Chapter 93: Five Thousand Yuan in Royalties

At five-thirty in the evening, Li Guohong's family of three and Li Guoru's family of five sat around a newly set up round table and began dinner.

In their Li family, Li Luo's grandfather was the eldest, and there were two younger brothers and one younger sister, one of whom was the third uncle who sold them the house.

Below him, Li Luo's grandfather had five children in total.

They were, in order: the eldest, Li Guoru; three aunts in the middle; and the youngest, Li Guohong.

Among them, Li Guoru and Li Guohong were twenty years apart in age.

And when Li Guoru was twenty, he happened to get married and have a child.

As a result, Li Guoru's son, Li Dao, was born in the same year as Li Guohong.

Li Guohong, because he did better academically as a child, went to high school.

But Li Dao, mischievous since childhood, dropped out after one year of junior high and entered society early, marrying several years before Li Guohong.

Thus, Li Dao's son—Li Luo's nephew, Li Xiang—though three or four years older than Li Luo, was one generation lower in kinship.

Even now, when they met regularly, no one deliberately emphasized these generational differences, and Li Xiang usually didn't call Li Luo "uncle."

But it was still a bit awkward.

Li Luo used to find it awkward too, but after his rebirth, his thirty-five-year-old soul facing a college-bound kid suddenly found the title "uncle" not entirely unacceptable.

But right now, Li Luo had no time to dwell on it.

After all, since returning home, everyone had been talking about Li Luo's novel writing.

Once the three women joined the table, the chatter intensified.

"Li Luo writes novels too?"

"What kind does he write?"

"Is it posted online?"

When asked these questions, Lin Xiuhong would step in to explain a little.

Li Luo ate as if sitting on pins and needles, wishing he could dig a hole and crawl into the ground.

Fortunately, most of the elders hadn't even finished junior high; their education and knowledge were extremely limited, so Li Luo wasn't worried they'd actually read it.

But someone might still read it.

Especially his eldest uncle.

Although he hadn't attended much school as a child, after becoming an adult, a kind boss had taught him to read.

Later, traveling throughout Qianjiang Province, he ran many businesses and gradually broadened his horizons; as he aged, he still chose to keep learning and read many books.

As his son Li Dao grew up, Li Guoru originally planned to gradually hand over the family business to him.

But Li Dao had no interest in inheriting the business and instead always wanted to roam the world.

Over time, Li Guoru grew disheartened and simply liquidated his company assets, exchanged them for several houses and storefronts, and retired to live out his days.

After retirement, with nothing to do and growing old, Li Guoru thought he didn't want to be forgotten after death, so he wrote memoirs himself and hired someone to polish them.

Later, he spent money to self-publish through a publisher and, on that basis, joined the Yuhang City Writers Association.

Through these repeated activities, Li Guoru's life gradually stabilized; every day he visited the writers association's member center, drank tea, and chatted with others.

He never imagined that someone in his own family had a child interested in literature.

But after reading Li Luo's work, Li Guoru fell silent for a long time, then finally, amid the noisy dinner table, carefully said: "Li Luo."

Li Luo put down his chopsticks and looked up at his uncle, his expression puzzled.

Li Guoru paused a moment, waiting for the table to grow quiet, then continued: "I read a little of your book."

"To be frank, if submitted to the Writers Association, it wouldn't be acceptable at all."

"Of course, you're still young; writing requires gradual progress—you shouldn't undervalue yourself."

Here, Li Guoru paused, seeing Li Luo was listening, then turned to Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong beside him and said:

"Li Luo is still young and probably doesn't understand; you two also don't pay attention to this, so I understand—but I need to make this clear to you."

"Online novels and our traditional literature are not the same path."

"Though both are called 'novel writing,' the content is worlds apart; online novels are utterly unworthy of serious consideration."

"If Li Luo wastes too much time on this, it's truly a waste of energy."

"After all, he barely got into Fuyi High School—if he works harder, won't he have a chance at Qianjiang University?"

"If he gets into Qianjiang, what couldn't he do in the future?"

"Once he holds a Qianjiang University diploma, finds a good job, and has free time—if he's truly interested, he can write these online novels then, and it won't matter."

"You don't understand."

"In the past, Qianjiang Province's Writers Association never accepted online writers."

"Only this year did they establish a separate Online Novel Writers Association, but it's merely a small sub-group under our provincial association."

"Ask other provinces—they don't even have an Online Novel Writers Association."

"Take what you've written online to them—they won't even glance at it; membership is out of the question."

Here, Li Guoru took a deep breath. Seeing everyone fall silent, he shifted tone, looked at Li Luo, and said gently: "I'm not targeting you, Li Luo—I'm just looking out for you."

"You've gotten into Fuyi High School; your future hopes rest here."

"Look at Li Xiang—he slacked off just a little before the college entrance exam and missed Qianjiang University; how regrettable that was."

"If you work hard these next three years, focus entirely on your studies, and get into Qianjiang University, your future will be bright and clear—don't you agree?"

