Chapter 168

Hong Kong, Western District, Treading Waves Literary Publishing.

Pei Pei Wencong sat in his brand-new boss chair, legs crossed, his new leather shoes shaking back and forth, shaking out an air of thirty percent pride and thirty percent contentment.

However, if a psychologist with keen observation skills were to see Pei Pei Wencong's appearance, they would be able to detect four parts of hidden anxiety within his movements.

Within ten minutes, Pei Pei Wencong's boss chair had spun seven times, and his right hand had unconsciously touched his left wrist four times.

On Pei Pei Wencong's left wrist, he wore a newly purchased Rolex.

It was a genuine Rolex worth sixty thousand Hong Kong dollars, not one of those thousand-dollar fakes that would shatter if you slapped it too hard.

As the saying goes, money can solve ninety-nine percent of problems, and one of those is "face."

A few months ago, Pei Pei Wencong had to spend fifteen minutes every day getting ready before going out—suit crisp, leather shoes polished, and his beat-up Corolla wiped again and again—all to desperately maintain face while dealing with others.

But the hypocritical smiles of the others, along with the trepidation in Pei Pei Wencong's own heart, made him understand that forced face is not real face.

Money is a man's courage; this statement is certainly extreme, but it holds a bit of truth.

A wise man with a strong inner spirit can ignore the vanity of money, but in this world, aren't there more ordinary people?

So, once he had money in his pocket, Pei Pei Wencong immediately changed his appearance to verify whether this statement was correct.

Facts proved that it was basically correct.

First of all, Pei Pei Wencong himself felt confident, and those business partners were clearly much more enthusiastic toward him. Even though Pei Pei Wencong despised their snobbery in his heart, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the treatment.

For a time, Pei Pei Wencong was riding high, feeling as though he were only one step away from Hong Kong's elite class.

But just a month ago, the Hong Kong market suddenly changed. Several "masterpieces" by famous authors, all with the same theme as *Flying Gale*, suddenly hit the market to jump on the bandwagon.

Pei Pei Wencong had been somewhat mentally prepared for this, because the commercialization of literature in Hong Kong is extremely high. Once a theme becomes popular, copycats are everywhere; it's neither strange nor shameful.

But the fact that several long-established writers published works simultaneously greatly exceeded Pei Pei Wencong's expectations, making him feel intense pressure.

Not to mention the high reputation of those writers, the strength of the publishing houses behind them was enough to make Pei Pei Wencong feel immense pressure.

Book Union Sales is very sensitive to the market and immediately notified Pei Pei Wencong to take action.

As for how to respond, they left it to Pei Pei Wencong to figure out himself.

Therefore, Pei Pei Wencong sent an urgent notice to the Seven-Inch Blade in the north, requesting that he must take this situation seriously and, if possible, write the subsequent plot points more brilliantly.

This was almost as embarrassing as saying, "I am small and weak, and I cannot withstand the wind and waves."

But seeing the wealth that was about to be in his hands encounter an uncertain crisis, how could Pei Pei Wencong still care about face?

【If only you could give me three more months! Even two months would be fine... sigh.】

Pei Pei Wencong was very helpless. With just two more months of expansive development, the Treading Waves Literary Society's account would have a surplus of several hundred thousand or even a million Hong Kong dollars. He would then be able to use some market competition tactics to go head-to-head with those competitors.

But now, he was truly willing but unable.

It started raining outside the window again. On the outer wall of the cramped gray building ten meters away, that winding, deeply cracked mark was so irritating.

"A-Min, has the report from Book Union Sales for this month been sent over yet?"

Pei Pei Wencong turned his head and shouted at the clerk, A-Min.

Today is the day Book Union Sales sends out reports to their partners. All merchants who cooperate with them will receive the sales figures for the previous month.

If sales were good last month, promotional efforts will be increased this month; if sales were poor, the consequences go without saying.

The reason Pei Pei Wencong is so anxious today is also related to this report. After all, within a few days after the report, the split funds from Book Union Sales will be deposited into the Treading Waves Literary Society's account.

That is real, hard cash!

"Not yet, Boss. You've asked me three times since this morning," A-Min said with a smile as she looked at Pei Pei Wencong. "According to the results of our market research, this month should still be okay! Boss, don't be too anxious."

"Where am I being anxious? I'm just bored!"

Pei Pei Wencong naturally wouldn't admit his nervousness, his mouth remaining stubbornly firm.

A boss must never show weakness in front of employees; even if his legs are trembling with panic, he must remain as calm as if Mount Tai were collapsing before him.

"Boss, if you're bored, why don't you write a review and scold that South Korean guy surnamed Park? As a graduate of the University of Hong Kong's Chinese Department, is your reputation just for show?"

