Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

Chapter 173, Period

At 8:15 a.m., Han Fei arrived at the publishing house. The gray metal roller shutter was open, and Lin Xiaohe and the three new editors were already there for work.

Han Fei nodded to them, wondering if it was an unwritten rule, regardless of the era, that new employees should arrive a few days early for their first day of work. He strode down the corridor, pushed open his office door, lit his first cigarette of the day, and then used the time it took for his computer to boot up to make a phone call. Zhou Tao sounded like he was on the bus.

"Go book a plane ticket to Zhejiang Province this afternoon," Han Fei said. "The bidding results for Zhejiang Province came out today. Let's strike while the iron is hot and sign the contract this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Zhou Tao said. "Okay, President, I'll go book my plane ticket first and then go back to the publishing house."

Han Fei put down the phone and faced the computer to prepare for work.

The core terms of Guangdong Mobile's contract are aligned with the headquarters' strategic tone, fully comply with Mobile's format requirements, and have been tested in practice. Direct reuse can save a lot of time.

Zhang Ruiyi walked in. "The results should be out today, right?"

"Yes," Han Fei said, "I'm already preparing the contract."

"Has an announcement been issued?"

"Not yet, we're preparing in advance. We have to race against time," Han Fei said.

Zhang Ruiyi nodded and tossed her bag onto the chair: "Okay, then you handle the contract, I'll go check with Teacher Zheng and finalize the cover today."

"it is good."

Han Fei took a couple of puffs of his cigarette, extinguished it, pulled up the electronic version of the Guangdong contract, carefully reviewed it, replaced all instances of "Guangdong" with "Zhejiang," and added a clause on targeted content creation and data feedback, clearly stating that Qingniao had an obligation to provide accurate localized stories.

To prevent a recurrence of technical incidents like the one in Guangdong, he added a technical liability exemption and emergency clause to the contract, stipulating that Party B (Qingniao) has the right to use conventional technical means such as asynchronous queuing and rate limiting to ensure system stability as needed. Party B shall not be liable for service interruptions, user complaints, or data loss caused by insufficient system capacity or billing gateway delays of Party A (Zhejiang Mobile).

Han Fei reviewed and revised the results, finally changing the settlement time item to: With the mutual agreement of both parties, SP business revenue sharing will be settled twice a month, on the 15th and 30th. Party A shall pay Party B the payment for the previous period within five working days after each settlement date.

"It's done," he murmured.

He then began preparing cooperation qualification materials for Jiangsu, Shandong, and Fujian, as well as formulating relevant business development plans.

He summarized the cultural characteristics of Jiangsu. Jiangsu is a culturally diverse province, with a significant difference between southern and northern Jiangsu. In his document, he noted the characteristics of southern Jiangsu: numerous factories, a concentration of migrant workers, and a vibrant small-town economy, making it suitable for themes such as: struggling in a foreign land, marital anxiety, and intergenerational conflict. Northern Jiangsu, on the other hand, is characterized by a large number of elderly people left behind, strong local ties, and strong clan values, making it suitable for novels focusing on land and elder care. His final conclusion was: southern Jiangsu should be explored by depicting the pain of those who leave their hometowns, while northern Jiangsu should be explored by depicting the roots of those left behind.

Han Fei continued to focus on the themes of Shandong and Fujian.

Shandong has a strong tradition of filial piety, clan values, and deep-rooted local ethics. The readership is primarily young and middle-aged men in rural towns who enjoy stories of "rules versus rebellion" or "family feuds." Suitable themes include: face-saving, filial piety, sibling disputes over inheritance, and widows remarrying. Authors can focus on highly conflict-ridden themes such as clan oppression, the coercion of filial piety, disputes over homestead land, and widows being exploited and left without descendants. Fujian culture overlaps significantly with Guangdong culture, allowing for the sharing of customized content.

Han Fei checked his watch. 10:28. He checked the announcement released by Zhejiang Mobile and confirmed that Qingniao had won the bid with the highest score. Then he printed out the contract from Zhejiang Mobile, along with a summary of the themes and directions for the customized content across the three provinces, and took it to the editorial office. He gave the contract to Zhou Tao, and also instructed Sun Yue and Su Beining to be responsible for the rural themes of northern Jiangsu and Shandong, while Qiao Siyi would be responsible for the urban themes of southern Jiangsu and Fujian.