Honestly, if someone else had said this to him at home, Li Luo would've stood up and argued with them.

But since it was his uncle speaking, Li Luo stayed silent, merely nodding silently, hoping the topic would end soon.

In his previous life, when Lin Xiuhong fell seriously ill, his uncle was already very old, suffering from chronic illness and frequently hospitalized.

When Lin Xiuhong was at her most critical, Li Guoru was lying in a hospital bed himself, yet still remembered to instruct Li Dao to contact one of Yuhang City's most renowned doctors.

Though his uncle's words were harsh, they were genuinely meant for his nephew's benefit.

If it were some other family's high school kid, threatening to write an online novel, Li Luo's advice would probably be about the same as his uncle's.

After all, only he himself knew his current situation clearly, so it was normal for his uncle to misjudge.

Moreover, he was still a member of the Writers' Association and had prejudice against online novels; this kind of bias was hard to correct through simple conversation.

So Li Luo simply played dumb.

Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong also listened attentively, nodding repeatedly, and then the topic passed just like that.

After eating and drinking their fill, Li Guoru's family rested briefly, then got up to take their leave.

After Li Luo helped tidy up the living room, he was pulled by Lin Xiuhong to sit on the sofa.

Li Guohong sat beside them as well; it was rare for the whole family to gather together, so they held a family meeting.

"Following what your uncle said, how about you don't write this book for now?"

Lin Xiuhong asked softly, "Didn't you tell me before that even after signing with the platform, you could just stop writing whenever you wanted? They wouldn't pursue it, right?"

Li Guohong beside her chimed in: "Actually, I think you write pretty well, but what your uncle said also makes sense. At worst, wait until you get into college, then come back to write this book. Just treat it as a casual pastime."

Listening to his parents' words, Li Luo sighed, then said: "Have you ever considered one possibility?"

"What?"

"I make money writing this book."

"How much money could you possibly make?" Lin Xiuhong looked at him skeptically. "You're still in high school. Whether you make money or not isn't important—studies come first."

Li Guohong also nodded in agreement.

After all, in their thinking, writing a book to make money—how much could it possibly earn?

A kid just playing around—could he even make a hundred yuan a month?

Making money is a small matter; affecting his studies would be a big deal.

"Ahem, here's the thing." Li Luo took out his phone, logged into the Qidian APP, and patiently explained to the two of them. "Look, this chapter of mine is about a little over two thousand characters, and I've now written over two hundred chapters."

"Then, starting from around chapter one hundred, see? The icon with a lock—after this point, if you want to read, you have to pay."

"One chapter is 2000 characters, normally about ten cents. As long as enough people read it, money comes in."

"Then you can't make much from this either," Li Guohong muttered. "What's ten cents good for?"

*Slap! *

Just as Li Guohong's words had just fallen, Li Luo suddenly fished something out of his trouser pocket and slapped it down on the coffee table.

Li Guohong and Lin Xiuhong both started, their gazes following the direction toward the coffee table, and then their expressions froze.

"What's this?" Lin Xiuhong reached out, picked up this stack of bills, and couldn't help exclaiming in shock. "Where did you get so much money?"

In Lin Xiuhong's memory, apart from giving Li Luo fifteen hundred yuan in pocket money during summer vacation, she hadn't given him any money after that.

So these five thousand yuan definitely weren't from the two of them.

After all, Li Guohong himself had to rely on his secret stash just to smoke a few cigarettes—where would he have spare money to give to this kid Li Luo?

"Could it be royalties?" Li Guohong took the stack of bills, his tone carrying suspicion and disbelief. "For real? This must be close to a few thousand, right?"

"This is five thousand yuan," Li Luo said.

"Five thousand yuan..." Lin Xiuhong was silent for a moment, but finally said, "Li Luo, I know you're impressive. At your age, earning five thousand from writing a book—other kids wouldn't even know what they're doing."

"But you've been writing this book since the end of June during summer vacation—how many months has it been now?"

"Three or four months, right?"

In Lin Xiuhong's view, five thousand yuan was indeed not a small sum.

But earning five thousand in three or four months meant only twenty or thirty thousand a year.

Yes, it was indeed not a small amount, and for a high school student like Li Luo, it was an especially huge sum.

But if she could use this annual income of twenty or thirty thousand—nearly a hundred thousand over three years—to exchange for Li Luo getting into Qianjiang University,

then for Lin Xiuhong, it would be completely worth it.

But Li Luo's next sentence left Lin Xiuhong and Li Guohong completely dumbfounded.

"These five thousand yuan are only part of last month's royalties." Li Luo coughed twice to get their attention. "The August royalties were over seven thousand, September was twelve thousand, and the royalties each month after that will only keep growing."

The moment the words fell, Li Guohong's hand holding the bills trembled.

"What did you say?!" Lin Xiuhong beside him was even more utterly stunned, unable to believe it, thinking she had misheard.