I am not a literary giant

When they got home, Wang Zixu hugged his wife from behind and put a small box in her arms.

"What is this?" His wife turned around, her bright eyes staring at him, while her hand kept groping for the hard little box.

After figuring things out, she scolded, "You're wasting money again!"

Wang Zixu lay down on the sofa: "I didn't waste money. Didn't you break your phone? I'll buy you a new one."

The wife opened the box and took out the phone. Although she said she was unhappy, she was actually delighted. She was easily satisfied and pleased, but her heart was burdened with a heavy weight. To her, it seemed as if frank joy was immoral.

Sometimes her personality can be a downer, but she is indeed a good woman.

"Do you like it?" the prince asked humbly.

"I like it," his wife nodded.

Wang Zixu looked at his wife's smooth neck, his fingers clumsily manipulating the phone, her hair falling to her temples, her ears turning pink with excitement... Wang Zixu suddenly hunched over.

The wife asked, "What's wrong?"

Prince waved his hand dismissively: "It's nothing, just transfer the data. I can help you if you don't know how."

The wife said, "I will."

Prince Xu hunched over and squatted down again.

Stomach ache.

His wife was overjoyed, believing he had bought the gift with his "manuscript fees," but Wang Zixu knew it was all based on deception. The source of his "manuscript fees" was neither respectable nor honorable.

Although Zuo Ziliang's theory of "libido" convinced him—at least superficially—he still knew in his heart that no matter how much literary height he elevated their actions to, their essence was still no different from that old bachelor's.

He used his literary skills to manipulate their emotions, disguising his "flirting" as something respectable. If his wife knew how he got the money, she might be so angry that she wanted a divorce.

What's even more terrifying is that Prince Xu knew perfectly well that this was dishonorable, yet he still became addicted to this feeling.

That's why he felt guilty, so guilty that his stomach churned violently.

His wife finally noticed that something was wrong with Wang Zixu, reached out to help him up, and rubbed his stomach:

"What happened? Did you eat something bad outside?"

Prince Xu shook his head: "It'll be fine in a bit."

His wife gently rubbed his stomach with her soft, white hands, then suddenly leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek.

A sentence flashed through Wang Zixu's mind like lightning: "Your pink lips taste like mint. I can taste it, but I don't know how I feel in your heart." This was a sentence from the script he wrote.

"Don't work too hard. Money can be earned slowly. If your health collapses, all your efforts will be in vain," his wife said, nestled beside him. "I see you staying up late every night to write, and several strands of your hair have turned white."

Prince Xu shook his head: "It's nothing."

His wife asked, "How much have you earned from your writing fees now?"

Prince Xu said, "Three thousand five."

The wife pulled up the calculator on her phone: "Your three thousand five hundred, plus my salary this month, plus our savings... we've already saved 102,000 yuan. Our savings have surpassed six figures!"

Wang Zixu gave a wry smile. His wife turned around and asked him, "Why are you unhappy?"

"I'm very happy."

"You'd better cheer up," the wife said. "You need to stay happy for the next three months."

Why?

"Because I'm planning to get pregnant."

After his wife finished speaking, her face turned bright red.

Prince Xu felt a chill run down his spine.

"Didn't we say we'd save up 20 before trying to conceive?"

His wife shook her head: "We're saving too slowly. You're getting older, and your sperm quality will gradually decline. No matter how much money we save, it will all be gone after one IVF treatment. Besides, I want to have a baby before I'm 28. They say the earlier you have a baby, the faster your body will recover."

Wang Zixu thought his wife was worrying unnecessarily. He had more confidence in his sperm than in his writing ability.

He said, "We don't even have enough money to buy a car, and there are still prenatal checkups, supplements, vaccines, postpartum care centers... a whole bunch of things that need to be spent."

His wife held his hand and said, "Ride-hailing services are very convenient now, so we don't need to buy a car for the time being. Prenatal checkups are covered by medical insurance, and we'll only buy supplements. I don't eat bird's nest or sea cucumber, so it'll only cost about one or two thousand a month. You also have your writing fees, which are three thousand a month. If we save up until we give birth, it should be just right."

Wang Zixu understood. The reason his wife, such a cautious person, suddenly mustered up the courage to try to conceive was entirely due to his "three thousand a month" royalties.

However, this figure for royalties is actually inflated, and significantly so. He was so eager to prove himself to his wife in order to gain more uninterrupted writing time that he slightly exaggerated his royalties.

In reality, his income was neither a stable three thousand a month nor enough to last until she gave birth. He always felt that the job Zuo Ziliang gave him was a short-term one, a small sum of money to be earned before they parted ways.

But the boast had already been made, and it had serious consequences. It caused a slight skew in his wife's perception, and it was this slight skew that led her to decide to try for a baby. A month earlier, the bullet that Prince had fired in a feigned gunshot had struck him squarely between the eyebrows.

The wife said, "Don't smoke or drink for these three months, and keep a good mood every day. That will help your sperm quality. Especially, no smoking, understand?"

He could only nod. He couldn't very well admit now that he didn't actually have that much in royalties, could he?

……

When Wang Zixu called Zuo Ziliang, Zuo was singing "Day Doesn't Understand the Darkness of Night" with the princess in his arms. The light bulb illuminated his bald head, making it look like a small light bulb.

The princess asked who was calling him, and he replied, "Our company's chief screenwriter." The princess exclaimed, "Wow, isn't that a cultured person? Mr. Zuo, when are you bringing him over so we can experience some cultural enrichment?" Zuo Ziliang smiled and said, "Isn't my influence enough for you?" Then he went outside to answer the phone.

On the phone, Wang Zi hesitated for a long time before Zuo Ziliang understood that he wanted to ask if production capacity could be increased from writing one script every two days to writing two scripts a day.

Zuo Ziliang was overjoyed upon hearing this and said, "As long as you can write, I won't stop you from writing 10 articles a day. If you can really write two articles a day, I will pay you 300 yuan per article."

Prince Xu was shocked upon hearing this, because he felt that the bald man's pricing strategy was completely illogical. His lips trembled as he asked, "Aren't you afraid that the quality of my writing will suffer?"

Zuo Ziliang laughed after hearing this and said, "That's why I really don't understand you literary types. You seem to be living in the last century. I'm worried about a decline in quality? I'm after overall efficiency! As long as the increase in quantity can cover up the decline in quality, won't the overall efficiency improve?"

Wang Zixu didn't know much about business, so Zuo Ziliang simply told him definitively, "Just write whatever you want, I'll take as much as you write, as long as the quality isn't particularly bad."

Wang Zixu lowered his head and did the math in his mind. Two articles a day, that's 60 articles a month. At 300 yuan per article, the monthly royalties would be as high as 18000 yuan!