A-Qiang, who was busy organizing the layout, retorted to Pei Pei Wencong in a muffled voice.

A few days ago, an immigrant from South Korea had brazenly plagiarized *Flying Gale* and published it in a small periodical.

He merely changed the names of the protagonist and supporting characters; as for the rest, not to mention the plot, he was even too lazy to change the sentences and paragraphs.

Yet, for this almost identical piece of work, he actually claimed it came from the historical records of the South Korean nation. It was truly infuriating.

A-Qiang is also a small editor with a temper. He immediately wrote a review to scold the person, but unfortunately, the other party's pen was sharper than his. A round of counter-scolding left A-Qiang speechless with rage.

So he had been urging Pei Pei Wencong to start a war of words with the other party. Pei Pei Wencong's writing style is quite good; it's just that he has been busy with management in recent years, so he has let it go to waste.

"A-Qiang, wars of words also have levels. Your war of words with the guy surnamed Park is evenly matched, but I, Pei Pei Wencong, am a man who drives a Mercedes. To even acknowledge him for a second would be lowering my own status."

Pei Pei Wencong looked at A-Qiang with disdain and proudly raised his chin.

A-Qiang immediately got agitated and retorted with equal disdain: "How is your level higher than mine? Are there levels between people? Don't forget that the Mercedes you drive is the second-hand one I bought for you. What are you so proud of?"

"A Mercedes is a Mercedes. A second-hand Mercedes is still a Mercedes."

Pei Pei Wencong smiled contemptuously, not feeling ashamed at all. Isn't a second-hand Mercedes still a luxury car? Besides, I'm wearing a Rolex on my arm! You, A-Qiang, are too lazy to even get a haircut; are you on the same level as me?

"You're just stingy. You promised to give us a raise, but it's been three months and you still haven't. You managed to buy a Rolex for show, though.

Don't think I don't know you've been secretly saving money. We work our lives away for you every day, yet you treat us like this..."

A-Qiang angrily threw down his work, intending to have a good argument with Pei Pei Wencong.

He has been with Pei Pei Wencong for many years, working through hardship and fatigue without a single complaint. Theirs is not a typical boss-employee relationship, so he felt no psychological pressure to have an argument.

"I am the boss. Do I need your permission on how I spend or save my money?"

Pei Pei Wencong also had a look of being annoyed into anger. He did indeed save a sum of money that he hadn't touched, but that was the 20% belonging to Li Ye. A person... must keep their word.

A-Min smiled as she brewed a cup of coffee, standing to the side to watch the commotion. However, after just two sips, the old fax machine in the office began to buzz.

"Stop arguing, stop arguing. The fax from Book Union Sales is here."

Whether it was the fuming A-Qiang or the proudly showing-off Pei Pei Wencong, both rushed to the fax machine, staring at the paper slowly spitting out, nervous to the extreme.

Everyone is an industry insider; they know too well the importance of this data.

Before the split-account statement had even finished spitting out, A-Qiang was staring blankly at the numbers on it.

He couldn't help but say: "How can there be so much? Did the finance department at Book Union Sales make a mistake?"

A-Min said happily: "How could the finance department at Book Union Sales make a mistake? They are at least graduates of the University of Hong Kong. This is the money our society is entitled to."

"But there shouldn't be this much, right? This is more than last month... Ouch!"

A-Qiang felt the back of his head suddenly burn with pain.

Looking back, he saw Pei Pei Wencong holding a thick magazine. Apparently, he had been so angry that he grabbed the nearest thing and threw it.

"Can you stop being a jinx, you little punk? If you say one more word of nonsense, I'll deduct three months of your salary and let you eat air all day."

In Hong Kong, superstition is rampant. People are particular about getting a good omen in everything they do. A-Qiang's subconscious muttering had violated Pei Pei Wencong's taboo.

A-Qiang also knew he was in the wrong, so he simply stepped away from the fax machine and went to draw his comics in a huff.

A-Min and Pei Pei Wencong silently watched the fax machine, waiting for the report transmission to complete.

But today's report was completely different from before; it buzzed for a long time without finishing.

Looking at several sheets of dense data reports, A-Min also looked at Pei Pei Wencong in shock.

Pei Pei Wencong closed his eyes, tilted his head back toward the ceiling, and after a long time, said: "It must be that sales outside the region have exploded. The sales situation in Malaysia, Singapore, and the east side of the strait has far exceeded our expectations."

A-Min was somewhat skeptical, as only a few well-known writers have great fame in the surrounding Chinese-speaking regions and can call upon readers to spend money.

The Seven-Inch Blade has just begun to emerge in Hong Kong; many places haven't even heard of his name yet!

