Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

"Come on, everyone, let's have breakfast first," Han Fei said, placing two large bags of breakfast on the table.

Everyone cheered, and Wen Jie laughed excitedly, tears welling up in his eyes.

Han Fei patted Wen Jie on the shoulder: "Wen Jie, save your tears for the awards ceremony this afternoon. This is nothing yet. 15.7% is just the first shot in our transition from guerrillas to a regular army. The battle has just begun."

A burst of laughter erupted.

Han Fei, panting, took off his suit jacket and took the tissue Zhang Ruiyi handed him to wipe his sweat.

"Everyone, please eat. Let me say a few words." He waited until his breathing had caught up before speaking, "15.7% was obtained from the official mobile number pool, which is even higher than the data from our previous gray channels. What does this mean? It means that our success wasn't achieved by exploiting loopholes, but by genuine ability. From now on, we can stand tall and no longer worry about someone knocking on our door in the middle of the night to check our water meters. When this data reaches headquarters, our confidence will be even stronger. We'll have more confidence when applying for resources and policy support in the future."

Han Fei smiled as he looked at the crowd. Enthusiastic applause pounded in his ears.

"The 170 entries were just for testing," he continued. "Since the system handled it and the load wasn't an issue, over the next two days, we'll push the remaining 30 million Shanghai local phone numbers to our database in batches, based on user profiles and tags, with precision. We'll push more to core users, such as men aged 30-45, and less to peripheral users. We'll keep a close eye on the data and optimize the copy as needed."

"Don't worry, President Han, leave it to us," Wang Zhe said, his mouth full of steamed buns.

"Okay," Han Fei said, looking at Cheng Xu, "Cheng Xu, we don't need to coordinate with Boss Zhou anymore, but he agreed to be a liaison station. We can't let him do it all by himself; we need to deliver the ammunition to his doorstep. Later, could you work a little harder and take stock of some materials? Allocate two hundred copies of the inaugural issue of the magazine for him to sell in his own sales office, and also let him try selling it to newsstand owners in those towns. Bring him a few extra posters and promotional leaflets for the SP service number so he can put them on the counter. From now on, you'll still be responsible for coordinating with Boss Zhou, restocking the magazine, sales statistics, and verifying business promotions. You can also go over there occasionally to support him, teach him how to recommend subscriptions to people who come to sign up for cards, and bring back the local gossip he's collected—that's our treasure for creating localized content."

"Understood, cousin."

"Lu Hai, how were yesterday's magazine sales?"

Lu Hai looked at Han Fei, picked up the soy milk cup, and raised it to his lips. Since he couldn't speak and drink soy milk at the same time, the cup just hovered there.

"It's even better than the first day," he said. "We sold 1500 copies on the first day, and yesterday it jumped to 2300. Yesterday afternoon, several vendors at the train and bus stations called to urge us to restock, saying that out-of-town travelers would buy two or three copies at a time to take back to their coworkers. And the newsstand I went to, that stubborn old man has completely changed his attitude. Yesterday he actually called us and said that the fifty copies were almost sold out and he wanted us to send another hundred."

"Alright then," Han Fei chuckled. "We can't keep them waiting. The reprint will arrive soon. I'll ask Mr. Ma for help. We'll replenish the stock at the outlets that are out of stock this morning, and everyone should come back this afternoon for the awards ceremony. Don't be pretentious; be natural. Hand this honor to the authors yourselves, then sit down and chat with them, listen to their stories. We not only want the authors to earn money, but also to feel that coming to Qingniao was the right choice. Okay, everyone, let's get to work after we finish eating!"

Han Fei returned to his office, picked up the phone, and made several calls. The first was to Chen Jianguo, confirming that the award certificates had been printed and the additional magazines were being loaded onto trucks and sent out immediately. The second call was to Ma Yongxing, asking if he could send a few people to help; Ma Yongxing said no problem.

Then Han Fei called Han Baohua to report the situation. After listening quietly to Han Fei's account, Han Baohua smiled and said he already knew, because Zhang Qiming had gone to visit him in the ward early that morning. Finally, Han Fei called Han Baohua's attending physician to inquire about Han Baohua's current condition.

"Your father's condition is currently stable," the doctor said. "If you can afford the cost of APD, I suggest you make arrangements as soon as possible. We can conduct a comprehensive assessment to determine the specific plan."

"If we start the examination immediately, can we finalize the plan today?" Han Fei asked.

"No problem. I've been keeping an eye on your father's condition. I anticipated this when I discussed upgrading the treatment plan with you. Let him get these key tests done today, and we can make a decision once the results are in."

Han Fei asked the doctor to write a prescription immediately, and then called Han Baohua again, asking his aunt to accompany Han Baohua to the examination to confirm the treatment plan. He said he would go over to sign and pay the fees after he finished his work in the afternoon.

......

It took the entire publishing house staff a whole noon to decorate the large conference room. The huge conference table in the center was pushed to the wall and covered with peanuts, melon seeds and drinks.

A dark blue velvet cloth hung on the wall, with the pen names of the top twenty authors of the competition fixed on it with silver thumbtacks, which didn't quite match the colorful balloons that Zhang Ruiyi had prepared.

Lu Hai stood at the door greeting guests, his chin aching from constantly smiling. He held a sign-in sheet in his hand, and every time someone came in, he would shout it out at the top of his lungs.

"Teacher Lao Huai has arrived! Please come in, please come in!"

Old Huai wore an oversized, unbuttoned linen shirt. He had a round, full face and bulging eyes that always gave him a look of surprise. He carried a plastic bag containing two unboxed bottles of wine. As soon as he entered, he looked around and, seeing his name at the top of the list on the wall, his face crinkled with a smile.

"Where is President Han? I need to thank him in person."

"The president is inside," Lu Hai said, gesturing with his chin towards the end of the conference room.

......

"Teacher Wild Grass," Han Fei said with a smile, offering a cigarette, "I've read 'Living as a Widow' three times."

Wild Grass accepted the cigarette with his blackened fingers, smiling nervously, seemingly somewhat uneasy. He wore a drab coarse cloth shirt and trousers, and a pair of old gray cloth shoes; Han Fei could swear those shoes were so old they had liver spots showing. Wild Grass's face was haggard and weathered, like that of a blacksmith.

"President Han, to be honest, I usually just write for fun. The stuff I used to write was never accepted by anyone when I submitted it. This piece was just something I wrote randomly when I was bored on the construction site. You gave it nineteenth place and even sent me a message to come and collect the award. I feel... uneasy about it."

"What's bothering you?" Han Fei leaned forward, holding the lighter close. "Your play about Liu Chunmei and Li Laowai is something city people couldn't write. That kind of frustration, that feeling of wanting to shout but being unable to, people who haven't lived in the countryside won't understand."