Chapter 518

July 9th, morning.

When Li Luo awoke from his drowsy sleep and turned his head to look around, he was instantly struck by a sense of disorientation.

Yan Zhusheng was sleeping on his left.

Her sleeping posture was the most peaceful—she lay flat on her back, hands crossed gently over her small abdomen; her usually icy, expressionless profile now looked unexpectedly soft.

One couldn't help but want to pinch it, as if squeezing a clump of Bai Xue.

On his right was Ying Chanxi.

She slept restlessly; only because Li Luo and Xu Youyu flanked her on either side could they prevent her from stealing the covers in her sleep.

While sleeping, Ying Chanxi's cheeks were slightly puffed, looking adorable—someone would naturally want to lean in and bite them; her fair, tender skin resembled a freshly peeled boiled egg.

Xu Youyu, lying on the other side, was sound asleep, half-hugging Ying Chanxi, a trickle of drool at the corner of his mouth.

After waking, Li Luo lingered slightly in bed, sat up with his back against the headboard, and quietly admired the delicate sleeping faces of the three girls, then reached out to wipe the drool from Xu Youyu's mouth.

It felt almost unnecessary to have booked separate rooms for Ying Chanxi and Yan Zhusheng… over the next few days, Li Luo seriously doubted whether either of them would even sleep in that room.

Thinking of this, Li Luo couldn't help but smile.

Then he slipped out from under the covers, stood up on the bed, leapt lightly over Yan Zhusheng's body, landed beside the bed, and precisely found his slippers.

Without waking any of the three, he quickly washed up in the bathroom, changed clothes, grabbed his phone, and left the room.

Chongqing in July was unbearably hot.

Spring and autumn were generally more recommended for visiting.

He couldn't fathom why Wenxue Group's event planners had gone mad—or perhaps they understood web novel authors so well they knew that even in a new place, these authors would be too lazy to leave their rooms except to eat.

They might even just order takeout and never step out of the hotel during the entire salon.

Fortunately, Li Luo was still young and didn't mind the heat much—he even enjoyed the warmth radiating from his body.

He stepped out of the hotel entrance, circled the building slowly a few times, and when his forehead began to glisten with sweat, he went up to the second-floor dining area for breakfast.

A few other authors who had arrived a day early spotted Li Luo and greeted him voluntarily.

Generally speaking, unless promotional needs demanded it, the sale of a work's copyright would not be publicly announced immediately.

But for authors attending the salon, even by the smallest measure, they were prominent figures at Level 5—essentially treated as future Grand Masters.

With everyone's sources of information, they'd all heard at least something.

Naturally, this included the news of "Little Joys" selling its copyright.

Combined with "Little Joys" having previously entered the realism-themed writing contest, this news was almost certainly true.

After all, since the salon began last year until now, Qidian's realism channel—only open for a year—had produced barely a handful of quality works, including "Little Joys."

Thanks to the sustained traffic from "I Am Really Not a Star" and the continuous influx of contest traffic, although "Little Joys" didn't quite fit mainstream web novel tastes, its quality ensured decent performance.

From barely qualifying as a quality work during its first month of release, to 6,000 average subscriptions at completion, and then, over the following two months with continued contest traffic support, it remained the top-ranked monthly vote-getter in the realism channel, climbing steadily from 6,000 to 9,000 average subscriptions.

At this rate, "Little Joys" would likely surpass 10,000 subscriptions soon.

This would make it the first 10,000-subscription work in Qidian's realism channel.

Fortunately, "Little Joys" was short—only 800,000 characters—concise, tightly plotted, and packed with constant narrative hooks, allowing its performance to keep growing.

Li Luo had written web novels in his past life and understood the broad reader trends in the market.

Simply put, a large portion of readers judged a book's quality based on trends and public opinion.

No book could withstand deliberate criticism.

Flaws, if you looked hard enough, would always exist.

But when a book was hot, backed by strong metrics, its fans could ignore these minor flaws and praise it to the heavens.

Yet if an author wrote something highly controversial, the same group would instantly crush it into the mud.

