568,329 copies!
Wen Ying’s breath caught.
This number was above 500,000 but below 600,000.
She grabbed the calculator on her desk: 568,329 × 14% × 32 = a pre-tax income of 2.55 million yuan.
“Little Salamander, no mistake?”
Wen Ying instinctively asked. On the other end, Little Salamander was ecstatic, “It could only be undercounted, not over! Based on nationwide data, *Teen Idol* sold exactly this much. Xiaoyu, your book’s total sales will definitely surpass a million!”
From “no way it’ll hit a million” to “it might” to “it will” to “it’ll definitely exceed a million”—all in a few months.
Wen Ying couldn’t help but smile.
Three months was just the start of breaking into the market. *Teen Idol*’s sales wouldn’t stop at a million. With the writing contest boosting her fame, sales would surge again!
Smiling, she nearly cried.
Even selling nearly 70,000 more copies than expected, the royalties would just pass through her hands before Yuan Fenghui snatched them away!
Yuan the Skinner, leaving her no scraps…
“Xiaoyu, aren’t you happy?”
“Happy, I’m practically crying with joy.”
Unaware of Wen Ying’s bittersweet feelings, Little Salamander was thrilled, “I’m so excited, I want to grab a megaphone and shout from the rooftop, but Sister Zou said it’s too late to disturb people.”
Infected by Little Salamander’s enthusiasm, Wen Ying consoled herself: the royalties might go to Teacher Yuan, but they’d earn more next year. The money wasn’t gone—it was with Yuan, breeding more little monies.
The more you repeat a lie, the truer it feels, let alone the truth. Repeating it, Wen Ying cheered up.
After Little Salamander hung up, Wen Ying wanted to share her joy.
She picked up her phone—Xie Qian’s message was already there.
“Congrats!”
Ah, Xie Qian had heard the sales from Zou Weijun!
Wen Ying buried her face in her blanket, rolling around.
How should she reply? Be modest, or confidently own her awesomeness?
Knock, knock, knock.
Her door was rapped.
Wen Ying sat up.
“Come in.”
It was Old Wen.
Hands behind his back, head high, he exuded authority—ruined only by the water-dripping flip-flops.
“Didn’t you say the promo was airing tonight?”
After waiting so long, only Yun Chen and Zhang Yangning’s aired. Wen Dongrong suspected Black-Hearted Cotton’s promo got cut by the organizers at the last minute.
Was it poorly shot?
Or budget issues?
Why cut only Black-Hearted Cotton’s and not others’?
Wen Dongrong wasn’t worried about her, just couldn’t swallow the slight. The organizers couldn’t toy with people!
Wen Ying looked innocent, “Didn’t I mention? Oh, I forgot. There are four promos total. Mine airs the day after tomorrow.”
“You didn’t say!”
Wen Dongrong gritted his teeth, slammed the door, and refused to talk to Black-Hearted Cotton.
Wen Ying grinned. Care about her, just admit it—why the grumpy act? So transparent!
Flopping onto the bed, she rolled in her blanket, laughter reaching the next room. Wen Dongrong was complaining to his wife, urging Chen Ru to confiscate Wen Ying’s private stash, “Listen to that laugh. The book sales must be out. Is it right for a minor to hold all that royalty money?”
Of course not.
But words spoken were like water spilled.
Especially parents’ words.
Back then, they hadn’t expected *Teen Idol* to sell so much.
Royalties over seven figures, all for Wen Ying to manage.
Chen Ru’s mind churned, wrestling with it. Seeing the open English book before her, she steeled herself and shook her head, “Right or not, it’s already like this. If not her, who manages it—you or me?”
Would they do better than Wen Ying?
Probably not.
Neither Chen Ru nor Wen Dongrong had earned this much.
Someone who earned that much had the right to manage it and decide how to spend it!
Chen Ru had an agreement with Wen Ying: no big purchases until university. Wen Ying hadn’t broken it, so Chen Ru, despite her hesitation, couldn’t break it first.
Parents who don’t keep their word lose authority with their kids.
Chen Ru not only rejected Wen Dongrong’s nudge but reminded him, “Instead of worrying about Wen Ying’s royalties, spend that energy improving yourself. Didn’t you say family status comes from self-improvement?”
Wen Dongrong was confident, “Studied so long, I need a break after the exam. Don’t worry, I’ll pass!”
Chen Ru didn’t argue.
Definitely pass?
She wouldn’t dare say that. Where did Old Wen’s confidence come from?
When results came out, if he failed… heh, they’d see!
…
Chengdu Literary Publishing House.
Little Salamander hung up, still buzzing with excitement.
Working in a new city, she had few friends. Who to share the good news with? Baldy Editor Wan and Greasy Song Foxiang were out. Zou Weijun already knew.
Scrolling through her contacts, she landed on Zheng Zhihe.
In Chengdu, besides Wen Ying and colleagues, she was closest to Zheng Zhihe.
“Lawyer Zheng, free now? I’ll treat you to a late-night snack!”
Zheng Zhihe, receiving the message, was baffled.
A late-night snack?
Was he that close with Little Salamander to share one?
Late at night, a man and woman snacking—trouble waiting to happen!
, An upright lawyer like me, how can I accept a female client’s invite?
, What if she’s trying to seduce me? How would I resist?
Zheng Zhihe touched his face.
Nighttime boosted his charm—and ambiguity.
His mind ran wild, but his fingers were honest, replying swiftly.
“Where at?”
“Your treat? I’d feel bad—how about I treat you?”
Zheng Zhihe messaged cheerfully, convincing himself: I’m just worried about her safety. If a young girl doesn’t snack with me, she might with someone else, and that’s less safe.
Harmony first, a good deed daily.
Zheng Zhihe felt pretty great about himself!
…
Chen Ru learned *Teen Idol*’s three-month sales the next morning.
“Sold that much!”
Wen Ying used a calculator for royalties; Chen Ru did it mentally.
Over 2.5 million pre-tax—a huge sum.
Post-tax… still a huge sum!
Last night, Chen Ru had told Wen Dongrong not to eye those royalties. Now she couldn’t help asking Wen Ying, “What do you plan to do with this money?”
A trap question—any answer was wrong.
Luckily, Wen Ying had the right one.
“I’m not planning to spend it. I’ve got no need to.”
The money just passed through her hands—she had no chance to spend it.
Her answer was confident. Chen Ru studied her expression, surprised and satisfied to find Wen Ying was telling the truth.
Wen Dongrong glared.
, That’s definitely a lie!
Wen Ying secretly rolled her eyes. It’s the truth, truer than gold!
