“Xiao Zou, we’re under a lot of pressure these days.”
The boss looked troubled, “If it sells well, we can always reprint, but if it doesn’t, the pressure on you will increase. I’m thinking of your best interests.”
Zou Weijun thought of the mountains of unsold inventory, all kinds of books piled up. She had never seen any editor held accountable for books that didn’t sell! Take Song Chan’s reprinted book this year, for example. It underperformed expectations, and the editor in charge was Wan. Just a few days ago, Wan had time to play “matchmaker” for Song Foxiang, clearly unaffected. So Zou Weijun bluntly told the boss she wasn’t afraid of pressure or responsibility.
“…!”
Xiao Zou’s temperament had truly changed.
The boss wanted to say more, but Zou Weijun cut in, “You might not know, but Teen Idol has been serialised for five issues in the magazine and is extremely popular with readers. The magazine is already planning to publish it as a standalone book, with an initial print run of 50,000 copies. Even at 8% royalties, with such a large print run, the author’s income would be five times higher. How can we compete with the magazine?”
Zou Weijun had considered mentioning Wen Ying’s “New Concept Essay Competition First Prize” status to ease the boss’s concerns and secure better terms for Wen Ying. But then she remembered Wen Ying never said she wanted to reveal her identity, so Zou Weijun held back.
The boss hesitated.
Teen Idol was being serialised in a magazine, and if the magazine planned to publish it as a standalone book, the author would likely prioritise working with them. To snatch the author from the magazine, offering terms that were too low would ensure the author wouldn’t choose Zou Weijun.
But Zou Weijun claimed the magazine was offering a 50,000-copy initial print run, and the boss was sceptical. How could Xiao Zou have heard about this? A 50,000-copy first print was a treatment reserved for somewhat established authors.
Before the boss could question her, Zou Weijun disrupted their thoughts, “If you’re worried about printing too many and ending up with unsold stock, why not calculate royalties based on actual sales with a tiered royalty structure?”
A tiered royalty structure meant the more copies sold, the higher the royalty rate. For example, 6% for 10,000 copies, 8% for 20,000, 10% for 50,000… and if 200,000 copies were sold, the publisher might raise the royalty to 12%. In principle, 15% was the industry ceiling, and only superstar bestselling authors had room to negotiate beyond that.
The boss didn’t reject the idea outright but told Zou Weijun they needed to think it over.
“Fine, you can go now. Leave the manuscript with me.”
The boss wanted to review the book again. Twelve thousand words felt too short; a bit more would have been better. Without seeing the full manuscript, the boss wasn’t sure if the second half would maintain the same quality.
Zou Weijun didn’t press further.
Back at the office area, she found her colleagues still gossiping about Song Foxiang’s beating. He got beaten, so what? Why keep harping on such a trivial matter?
Half-bald Editor Wan returned from outside, spotting Zou Weijun with a hesitant expression. Heavens, he had just learned that the person who beat Song Foxiang was Zou Weijun’s husband! Song Foxiang got beaten; would he be next? He didn’t even know Xiao Zou was married!
Wan, anxious, wanted to apologise to Zou Weijun again. As he approached, Zou Weijun ignored him completely. Wan was nearly in tears. Not everyone was as bold as Song Foxiang. Song Foxiang, no longer chief editor, still had his poet and writer identities; he wouldn’t starve without a job. But Wan couldn’t afford that!
“Xiao Zou…”
Wan shamelessly sidled up, but Zou Weijun raised her documents, “Sorry, I’m busy. No time to chat.”
Zou Weijun strode off in her high heels, leaving Wan stomping his foot in frustration. He considered going to the police station to get details but feared running into Zou Weijun’s husband and getting beaten himself. Wan felt his life was too hard!
…
Wan was overthinking.
Zou Weijun’s husband, Xie Jinghu, was still at the police station. For refusing to apologise to the victim, Song Foxiang, Xie Jinghu didn’t know how long he’d be detained.
The police reviewed surveillance footage from Song Foxiang’s workplace entrance, showing that the black Mercedes Xie Jinghu arrived in had been waiting there since just past 10 a.m. Song Foxiang claimed he received a call saying someone was waiting for him at the office, which is why he rushed back… Xie Jinghu’s assault on Song Foxiang was clearly premeditated.
Song Foxiang’s injuries were minor, just bruises, but thinking of Xie Jinghu’s arrogant attitude infuriated him. On the way to the police station, he complained of a headache and insisted on a medical evaluation. The evaluation required hospital tests, and Song Foxiang alternated between claiming head pain and hand pain, planning to make Xie Jinghu pay dearly.
Just a bit of dirty money, huh? Pfft!
Song Foxiang’s antics utterly disgusted Xie Jinghu! Money was a small matter to Xie Jinghu; the bigger issue was Song Foxiang dragging out the process by lingering in the hospital for the evaluation. With the victim absent from the police station, Xie Jinghu couldn’t even settle with compensation, so he remained detained.
Zhong Yong was inwardly laughing but had to keep a straight face. He needed to consult Xie Yuping on what to do. But Xie Yuping wasn’t easily reachable, swamped with daily duties. Zhong Yong’s call could only reach Xie Yuping after the latter finished a meeting.
By the time Zhong Yong got through to Xie Yuping, Xie Jinghu had been at the police station for nearly two hours.
“This was my oversight. Mr. Xie came to see Song Foxiang right after landing, and as soon as he saw him… it happened too fast. I couldn’t stop him.”
What could Xie Yuping say? What an embarrassing mess, dragging their reputation from the capital to Rongcheng! Did he want everyone to know?
It was just Song Foxiang pursuing Zou Weijun one-sidedly; she never agreed. Xie Jinghu could have just shown up in Rongcheng to intimidate his rival. But this fool went further, first threatening to fire Song Foxiang, then beating him up. What was originally a non-issue had now become a full-blown problem!
People would surely think Zou Weijun must have done something in Rongcheng to make Xie Jinghu so angry. To willingly put a cuckold’s hat on his own head like this—what an idiot! And this idiot was his own brother?
Xie Yuping now wanted to drag Xie Jinghu to a hospital for a blood test. DNA tests were highly accurate these days; maybe they weren’t even related. Perhaps Xie Jinghu wasn’t his real brother. Could he be an orphan their mother adopted?
“Let him stay locked up. Don’t pull any strings for him. I failed to discipline him; let others do it properly!”
Oh dear. The boss was so angry with Mr. Xie that he refused to clean up this mess.
Zhong Yong’s smirk was too obvious. After hanging up, it took him a while to recompose his face into a suitably grave expression.
