Chapter 96: The Sales Battle of Literary Journals (Guaranteed Minimum Update)

The initial print run was 280,000, and now an additional 120,000 have been added, totaling 400,000!

For a children’s publication aimed at elementary schoolers and younger, this circulation is truly staggering.

Lu Xiaoyan told him: “Thirty years ago, the inaugural issue of Children’s Literature sold over 300,000 copies; since then, it fluctuated, generally staying around 300,000. After its relaunch, it climbed steadily from 100,000 to over 200,000—this is the first time Children’s Literature has ever reached 400,000!”

Four hundred thousand copies—forget children’s magazines, even among all literary journals, only Harvest and People’s Literature can match it!

For a magazine like Children’s Literature, besides family purchases, school orders make up a huge portion—some classes share one copy, some schools order just a few for the library.

A circulation of 400,000 easily covers one million young readers.

That means The Legend of the Heavenly Book has influenced at least one million children’s childhoods—even if the Shanghai Animation Film Studio didn’t notice, in twenty or thirty years it’ll be a major IP.

Wei Ming: “I expected kids would like it, but I never imagined it would become this popular with only a third of the print run distributed.”

As for fun, the second story—where Dan Sheng learns magic and battles the three foxes—is the best.

Lu Xiaoyan said: “My colleagues and I analyzed it—we think the illustrations were key. The picture of Dan Sheng eating a pancake is incredibly eye-catching; everyone loves it at first glance. Now Xi Zi is showing off everywhere—he’s become a little star in class, and when others call him ‘Xi Dan,’ he’s delighted.”

Wei Ming nodded. Who doesn’t love a chubby, round-faced baby?

Lu Xiaoyan added: “The illustrations draw people in, but the story’s ability to spread by word of mouth in kindergartens and elementary schools comes from how well it’s told—even the three villainous foxes are vivid and unforgettable.”

Lu Xiaoyan also had to tell Wei Ming some bad news.

Wait, weren’t there two good news items?

Lu Xiaoyan went on: “Because the quality of submissions has dropped over the past few months, and the manuscript fee standard is reportedly rising, starting next year, Children’s Literature will switch to a bimonthly publication.”

“Ah!”

This was indeed bad news—previously, you could earn children’s literature royalties every month; now it’s every two months.

“But The Legend of the Heavenly Book will finish serialization in January next year, so it won’t be affected—young readers won’t have to wait long.”

Wei Ming smiled: “Auntie, is your second piece of good news that the format change won’t affect The Legend of the Heavenly Book?”

“Oh! I nearly forgot the second piece of good news!”

Lu Xiaoyan hurried on: “The Shanghai Animation Film Studio wrote—they’ve approved the script for The Toothless Tiger, and they’ll send your royalty check in a couple of days. I told them to mail it directly to the south gate of Peking University.”

Wei Ming’s heart leapt—ha! Big money again.

He asked straight: “How much is it?”

“How would I know?”

Two more days passed, and Wei Ming finally found out: 360 yuan!

It was his largest single income to date—and he’d earned it in just a few nights.

For a 20-minute animated short, the total script fee was set at 400 yuan; Wei Ming, as original author and screenwriter, received 90%—more than enough, far higher than the serialization fee, over eighteen times higher!

Wei Ming’s cash flow has now officially crossed the thousand-yuan mark, reaching 1,024 yuan!

After getting the money, Wei Ming deposited it all—he kept only a hundred-odd yuan for petty expenses, which was more than enough unless he bought big-ticket items.

If he saved a bit more, he could afford a motorcycle!

But for now, he still rode his bicycle—he pedaled his big Yongjiu to the Summer Palace.

Since his rebirth, nearly three months had passed without him visiting once—just like the Forbidden City, he’d been there too many times in his past life, especially during his frequent blind dates in his thirties.

This time, he wasn’t here for a date—he had an appointment.

