Don’t urge others to be kind without knowing their pain.
At middle age, Fang Ping had never felt this truth so deeply.
Thinking back, how laughable it was to blame Wen Ying and Xie Qian for being ruthless towards Pan Li. Only after experiencing it herself did Fang Ping understand why Wen Ying was so merciless.
A venomous snake like Pan Li, if shown even a hint of pity, would linger like a haunting ghost!
Last year, after catching Duan Quanchang cheating, for the sake of family and her son, Fang Ping chose forgiveness under family pressure. Facts proved that when facing a man’s infidelity, a woman should never compromise. The first compromise might earn brief gratitude, but the second becomes expected.
Fang Ping wondered why, when the man was clearly at fault, both family and society demanded women be magnanimous and endure.
Endure for a moment, and you get breast hyperplasia. Take a step back, and you risk ovarian cysts. Fang Ping had endured too long!
Divorcing, taking the assets, and reporting her ex-husband Duan Quanchang were the most satisfying things she’d done in the past year. It felt so good that she found her own son particularly irksome.
When she first discovered Duan’s affair last year, her son urged her not to divorce, giving Fang Ping a new perspective on him. Back then, it was disappointment, yet she still held hope.
Mother-son bonds require effort from both sides. Her son’s repeated “choices” pushed Fang Ping further away. From his perspective, a mother should sacrifice for her child. From Fang Ping’s, she was first a woman with her own joys, sorrows, emotional needs, and dignity, and only then a mother.
What use was a son who couldn’t stand by her?
In her son’s shocked expression, Fang Ping issued an eviction, “It’s too late for your words now. I’ve submitted the report. Duan Quanchang’s fate is up to the law, not me. If you still want me as your mother, call me during holidays. If not, I won’t force you. You’re a Duan, you have your own path!”
Her son tried emotional appeals, but Fang Ping wouldn’t listen and drove him out.
Dazed, her son wandered the streets, nearly hit by a car, snapping him awake: his father was going to prison, his ill-gotten wealth would be confiscated, his grandparents were old with no money or connections. His only real support was his professor mother!
He rushed back, but the house was locked tight. Knocking yielded no response; Fang Ping seemed to have left.
Remembering he had a key, he fumbled with it, his face and neck reddening.
On the day of the divorce, Fang Ping had changed the locks. He hadn’t visited in so long he didn’t know.
Her son panicked completely.
—Had his mother truly abandoned him?!
But why?
He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
In today’s society, how hard was it for young people to succeed without parental support?
A powerful father could have saved him so many detours.
Now, with his influential father facing jail and his mother, who got a fortune in the divorce, ignoring him, what was he to do!
…
Fang Ping’s son’s confusion was beyond Wen Ying’s comprehension.
In both her lives, “relying on parents” wasn’t in Wen Ying’s dictionary.
As for Fang Ping reporting her ex-husband, Wen Ying heard it as mere gossip. She had no time to care about Fang Ping’s family drama.
May 2006 was a “harvest” season for Wen Ying.
*Youth Idol* hit the market in August 2005. With sales quarters of three months, the first quarter sold 560,000 copies, the second 720,000. By April 30, the third quarter’s sales could be tallied, and in May, the publisher would settle Wen Ying’s royalties!
Thanks to a writing contest’s influence, *Youth Idol*’s third-quarter sales, while not surpassing the second, were solid at 392,232 copies, yielding pre-tax royalties of 1.88 million. Nine months after its release, the novel’s total sales exceeded 1.68 million copies!
Zou Weijun couldn’t help but marvel, “You’ve topped the weekly bestseller list for weeks. If this keeps up, you could claim the annual literary bestseller crown!”
Zou Weijun was both thrilled and apprehensive.
Thrilled for Wen Ying’s success, apprehensive for her future.
*Youth Idol*’s total sales were heading towards 2 million, a matter of time.
This book made Wen Ying famous.
This book propelled Chengdu Arts Publishing into the youth literature market.
The publisher valued Wen Ying highly, as she brought more than just one book’s profits… Her pre-tax royalties from *Youth Idol* alone exceeded 8 million. With such wealth, could Wen Ying still create her second or third book unburdened?
Cultural creators pursue more than sales and royalties. Zou Weijun hoped Wen Ying would go further, fearing *Youth Idol*’s high sales might sap her drive to create better works.
Wen Ying couldn’t call Zou Weijun’s worries baseless.
Only she knew that in three or four years, the print book market would face a massive blow.
In 2006, a million copies marked a bestseller.
By 2010, 200,000–300,000 copies would suffice.
Wen Ying was reborn in the golden age of print media, but in a few years, the market would decline as e-reading rose—an unstoppable trend. Zou Weijun feared *Youth Idol*’s sales were too high, but Wen Ying worried they’d be the unreachable peak of her career.
Could an individual defy the times?
There were exceptions, but it was very hard.
Wen Ying urgently wanted to create the Jiuding series, catching the tail end of print’s glory. The series was vast, and if she couldn’t finish before the print market waned, she was prepared to join literature websites.
Zou Weijun thought Wen Ying’s royalties were staggering, but for Wen Ying, investing them elsewhere yielded returns that would make anyone jealous.
*Galaxy and You* had a production cost of 41.5 million, with Wen Ying investing 4 million.
Mrs. Wang secured a joint broadcast deal with four provincial satellite channels. Zhejiang Satellite TV led, pulling in three terrestrial channels, finalising a “4+3” broadcast model… Mrs. Wang, firm that quality work shouldn’t be undervalued, wielded her metaphorical forty-metre blade, pushing the copyright fee to 95 million.
If Hunan Satellite TV had bought exclusive rights, they couldn’t have afforded such a price.
A drama with a 95 million copyright fee broke industry records again.
Since several stations shared the cost, they found the price acceptable.
Returning triumphantly to Chengdu, Mrs. Wang earned high praise from Yuan Fenghui. Thrust into the role, she increasingly found joy in her career. Wen Ying, learning she’d soon net over 9 million from *Galaxy and You*, briefly wavered: with *Youth Idol*’s third-quarter royalties, she could buy a million-level riverfront mansion in Shanghai!
In 2019, Wen Ying’s Shanghai riverfront home, with a down payment, cost over 10 million.
But a 10 million home in 2019 was vastly different from one in 2006. A 2006 purchase would be a true mansion, something Wen Ying couldn’t have dreamed of in her past life—or, instead of one house, she could buy ten, living comfortably forever!
After briefly indulging in the fantasy of being a landlady, soon-to-be multimillionaire Ying snapped back to reality and called Wang Jun, “Uncle Wang, do you have time? I’d like to discuss buying your Tianjiao shares!”
