Fantasy Writers 1860

The creation of "The Million Pound Stamp" did not encounter too many difficulties. It is a relatively popular work, and the opening part was already very attractive without much modification.

With the book "rubbings" in his mind and his initial observations of Britannian society, Dorian quickly sketched out the beginning of the story.

The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, bathing the room in a warm orange-red hue. The pen tip scratched on the manuscript paper, and when he came to his senses, the sun had already dipped low.

This peaceful writing life continued for several days.

In the past few days, Dorian felt his body gradually recovering, and his spirit seemed to be much better than in his previous life.

Maybe it's because there are no cell phones to play with in this world, so people go to bed as soon as it gets dark and sleep until they naturally wake up every day.

Although I wrote for several days in a row, I didn't actually write much; handwriting is just too slow. And I had to stop writing whenever it got too dark to see the desktop, so the actual time I spent writing each day was actually quite short.

Finally, the story reaches its first climax, where the protagonist, Adam, is eating at a restaurant and adheres to the two wealthy men's request not to open the envelope before the allotted time.

The shopkeeper, thinking he was trying to dine and dash, kept urging him to pay. Finally, Adam opened the envelope, pulled out the one million pound note, and the shopkeeper immediately performed a Sichuan opera face-changing act.

Finally, when I went to a clothing store to buy clothes, I claimed that I had a lot of money and was afraid they wouldn't be able to make change. The shop assistant then made a sarcastic remark.

"I feel like I should find a chance to buy a typewriter." Dorian shook his aching wrist.

Typewriters already exist in this world, although they have only been around for a short time and are still a rarity.

Dorian had previously heard from the sales staff that successful writers should use this, so he jumped on the bandwagon and spent a fortune to get one.

It wasn't used much after that, and eventually it was sold to raise money for my parents' funeral.

It feels like someone from a past life who spends all day asking in groups what software to use for writing novels, but often ends up downloading a bunch of software without writing a single word—a typical example of a "bad student with lots of stationery."

However, for Dorian now, the typewriter is no longer a fashionable piece of junk; it's a real boost to productivity.

"How about we redeem the typewriter we sold before? Or should we just buy a new one?"

It's quite possible to redeem it. These things are generally unwanted; they're probably still sitting in the shop unsold. I already sold it at a very low price, so buying it back at my original selling price... is that possible?

Dorian recalled the shop owner's face and shook his head.

To make matters worse, the shop was located on the black market, the stronghold of the "Blue Blood Gang."

They had just caused me trouble two days ago, so where would I run off to now? They must be tired of living.

"I think I should just buy a new one... I remember the original typewriter cost... 1.5 gold pounds..." After marveling once again at how amazing the original owner of this body was, Dorian suddenly remembered something else:

"Speaking of which, I haven't seen any Blue Blood Gang members causing trouble these past few days, nor have I seen Lily."

These were all good things that meant his life was getting back on track, but for some reason, Dorian felt a sense of calm before the storm.

I hope I'm just overthinking it.

He stood up, tidied the manuscripts on the table, changed his clothes, and put them in his pocket.

Both buying the typewriter and investigating the strengths and weaknesses of the Taiwan Literature Agency shared a common starting point:

money.

That would require Mr. Clancy to generously contribute.

Dorian believed that, given their previous pleasant collaboration and the new work he was about to bring, getting some money from him... or borrowing some money shouldn't be too difficult.

……

Dorian soon walked to the familiar little building.

The lobby and security guards were the same as before, but this time no one stopped him from entering.

And there's another slight difference:

At the far end of the hall, in front of that narrow corridor, hung a brand-new wooden sign, painted with white base paint, and on it painted a line of beautiful and elegant black lettering: Editorial Department of the Lentinion Weekly.

New doorplate? Why wasn't it installed before, but now it's here?

Dorian didn't think much of it, but simply walked forward, through the dimly lit corridor lit by gaslights, and gently knocked on the door.

"Please come in." A familiar voice came from behind the door.

Dorian pushed open the door, and the office behind it was no different from when he last came. It was just as messy, just as filled with smoke, and just as crowded.

Clancy, who was huddled in the corner of his desk, saw Dorian and jumped up from his chair, walking briskly forward to greet him with a delighted expression: "Oh, isn't this Mr. Dorian? Please come in, please come in."

The young editor standing nearby shrewdly got up and moved his chair to Clancy's desk.

After the two were seated, Dorian didn't stand on ceremony and went straight to the point: "My friend, I'm a little short on cash right now; I don't even have money to buy paper and ink. Could I get an advance on some of my royalties?"

Upon hearing this, Clancy was caught off guard, and the compliments and manipulative words he had prepared were suddenly cut off.

His expression momentarily darkened, a mixture of displeasure and other unspoken emotions. However, this displeasure vanished in less than a second.

He had previously lent writers money for their writing, but it often ended up being squandered on gambling, alcoholism, investments, or scams, or the writers simply disappeared without producing any further work. Therefore, lending money is now generally prohibited.

However, considering that Dorian's jokes generated nearly 20% of the newspaper's subscription growth, if the amount is not large, we can consider making an exception.

"How much do you need in advance?" Clancy asked, feigning calmness. He casually picked up his coffee and sipped it, adopting a generous attitude that suggested he could ask for whatever amount he wanted.

"Could you give me, um, 2 gold pounds first?"

"puff--"

Clancy almost lost his composure.

Does this kid think he owns a bank? He just asks for 2 gold pounds?

Although his jokes now bring the newspaper far more than 2 gold pounds in revenue, that's not how things should be done.

If we give him so many benefits so easily now, he'll get spoiled and we won't be able to cooperate with him later.

"Mr. Dorian, if I may be so bold, I don't think you need that huge sum of 2 gold pounds right now. If you're just short of paper and pens, our company can provide them to you free of charge, without any limit."

"I want to buy a typewriter to improve my writing efficiency."

"Sir, if you truly have something to write about, then writing is certainly an option. However, I suggest that you refrain from making any heavy investments before the future returns are certain."

"You're absolutely right, but I believe you might change your mind after reading this." Dorian then took out a stack of manuscript paper from the inside pocket of his coat.

"Mr. Hakimi's Jokes 2?" Clancy glanced at it and quickly noticed it, but what attracted his attention even more was another piece of paper with "The Million Pounds" written on it.

"The serialized work mentioned in the contract, is it already written?" Clancy glanced sideways, temporarily putting aside the new joke, and picked up the stack of "The Million Pound Note" to read.

"Not yet, but the overall idea and framework are there. I've written a rough draft, so I brought it over for you to take a look," Dorian said politely.

"Well, when I was twenty-seven, I was working for a foreign trade broker in Lentinion..."

……

"...I didn't mean to be offensive, but if you're going to cause trouble, let me tell you, it's no trouble for you to immediately accuse us of not being able to break the bills you're carrying. On the contrary, we can break them."

Clancy was completely absorbed in the story without realizing it. When he habitually turned the manuscript over, he found that the back was the content he had already read.

He frantically searched the table, looking for a page he thought he had missed.

Dorian didn't speak, he just watched him quietly.

After a short while, he looked up at Dorian and asked, "What about the next page?"

Dorian gave a wicked smile: "That's all, that's all."

Upon hearing these words, Clancy felt his blood rush to his head, his cheeks flushed slightly, and he couldn't help but question them sharply:

"It breaks here?"