[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981":3,"chapter-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-152":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","That Year, the Flowers Bloomed in 1981",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2294570,4489,"Chapter 152: Is Li Ye a Triad Boss?","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-152",152,"\u003Cp>Hong Kong Island, Sai Wan, Tawang Literature Publishing House.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong held a pile of receipts and ledgers, calculated them twice, and finally wore a smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah Min, call and order lunch—today we’re having pigeon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wow~ Boss, you’re too stingy! We’ve been working our asses off this month, and you’re only treating us to pigeon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong’s smile didn’t fade; he chuckled and scolded, “Don’t like pigeon? How about pork chop rice? You expecting shark fin?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Min whined, “When will we ever get to eat shark fin? When I first came, you kept promising us lobster and shark fin—but we’ve had pigeon so few times I can count them on one hand.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong felt a bit embarrassed and smiled, “Next month, next month I’ll treat you to shark fin and give you red envelopes too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, Boss! Don’t you dare lie to us!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Min immediately grabbed the phone and placed the order, thrilled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were only three of them in the publishing house; yes, they’d been swamped this month, but she knew the financial situation all too well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their biweekly magazine kept getting reprinted—newsstands and bookstores kept demanding more stock, until the biweekly was practically becoming a daily, with reprints every day.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Pei Wencong, who used to always wear a grim face, now often laughed to himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All this proved that Pei Wencong would keep his word this time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And given Pei Wencong’s sense of righteousness, this red envelope wouldn’t be small—it could buy new clothes for the kids and even hire a tutor to help with their studies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Bang!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll f*** your mother! Are these bastards never done? Think my writing’s bad? Do you have any idea how hard I work?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Ah Min happily placed the order, Ah Qiang slammed his fist on the desk.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since “North Wind Soaring” began serialization, Ah Qiang wrote at night and spent days coordinating layouts with the printer and reading fan letters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first two issues were fine—fan letters mostly expressed admiration and begged for more chapters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But since last week, when Ah Qiang started serializing “Great Han Majesty,” the fan letters turned sour.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Out of ten letters, three were cursing him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, Ah Qiang took the criticism to heart and revised his writing at night, but as the letters piled up, he felt he couldn’t write anymore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many readers sharply accused the author of “Great Han Majesty” of spouting nonsense and being a dropout who hadn’t even finished junior high.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This crushed Ah Qiang—he really hadn’t finished junior high, but over the years he hadn’t just drawn comics.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d been self-studying, building up his writing skills—otherwise Pei Wencong wouldn’t have given him the job of editor and reporter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong, sorting through accounts, looked at Ah Qiang’s messy hair and bloodshot eyes, sighed, and pulled out several textbooks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah Qiang, take these books home and study them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang took them grumpily, then stared in shock: “Mainland high school textbooks? Am I supposed to go back to high school?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong whispered, “These history books differ from ours. Don’t let anyone see them, and don’t argue with anyone over their views.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang paused, then nodded silently. Through recent lessons, he’d realized how far behind he was from the author of “North Wind Soaring,”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>especially in history—he kept discovering gaps in his knowledge, only realizing too late where to look for answers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ring ring ring~”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The desk phone rang; Pei Wencong picked it up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, Tawang Literature Publishing House.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, Mr. Pei, this is Book Union Sales. May we discuss agency distribution for your biweekly ‘Tawang’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong straightened up immediately: “Of course—we’d be honored to join Book Union Sales.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Book Union Sales was one of Hong Kong’s largest book and newspaper retailers, with distribution networks across Hong Kong and into Southeast Asia and even the West.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a small publisher like Tawang, they’d once begged Book Union Sales for a chance—now the tables had turned. If Pei Wencong hesitated even a second, he’d betray every year he’d struggled in the mud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you hold the copyright for ‘North Wind Soaring’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tawang holds the copyright for ‘North Wind Soaring.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong didn’t hesitate—even if they didn’t have it, he’d say they did.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Can you guarantee consistent serialization? If you break faith, you’ll pay breach penalties.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong paused for a fraction of a second, then said firmly: “Yes—we’ll sign the contract.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong couldn’t let this chance slip away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was over thirty—he knew, he understood: a chance to change your fate might come only once in a lifetime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Miss it, and even heaven wouldn’t forgive you.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then come to our Central headquarters Wednesday at two p.m. to discuss contract details.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Understood. I’ll be there. Thank you. Goodbye.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After hanging up, Pei Wencong immediately dialed Lanhai Publishing in the Mainland.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long wait, the call finally connected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, this is Tawang Literature Publishing House from Hong Kong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong announced his name, and immediately heard a flurry of activity on the other end—someone shouting for their boss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong felt a wave of relief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ever since he’d mentioned paying in U.S. dollars last time, he’d sensed their heightened attention.