Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

In the evening, Lao Huai came to Han Fei's office and handed him a stack of manuscripts, about twenty pages long.

"So fast," Han Fei said, gesturing for Lao Huai to sit down. He then eagerly opened the manuscript, only to be startled after reading just the title.

Old Huai's manuscript is called "Borrowing Seeds".

Han Fei couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and look at the old locust tree. The old locust tree smiled somewhat insecurely.

Han Fei cleared his throat and looked down to continue reading.

The story begins like this: "In my hometown, the village party secretary, Wang Dali, is like a local tyrant. His wife died early, and his son also died. He wanted to continue the family line, so he set his sights on my wife, Xiuer."

Xiuer was the only female college student in the village. She was fair-skinned and pretty. Being with me, a poor teacher, was like a beautiful flower stuck in cow dung.

Wang Dali called me to the village office and poked my forehead with his finger: "Zhiqiang, do you still want your promotion quota? Do you still want to keep your family's homestead?"

I understand, he wants to use Xiuer's pregnancy.

I dared not utter a sound. At night, he broke into my house, and I squatted outside in the yard, smoking one cheap cigarette after another, listening to the sounds coming from inside, my heart feeling like it was being cut by a dull knife.

Han Fei couldn't help but nod in approval as he read. This old man was truly a talent; he had taken the melodramatic and rural setting he requested to a whole new and bizarre level.

The story can be summarized as follows:

Later, Xiuer became pregnant, and Wang Dali threw a banquet to celebrate. He forced me to toast him in front of the entire village and call him "Dad." My hands were shaking so badly that I spilled half the wine. All around me were faces that were trying to suppress their laughter and watching the spectacle.

Xiuer was very quiet during that time. One night, she touched her belly and said to me with a deep look in her eyes, "This child's blood is half his and half mine. Your hatred and my resentment are all in this blood." I didn't quite understand.

Later, Xiuer fell and lost her baby. She held the blood clot, crying and laughing at the same time, like she had gone mad. Wang Dali and his men smashed up my house, and Xiuer went completely insane, her condition fluctuating between periods of calm and madness.

Wang Dali wasn't paying much attention to Xiu'er, who had gone mad. He just grew more and more haggard each day, and everyone said it was because he was too heartbroken. But I always suspected that Xiu'er had deliberately fallen.

A year later, Xiu'er's belly grew bigger again. Wang Dali was overjoyed and spoiled Xiu'er rotten.

The night of delivery, it was a big, healthy boy. Wang Dali held the baby, laughing until tears streamed down his face, repeatedly saying, "I, Wang Dali, have an heir!"

Just when he was at his most triumphant, Xiuer, who was lying on the delivery bed, suddenly jumped up like a leopard, and with a pair of scissors that appeared out of nowhere, she stabbed him through the throat!

As blood spurted out, I grabbed my machete and rushed in, hacking down all of his henchmen outside the door.

With blood splattered on her face, Xiu'er looked at Wang Dali, who was convulsing on the ground, and said, word by word, "You old beast, look carefully, this child is my and Zhiqiang's. For the past six months, you've been sick like a plague chicken, and you've never managed to have sex. I've endured until today so that you can die dreaming of having your 'own son'!"

I understood everything. What happened next was simple: we set fire to his house, and Xiuer and I, carrying the child, disappeared into the darkness of the back mountain without looking back.

Fifteen years later, Xiu'er died of a heart attack.

Another year passed, and our son became the top scorer in the county's college entrance examination. I took him back to the village to pay respects to our ancestors.

We burned paper money at Xiuer's grave when our son suddenly whispered, "Mom, I'm back. I dug up that old bastard's grave last night."

When the wind blows, the ashes of the paper swirl, as if a long-standing debt has been settled.

After reading it, Han Fei let out a long sigh of relief. Although the writing style of "Borrowing Seeds" was rougher than that of his "Li Yuanyuan," the intense mix of rural customs, the tragic fate of women, and the theme of forbearance and revenge, the dramatic conflicts, and the well-placed suspense perfectly matched all his imagination of a "new media hit."

He originally thought that it would take some time for these authors, who were immersed in the traditional print media context, to suddenly transform into writing novels according to the narrative logic of new media. He didn't expect that someone would fully understand his intention so quickly.

Perhaps he underestimated these authors' potential. All he needed to do was light the fuse and unleash their energy.

"President Han," Old Huai leaned forward, letting out a nervous laugh, "what do you think?"

Han Fei put away the manuscript and nodded: "Well written, teacher. I'll keep this manuscript."

"real?"

"Hmm, let's write in this direction from now on." Han Fei looked at Lao Huai and suddenly had an idea. Although he hesitated, he decided to take the risk and give it a try. "Teacher's manuscript is so excellent, why don't you participate in our competition?"

Old Huai raised his eyebrows, gazing intently at Han Fei: "A...competition?"

"uh-huh."

After Lao Huai left, Han Fei convened a brief meeting with several editors, using "Borrowing Seeds" as an example to reiterate the manuscript submission standards.

Then, an excerpt from "Borrowing Seeds" and a long announcement were posted in the author group.

In the article, he lavishly praised Lao Huai's manuscript and announced that Bluebird Publishing House would be holding a "New Rural Life" themed creative competition for 30 days, starting immediately.

Authors whose works are shortlisted in the top 20 will be awarded the titles of Bluebird Gold Medal, Silver Medal, Bronze Medal, and Outstanding Writer, respectively, according to their ranking. They will enjoy priority review rights and will receive different levels of revenue sharing after the new model is successfully implemented.

A stone stirred up a thousand waves.

The message caused an immediate uproar in the group chat.

Hedgehog: "Holy crap! Teacher Huai's article is amazing! That sentence from the son sent chills down my spine!"

Hongxiu: "That's really impressive... I think I've got an idea too. President Han, can everyone participate in the competition?"

White Stripes in the Waves: "The Gold Medal Author title is something else. If I can get it, my words will carry weight in the industry."

Old Huai: "Thank you for the encouragement, President Han! And thank you everyone! I just followed President Han's suggestion and dug a little deeper..."

Qingniao Hanfei: "Everyone can participate!"

Han Fei smiled as he watched the scrolling messages on the screen. Before long, the publishing house would receive a massive influx of manuscripts.

With troops and provisions in place, the next step is to conquer cities and territories and open up new battlefields.

In other words, you need to find a leader in the mobile company to cooperate with, apply for SP port permissions, and handle SP promotion business.

He picked up the phone from the table, looked up the main switchboard number for "Shanghai Mobile Communications Company" through directory assistance (114), and dialed it.

The call was answered, and a nasal voice came through, announcing the company name.

Han Fei politely identified himself and expressed his intention to discuss important cooperation with the leader.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"Please wait a moment," she said.

Han Fei heard her stand up, so he waited quietly. Soon she returned to the phone, "I'm sorry, sir, it's not convenient to transfer you right now. You can leave your name and contact information, and I'll transfer you..."

Han Fei hung up the phone before she could finish speaking, because he knew very well that whatever information he left behind would disappear without a trace at an unexpected speed. This was the standard way for large companies to handle unfamiliar business calls.

He sighed, picked up his briefcase, and left the office.