“Writers’ Rich List?”
Yuan Feng Hui’s voice came through the phone, and Wen Ying heard it clearly. Those words truly stirred her memory.
“Teacher Yuan, isn’t this a bit unwise? People fear fame as pigs fear fattening. I still want to make my fortune quietly!”
“You’re already quite famous. Still fantasising about making a fortune in silence? Let me put it this way: even if I don’t provide accurate data to them, you’ll still make the list, just a bit lower in the rankings. I’ve already inquired. They’ll select the writer’s main works from the past decade for statistics, estimating income based on print runs, pricing, and royalties. However, royalty rates are generally confidential, so they’ve decided to use an average of 10% for calculations.”
Yuan Feng Hui laughed midway through her words. “You remember, right? I want to make you China’s most famous and richest writer. With an event like this, we must make good use of it! Even if you lack no writing talent, becoming the absolute top still requires seizing opportunities. Trust me, I won’t harm you.”
Wen Ying had no rebuttal.
Writers rarely bring up money主动, and few would publicly state how high their manuscript fees are or how many millions they’ve earned in royalties. One could even say that before the first China Writers’ Rich List emerged, the public knew little about writers’ incomes or living conditions, until this list appeared out of nowhere.
As Yuan Feng Hui said, even without Wen Ying’s cooperation, they would still tally the print run of *Teen Idol*, roughly estimating her writing income. Unlike long-established writers, *Teen Idol* was launched in August 2005, and how many copies were printed is easily verifiable!
The difference is that with cooperation from Wen Ying’s side, the list-makers could get more accurate data, such as *Teen Idol*’s royalty being 15% rather than the 10% average. That 5% difference could mean three or four million more in calculated royalty income.
Wen Ying compromised halfway. “Fine, we can provide them with the data, but report my income using the 10% royalty rate like other authors. I don’t mind being less discreet about wealth, but I don’t want to stand out.”
Wen Ying remembered that the first Writers’ Rich List featured many literary masters.
These so-called masters might not have the highest sales, but their works had won major awards and held great influence in Chinese literature. Most had royalties exceeding 10%. If they could accept this statistical standard, why couldn’t she!
Being the only one foolishly correcting the list-makers, saying her royalty was 15%… such behaviour would bring her no benefit!
Yuan Feng Hui thought it over and agreed.
“Then we’ll report it at 10% royalty. I reckon this list won’t be a one-off. We need to leave some room to climb higher next year~”
“…As you please.”
As early as August this year, after *Teen Idol*’s fourth-quarter sales data came out, the book’s total sales had exceeded two million. Now, with Bao Li Xin delaying the fifth-quarter data for *Teen Idol*, this didn’t stump Yuan Feng Hui. The Rich List makers only needed the book’s total print run, not actual sales figures.
*Teen Idol* had multiple reprints, with a total print run now at 2.6 million copies.
*Starry River with You*’s first print was 300,000 copies. As far as Yuan Feng Hui knew, it had been reprinted once, reaching a total print run of 600,000. As a tie-in novel for a TV drama, many readers were fans of the show. Packed with numerous character portraits, its pricing was even higher than *Teen Idol*, at 38 yuan per book.
Yuan Feng Hui calculated silently: reporting both books at 10% royalty to them, *Teen Idol*’s royalty income was 8.32 million, while *Starry River with You* was 2.28 million.
“Even with reservations, your royalty income still exceeds ten million. Where do you think you’ll rank?”
Yuan Feng Hui tossed the question over. Wen Ying tried to recall: how much was the top earner’s income on the first Writers’ Rich List?
She couldn’t remember the exact figure, but it was definitely well over ten million.
“Not first, anyway.”
Yuan Feng Hui burst into laughter. “Then don’t worry. I’ll make you number one eventually.”
—Not necessarily.
It was already 2006.
Physical publishing was on the decline, and online literature was rising. In a few years, top online writers would shock the literary world with tens of millions in annual fees.
Initially, the Rich List organisers ranked traditional and online writers together, but later had to create a separate category for online literature writers!
December arrived in a flash.
Chen Ru was still comparing study-abroad agencies, while Bao Li Xin continued “occasional trips”, dodging Yuan Feng Hui with various excuses, shamelessly delaying Wen Ying’s royalty settlements as long as possible!
Yuan Feng Hui wasn’t anxious at all, because in early December, the first Writers’ Rich List was released with a bang!
The list first appeared in *Finance Times*, and within two or three days, it was reprinted by over a hundred media outlets. Wen Ying once again made a strong impression.
Topping the list was indeed a long-established literary master in China, with royalty income of 14 million.
Second place had 12 million in royalties.
Wen Ying ranked third with 10.6 million!
Among all listed writers, Wen Ying was the newest debut and the youngest, yet her royalties surpassed most, securing third place.
The effect was explosive.
Wen Ying was already extremely famous, with numerous fans on her blog. Controversial since her debut, the China Writers’ Rich List made her even more prominent!
Many knew before that Wen Ying was a bestselling author, famous and likely wealthy, but they had no concept of the specific amounts.
Now, with so many media reports, her royalty income shocked many.
For example, Li Meng Jiao, after reading the newspaper, called Wen Ying a “millionaire miss” and demanded she treat her to three meals of fried skewers.
“You’re too rich!”
Li Meng Jiao grumbled.
It wasn’t that the starlet was stingy. She earned plenty herself, but handed most to her parents, keeping only a bit of pocket money—more than average students, but not excessively so.
Wen Ying was slightly modest. “It’s not that much, actually. That’s pre-tax income. I’ll still have to pay a portion in taxes before it reaches me.”
Xie Qian glanced up: little liar.
10.6 million was definitely an underestimate.
*Teen Idol*’s first four quarters alone brought ten million in royalties. The fifth quarter, delayed by Bao Li Xin, was estimated by Xie Qian at least over a million.
Adding *Starry River with You*’s royalties, plus Wen Ying’s scriptwriting income and TV production investments, the title of millionaire miss was well-deserved.
Of course, Chinese people value not flaunting wealth. Xie Qian didn’t approve of Wen Ying publicising every income source. Baring everything to the public was like walking naked on the street—far too insecure.
The key issue now was the Rich List’s massive buzz… Xie Qian kindly reminded Wen Ying:
“I guess your mum will inquire about your royalty income.”
Wen Ying’s face fell. “I agree with your guess.”