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the copyright issue remained unresolved, leaving him quietly anxious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, Mr. Pei! How have you been? How’s ‘North Wind Soaring’ selling?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Moderately well, but our publishing house values exchange with the Mainland, so we plan to ramp up promotion. But without the copyright secured and with limited stock, I can’t invest more.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We’re handling it—we’ll resolve it for you soon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong frowned: “So after my request, you still haven’t fixed it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lanhai replied: “We’ve received some manuscripts; copyright shouldn’t be an issue. But your offer of ten thousand U.S. dollars per quarter—isn’t that too low?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ten thousand U.S. dollars is too low?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong’s mind raced—he remembered when he’d first offered ten thousand, they hadn’t objected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Price can be negotiated, but get the copyright—no matter what.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Understood. We will!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After hanging up, Pei Wencong broke into a cold sweat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He feared the duck slipping from his grasp—fearing breach penalties, debts he could never repay to the bank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and told the clerk: “Ah Min, the air conditioner’s broken—get someone to fix it this afternoon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he told Ah Qiang: “Ah Qiang, call Brother Nan—get our Corolla back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang, lost in thought, nodded silently and dialed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon he asked Pei Wencong: “Boss, Brother Nan says your Corolla’s already sold—he’s got a used Benz for seventy thousand. Want it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong waved it off: “Do I even need to answer? Seventy thousand? Pfft.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ah Qiang smirked inwardly: “Even the miser has his day—my day won’t be far off.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While Pei Wencong hesitated, Lanhai Publishing was a different scene.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s Lao Dong thinking? It’s been days—why hasn’t Seven-Inch Blade signed the reprint contract? And he’s submitting fewer and fewer manuscripts.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I asked Dong Yuejin yesterday—he said Seven-Inch Blade’s busy with school now, less time to write.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Less time? I think he’s just stirring up trouble. He exploited the ‘Infiltration’ contract—we didn’t cheat him, and now he’s hooked?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The publishing house’s top boss paced angrily, then issued a final order:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tell Lao Dong to resolve this within a week—or withhold future payments for ‘Infiltration.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dong Yuejin, upon receiving the order, didn’t dare delay—he sent a telegram to Peking University, demanding Li Ye call him today.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only at 8 p.m. did Li Ye’s call come through to Lanhai Publishing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh my Li Ye, you’re trying to kill your old brother?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just tell me what you want—don’t use school as an excuse. We both know each other too well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye held back a laugh, paused a few seconds, then said: “I must focus on my studies now. But I’m very interested in Hong Kong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dong Yuejin was confused: “What do you mean, interested?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye said plainly: “In class, my professor said Hong Kong is one of East Asia’s key economic centers. I’m studying economics—I want to go see it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dong Yuejin stared, then sighed: “I knew you’d cause trouble. Don’t you know how hard it is to leave the country?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye smiled: “It might not be that hard—if you think it’s hard, let me negotiate directly with Hong Kong.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dong Yuejin had no reply—this was beyond his authority as a magazine editor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a meeting the next day, Li Ye finally received Tawang Literature Publishing House’s phone number.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye paid two hundred yuan as a deposit at the post office and waited for the international line to connect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long wait, he heard Pei Wencong’s Hong Kong-accented Mandarin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello, who’s this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m Seven-Inch Blade. I’m looking for Mr. Pei Wencong of Tawang Literature Publishing House.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The line went silent for three seconds, then erupted with enthusiasm: “That’s me! That’s me! You—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“International calls are expensive. Just listen—I’m speaking now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Li Ye cut in directly: “First, I want twenty percent profit from ‘North Wind Soaring’—keep it with you for now. Don’t even think about playing tricks.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Second, I’m going to Hong Kong this Spring Festival. Get me an invitation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pei Wencong was stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Listening to the unyielding tone on the phone, he felt as if he weren’t talking to a literary writer, but to a gang boss from Tongluowan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Old Feng finished his last IV today; starting tomorrow, updates will be more vigorous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He caught a cold at the start of the month, so he won’t beg for sympathy this time—eight days of IVs messed up Old Feng’s update schedule.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tomorrow I’ll try to adjust the update time to around eight p.m., so readers won’t have to stay up late, and it won’t hurt Old Feng’s readership.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Old Feng will catch up on the backlog as soon as possible—believe me, he’s not slacking off; he’s just as anxious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With so much debt, he’s too embarrassed to even ask for votes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Today’s post was released late, so I won’t copy the thank-you notes for tips—will do them all together tomorrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1681,"2026-06-20T05:04:59.129Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","d3e61030c214447d136e18fddfa187eac8bfec71ef273c6d22c03f3b07b02f82","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-153","that-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-chapter-151",884,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthat-year-the-flowers-bloomed-in-1981-cover.jpg"]