Zhang Guangzhen’s alcohol tolerance was quite average. Song Foxiang had gone all out that evening, bringing out his prized collection of fine wine, smooth on the palate and going down easily. Unknowingly, Zhang Guangzhen got drunk.
Song Foxiang could hold his liquor well. While Zhang Guangzhen was intoxicated, Song Foxiang remained sober.
With a slurred tongue, Zhang Guangzhen finished his critique of Song Chan and slumped onto the table, soon snoring loudly.
After Zhang Guangzhen had pierced Song Foxiang’s heart with several barbs, he, he actually fell asleep!
Song Foxiang breathed heavily through his nose. Editor Wan quickly set down his chopsticks and grabbed his friend.
“Old Song, calm down, you must stay calm!”
Editor Wan wanted to focus on eating his peanuts, but with Song Foxiang’s face red and neck bulging, Editor Wan feared he might beat up the drunken Zhang Guangzhen.
There was no need for that!
Song Chan still had to compete, after all. Beating a judge now would not do.
Besides, they were all cultured people. Resorting to fights was unbecoming.
These words failed to soothe Song Foxiang’s emotions. Editor Wan’s eyes darted, and he said, “Old Song, you should be happy. Zhang Guangzhen doesn’t even know Chan is your daughter, yet he let her advance to the finals. That’s true recognition of her talent. I think Chan herself would be thrilled!”
Relying on a father when you have one is foolish not to.
But achieving success without relying on a father, that’s real talent.
Having often helped at Spark Magazine, Editor Wan knew how competitive the essay contest was. Song Chan’s advancement to the finals meant the selected pieces had even higher value than the New Concept Composition Contest. Song Foxiang had been completely unaware of the process, and Song Chan had done it all on her own!
It seemed sending Song Chan abroad to study had been the right choice.
The veins on Song Foxiang’s neck indeed faded, his crooked nose straightened, and he brushed back his long hair, pleased and proud.
“Could my daughter Song Foxiang’s be anything but excellent?”
“Exactly, exactly. To say something you don’t like hearing, I think Chan will surpass you in the end!”
What was that if not something unwelcome? Editor Wan had pinpointed Song Foxiang’s weak spot.
Except for a rare few terrible parents, most gladly accept their child outshining them, so Song Foxiang was delighted.
Amid his joy, Song Foxiang inevitably recalled Zhang Guangzhen’s comment: Song Chan was not a natural talent, Wen Ying was.
Boy Idol had sold over a million copies in half a year, so Wen Ying was indeed a natural talent.
Song Chan was not.
Hmph!
So what if she wasn’t.
Those great authors who produced timeless works rarely had smooth sailing in creation. Early fame often led to burnout, while steady accumulation led to true success!
Having convinced himself, Song Foxiang felt genuinely happy again.
Song Foxiang had one advantage over many: he was confident in himself and in his daughter Song Chan.
His confidence shattered whenever he encountered Wen Ying, but Song Foxiang only fretted briefly, then moved on. He never transferred that comparative pressure to Song Chan, never saying things like “learn from Wen Ying” or “surpass Wen Ying” in front of her. Song Foxiang always believed Wen Ying was great, but Song Chan would be no less!
Because Zhang Guangzhen hadn’t followed Song Foxiang’s hints to praise Song Chan, instead speaking bluntly, after the drinking session, Song Foxiang’s attitude towards Zhang Guangzhen visibly cooled from enthusiasm to indifference.
Zhang Guangzhen was baffled, but Wen Ying breathed a sigh of relief.
Wen Ying didn’t mind Song Foxiang’s coolness. She worried his over-enthusiasm might spark rumours that he was buttering up judges for Song Chan’s finals spot!
Wen Ying had written several openings for her Nine Cauldrons series, none quite satisfying.
What IP had the most development potential? With her foresight, Wen Ying knew better than anyone. She aimed to build an IP world around the Nine Cauldrons series, naturally considering market reactions.
Too many concerns restrained her creativity, the reason for those scrapped openings.
Her usual smiles diminished. As her deskmate, Xie Qian first noticed the change.
Getting distracted even while doing problems? Unacceptable.
For Li Mengjiao or Wang Shuang, Xie Qian would assign extra papers first. But lately, for Wen Ying, he was unusually patient, not that he spared her papers, but he gave her a chance to correct herself first!
Upon learning the reason, Xie Qian was speechless.
“Just for that?”
Wen Ying weakly defended, “It’s a big deal! The Nine Cauldrons story is a series. Once I start, it won’t end in two or three books. I’ll spend years on it. It’s hard to change course mid-way. If the market reacts poorly…”
“You write for what, just market reactions?”
Xie Qian interrupted.
Wen Ying paused, instinctively retorting, “Of course not! I write because I love it.”
Saying that, Wen Ying felt embarrassed.
Sigh, she was ordinary after all, with gains and losses on her mind.
Boy Idol’s sales success made it hard for Wen Ying to create without any mercenary thoughts.
Not to mention earning money from the Nine Cauldrons series, every creator had standards: new work better than old.
No progress? Better not write!
So, consider the market, but not only the market.
Losing creative passion, writing commercially just for IP, would make Wen Ying’s reborn “dream chase” laughable.
For money alone, what couldn’t she do besides write?
Invest royalties in property for appreciation, lie flat for decades.
Wen Ying hadn’t, even postponing a riverside flat purchase, showing she valued dream-chasing over comfort. Her ambitions weren’t just money. Something mattered more: building her career empire. This urgency for success in the Nine Cauldrons series pressured her creation. Writing poorly was normal, succeeding would be odd!
“Then follow your ideas. Write what you want, leave the rest to professionals.”
Focus on creation, the only thing authors control.
Post-creation operations belong to experts.
Wen Ying thought Xie Qian meant Zou Weijun and Yuan Fenghui.
Publishing with Zou Weijun, film with Yuan Fenghui and Tianjiao. She mostly agreed, nodding unconsciously.
That nod lifted the heavy stone from her heart.
Little did she know Xie Qian spoke confidently not just with encouragement. Words must be backed by ability. After a month’s wrangling, Xie Qian and Xie Jinghu’s bet on “Jiashin Film” ownership was signed.
Xie Qian was now “Jiashin Film Company’s” boss!
