Chapter 52: Royalty

After finishing the eighth class, Li Heng rushed straight to the English teacher’s home.

At this time, Chen Xiaomi and Zou Ping were already there. Wang Runwen served them tea and water, chatting with them.

Seeing him appear at the door, all three turned their heads at once; the living room, moments ago filled with conversation, fell silent.

After changing his shoes, Li Heng walked over calmly and sat down, apologizing: “Just got out of class—sorry to keep you waiting.”

After the formal pleasantries, he cut straight to the point: “What do you two say about the royalty-on-print-runs?”

Li Heng looked at Chen Xiaomi; she said nothing.

Zou Ping, however, grinned: “The publisher says the standard contract rate for serial publication remains thirty yuan per thousand characters.

Royalty-on-print-runs only trigger if the standalone novel’s print run exceeds three hundred thousand copies.”

Three hundred thousand copies for a standalone edition?

If priced at three yuan per copy, that’s forty-five thousand yuan for me alone.

Whoa!

Forty-five thousand yuan in the 1980s!

Such a staggering sum—equivalent to hundreds of millions in the future—caught him off guard.

Though he didn’t understand the literary market of this era, and three hundred thousand copies seemed daunting, the return was undeniably real.

Still, Li Heng felt Shouhuo had already been generous: after all, the serial publication contract still paid him thirty yuan per thousand characters, guaranteeing his fee with no risk.

Hearing Zou Ping’s words, Chen Xiaomi subtly frowned, finding it utterly unbelievable that Shouhuo would open a door for a debut writer.

Even if this door was half-restricted, they hadn’t shortchanged Li Heng—they’d paid him at the industry’s highest standard.

She recalled how, when she reported this to the editor-in-chief, the line went silent for a moment, then abruptly hung up—no further word.

Under Zou Ping’s expectant gaze, Li Heng didn’t hesitate long—he agreed readily.

Next came the familiar process of signing the publishing contract. Having once been a merchant, Li Heng carefully reviewed every clause, found no issues, then signed and stamped his fingerprint.

“Teacher Li, welcome to the Shouhuo family. Your fee of four thousand and fifty yuan will reach you within a week.

If you have more manuscripts in the future, we hope you’ll consider us first.”

The moment the agreement was signed, Zou Ping exhaled deeply in relief and warmly extended his hand.

“All good, thank you, Editor Zou!” Li Heng reached out and shook his hand firmly.

His words were sincere, not a single ounce of flattery.

After all, Shouhuo had shown him respect, granted him special privileges, and never withheld his fee.

For these two generous, righteous acts, he’d remember them for life.

What he didn’t know was that Shouhuo had treated him so leniently because Old Ba had been moved by his youth and the quality of his work, “To Live.”

Though forty-five hundred yuan for “To Live” at thirty yuan per thousand characters seemed substantial, to a major magazine like Shouhuo, it was merely a drop in the ocean—no real cost.

Of course, Shouhuo wasn’t naive—they had their own calculations.

If “To Live” gained enough influence to justify a standalone edition and sold over three hundred thousand copies, the magazine’s revenue would reach millions; paying him a fraction of that was a win-win.

But could “To Live” generate that kind of influence?

Did Li Heng have any confidence?

Did Shouhuo magazine have any confidence either?

Everything remained unknown—only time would tell…!

Zou Ping departed, fully satisfied and delighted.

At the school gate, Li Heng watched his departing back and muttered to himself: Damn! Five percent royalty is still too little.

But he knew this couldn’t be rushed—them making an exception for him was already a huge favor.

Once I write a second great novel, I’ll have more leverage—I’ll demand a higher rate then.

Ever since Zou Ping agreed to royalty-on-print-runs, Chen Xiaomi knew she had lost completely.

Yet she didn’t leave immediately; instead, she watched the absurd scene unfold with morbid curiosity.

Yes, royalty—in her eyes—was a wildly heretical absurdity. No one had ever raised it, and no one dared.

And now…

What stunned her even more: this greenhorn Li Heng, brazenly ignorant of the world’s rules, had raised it—and Old Ba had actually agreed.

It was almost unimaginable!

If this leaked, how great a storm would it ignite?

She could precisely guess it was Old Ba’s decision

because no mere editor-in-chief of Shouhuo would dare—after all, it threatened every publisher’s interests. Only a figure as transcendent as Old Ba could act without fear.

At this moment, Chen Xiaomi’s feelings toward Li Heng were more complex than ever before.

A sudden thought flashed in her mind: Had I known he possessed such extraordinary talent, last summer I wouldn’t have smashed their romance—I’d have urged my sister-in-law to accept Tian Run’e’s marriage proposal.

Tian Run’e… such an old-fashioned term—I haven’t called her that in ages.

Seeing Li Heng look over, Chen Xiaomi gathered her thoughts and unexpectedly said to him:

“You’re impressive. Everyone misjudged you.”

“Everyone” meant Chen’s entire family—and the gossipy village women who’d mocked him.

She couldn’t imagine what kind of uproar would erupt if word spread that Li Heng had become a great writer.

How dramatically would the villagers’ attitudes shift?

Li’s door, once deserted, would surely swell with visitors again.

After all…

Few in the entire nation could produce a work equal to “To Live.”

Chen Xiaomi didn’t know why she’d suddenly felt compelled to praise him—but the words were out, and she couldn’t take them back, so she kept her face cold.

Li Heng was stunned, wondering if he’d hallucinated.

Ha! This woman just praised me to my face?

Is this some kind of cosmic joke?

In both his past and present lives, this woman had never once said anything good about him—this was truly the sun rising in the west!

Li Heng wanted to thank her, but instinctively just nodded.

They exchanged a glance, said nothing more. Chen Xiaomi politely thanked the English teacher, then walked away without looking back.

Once Chen Xiaomi’s motorcycle vanished down the road, Wang Runwen smirked: “Not bad—you conquered an enemy.”

That’s nothing yet!

That Chen woman isn’t so easily conquered.

But the English teacher… is quite something.

Li Heng instinctively stole a glance, then quickly turned and walked into the school gate.

Wang Runwen crossed his arms, watching him coldly from behind.

He nearly cursed aloud: Everyone from Shangwan Village is crazy? Women like this, men like this too.

(End of Chapter)