He stepped out of the editorial office and was walking back when someone called out to him loudly. He turned around and saw Lu Hai waving at him, and then he saw a middle-aged man standing on the steps, wearing a black linen shirt and facing him sideways.

"President, look who's here," Lu Hai said.

The man in the linen shirt turned around. It's been said that when you succeed, all those who once opposed you will come back, and sometimes that's true. But judging from this man, Han Fei concluded that such a statement was overly optimistic and naive. This was because the man had been one of the most resolute and vehement opponents during the publishing house's transformation, not only slamming his manuscript down at the authors' meeting and coldly declaring, "Those who walk different paths cannot make plans together," but also being the first to leave the meeting room without looking back. Han Fei didn't think he was the kind of person who would abandon his dignity and come back just because you've succeeded.

"President Han, long time no see. How have you been lately?" Shan Shi said, revealing a row of teeth stained with brown tobacco, and extending a hand.

"This tea is delicious," Shan Shi said, as if speaking from the bottom of his heart. Han Fei looked at Shan Shi's round, thick fingers holding the teacup. Earlier, when Shan Shi stretched out his hand, he explained that he had been writing for most of his life, and his fingers had long been deformed. When he was young, he squatted on the edge of the fields in the countryside to write. In winter, his hands would freeze like carrots, and in summer, they would be soaked in sweat, making his knuckles swollen and thick. "This is the first time I've tasted tea with this flavor. It's like Zisun tea, but it's also a little different."

"Yes, this is an improved variety of purple bamboo shoots," Han Fei said, taking a sip of tea. "A friend of mine grew them at home."

Shan Shi nodded, glancing down at the teapot on the table and twirling the teacup between his hands. The office was quiet now, and the sound of the twirling cup sounded like spinning a magic stone. Shan Shi politely declined the cigarette Han Fei offered. Han Fei looked at him in surprise.

"I've caught a bit of a cold recently," Shan Shi said, coughing. "The doctor told me I should smoke less."

Han Fei hesitated for a moment, then put away the cigarette.

"President Han, this tea is really good, better than any tea I've ever had. But the better something is, the less it tastes to my age. It reminds me that all the teas I drank before were dregs."

Han Fei grinned, forming a faint smile, as he looked at the teacup in his hand.

"Teacher Shanshi, tea is tea. Once you get used to one kind, switching to another just doesn't taste right. But over time, your taste buds change, and your tongue remembers the new flavors."

"Yes, you're right." Shan Shi raised his head, revealing an opening in the lower half of his face, as if he were smiling. "But have you ever considered that some people don't not want to change their tastes, but are afraid that if they do, they'll forget what flavors they used to like?"

"I remember very clearly the day you left, when we said we had different views and could not work together," Han Fei said.

The opening closed.

"Of course, it's not just because you were the first to leave, but also because you slammed the manuscript on the table when you left," Han Fei added.

Shan Shi smiled again, this time his lips almost touching his eyes: "At that time, I felt it was a denial of my writing over the past few decades. Later, I went to several magazines, some saying they were overcrowded and couldn't get published. I knew those were just excuses. Others were even more direct, saying that young people don't like my style nowadays. President Han, guess how I felt at that time?"

"I think the world has gone mad."

Shan Shi suddenly paused, then chuckled a few times.

"Yes, I think those editors are all blind. My work has been published in Harvest and won awards in other magazines. They just say it's no good? But then I saw your magazine at a newsstand, flipped through it, and put it down. A couple of days later, I passed by again and flipped through it. This time, I couldn't resist and bought a copy. I read it twice when I got home, and then a third time. As I read, I suddenly realized that it wasn't that my writing was bad, but that I hadn't figured out who my articles were for."

"Hmm? And then?"

"I used to think I was writing for people who understood literature. But there are fewer and fewer people who understand literature now. Maybe it's not that they don't want to understand, but that they don't have the time. People used to be able to spend an entire evening flipping through magazines after get off work. Now? On the subway, waiting for the bus, or even in the outhouse, they only have a few minutes. Where would they find the time to read any literary essays? But if you ask them to read a story that starts with 'The village chief's daughter-in-law knocked on my door in the middle of the night,' their fingers will click faster than their brains."

Han Fei looked directly into Shan Shi's eyes. As far as Han Fei knew, Shan Shi had been working diligently in the literary world since entering society. His nose was high and sharp, like the blade of an axe; his lips were a straight line, quite eccentric; his hands were large and rough. He had once been the cornerstone of Qingniao, a solid and stable granite. But would someone like him really be willing to lower himself and return to write about what he despised most?