Finally, A-Min couldn't help but ask: "Why?"

"Because of identification—identification with the Zhonghua civilization."

A-Min seemed to see a strange halo on Pei Pei Wencong's face.

"Singapore, Malaysia, Hong Kong... although these places are far from the mainland and are more prosperous, more advanced, and more enlightened than them today,

no one can deny that we share the same roots and have the same civilizational ancestors.

Regardless of which flag everyone stands under to take an oath or sing the national anthem, deep down, they all identify with the special color of their own skin, eyes, and hair.

Even if some people quibble with their mouths, these characteristics are bloodline imprints that can never be erased."

A-Min frowned and thought for a long time, then shook her head and asked: "But what does this have to do with the big sales of *Flying Gale*?"

However, the difference between Wen Wen Leyu and Mu Mu Yunning is that she is really suggesting, without any intention of dominating Li Ye's will.

A-Min smiled sheepishly and said: "Admiration for the strong—it's women admiring men! We women all hope to have a strong man to protect us and shield us from the wind and rain."

"Not just that. Admiration for the strong is the awe and envy that all the weak feel toward the strong."

Pei Pei Wencong pointed to the north and said with genuine distraction: "When I was in college, I came into contact with some things not found in textbooks...

Over thousands of years, no matter how many dynasties the mainland has gone through, it has always possessed powerful ruling power and influence over this land of East Asia.

Everyone within twenty thousand *li* north and south had to bow down to the dynasty in the north and was influenced by their culture. Truly, once an order was issued, no one dared to disobey.

Even the height of the palace roofs in South Korea had to be restricted by the mainland dynasty, not daring to be a fraction higher. Can you believe it?"

Pei Pei Wencong smiled and continued: "The mainland has become weaker recently, but how could the historical influence of thousands of years disappear just like that?"

"As long as there are places where Chinese is spoken, this identification with history, ancestors, and the strong will never go extinct.

The prosperous Great Tang described in *Flying Gale* has already silently and quietly conquered this land once again!"

"In the future, there is no need to worry," Pei Pei Wencong chuckled again and said: "If those authors didn't have wholehearted identification in their hearts, they wouldn't be able to write works like *Flying Gale*. In the end, they would still fall into a lower tier."

At 4:30 PM, Pei Pei Wencong waited by the telephone at the publishing house, doing nothing.

This is the routine call time he agreed upon with Li Ye. They talk once every week to exchange information and needs.

If he doesn't call this week, it means Li Ye has no urgent needs, and it will be postponed until next week.

This makes Pei Pei Wencong somewhat passive. If there is really something urgent, he either has to go through Blue Sea Publishing or wait for Li Ye to call.

After a period of contact, Pei Pei Wencong changed his original opinion.

Although Blue Sea Publishing attaches great importance to Pei Pei Wencong, their style of doing things is too conservative, with too many rules and regulations. On the contrary, this Seven-Inch Blade has gradually hit it off with Pei Pei Wencong.

"Ring-a-ling~"

The phone rang on time. Pei Pei Wencong grabbed the receiver and heard a familiar voice.

"The call could drop at any time, so I'll keep it brief," Li Ye said in a steady tone. "First, buy me some of the latest books and magazines on finance and economics and forward them to me through Blue Sea Publishing."

"Second, there might be a work called *Looking Toward Home: Solitary Army* submitted to your publishing house recently. Please arrange for its serialization as soon as possible."

"Third..."

Pei Pei Wencong listened patiently until Li Ye finished speaking before quickly expressing his anxiety: "Mr. Li, the situation I mentioned to you last time has become increasingly serious recently.

I haven't received your follow-up manuscript yet. I wonder if there are any new ideas in terms of the plot?"

Li Ye replied: "In this situation, do you think you can crush your opponents just by relying on a brilliant plot?"

Pei Pei Wencong said somewhat shamefully: "I know, I know. I will increase market promotion efforts. I just received this month's sales report, and there should be some surplus funds..."

"No, no promotional means can compare to the diligence of the author."

Li Ye said coldly: "I've mailed you a manuscript of two hundred thousand words. Whether you publish a supplement or a standalone book, just keep the volume high and satisfy the readers. Roll over them for me."

"Volume high and satisfy... roll over them..."

Pei Pei Wencong didn't quite understand, feeling as if Li Ye were talking about eating.

【Does this Seven-Inch Blade like eating rolled pancakes? In the north, there seem to be pancakes rolled with green onions.】

Pei Pei Wencong tentatively asked: "Mr. Li, if I understand you correctly, do you mean to stuff them to death?"

"Yes, you understood correctly. That is, stuff them to death."

(End of Chapter)