Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

Han Fei listened to Fang Jing on the phone, glancing up at a childhood photo of himself and his father on the main unit. Headquarters had approved his proposal, and Guangdong and Zhejiang provinces would cooperate actively. Fang Jing said this bidding process needed to be convincing, and he should prepare thoroughly, making sure his bid documents were impeccably presented.

"Understood, Mr. Fang," Han Fei said. "I'll submit my bids as soon as the bidding announcements from Guangdong and Zhejiang provinces are released."

"Okay, it's up to you now."

Han Fei hung up the phone and looked at the one-sentence submissions selected by the editorial department on the table in front of him. The Roots-Seeking Project had made initial progress, receiving more than two hundred one-sentence submissions in the past few days. Forty-seven of these came from Zhou Laoban's rural channels, while the rest were spontaneous submissions from readers who had already submitted through the magazine's back cover and online posts. The quality of the submissions varied, and the editorial department selected twenty-six submissions with the potential to become part of the Wild Grass Notebook series.

Regarding the breakdown of family ties: I work as a nanny in the city, and my employer's child calls me "Auntie." My own child, who lives in my hometown, calls me "that woman" on the phone.

One story is about revenge from the lower class: The owner of the illegal internet cafe in town withheld three months' wages from us. The day I left, I deleted all the game saves from his server. I heard that he later checked the security footage and saw me sitting in front of the computer laughing for ten minutes.

And then there's the most classic rural anecdote: Zhao Baocai, the village's old bachelor, goes to the unmarked grave at the west end of the village every year during Qingming Festival to burn paper money. When people ask him who is buried there, he says it's his wife. But everyone in the village knows he's never been married.

Han Fei was satisfied. These submissions not only validated the initial success of the "Roots-Seeking Project," but would also become a core resource for future content barriers.

But that's not all that pleased him. In the past few days, the offline sales channels have expanded to include seventeen more outlets, and Boss Zhou has already launched pilot programs in two townships, bringing in twenty-three new subscribers.

The print magazine's average daily sales reached 2,500 copies, with total sales exceeding 15,000 copies and soon to surpass 20,000 copies.

The online pool of 2 million official local phone numbers has been precisely targeted and pushed to users in batches according to their profiles, with a conversion rate consistently above 15%. The number of paying users has reached over 300,000, and the total revenue has exceeded 3 million. At this rate, achieving the goal set by the mobile headquarters of "achieving a revenue of over 5 million within three months" is clearly within reach.

Most importantly, under Sun Yue's guidance, Wild Grass submitted a new work yesterday morning called "The Old Bachelor".

The story tells of an old bachelor named Chen Laoliu who, every year during the Qingming Festival, would go to the hill behind the village to burn paper money for an abandoned grave, rain or shine. The villagers laughed at him, saying it wasn't his father buried there. It wasn't until Chen Laoliu passed away that the villagers found a yellowed love letter he'd kept at the bottom of a trunk, and realized the grave held the remains of his betrothed from his youth. Years ago, the girl was raped by a local bully and drowned herself. From that time on, Chen Laoliu never looked at another woman with a second glance. He farmed his whole life, spending all his savings on paper money, burning it for forty years.

This novel, less than 20,000 words long, continues the consistent style of Wild Grass's "writing honed from life experiences"—concise, powerful, and emotionally intense, carrying the earthy scent and a heavy sense of fate. Han Fei believes this novel has the potential to surpass "Living as a Widow" in online conversion rates, becoming a mid-tier bestseller.

Zhang Ruiyi walked into the office, sat down heavily in the chair opposite Han Fei, took a deep breath, and handed a newspaper to Han Fei.

"It still got published," Zhang Ruiyi said. "Luckily, he didn't write anything inappropriate. But it still exposes us to the public eye. You know... you know..." She cupped her face in her hands, "I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. What are we going to do now?"

Han Fei had never seen her so nervous, so he answered her in the gentlest tone, "It's good. Do you remember the solution I told you about yesterday afternoon regarding the pilot program in the two provinces?"

"Deceive everyone?"

"Um."

"Didn't you say you hadn't made up your mind yet?"

Han Fei chuckled softly. Yesterday afternoon, he had only shared a vague idea with Zhang Ruiyi and hadn't fully grasped the connection between the "bidding" and the "media." At this point, Han Fei began to explain that once the bidding announcement was released, Qingniao would also be exposed to the public eye. He then described how he planned to utilize the media, and that he had already reported the plan to Fang Jing and obtained headquarters' approval.

