was signed long ago, and royalty settlements for *Teen Idol* and *Star River and You* followed precedent. Xie Qian couldn’t think of any reason for the delay other than the new chief editor causing trouble.
Bao Lixin had just taken the role, and Xie Qian had already looked into his professional background. He was a capable publisher.
But apparently, being capable didn’t mean being easy to work with.
Why did Xie Qian assume Bao Lixin was the problem?
Because his hamster was easy to get along with. If there was an issue, it had to be someone else’s fault.
Xie Qian didn’t think his stance was biased. When trouble arose, siding with someone close instead of making excuses for a stranger was only natural. Someone who did otherwise would be the odd one.
“It’s not that he’s hard to deal with; we just have different ideas.”
Wen Ying briefly explained her disagreement with Bao Lixin. Xie Qian grew more convinced, “You’re not wrong; he’s the problem. It’s laughable for him to talk about the market. Replicating *Teen Idol*’s success would kill your creative passion and talent.”
Xie Qian’s voice rose, “I’d even say that writing a sister novel to *Teen Idol* wouldn’t succeed. Since *Teen Idol* became a hit, copycats have flooded the market. Some authors mimicked your style and genre to make money, taking your path. You have to keep innovating.”
Before Wen Ying burst onto the scene, youth novels were either critical or melodramatic. *Teen Idol*’s warm style touched countless readers, and other publishers, seeing profit, naturally commissioned similar manuscripts.
Some authors disdained copying, while others couldn’t resist the lure of fame and fortune.
Now, a quick bookstore visit would reveal several novels like *Teen Idol*.
Wen Ying’s task wasn’t to loop endlessly in *Teen Idol*’s style but to break free, keep innovating, and become an inimitable pinnacle others could only chase.
Xie Qian had more to say, but Wen Ying ran out of time, “Exactly, we think alike. Having escaped *Teen Idol*’s shadow, why go back? Anyway, that’s the situation. I can’t make it for tutoring today. Oh, Little Carp’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later.”
Later could mean hours from now.
In the past, for such issues, Xie Qian was Wen Ying’s first choice to vent or seek advice.
After the kebab shop confession, everything changed. At this moment, Xie Qian could no longer deceive himself—he hated the distance growing between him and Wen Ying.
Suppressing his irritation, Xie Qian stepped into the courtyard to call Jiang Xuekun.
Aunt Liu finished cooking, but Xie Qian didn’t come in. She called Li Mengjiao and Peng Guoging with a smile, “Eat first. You’ve got homework tonight, so fuel up for the energy.”
Peng Guoging glanced at the courtyard, whispering to Li Mengjiao, “Is Xie Qian acting weird today? He went out at noon and isn’t eating tonight.”
Li Mengjiao, chewing a spicy chicken wing, mumbled, “Nothing weird. He’s always like this. That’s why he’s Xie God, and we’re not. How can mortals understand a god’s thoughts?”
That made some sense.
Peng Guoging shoveled rice into his mouth. He liked Li Mengjiao calling Xie Qian “Xie God.”
With his terrible academic record, only divine intervention could get Peng Guoging into a top Shanghai university.
…
Oh, she forgot to mention Yuan Fenghui’s agency offer.
Wen Ying realized this after hanging up with Xie Qian.
Calling back wasn’t appropriate. Yuan Fenghui emerged from Bao Lixin’s office and asked if Wen Ying wanted a ride.
“I’ll drive you.”
Wen Ying pointed at Little Carp’s trio. Yuan Fenghui waved grandly, “All together. They must have lots to say. It’s not convenient to talk here. Walls have ears.”
Editor Wan snapped out of his fervor, nodding vigorously, “Right, right, let’s change locations.”
Though Bao Lixin was new and presumably unfamiliar with the publisher’s staff, someone might snitch to curry favor.
This needed caution. Failing to oust Bao Lixin and getting ousted themselves was a real risk.
It was quitting time. Little Carp usually stayed late, but today she had no mood for overtime and left with Yuan Fenghui and Wen Ying.
Yuan Fenghui and Wen Ying walked ahead, with Little Carp, Song Foxiang, and Editor Wan behind. The five piled into the same car, a scene Bao Lixin watched clearly from his elevated office.
Editor Wan’s shiny bald head was unmistakable; Bao recognized him instantly.
Hmph, another of Zou Weijun’s loyalists.
The *Hush, Little Secret* series was under Wan’s charge.
Bao Lixin’s desk phone rang abruptly.
It was Jiang Xuekun, asking if Bao was settling into the work environment.
Bao was initially thrilled. The group’s general manager outranked him significantly. But Jiang Xuekun’s tone shifted, touching on Bao’s methods, “Cultivating new authors is important, but maintaining established ones is more so. You need to be tactful and not rush things.”
Bao’s heart sank, “Mr. Jiang, did you hear something? It’s a misunderstanding, I can explain. Everything I’ve done is for the publisher’s good, not personal gain.”
Jiang Xuekun laughed heartily, “I trust you, of course. If it’s a misunderstanding, clear it up quickly.”
Compared to Zou Weijun, Bao Lixin fell short.
Zou was gentle yet firm, full of charisma. All authors liked her, and her efforts yielded twice the results.
Bao, fresh in his role, tried to shake up authors. Jiang Xuekun questioned if his credentials were partly fabricated. Who could be so foolish?
Bao had a contract with the publishing group; Jiang Xuekun couldn’t fire him on a whim.
Jiang hoped Bao would be smart and avoid an ugly fallout.
