The inaugural Tianjiao Spark Cup essay contest unearthed quite a few promising talents for Spark magazine and the publishing house.
In addition to the prizes set by the contest, after it concluded, copyrights for works by about a dozen authors were bought by Tianjiao, enriching its copyright library. Tianjiao would adapt these works once the timing was right.
At the same time, the winning entries from the long-form category were successively published by Rong City Literature and Art Publishing House, benefiting the authors and boosting the publisher’s performance.
Who would have thought that the scoundrel Bao Lixin, who had not been at Rong City Literature and Art Publishing House as editor-in-chief for long, would truly deliver “impressive results”: driving away the bestseller author Wen Ying was not enough; upon leaving the publishing house, he viciously poached several authors it had discovered through the essay contest.
Only then did everyone belatedly realise that Editor-in-Chief Bao’s frequent business trips were not solely to avoid Yuan Fenghui.
Bao Lixin’s doctrine of “interests first, literature second” was rejected by Wen Ying, but some other authors could accept it.
They were all young writers, so why could Wen Ying reap fame and fortune while they could only scrape at the reader market leaking from her fingers?
Under Bao Lixin’s enticement, a few authors followed him out, taking with them new books originally slated for publication by Rong City Literature and Art. Once this broke, the publishing house could only swallow the bitter pill.
It was said that the leader who had recruited Bao Lixin initially now wished to bang his head on the desk daily.
With the top author Wen Ying terminating her contract, followed by several mid-tier authors leaving, the losses were devastating. The publishing house had finally made strides in the youth literature market over the past two years, only for the foundation to crumble by more than half in an instant. What now?
Even Xie Qian, who usually minded his own business, frowned upon hearing Wen Ying’s words.
Whether Rong City Literature and Art Publishing House or Spark magazine, both bore the fruits of his mother Zou Weijun’s labours.
Though Zou Weijun had resigned of her own accord, it was more a case of being cornered by reality. What she truly loved was the publishing industry, not the cut-throat scheming in a large corporation like Jinhu.
Xie Qian hoped Wen Ying could switch to a better, more suitable publisher, yet he did not want Rong City Literature and Art to decline as a result. Gradually, the furrow in Xie Qian’s brow eased.
“Suddenly facing such upheaval, Rong City Literature and Art will experience a period of turmoil, but it is unlikely to collapse entirely. With you gone and Bao Lixin taking a few authors, this also opens opportunities for others to rise. As long as Spark remains unaffected, new authors will emerge soon enough.”
Ni Sisi was capable enough; her failing was simply a lack of seniority.
Bao Lixin’s闹剧 was a disaster for others, but not necessarily for Ni Sisi.
Xie Qian reckoned Little Newt’s chance had come, and so had the opportunities for other contributors to Spark.
If worst came to worst, just launch the second essay contest pronto.
Wen Ying’s heart settled a bit. “I hope Little Newt can hold on.”
If she could not, there was nothing for it.
Wen Ying could still contribute short stories to Spark, but for the near term, there was no chance of resuming cooperation with Rong City Literature and Art. The Shanghai side feared Wen Ying might change her mind, so not only had they signed the contract early, but the five million yuan advance had already hit her bank account.
This five million was not easy money. If Wen Ying breached the contract, she would owe Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House triple the penalty, a full fifteen million yuan.
Were it not for wanting to make a killing in the 2007 A-share bull market, Wen Ying truly would not have taken the five million advance from Shanghai Literature and Art.
At school, Wen Ying fretted over Little Newt.
In the magazine office, Little Newt was phoning the magazine’s contracted authors one by one.
As Xie Qian had said, if Spark magazine was fine, then the publishing house would not face catastrophe.
With Wen Ying and a few mid-tier authors jumping ship, the rest needed reassuring. Fortunately, Little Newt shared ideals with Zou Weijun and had invested much effort in relationships day to day, so there was no cramming at the eleventh hour.
Familiar authors mostly gave Little Newt firm commitments.
Little Newt’s proactive solicitation of manuscripts also bolstered their confidence.
It seemed Spark magazine had escaped major impact.
That was splendid.
Spark magazine had high circulation and generous payments, so authors writing short stories were loath to budge easily.
Steadily supplying one magazine offered the chance to transition from shorts to long-form.
For instance, the female author Liang He, who had jumped from Ai Ge before, had nearly gone astray by giving false testimony for Han Qin. After Liang He repented in court, Little Newt set aside the grudge and commissioned her.
Since Spark’s launch, Liang He submitted to every issue, only sending rejects elsewhere.
At first, Liang He had an acceptance every other issue, but gradually it became every issue, with Spark paying her ever higher fees.
Liang He’s popularity paled beside Wen Ying’s, but with her works in every issue of Spark, readers grew familiar with the pen name “Liang He.” After years of middling success, Liang He was now blooming, her writing leaping forward. Little Newt had already commissioned a long-form serial from her.
In the QQ authors’ group, friends were congratulating Liang He on breaking through.
In reality, Liang He had just ended a call with Little Newt.
Breaking through?
Liang He’s heart surged with emotion.
Serial first, then publication: that was the path Little Newt had mapped for her.
Little Newt urged Liang He to write her own stories. Good authors might suffer temporary obscurity but not lifelong. Mimicking hot authors earned short-term cash, but writing what one excelled at and truly wished to pen led further.
In the QQ group, author friends congratulated Liang He on gaining attention and poised to become the “second Wen Ying.” Liang He could not help thinking of the recently departed publishing house editor-in-chief, Bao Lixin.
Before leaving, Bao Lixin had tried to sway Liang He, using rhetoric much like Han Qin’s before: asking if Liang He envied Wen Ying’s fame and fortune.
Of course Liang He envied her.
But when Bao Lixin asked if Liang He wanted to become the “second Wen Ying,” she refused.
“I only want to be myself.”
Being the “second Wen Ying” might not empty the purse but would bankrupt the conscience.
Being “Liang He” might not earn heaps of money, but the conscience stayed clear.
Even if Bao Lixin truly admired Liang He’s talent, she might not have gone. As it was, he merely wanted her to ape Wen Ying, and Liang He would sooner die than agree.
Some authors hit it off with Bao Lixin, but more, like Liang He, held lines.
Xie Qian was right: Bao Lixin’s exit ravaged Rong City Literature and Art, but Spark stood firm.
Ni Sisi had risen from Spark’s editor-in-chief to deputy editor-in-chief at the publishing house, while Song Fotxiang shifted from the magazine to become an editor there.
Before December ended, one more surprise came for Wen Ying: Old Wen’s exam results were out.
Everyone thought Wen Dongrong would fail, save Deng Shangwei, who believed he could pass. Deng Shangwei mainly suffered from his own lack of education, harbouring blind faith in Wen Dongrong. Who would have guessed Old Wen actually passed.
On results day, Wen Dongrong’s eyes bulged; one could see how stunned he was.
Deng Shangwei looked envious. “For brother-in-law, this must have been a cinch, right?”
Wen Dongrong nodded lightly, hands behind his back. “Indeed, quite straightforward.”
Calm on the surface, flowers bloomed in his heart.
With such good news, he could move from the living room balcony back to the bedroom.
