Unable to resist the enthusiasm, Wen Ying gritted her teeth and signed over a hundred copies of *Spark* for the newsstand lady.
The newsstand lady was formidable, catching Wen Ying alone and forcing her into a mini signing event. Wen Ying could only console herself that this was the price of grassroots market research!
Unbeknownst to her, the newsstand lady was regretful, cursing the newspapers for hyping *Teen Idol* to near sell-out status, leaving her with little stock. Otherwise, she could’ve made Wen Ying sign not only the hundred-plus *Spark* magazines but also another hundred-plus copies of *Teen Idol*.
Signing over a hundred magazines took time, but since Wen Ying was already at it, she continued her market research, asking about *Spark*’s sales during a break. The lady beamed:
“No need to ask! It’s selling great. Loads of pre-orders, mostly from students. The 200,000 yuan prize, you know!”
The newspapers kept harping on whether the 200,000 yuan prize was right or wrong, but the newsstand lady clearly sided with the organisers.
Those critics were odd.
It wasn’t their money. Someone held a competition with a big prize—don’t like it? Don’t join. Why bash the Spark Cup?
Meeting the star herself, the lady couldn’t help but share her views:
“Your competition is bound to ruffle feathers. I’ve seen plenty of shady essay contests over the years—eight out of ten scam young kids. They see an ad in a magazine, send in their work with high hopes, only to get a letter saying, ‘Congratulations, you’ve made the semi-finals! Send this much money to claim your prize.’ Bah! Those idiots are the ones ruining essay competitions!”
Wen Ying gave the lady a thumbs-up. “You see right through it.”
The lady puffed out her chest proudly.
Of course!
Those sham contests, posing as legitimate, were just money-grabs. The fees they asked contestants to send weren’t much—maybe a few dozen or a hundred yuan—but with enough gullible participants, the profits added up.
Scamming a hundred yuan per person, a thousand contestants meant over 100,000 yuan. With 2,000 or more, a single contest could rake in hundreds of thousands!
The cost? A magazine ad and mass-printed certificates for so-called semi-finalists—negligible compared to the revenue.
The lady was right: that model truly tarnished essay competitions.
The Tianjiao Spark Cup was different, splashing out money rather than fleecing contestants. If the Spark Cup raised the expectations of literary enthusiasts, future contests asking participants to pay would find fewer willing suckers.
So the newsstand lady was spot-on—the Spark Cup was indeed stepping on some toes.
But, she wasn’t done. The backlash against the Spark Cup wasn’t just about threatening scam contests. *Spark* magazine, the organiser, was too bold and dominant, scaring some competitors.
Whoever had circulation, fame, and influence held the power to shape opinions.
One essay competition could only boost *Spark*’s profile.
But if *Spark* held one every year?
It’d become a second *Sprout* magazine!
One *Sprout* was enough. Unlike typical campus youth magazines, competitors had to accept it—grudgingly. The New Concept Essay Contest once secured university admission quotas, something other magazines couldn’t replicate. Even jealousy was futile.
*Spark* burst onto the scene, partnering with a film company and throwing money to gain fame, which was a bit of a foul.
A newcomer trying to leap to industry leader by splashing cash? Competitors weren’t having it.
Of course, there was no need to tell the newsstand lady all this.
More importantly, Wen Ying had signed all the magazines and books the lady prepared. Time to escape!
She feared lingering longer would turn her from Against-the-Flow Fish into Fin-Broken Fish. The lady, finding her amenable, might summon every *Spark* copy from nearby newsstands for signing!
So, as Wen Ying left the newsstand, her fins—er, wrists—were trembling.
The lady, eyeing her pile of magazines, grinned until her eyes squinted, calling her regular customers: “*Spark* is here! Come grab it quick!”
“Signed by Against-the-Flow Fish!”
“Fake? Nonsense, I’m not blind!”
“How’d I get it? Trade secret!”
“Doubt me? I’ll sell them to someone else at a premium… Oh, you believe me now? Hurry and get them!”
Regulars couldn’t buy all hundred-plus magazines. Even if they wanted to, the lady wouldn’t let them.
No price hikes, but she’d sell them slowly. Let customers know she had signed copies, know she could get the good stuff—they’d flock to her newsstand!
Young folks might not have deep pockets, but time? They had plenty. Taking a bus across half of Rongcheng for a magazine was nothing.
Signed *Spark* copies were tempting bait to lure customers.
The few signed *Teen Idol* copies? Those could fetch a high price as rare collectibles.
If Little Fish didn’t hold a signing event soon, the lady’s *Teen Idol* copies might be the only signed editions on the market.
These weren’t for ordinary customers—they’d go to Little Fish’s diehard fans.
The newsstand lady flashed a sly smile.
…
On 15 November 2005, *Spark*’s first issue launched, with distributors nationwide reporting strong sales.
Of course! The competition’s promotion wasn’t limited to Sichuan and Chongqing. Hunan TV’s promotional video and online campaigns targeted the whole country!
The first to buy *Spark* were literary enthusiasts eager for contest details and entry forms. Half a month of promotional build-up exploded on the 15th—
That day, countless literary fans across the country tore open *Spark*’s plastic wrap with excitement.
A deep breath: the scent of ink, the aroma of a 200,000 yuan prize—so enticing!
Sure enough, flipping through *Spark*’s first issue, they found detailed contest rules at the end.
First was the genre requirement.
A creative essay competition, emphasizing creativity and story. Compared to prose or poetry, novels best showcased stories, so both short and long divisions were restricted to novels!
This rule deterred some literary enthusiasts.
Wen Ying didn’t need to check Rongshu to guess some would kick up a fuss.
But no matter—let them. The organiser calls the shots. For *Spark*, Rongcheng Literature Press, and Tianjiao Films, good stories held the most value. If someone felt the “novel” restriction limited their creativity, they could simply not enter.
