Deep in the night, alone in silence, is perfect for reflection.
Though Xie Qian despises Zhao Dong’s character, some of his traits are worth learning from.
Zhao Dong has been back in China for two or three years, constantly hitting walls, yet never giving up, finally clinging to the big shot he targeted.
Before falling asleep, Xie Qian thinks it’s quite a coincidence that the magazine people chose tomorrow to negotiate in Rongcheng, wondering how Wen Ying will fare handling the publishing deal for Teen Idol on her own.
On Saturday at 1:30 p.m., Wen Ying sets out from home.
Xiao Ni and the chief editor will arrive at Zou Weijun’s workplace at 2:00. To be punctual, Wen Ying takes a taxi.
Zou Weijun waits at the entrance. Wen Ying hops out and jogs a few steps.
“Auntie Zou!”
“Slow down, no rush.”
Zou Weijun is surprised to see Wen Ying alone.
Preliminary talks can involve just her and Wen Ying, but shouldn’t Wen Ying’s parents be present for a publishing contract?
Wen Ying has an explanation ready, “I’m over sixteen, so contracts I sign are legally binding. My parents said I can decide about my writing.”
In truth, Manager Chen currently wants nothing to do with Wen Ying, which she interprets as “decide for myself.”
Zou Weijun doesn’t know much about Wen Ying’s family but recalls Wen Ying invested 500,000 yuan in Tianjiao’s drama. If she can handle that sum, signing a publishing contract doesn’t seem odd.
Can someone aged sixteen but under eighteen sign a contract?
If they rely on their own labour income as their main livelihood, a sixteen-year-old can be considered fully legally competent, meaning if Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong don’t support Wen Ying, and she must work to survive, she can sign labour contracts.
If not reliant on their own income, contracts matching their age and intellect are still valid.
Wen Ying feels she doesn’t meet the first condition but does the second.
At her age, signing a publishing contract is fine, but Li Mengjiao signing with an entertainment company could be risky.
The former is for a single book; the latter might trap Li Mengjiao in an unfair “bondage contract.”
Tricking Wen Ying via a contract isn’t easy, she can spot traps.
To reassure Zou Weijun, Wen Ying promises that even if Aige offers better terms today, she won’t sign on the spot.
“I’ll have a lawyer review it first, and only sign if it’s solid.”
With Wen Ying’s clear-headedness, Zou Weijun relaxes.
Smart kids know what they’re doing.
Plus, Zou Weijun is there to watch over things.
It’s Saturday, so the office is quiet. Zou Weijun leads Wen Ying to her office to wait, but Aige’s chief editor arrives an hour late.
Chief Editor Han, surnamed Han, is a tall, dark-skinned woman with a stern demeanour.
Behind her is a young girl with a ponytail and glasses.
Han zeros in on Zou Weijun, while the young girl eyes Wen Ying.
“Xiao Ni.”
“You’re Little Fish?”
Wen Ying’s pen name is “Against the Current Fish,” and her editor is Xiao Ni, a fated connection, they think.
Though they’ve corresponded online for a while, this is their first real-life meeting. Xiao Ni is as youthful as Wen Ying imagined, clearly a rookie editor.
Xiao Ni, seeing Wen Ying, thinks she looks so young.
Knowing Wen Ying’s age doesn’t prepare her for how youthful she appears, and it takes Xiao Ni a moment to process.
Once sure Wen Ying isn’t joking, Xiao Ni gets excited.
Such a young newbie author!
If Aige can lock her in, she’ll write many great works for them.
With Teen Idol as her debut novel, Xiao Ni is bullish on Wen Ying’s future. On the way to Rongcheng, she lobbied Han relentlessly, finally swaying her.
Han agrees to raise Teen Idol’s serialization fee from 180 to 240 yuan per thousand words.
Raising a newbie’s fee twice in five issues shows the magazine’s faith in her.
Wen Ying’s next book’s quality is unknown. If it doesn’t match Teen Idol’s popularity, Han would be reluctant to pay 240 yuan per thousand.
Once fees go up, they rarely go down, so the raise hinges on Aige handling Teen Idol’s standalone publication.
Han believes she comes with full sincerity.
Without Zou Weijun’s interference, a newbie like Wen Ying wouldn’t warrant Han’s personal trip.
While Wen Ying and Xiao Ni bond like kin, Han and Zou Weijun spark with tension.
“Han Qin.”
“Zou Weijun.”
They shake hands. Zou Weijun doesn’t mention Han’s tardiness, nor does Han.
Once seated, Han’s gaze finally shifts mostly from Zou Weijun to Wen Ying.
What is Wen Ying like?
A round-faced girl.
No threat in her appearance.
A girl like her, published in Aige, must be thrilled, right?
Most of Aige’s contributors aren’t full-time writers; they’re students or workers, driven by passion. Fees are nice but secondary.
For many, the dream of being a writer outweighs earning a living.
Unless the magazine offers a raise, authors rarely ask.
Only full-time writers, reliant on writing to eat, prioritize fees. If Aige pays too little, they’ll write for other magazines, not tying themselves to one.
Authors’ pen names are free agents, and those published in Aige can easily place with editors of similar youth magazines.
To secure steady, high-quality submissions, Aige nurtures select authors.
Exclusive contributors get higher fees.
Wen Ying hadn’t had such treatment before. Teen Idol stood out among youth romances, its popularity rising each issue, finally catching Han’s eye.
Han glances at Wen Ying and smiles, “Little Fish, you know Editor Zou, right? I don’t care how you met or how close you are. I just want to say your future has endless possibilities. Don’t be swayed by small gains or empty promises. Your editor Xiao Ni believes in you, recommending you repeatedly. I also think Teen Idol is ready for a standalone. Your writing is valuable. We’re raising your fee to 240 yuan per thousand, starting with the June issue. What do you think?”
Han doesn’t have clairvoyance to know Wen Ying and Zou Weijun are close.
Her social experience tells her Zou Weijun arranged the meeting at Rongcheng Publishing Group’s office to leverage better publishing terms for Teen Idol.
This is pressure on Han to offer superior terms. Unwilling to be led, Han speaks not of publishing but of Aige’s serialization.
Teen Idol is nearing its sixth issue. At 300,000 words, it’s only halfway serialized. The standalone is important, but the magazine run must continue!
