Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

"People's Stories?" Han Fei said into the phone, hearing a buzzing voice and a dog barking in the background. "Are you at the newsstand yet?"

Zhang Ruiyi looked up from her desk and gazed at him.

"I just arrived," said Boss Zhou.

"What does that magazine look like?"

"President Han, you didn't see it with your own eyes. That cover... tsk tsk, it's way wilder than ours. It's all bright red and green, like a New Year's picture from a rural temple fair, it's so dazzling it makes your eyes dizzy. The woman in the very center with big breasts is wearing... how should I put it, a floral dress that shows half her arm, staring straight at you. And those big words next to her, something about nationwide chains, monthly issues, the font size is two sizes bigger than our headline, the tone is so arrogant." Boss Zhou's voice seemed to come from between clenched teeth, full of anger.

"Don't rush. First, check if it has an ISBN."

The conversation paused. During this pause, Han Fei heard someone laughing loudly in the background, a laugh that spread like ripples.

"There's no back cover, no title page, and I've searched the whole thing but can't find the publication number."

"What's the publishing house? Which publisher is listed?"

"No, not really," said Boss Zhou. "I just printed out 'Oriental Culture Media Co., Ltd.' and left an address in the city, an office building in the XH district."

"Oriental Culture Media Co., Ltd." Han Fei repeated, gesturing with his chin towards Zhang Ruiyi, indicating whether she had heard of the name. Zhang Ruiyi shook her head.

"Is this thing... legal?" Boss Zhou muttered, as if talking to himself.

"Could you take another look at the print quality and the paper?"

"The paper was very rough, like sandpaper, and it was translucent; it left a mark with every touch. The illustrations were also blurry, and the woman in the drawing looked like a ghost."

"What about the page count and content?"

"It's quite thin. Only thirty-two pages, half the size of ours. But the price isn't cheap at all, five yuan. The content... let me see..." The rustling sound of pages turning came from the other end of the phone. "The first story is 'The Village Chief's Daughter-in-Law.' The village chief got drunk, pushed open his daughter-in-law's door, and saw her... oh... uh, this... this..."

"Let's look at some other chapters," Han Fei said.

"oh."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Han Fei heard Boss Zhou swallowing and turning pages, so he waited quietly. Soon his voice came again: "They're all pretty much the same. What widow and brother-in-law stuff, me and my brother's wife stuff... This is exactly our kind of story. A large part of the plot is copied, but it's even more... even more outrageous."

"Is there a penis inside?"

"Yes. Aphrodisiacs, breast enhancement drugs, and those... those kinds of drugs. There are also phone dating services, which are obviously not legitimate."

Han Fei took a deep breath: "Alright, I understand. That's an illegal publication."

"Illegal?"

"Hmm, they're even too lazy to print fake publication numbers. This means either the cultural company itself is a makeshift operation with no way to forge documents, or they're unwilling to spend the money. Or it's a way for them to cover their tracks, because if they're caught using fake publication numbers, it's a serious offense. If they don't print them, they can insist that it's just ordinary printed material, not a publicly published article, thus skirting the law. Have you checked if the magazine has a submission guidelines or a reader's letter section?"

"No. They didn't even leave a phone number, just a company address."

"That's a one-off deal. They don't intend to support authors or interact with readers. They never thought about doing this kind of business long-term, nor could they. They just want to make a quick buck and run. Boss Zhou, listen to me. This magazine you're holding right now is the evidence. Illegal publications, pirated content, underground industry gone—any one of these three things is enough to get them in trouble."

"What should I do now?" Boss Zhou said. "Old Fang is terrified. Qian Youde's men threatened that if he doesn't listen to them, he can forget about selling anything here. Should I go directly to Qian Youde?"

"No," Han Fei said. "Take a few copies of 'Stories of the Common People' and some of their flyers back with you as evidence. Compare their content to ours. Also, tell the newsstand owner that the publisher will restock the Qingniao magazines that were thrown away for free, without him incurring any costs. Have a good talk with him and see if he's willing to be a witness, and then write a simple statement of the situation. Don't go anywhere tomorrow; just stay in the shop. Stop stocking the shelves for a day. I'll prepare the materials for the report; wait for my message."

"I see."

Han Fei hung up the phone and bit his lower lip.

"Is someone imitating Qingniao's model?" Zhang Ruiyi asked.

"Yes, this kind of thing was bound to happen sooner or later. We sold 20,000 copies in just a few days, both as a newsletter and a magazine, so some people are bound to be envious. But the other side isn't using legitimate channels; they're using illegal publications and underground methods to grab market share, which isn't normal business competition. Luckily, we found out early, and we need to wipe them out as soon as possible while they're still small."

Zhang Ruiyi nodded: "Okay, I'll prepare the materials for the report now."

......

Lu Hai walked back to his hotel through the quiet streets. The windows of the old, low-rise apartment gleamed in the night like cat's eyes. It was 11:45 p.m., and the air was still as humid and hot as during the day, like being in a bathroom where someone had just turned on the scalding hot water. This heat was different from the heat in Shanghai; he had felt it as soon as he got off the plane that afternoon. The heat in Shanghai was sticky and clinging to the body, while the heat in Guangdong was pervasive, even the breath felt damp.

After landing at Baiyun Airport in the afternoon, he took a taxi directly to the Guangdong Mobile building in Tianhe District. The bidding office was on the seventh floor. When the man who received him looked at the label on the file box and said, "Your handwriting is quite good," Lu Hai almost retorted, "This was written by our president." But he immediately remembered the "don't talk too much" principle that Han Fei and Zhang Ruiyi had told him, so he swallowed his words and turned to leave.

To ensure this principle was followed through, Lu Hai deliberately chose a budget hotel in a secluded area several blocks away from the mobile headquarters. He called Han Fei on his cell phone, briefly explained the situation, and then spent the afternoon lying on the hotel bed. It wasn't until 11 p.m., when he was sure the hotel corridor was quiet, that he tiptoed out to eat.

Lu Hai turned a corner and stepped onto Fengyuan Street, which was deserted. He walked towards the hotel when he suddenly saw a figure flash and a glimmer of light—the light reflecting off his glasses. Someone was standing in front of a row of parked cars on the sidewalk, clearly trying to open a car door.