Yesterday, Gong Ying called Wei Ming voluntarily, saying she had the day off and asking if he was free.

Wei Ming was originally on the day shift, so he switched to the night shift immediately and became available; they arranged to meet at the north gate of the Summer Palace.

Gong Ying didn’t see this outing as a date, but as ordinary friendship—Wei Ming was the only person in Beijing she could truly talk to.

Whether because she was from Shanghai or because she was the only one in the troupe who’d ever acted in a film, she always felt subtly excluded by the other women in the theater group.

Though not a romantic date, Gong Ying’s simple attire still made her stand out in the crowd—Wei Ming spotted her from afar.

“Sister Xue, over here!”

Wei Ming parked his bike, and they bought tickets to enter—ten fen each.

Gong Ying smiled: “This is my first time visiting the Summer Palace.”

Wei Ming: “I’ve been here before—let me be your guide.”

Entering from the north gate, the first thing they saw was Suzhouhe.

“Ah, there’s a Suzhouhe here too?”

“Yes—it’s modeled after Jiangnan’s water towns. By the late Qing, the emperor had neither the ability nor the courage to travel south, so he spent the people’s taxes to build this scenery.” He pulled out his large camera. “Let me take your photo.”

Wei Ming never photographed unknown people—such a beauty deserved to be preserved in images, and he’d even switched to color film.

Gong Ying nodded; Wei Ming had mailed her the photos he took at Fengze Garden—they were quite good under the circumstances.

“Now we climb the hill.” Wei Ming pointed ahead to Wanshou Mountain, over eighty meters high.

Gong Ying beamed: “When I was sent to Jiangxi, I saw many big mountains—this is nothing.”

Soon they reached the summit effortlessly—Gong Ying didn’t even need Wei Ming’s help.

Slim and small, but surprisingly strong.

They took two photos among the rock formations on Wanshou Mountain; Gong Ying even insisted on taking one of Wei Ming.

At that moment, both thought the same thing: should they take a photo together? They’d never taken a private photo together.

Never mind—wait a bit longer. The Kunming Lake area would be better for photos.

Beyond the summit lay many cultural sites; Wei Ming could explain the origins of every building, plaque, and painting—he’d visited dozens of times.

Because he explained so well, a crowd soon gathered around them—damn, they were treating him like a tour guide!

Wei Ming quickly pulled Gong Ying away—he didn’t dare hold her hand, only her arm.

“Let’s go boating,” Wei Ming suggested. Gong Ying nodded hesitantly.

Of course, boating cost extra—ten fen for entry didn’t cover a boat ride.

Rowing on the lake was a different kind of pleasure; neither of them rowed vigorously—they simply drifted with the current.

Gong Ying recalled: “My family had four siblings; when we were kids, one small boat couldn’t hold us all—we had to go in two groups.”

Wei Ming: “My family only has me and my sister—she’s thirteen, in high school. My father is from Hebei, my mother from Sichuan-Chongqing.”

Gong Ying felt embarrassed—why was he telling her this?

Wei Ming: Didn’t you start by talking about your family?

Wei Ming added: “Actually, this season isn’t ideal for visiting the Summer Palace—you should go to Xiangshan instead.” “Oh?”

“The Summer Palace is better in summer—Kunming Lake makes it especially cool. Winter’s fine too—you can ice skate. By the way, have you ever skated?”

Gong Ying: “Does riding a bike on ice count?”

“Huh?”

Gong Ying: “During this past New Year, I rode a colleague’s bicycle and slipped—I broke my right wrist.”

“Ah!”

Wei Ming laughed: “I bet that’s why you never bought a bike.”

Gong Ying, sitting across from Wei Ming, lightly kicked his shoe: “Mainly because the ice was too slippery.”

“So, dare you come ice skating with me this winter? Shichahai is lively, and even Weiminghu at Peking University is good for skating.”

Gong Ying gently stirred the lake water: “We’ll see.”

Wei Ming immediately snapped a photo of this moment.