"Professor Shanshi," Han Fei said, "I know you didn't come to me today just to praise our manuscript. Just say what you want to say."

Shan Shi made his decision and resolutely drank the last sip of tea: "President Han, nobody wants my things anymore."

I'm not here to apologize. I just want to ask, does your promise to "leave a page" count? I can revise it, but I won't write "Borrowing Seeds." Give me a space, two pages will be enough.

Han Fei raised his eyebrows: "Two pages?"

"Yes, just two pages."

"Sure," Han Fei said. "I keep my word. But have you considered that your two pages might be like a stone thrown into a river—sinking without a trace?"

"You're right." Shan Shi observed Han Fei expressionlessly. "If I threw this old bone into the river, not only would it not make a splash, but I might also trip over the stones at the bottom and become a laughing stock. I'm not here to argue with you about what literature is. I'm too old to argue anymore, and I don't have the energy to argue anymore. I've been writing for decades, and in the end, I found that the final destination of my words is not a reader's bookshelf, but a cardboard box under my bed. I'm not reconciled. Qingniao Magazine has many readers now. So I thought, if my name can appear in it again, even if it's in a corner, it will be a beginning and an end. As for whether others read it or criticize it, I don't care. I just want to put a period at the end of my writing."

Han Fei nodded, took out three types of contracts from the drawer, and laid them out in front of Shan Shi. Shan Shi signed the third-level contract and stood up.

The two looked at each other.

"President Han, I have one last small request," Shan Shi said.

"Oh?"

"Once I've finished writing the manuscript, could I bring it over for you to review personally? I'm afraid if I hand it to a young editor, they'll just glance at it and throw it in the trash without even telling you."

"Can."

Shan Shi shook hands with Han Fei, a long and firm handshake. Shan Shi walked towards the door, then suddenly turned back and said, "By the way, I want to take a look around the editorial department; I haven't seen them in a long time."

"Alright, please go ahead," Han Fei said.

At 7 PM, Wen Shuyan drove to Qingniao Publishing House, parked her car on the sidewalk, and entered the building. The lobby was empty. She went up the stairs to the second floor and met a man coming down. The man recognized Wen Shuyan and introduced himself as Lu Hai. Lu Hai asked Wen Shuyan if she remembered the time when Wen Jie got drunk, and he and Han Fei took Wen Jie home.

Wen Shuyan smiled and said she remembered, expressing her gratitude. Lu Hai then asked if she had come to see Wen Jie, but Wen Shuyan shook her head and asked him to take her to Han Fei's office.

Wen Shuyan knocked on the door, feeling ashamed. She usually disliked troubling others, and even more so, disliked lying, but she had no other choice. In this city, only three people made her feel truly trusted and safe: her younger brother, Han Fei, and Zhang Ruiyi. A voice called "Come in" from inside. Wen Shuyan pushed open the door.

"Sister Shuyan?" Zhang Ruiyi said, her face showing only a surprised smile.

Han Fei looked away from the computer and gazed at her.

"There's something..." Wen Shuyan said, "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to explain it clearly over the phone, so I decided to come over."

Zhang Ruiyi chuckled: "You can come and play anytime if you're free."

"Hmm, did I disturb you?"

"No, no," Zhang Ruiyi said, inviting her to sit down in the chair. Han Fei poured her a glass of water.

"Thank you." Wen Shuyan swallowed.

"You said you had something to do?" Han Fei asked.

"Hmm..." Wen Shuyan took a breath, knowing she was walking on thin ice and had to be careful with her words to avoid causing unnecessary trouble for Han Fei and the others. This matter had nothing to do with them. But she had to take action because she couldn't face it alone. "Our school is having a launch meeting for a school-enterprise cooperation project tomorrow afternoon, with Wangyi Group participating."

"Wang Yi?" Han Fei and Zhang Ruiyi said at the same time, exchanging glances. Han Fei nodded to Wen Shuyan, signaling her to continue.

Wen Shuyan recited her prepared and rehearsed speech in one breath: "The person from NetEase is the head of their Shanghai branch, so their level shouldn't be too high. The launch meeting is mainly led by the Municipal Education Commission and our school; NetEase's representatives are just there symbolically. As a representative of young teachers, I also want to go on stage to participate. I was thinking that since you're in publishing, which is also part of the cultural industry, you might be able to meet some people and expand your network, so I was wondering if you'd like to come along."