Zhang Ruiyi raised one of her delicate eyebrows slightly: "So that's how it is. You didn't even tell me you'd made up your mind."

"I'm afraid that telling you in the middle of the night will make you lose sleep too," Han Fei said with a smile, quickly flipping through the "Shanghai Morning Post" in his hand.

The cultural news section published a photo of the gates of Qingniao Publishing House, with the headline: "Short-form fiction, earning millions a month? — A small publishing house's 'wild grass counterattack'."

The article describes the background, transformation path, and author group of Qingniao Publishing House, and subtly mentions that "an internet giant has been in contact with Qingniao", but does not specify which giant it is, only using words such as "rumor" and "industry attention".

When Han Fei read Yang Zheng's description of the publishing house's motivation for transformation, he couldn't help but laugh.

According to sources, Han Fei was facing a bin full of cigarette butts and a mountain of returned articles late one night when he suddenly had a flash of inspiration and wrote the words "brief fiction" on the back of a manuscript. The next day, he gathered all the employees and announced that Qingniao would "jump from the paper into the short message."

The reporter's description of the author's discovery process was even more exaggerated: "Old Huai, whose real name is unknown, is said to be a retired teacher from a county in northern Jiangsu. He kept the story of 'Borrowing Seeds' in his heart for decades until he heard from a fellow worker at a construction site that a publishing house was accepting such manuscripts. Only then did he take out the yellowed manuscript paper, copy it three times stroke by stroke, and send it to Fuzhou Road."

"Well written," Han Fei said, flicking the newspaper in his hand. "It's even more convincing than the version I edited myself."

"Yeah, I think it's alright too," Zhang Ruiyi said. "The angle was very clever, the narrative arc was quite beautiful, and most importantly, the basic facts were preserved. For the culture section to produce this level of quality, this reporter is quite capable."

"Oh? Such a professional evaluation?"

"I did graduate with a journalism degree, so even though I'm not in this industry, I still have the basics," Zhang Ruiyi said, then suddenly leaned forward. "By the way, how about I handle your media relations from now on?"

"Connecting with the media?" Han Fei asked.

Zhang Ruiyi nodded eagerly, and Han Fei saw a strange glint in her eyes, like a glimmer of forest fire in the sky.

"But......"

"Trust me," Zhang Ruiyi said. "The media attention on us will only increase in the future. You can't have every reporter stake out the office, and you can't have Lu Hai or Mei Jie handle everything every time, because they don't understand this. But I can! I can register, screen, and schedule all reporters' interviews and inquiries, preventing you from being disturbed piecemeal and preventing conflicting information from being released. I can also help you determine what type of media outlets are coming—objective reporting, sensationalist digging, or biased writing—so that we can decide whether to cooperate, guide, or handle it quietly, avoiding us being passively drawn into a media storm. And also, I can personally write or cooperate with the media to release various press releases to build a positive image for Qingniao."

Han Fei looked at her smiling face and saw the light in her eyes flicker as she spoke, and felt comforted.

"Ruiyi," Han Fei took a breath and said, "It's not that I don't trust you. What you just said about screening the media, unifying the narrative, and writing press releases—every single point hits the nail on the head. To be honest, I've been worried about who could do these things."

Zhang Ruiyi blinked in confusion: "Then why did you say 'but' just now?"

Han Fei nodded: "But firstly, I don't want you to be the one blocking the media and becoming a shield for me. Secondly, I'm worried that if you're constantly in the media spotlight, your identity will be exposed and used by the media to make a big deal out of it."

Zhang Ruiyi lowered her eyes, looking at the table: "Well... someone has to do this, right?"

"Yes," Han Fei said with a smile, leaning over the table to search her gaze. "It's still you, but I won't let you stand in front of the stage to do it."

Zhang Ruiyi raised her head and met Han Fei's eyes.