Former minor flaws would instantly become unbearable, unforgivable defects, clearly and meticulously listed as if the author had committed ten mortal sins.

As Li Luo ate breakfast, he scrolled through the comments section on his phone, checking "Little Joys."

Readers' feedback was quite positive.

Especially after Li Luo revised the setting to avoid elements like "why not eat meat?" the story's toxic points had diminished.

From the reader's perspective, aside from not being "web novel enough," the book was genuinely enjoyable.

If placed in any other channel—even the urban category—it would likely be crushed by other titles.

But in the realism channel, the readers who actually clicked in tended to have some basic literary aspirations.

This actually helped Li Luo filter out a better audience.

As Li Luo thought about this, several other familiar author friends joined him at the table.

They chatted casually and soon turned to this year's Grand Master and Platinum candidate selections.

There were many potential Grand Masters; two at the table had strong chances.

As for Platinum, there was no doubt—Li Luo would be one.

One author at the table, specializing in channel distribution, remarked with a sigh: "Ran Shen's channel sales are even stronger than the main site—you know what that means. Even without the copyright of 'Little Joys,' I think you can still fight for a Platinum contract."

Li Luo did not join this conversation.

Signing a Grand Master or Platinum contract involved confidentiality clauses requiring cooperation with Qidian's promotional efforts—you couldn't privately reveal your signing status.

So even if he knew he'd sign a Platinum contract, he couldn't mention it openly to outsiders.

After breakfast, Li Luo rose to leave and received a call from Lawyer Tian.

He said he had just arrived at the airport and would land around noon.

Li Luo arranged lunch with him, then immediately received a message from the chief editor, scheduling an afternoon meeting.

When he took the elevator back to the sixth-floor room, all three girls were still fast asleep.

It was understandable—they'd been up too late last night.

Recalling the scene from last night's flight chess game, Li Luo's gaze unconsciously drifted to the bed, as if he could see through the blankets to the three girls' smooth, fair thighs.

He turned his head to look at the chair beside him, where black stockings, white stockings, and cotton socks lay discarded.

For a young man brimming with vitality, this was truly a test.

If not for his mature mental age and his ability to restrain himself, he might have done far more foolish things. He could only hope the days ahead would pass more quickly.

Li Luo's academic pressure was now light—he had already scored full marks in all three elective subjects through the selection exam.

Through persistent effort, the gap between him and Ying Chanxi in the three core subjects—Chinese, Math, and English—had narrowed to within five points.

Perhaps during one unexpected surge of performance, he might seize the top rank in his grade.

Under these circumstances, Tsinghua and Peking University were both within reach, let alone Qianjiang University.

He bore the Memory Palace; even if he stopped studying entirely from this moment on, next year's college entrance exam was already a sure thing.

Thinking of these things, Li Luo sat down at his desk, opened his laptop, and planned to write some words before noon.

To avoid waking the girls on the bed, he did not use the mechanical keyboard Xu Youyu had given him—he typed directly on the laptop's built-in keyboard.

Around nine-thirty in the morning, movement stirred on the bed.

Li Luo turned his head and saw that Yan Zhusheng had woken up.

Please... Your Majesty... Collect_(!)

She rubbed her eyes, sat upright, glanced beside her, found Li Luo was gone, then swiftly scanned the room—spotting him at the desk.

She threw back the covers, got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, walked over to Li Luo, swung one leg over, and sat squarely on his lap, hugging him tightly, nuzzling her head against his shoulder like a sleepy kitten, clingy as could be.

"I'm writing," Li Luo said, wrapping his arms around her waist and patting her butt with a chuckle.

"Just a little while," Yan Zhusheng murmured, nuzzling higher, closing her eyes, and clinging to him, savoring the warmth.

Only when she had hugged enough did Yan Zhusheng slide off Li Luo's lap and head to the bathroom to freshen up.

When she came out, she sat quietly on the empty chair beside the desk, watching Li Luo write.

"You're staring like this—I can't write anymore."

"Then show me your drafts."

"... I sent them to you."

Yan Zhusheng had now developed the habit.

She would hoard batches of Li Luo's drafts, then harvest them all at once.