!

Later, they talked about their experiences at the Writers’ Congress—Gong Ying had seen Wei Ming’s name in the newspaper.

“Did you meet Teacher Zhang Ruifang?” Gong Ying asked.

“I did—and many from Shanghai Film Studio too.” Wei Ming listed them off.

Hearing how warmly Wei Ming spoke to Sun Daolin, Gong Ying felt jealous—she doubted she could even get into Shanghai Film Studio.

When they reached shore, Wei Ming looked for someone to take their photo.

As he searched, someone approached him first.

“Children, stay with your teacher—don’t wander off.”

During a fall outing of the Peking University Affiliated Kindergarten, little Xi Zi, who kept wandering off, suddenly made a major discovery.

He nudged his sister: “Lele, I see Ming Ge!”

Lele: “Where? Where?”

“Look!”

Then Xi Zi pulled Lele quietly away from the group.

“Sorry, I can’t.”

Wei Ming had just been refused by a passerby when he felt someone tugging his sleeve.

Sister Xue, if you need something, just speak—no need to grab me like that.

He turned around and saw Gong Ying three meters away; then he looked down—holy shit, what the hell!

No—it was Xi Le!

“What are you two doing here?”

Lele: “Ming Ge, we’re on a fall outing.”

Wei Ming noticed they both wore hats and carried small backpacks—perfectly standard outing attire.

Gong Ying had walked over, curiously watching the two cute children: “Are these your younger brother and sister?”

“Yes—my uncle’s twins, Xi Zi and Lele.”

Lele immediately said: “Hello, sister.”

Xi Zi hesitated, then sweetly called out: “Sister.”

Gong Ying felt a bit embarrassed—they were even younger than her nephew; she could have given birth to them if she’d married normally.

Gong Ying rummaged through her bag—oh dear, she hadn’t brought any candy.

Xi Zi stared longingly at her bag, regretting now—he should have called her Auntie.

Soon, the kindergarten teacher spotted them and hurried over.

Wei Ming noticed she also had a camera, so he asked her to take a photo of him and Gong Ying together.

Kindergarten teacher: “Wei Xi, Wei Le, would you like to join too?”

Xi and Le replied in unison: “Yes!”

In the end, Wei Ming and Gong Ying never got their couple photo; instead, their Héyíyuán outing ended with a family-of-four picture.

Xue Jie held Le Le, Wei Ming carried Xi Zi—click.

Afterward, Gong Ying and Wei Ming had lunch outside; Xue Jie paid, since Wei Ming needed money for photos and developing.

Wei Ming, having been treated to lunch by his sister, wanted to invite her to stroll around Peking University, but how could she possibly agree? That would truly feel like a date.

Before boarding the bus, she smiled: “I’ll come visit you again when I have time—today was so much fun.”

She was happy; Lu Xiaoyan was puzzled.

Ah, a girl had appeared.

According to Le Le, she was very beautiful.

Lu Xiaoyan pointed to the actress Leng Mei on the cover of the latest issue of *Popular Cinema*: “How does she compare?”

Le Le: “The auntie I met today is prettier.”

Lu Xiaoyan asked with a hint of pride: “What about your mother?”

Le Le hesitated to answer, but Xi Zi suddenly showed surprising tact: “Mom is the most beautiful!”

One lie earned him a Big White Rabbit candy—Xi Zi thought it was worth it!

Le Le got two, because she was honest.

This month, apart from *Gushihui* reaching a new high after its relaunch and *Children’s Literature* smashing records with a bold performance, the serious literary journal *Huacheng* was no less impressive.

Shortly after its first print run of 220,000 copies in the November issue, *Huacheng* issued an additional print of 150,000 copies, breaking its own all-time record to reach 370,000 copies!

And coincidentally, it was exactly 10,000 copies more than the previous issue of *Shouhuo*, as if deliberately challenging the elder brother’s dominance…

(End of Chapter)