"You'll be in charge behind the scenes," Han Fei said. "All media inquiries will first be reported to you. You'll need to assess whether to respond. If a response is needed, you'll decide who will step in, how they will do it, and to what extent. Lu Hai can handle daily liaison, Mei Jie can handle in-depth interviews with industry media, and I'll handle those reporters who insist on digging deep. You'll also be responsible for creating a unified external narrative, writing the press releases, producing positive communication, monitoring public opinion, and assessing risks. You see, except you don't have to show your face personally, this is no different from what you said. Controlling the pace from behind is far more important than charging into battle. You graduated with a journalism degree, so you should be sitting in an office, not standing in front of the camera. The best media strategy is to have the professionals behind the scenes and the right people in front. That professional can only be you, because you understand both the ins and outs of Qingniao and how the media operates."

Zhang Ruiyi stared at Han Fei, a slight smile playing on her lips: "You..."

"Um?"

"You're always like this, thinking of everything so thoroughly."

"Is that so?" Han Fei smiled slightly, flicked out a cigarette, lit it, and said, "From now on, you are the Director of Media Affairs at Bluebird Publishing House."

"Director of Media Affairs?" Zhang Ruiyi chuckled. "That title sounds even more impressive than your position as president of a publishing house."

"A grand name, but a heavy responsibility."

"Don't worry, I can handle this." Zhang Ruiyi pulled a blank notebook from the table. "I'll prepare a 'Media Inquiry Registration Form' and a 'Frequently Asked Questions Answer Manual' right now."

......

"Execution ability," said Ding Lei, CEO of NetEase Group, "and leadership ability, these are the qualities I hope to see in every business leader."

Chen Zhengyuan didn't answer; he didn't think he needed to. He sat in his usual chair, looking around, only to find that everything in the office had changed, except for the usual boss's sermon. The row of hardcover management books on the bookshelf, the abstract paintings on the walls, and the Pu'er tea table in the corner were all gone.

Chen Zhengyuan hadn't been to his CEO office on the top floor of the Wangyi headquarters building in Building E of Guangzhou Information Port for three months. This morning, he received a call from headquarters ordering him to come over immediately. As of now, Chen Zhengyuan still didn't understand why headquarters wanted him there.

Now, the walls are covered with game posters for "Westward Journey 2". The clean desk contains only a regular PC, an Apple Power Mac G4, several game design documents, an open "Westward Journey 2" operation data report, a figurine of a "Westward Journey 2" game character, and Ding Lei's elbow. His eyes, beneath thick eyebrows, are staring intently at Chen Zhengyuan through his glasses.

"However, there's another trait I think is even more important, Zheng Yuan, do you know what it is?"

"I don't know," Chen Zhengyuan said in a flat tone.

"Judgment. Decision."

Chen Zhengyuan believed that CEO Ding Lei's deliberate splitting of the nouns was clearly a veiled message. But Ding Lei stood up, raised his chin, put his hands behind his back, and paced back and forth, as if marking his territory. Chen Zhengyuan often found this gesture somewhat amusing.

"I will interview everyone in the Shanghai branch to find out which link in the chain caused that strategic blindness."

"Branch office."

"What did you say?"

"We never use the term 'branch,' even though this place is called NetEase's 'headquarters,' we still prefer to call the Shanghai branch a 'branch company.' I'm just mentioning it in passing."

"Thank you for reminding me, Zhengyuan. Where was I?"

"judge."

Ding Lei stared at Chen Zhengyuan, but Chen Zhengyuan remained unfazed, so he continued pacing.

"Zhengyuan, have you been watching the news lately?"

"Uh," Chen Zhengyuan stretched out his legs, "I check it every day. Finance, technology, industry trends—our department has always been paying attention to these."

Ding Lei touched the window frame with his index finger, not quite satisfied with the answer. Then he opened a drawer, took out an A4 sheet of paper, and handed it to Chen Zhengyuan.

Chen Zhengyuan took the article and glanced at it. It was a report published in the culture section of the Shanghai local newspaper, *Xinmin Evening News*. The title was: "Short-form fiction, earning millions a month? — A small publishing house's 'underdog success story'." Chen Zhengyuan swallowed hard, vaguely understanding why headquarters had urgently summoned him.

"You should understand now, right?" Ding Lei said. "Millions a month, a wild grass's counterattack. The title is quite sensational, but the content is solid, the data is detailed, and it even clearly states the name of the publisher and which building on Fuzhou Road their office is in. Your department specializes in the SP (Special Purpose) sector, and this local Shanghai publishing house has been growing like crazy in the sector you've been watching for a month, right under your nose."