Then, the daily updates became a review of previous content—equivalent to reading it a second time.

Though the learning effect was far inferior to that of the Literary Era, she still loved reading it, because familiar scenes and passages often appeared in the novel.

For instance, the novel frequently featured tender scenes of the protagonist Li Yang and Mo Qinghan playing piano together.

Yan Zhusheng always sensed a déjà vu in them.

Readers argued in the comments section over which heroine was the best—but they could never imagine that the three heroines' real-life prototypes had always been circling Li Luo.

"Lawyer Tian will arrive at noon," Li Luo said, glancing at the two still-sleeping girls on the bed as the time neared eleven, then instructing Yan Zhusheng, "I'm going to negotiate a contract this afternoon—I can't stay with you."

"I'll go have lunch with Lawyer Tian first and discuss the negotiation direction."

"Afterward, wake them up and take Uncle and Aunt out to eat. You can stroll around nearby this afternoon."

"Okay," Yan Zhusheng nodded obediently, knowing Li Luo had serious matters to attend to, and didn't intend to cling to him.

So after receiving the message that Lawyer Tian's flight had landed, Li Luo waited another half hour, then rose, tidied himself up, and went downstairs to meet Lawyer Tian for lunch.

……

"The biggest difference between a Grandmaster contract and a regular author's contract lies in the revenue split—it changes from a fifty-fifty split to a thirty-seventy split."

"The author receives seventy percent of the subscription revenue."

At lunch, Lawyer Tian chatted casually with Li Luo.

"Besides that, since it's no longer a standard contract, minor adjustments can be made to other clauses."

"For instance, the copyright terms you mentioned earlier, or the later-added provisions regarding resource allocation for writing contests."

"But some clauses may seem excellent—they're essentially empty promises; the vaguer and more abstract they are, the less binding they become."

Here, Lawyer Tian paused, then added, "So you must first clarify your specific needs—once your negotiation direction is clear, both sides will find it much easier."

"I don't have any extra demands," Li Luo thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Just strengthen the copyright clauses."

After saying this, Li Luo paused again, considered carefully, then added: "Do you think there's a chance we could separate the copyright entirely?"

"Huh?" Lawyer Tian was momentarily confused. "What do you mean by 'separate'?"

"I mean…" Li Luo stroked his chin, thinking for a moment. "Let me give an example: if I sign a Platinum contract for this novel, Little Joys, could I later handle the copyright of similar works myself, without sharing revenue with Qidian?"

Lawyer Tian fell silent at this: "Theoretically, it's feasible—but signing a Platinum contract with Qidian is a partnership; you rely on their channels for copyright sales and their platform's traffic environment."

"If you retain the copyright yourself, you're giving up those advantages."

"Then what's the point of the Platinum contract?"

Lawyer Tian's words made sense.

But Li Luo's thinking was simple.

He had connections with Ying Zhicheng; previously, Little Joys benefited from Qidian's endorsement for the writing contest and official backing, which helped Ying Zhicheng convince the board to approve the copyright acquisition proposal.

But if the TV adaptation of Little Joys succeeds and becomes wildly popular, Li Luo could then sell his other novels or screenplays with far greater ease.

He wouldn't need Qidian's help at all.

"Then let me rephrase," Li Luo mused, turning to Lawyer Tian. "I want an additional clause in the Platinum contract: during the contract term, I retain the right to choose whether Qidian manages the copyright—or I manage it myself."

Lawyer Tian understood Li Luo's intent and nodded slightly: "These are all negotiable—we'll see what they say this afternoon."

"Thank you, Lawyer Tian," Li Luo said with a smile.

His choice was simple: for short-form works like Little Joys, suitable for TV adaptation, he had no need to partner with Qidian—he could simply leverage Ying Zhicheng's connections.

Most online novel authors fail to sell their copyrights simply because they lack these personal connections, so they're forced to rely on platform websites.

But Li Luo was clearly different.

However, if after finishing I Am Really Not a Star I start another long Online Novel, I'll likely still need to rely on the platform for promotion.

So it's not necessary to completely close off some paths.

(End of Chapter)