The trial finally began.
It wasn’t due to Zheng Zhihe’s lack of ability that it took so long, but the court had to follow standard procedures, typically scheduling the hearing some time after the defendant received the summons.
The trial date coincided with the half-month mark since Youth Idol hit the shelves.
Nationwide sales data hadn’t been fully compiled, but Zou Weijun had already obtained figures for Sichuan Province.
In just half a month, Youth Idol sold over 70,000 copies in the province alone.
A week earlier, Zou Weijun had decisively ordered the printing house to produce more copies. While other cities might still have stock, bookstores in Sichuan were already selling the second print run.
On the first day in Chengdu, 4,221 copies were sold. A few days later, Wen Ying learned that Youth Idol had nearly reached 10,000 copies sold in the province.
The influence of Chengdu’s print media promotions had spread to surrounding cities.
Zou Weijun had decided to reprint, but there was disagreement with department leaders on how many copies. The leaders suggested 100,000, while Zou Weijun insisted on at least 200,000.
As Youth Idol’s sales in the province soared, the leaders conceded to Zou Weijun’s proposal for 200,000 additional copies.
Fortunately so, because by August 15, booksellers in other provinces also requested restocking.
The 200,000 copies took up considerable warehouse space, but distributed nationwide, the stock dwindled quickly.
How many copies of Youth Idol could be sold?
No one knew.
Given the current trend, 300,000 copies seemed achievable.
If all printed copies sold, Wen Ying would earn an 11% royalty. If sales exceeded 300,000, even by just one copy, her royalty would rise to 12%.
The tiered royalty structure Zou Weijun secured for Wen Ying was already proving its worth.
With settlements every three months, Wen Ying was eager to see how much she’d earn from the first cycle.
Given this momentum, the publishing department’s leaders were particularly invested in the lawsuit’s outcome. Once the case was won, they planned a wave of promotions to make Youth Idol even more popular.
Hmph, while national sales figures were still pending, Shandong Province was the only region not requesting restocks, having initially taken fewer copies. Clearly, someone was sabotaging things.
The leaders had made Youth Idol a key project for the second half of the year. Anyone undermining its sales was their enemy.
Knowing the trial was today, the leader subtly hinted to Editor Wan.
“The first hearing might not lead to a verdict, but you never know. I heard from Xiao Zou that the lawyer she hired, Zheng, is sharp and has gathered plenty of evidence. If the court rules today, you know what I mean, right?”
Editor Wan nodded vigorously.
“I understand, I understand!”
The leader was instantly satisfied.
That’s why every department needed all kinds of people. Upright subordinates like Xiao Zou were reliable, but seasoned players like Editor Wan were indispensable too.
Editor Wan left the office and called Song Foxiang, asking him to contact a couple of media friends.
“Old Song, want to make another bet? This time, let’s bet on the lawsuit.”
“No way, I’m a respectable magazine editor-in-chief. How could I get hooked on gambling?”
Song Foxiang refused outright.
Last time, they bet on Youth Idol’s first-day sales in Chengdu. Song Foxiang said 3,000 copies, Editor Wan said 4,000, but the actual sales were 4,221 copies. Editor Wan won, and Song Foxiang, accepting the loss, treated him to drinks.
Editor Wan was ruthless, insisting on opening Song Foxiang’s prized, long-cherished Maotai.
Though half a month had passed, Song Foxiang still hadn’t recovered, his heart aching.
What a pity.
After being refused, Editor Wan instinctively licked his lips, still savouring the taste of Song Foxiang’s Maotai.
Song Foxiang declined the bet but agreed to have media friends stake out the courthouse.
Meanwhile, Song Foxiang was curious about Youth Idol’s author, “Upstream Fish.” Initially, he’d pushed Youth Idol just to spite Zhao Dong, but after playing the “devoted fan” for so long, he’d developed genuine affection.
He really wanted to meet “Upstream Fish.”
He even thought of introducing “Upstream Fish” to his daughter, Song Chan.
He heard “Upstream Fish” was young. Young authors could learn from each other and improve, right?
Song Foxiang asked if “Upstream Fish” would attend the trial. Editor Wan didn’t know: “Xiao Zou protects this author well. The publishing contract was signed separately, and we don’t have access to the author’s details. They probably won’t let the author get involved in such trivial matters. The author is very low-key, so we likely won’t see them today.”
Though Editor Wan was a bit slick, he had some admiration for “Upstream Fish” sticking to writing without showing their face.
Society was growing more restless, including in literature. With bestselling young adult authors profiting from marketing both their work and themselves, a young author who could stay focused on creating was truly rare.
Of course, there was another possibility: it wasn’t that “Upstream Fish” chose to be low-key, but that Zou Weijun had found a highly promising new author and was guarding them against colleagues, fearing someone might poach them.
After all, Zou Weijun had originally poached “Upstream Fish” from Aige magazine.
Editor Wan harboured such sneaky thoughts but didn’t dare mention them to Zou Weijun or complain to Song Foxiang.
Song Foxiang, having taken a beating, no longer dared to approach Zou Weijun, but until a new target appeared, Zou Weijun remained his “goddess.”
Drinking Song Foxiang’s Maotai was fine, but insulting his goddess was not.
Song Foxiang felt regretful.
“Then we’ll have to wait for another chance to meet this author.”
One could stay low-key for a while, but not forever.
With Youth Idol selling well, there’d surely be book signings or events eventually. “Upstream Fish” couldn’t stay hidden forever.
…
Editor Wan and Song Foxiang guessed wrong. Wen Ying was very willing to attend the trial today.
She wanted to protect her pseudonym, but with no outsiders at the trial and her parents unaware, what did Wen Ying have to fear?
It had been a while since she’d seen Senior Brother Zheng in action, and she missed it.
Wen Ying was also curious if Han Qin would show up.
It was common for defendants to skip hearings, some even claiming they never received the summons. But with Editor-in-Chief Han’s character, she wouldn’t resort to such blatant shamelessness. Her cunning was subtler. Not showing up would suggest guilt, wouldn’t it?
With students on summer break and parents working as usual, Wen Ying didn’t need to make excuses to her parents. After Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong left for work, she grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs.
Xiao Ni said she’d come along, but Wen Ying looked around and couldn’t spot her. Her gaze briefly swept across the street, then quickly darted back.
Under a tall banyan tree stood the boy she hadn’t seen in a month.
He was striking, standing quietly, a breathtaking sight without doing anything.
