Chapter 12: Ghost Blows Out the Light Serialization

Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, spilling onto the desk where Xiang Qian stared at a blank sheet of manuscript paper, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface. Suddenly, his eyes lit up: "Those blockbuster novels from my past life... Ghost Blows Out the Light!"

He leaped to his feet, rummaged through the bookcase for a stack of paper, and with flourishing strokes wrote the title—Ghost Blows Out the Light: The Ancient City of Jingjue.

The fountain pen scratched across the page as scene after heart-pounding scene leaped onto the paper:

"Hu Bayi stood at the entrance of an ancient tomb, the needle on the compass in his hand spinning wildly..."

Xiang Qian rubbed his sore, swollen wrist, looked at the thick stack of manuscripts before him, and nodded in satisfaction: "The first twenty chapters will suffice."

He carefully slipped the pages into a kraft paper envelope and, using a brush pen, wrote the pen name "Songbai" on the cover.

"Qianzai, breakfast is ready!" his mother called from downstairs.

"Coming!" Xiang Qian replied as he headed down the stairs, then asked, "Mom, do you know where the headquarters of Sing Tao Daily is?"

His father looked up from his newspaper: "Pedder Street in Central. Why the sudden interest?"

Xiang Qian offered a mysterious smile: "Going to negotiate a deal."

Before the imposing building, Xiang Qian looked up at the slightly weathered signboard and straightened the collar of his suit.

The receptionist looked up: "Good morning, sir. Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I have important business with the publisher." Xiang Qian handed over the manuscript. "Tell him someone has brought a novel that can save Sing Tao."

The receptionist dialed the phone skeptically: "Publisher, there's a gentleman downstairs... Yes, understood."

She hung up: "The publisher asks you to come up to the 12th floor."

Publisher Lin, his hair completely white, was reviewing financial reports; seeing Xiang Qian enter, he wearily rubbed his brow: "Young man, you claim to have a novel that can save our newspaper?"

Xiang Qian confidently handed over the manuscript: "Please take a look."

Publisher Lin put on his reading glasses; at first he flipped through casually, but soon his expression turned focused. The office fell silent except for the rustling of turning pages.

"This... this is astonishing!" Publisher Lin suddenly looked up. "'Songbai' is you?"

Xiang Qian smiled and nodded: "My pen name."

Publisher Lin jumped to his feet excitedly: "This genre is unprecedented! Grave robbing, feng shui, suspense... Jin Yong writes martial arts, but you are about to create a 'grave-robbing school'!"

He paced back and forth: "I want the serialization rights. Name your price."

Xiang Qian held up five fingers: "Five hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars, for serialization until completion."

"Five hundred thousand?!" Publisher Lin's eyes widened. "That equals half our annual manuscript budget!"

Unfazed, Xiang Qian began gathering his manuscript: "Then I'll try Ming Pao."

"Wait!" Publisher Lin hurriedly blocked his path. "We'll sign now!"

The financial director rushed in: "Publisher, are we really spending this much on a newcomer's work?"

Publisher Lin nodded firmly: "Sing Tao needs a sensation like this."

After carefully reading the contract, Xiang Qian suddenly said: "Add one more clause: all film and television adaptation rights remain with me."

Publisher Lin hesitated for a moment: "Agreed."

"Deal."

The fountain pen struck the contract with a crisp sound. When the finance officer handed over the check, his hands were trembling.

Clutching the scorching-hot check in his pocket, Xiang Qian paused as he passed a newsstand.

The newsstand owner was gloomily arranging copies of Sing Tao Daily: "Sigh, can't sell them all again..."

Xiang Qian bought a copy and said meaningfully: "Boss, make sure to stock up on next week's Sing Tao."

The owner was baffled: "Kid, do you have any idea how hard Sing Tao is to sell right now?"

Xiang Qian just smiled without speaking and turned to leave.

By the third morning, a rare long queue had formed before the newsstand.

"Give me two copies of Sing Tao!"

"I want three! That 'Ghost Blows Out the Light' by 'Songbai' is too thrilling!"

The newsstand owner fumbled wildly with the money, muttering incessantly: "It's haunted... truly haunted..."

Phone rings erupted one after another:

"Is this the printing plant? Print another hundred thousand copies!"

"Advertising department? Raise rates on all ad spaces by 30%!"

Publisher Lin looked at the latest sales report, his hand trembling slightly: "Daily sales have tripled..."

No one knew that at this very moment, Xiang Qian was sitting leisurely at home, watching the frenzied coverage of Ghost Blows Out the Light across various newspapers, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.