Chapter 50: The Great Talent

The manuscript for the sequel to "Alive" is about 95,000 characters, divided into three parts.

Each part is roughly 30,000 characters.

Since Chen Xiaomi hadn’t finished reading the first part yet, Zou Ping could only anxiously wait.

Seeing how bored the other man was, Li Heng initiated conversation with him.

The topics were unrestricted—astronomy, geography, economics, current affairs, literature—whatever came to mind, and the conversation never stalled.

He didn’t realize until they talked that Zou Ping felt increasingly uneasy, increasingly awed by Li Heng’s vast knowledge.

Knowledge is either there or it isn’t; you can’t fake or cram it in on the spot.

He couldn’t help wondering: Is this guy really only seventeen?

Why did Li Heng’s demeanor, speech, and foresight make him feel like he was talking to an elderly scholar?

Why did such an ordinary chat fill him with immense pressure?

Why did it make him feel ashamed of himself?

Slowly, Zou Ping finally understood why Li Heng could write a masterpiece like "Alive."

Zou Ping, who had always considered himself half a cultured man, felt insignificant at this moment; compared to Li Heng’s effortless erudition, he was like a newborn child—pathetically childish.

Zou Ping’s posture grew ever more humble, his confidence in conversation dwindling.

Chen Xiaomi, keenly sensing this, glanced at him, then at Li Heng, and fell into deep thought: Could this be the real Li Heng? Had he never had the chance to show it before?

She had secretly listened to their conversation, and Li Heng’s eloquence had deeply shaken her.

She thought to herself: So this bastard really is a polymath.

Besides being good at flattery and clever talk, he can even pretend to be refined—no wonder Zijin still thinks of him.

Zou Ping cautiously asked the question that had gotten Chen Xiaomi scolded: “Teacher Li, how many books have you read besides textbooks?”

Oh!

Now he’s even politely calling you “Teacher”—quite the smooth operator.

This question also interested Wang Run and Chen Xiaomi, who both looked up at him.

Li Heng thought for a moment, then replied half-truthfully: “I can’t recall the exact number, but since childhood, I’ve always loved flipping through the hundreds or even thousands of books my father kept.”

He spoke the truth: Raised by parents who loved reading, he had indeed read every single volume his father treasured.

But those were events from his past life; in this life, the books he’d actually read were maybe a hundred at most—all chosen during winter and summer breaks to avoid labor.

He called it a love of learning.

Tian Run’e knew exactly what he was up to, but she held traditional biases favoring sons; her son was her lifeline, so she never called him out on it.

“Hundreds or thousands of books?” Zou Ping was startled and couldn’t help asking: “May I ask, sir, what was your father’s profession?”

Li Heng understood immediately: “My father used to work in education.”

Ah, that explains everything.

Unlike when he was alone with Chen Xiaomi, he now openly recounted the story of his second uncle back home and told them his inspiration came from him.

Chen Xiaomi was from the same place and knew Li’s second uncle intimately; recalling the details and comparing them to the story in the book, she realized—yes! Many scenes bore his shadow, only refined through artistic embellishment.

At this point, she believed.

She was certain this book was truly written by Li Heng.

She was certain Li Heng possessed extraordinary literary talent.

As she thought about it, a mix of envy, bitterness, and faint regret welled inside her—complex emotions tangled together, indescribable.

Half an hour later, the first part of Chen Xiaomi’s manuscript was handed to Zou Ping.

As Zou Ping eagerly began reading, Li Heng also got busy, pulling out a Chinese language test paper from his bag and starting to solve problems.

His action left both editors bewildered.

Chen Xiaomi happened to glance at the top of the paper and saw it was labeled “Capital No. 4 High School”—she immediately realized this test must have been slipped to him by Zijin.

Around 1:30 p.m., Chen Xiaomi and Zou Ping finished reading the remaining manuscript of "Alive."

Li Heng observed them for a while; seeing both still immersed in the book, he knew what he needed to know.

He neatly put away the test paper, sat upright, and asked Zou Ping: “Editor Zou, how do you feel about the sequel?”

Faced with such a soul-stirring literary masterpiece, the seasoned editor Zou Ping didn’t dodge the question—he looked up sincerely and said:

“Excellent! Beyond ‘excellent,’ I can’t find any other word to describe its greatness.”

Li Heng nodded in satisfaction and cut straight to the point: “Good. Since you’re both satisfied, I won’t beat around the bush.

You two came all this way—surely you came prepared. I’d like to hear what kind of royalty offer you’re prepared to make.”

Here it comes!

Talking about money again.

Hearing this, the English teacher beside them turned her head away.

In her heart, this student had many admirable qualities, yet he was stubbornly fixated on money—destroying the romantic beauty of literature.

As Zou Ping hesitated over how much to offer, Chen Xiaomi glanced at him and spoke first:

“The second half of 'Alive' is even more brilliant than the first 40,000 characters and far exceeds my expectations. I can represent People’s Literature and offer the industry’s highest royalty rate: 30 yuan per thousand characters.”

Since the state reinstated royalty policies, rates have risen several times over the past decade; currently, the standard for a typical new writer is 12 yuan per thousand characters.

As Chen Xiaomi said, 30 yuan per thousand is the ceiling.

Even China’s most top-tier authors cannot exceed this rate.

Chen Xiaomi raised the rate to the maximum because she had no other choice.

It was her last and only option.

She knew Li Heng disliked her and held strong resentment toward her; he was only letting her stay now, not kicking her out, because he intended to use her to drive up the price.

As he wished, she saw through his scheme and immediately capped the offer.

She left Zou Ping no room to negotiate.

She wanted to see—if she showed such sincerity, if she blocked every path before the rival could speak—would Li Heng give "Alive" to her under the same terms?

She was putting him on the spot!

Using her niece Chen Zijin to pressure him!

You can dislike me, you can mock and sneer at me—I’ve endured it.

After all, I once did the same thing; after all, I was in the wrong. As a mature adult, as someone with professional ambitions, I accepted the humiliation as payment for my past mistakes—Chen Xiaomi swallowed her tears.

But public is public, private is private. Our personal grudges are private; the publishing deal we’re negotiating is public.

If Li Heng confuses public and private—if he gives "Alive" to her under the same 30 yuan per thousand characters rate—

Then I have nothing to say.

Then I’ll pack up and leave!

Then I’ll use my entire life, mobilize every member of the Chen family, to prevent Zijin from being with him.

He holds grudges? So do I—as a woman, I’ve always held grudges.

In truth, she was gambling—betting that Li Heng hadn’t forgotten Zijin, that he still cared for her.

It was her only remaining chance, her only slim hope of winning.

Indeed, Chen Xiaomi’s bold move caught Zou Ping completely off guard.

He’d just been hesitating whether to reveal all his cards—and she’d moved faster than him!

This left Zou Ping, one step behind, filled with frustration.

Li Heng glanced at Chen Xiaomi, thinking: This woman can bend and endure; to achieve her goal, she endures what others cannot—she’s truly formidable.

…

…

(End of chapter)