A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

Chapter 117 (Single Volume)

Song Zhiping stood by the window for a few seconds, then realized he had been sitting in the office all day. He turned his gaze away from the window and looked down at the stack of manuscripts on the table—"The Astrological Murder Mystery".

He spent the entire day reading it from beginning to end, only eating a bowl of instant noodles in between, and only going to the toilet twice. He couldn't stop reading at all. He gathered the manuscript paper back up and neatly stacked it into the folder. Then he picked up the folder and walked to the editor-in-chief's office.

He knocked twice.

"Come in."

Song Zhiping pushed open the door and entered. The editor-in-chief, Lao Han, was sitting behind his desk with a stack of documents spread out in front of him. He was holding a red pen and was making corrections. He looked up at Song Zhiping, then looked back at the documents.

"Old Song? Still here?"

"Teacher Han, there's a manuscript you'd like to take a look at."

Old Han paused for a moment. He had worked with Song Zhiping for almost ten years and knew that this man usually wouldn't knock on the door at this time unless it was something really important.

"What manuscript?"

Song Zhiping walked over, placed the folder on the table, and opened it to the first page. Old Han glanced down at the title—"The Astrological Murder Magic," by Lin Shubai.

"Lin Shubai?" Old Han raised an eyebrow. "The one who wrote 'The Little Prince'?"

"right."

Lin Shubai—I've been hearing this name quite often in the circle lately. "Story Club," "October," "People's Literature," "Science Fiction World"—this guy seems to be on a winning streak, publishing one book after another.

Old Han had considered asking Lin Shubai to contribute a manuscript, but after thinking about it, he gave up because mystery novels are different from those other things. Writing mystery novels requires a kind of detachment, a calm and meticulous approach to unraveling the mystery.

"Please sit down first." Old Han pointed to the chair opposite him and then began to read.

Old Han flipped through the first few pages and read for about twenty minutes.

"Old Song, how long is this?"

"The full text, approximately 150,000 words, has been sent."

Old Han raised an eyebrow. "150,000 words, more than ten installments. Let me read it first before deciding."

Old Han knew that this article was not suitable for serialization. Although their magazine had done a "mystery series" and published standalone books, those were all by established authors who had been proven in the market.

Lin Shubai has a readership base, but those are readers of fairy tales and pure literature. He's unsure whether readers of detective novels will buy into it.

Although serialization takes a long time, it is less risky. You can see readers' feedback in each issue. Publishing a single volume is a one-off deal. If you print too much, you will have a lot of inventory. If you print too little, you will miss the market. He needs to read the whole thing before he can judge whether it is worth the risk.

"Okay." Song Zhiping stood up and picked up his coat. "You should go home early too."

The two walked out of the office together, and the motion-activated lights in the corridor turned on. Song Zhiping looked at his back and knew that he probably wouldn't go to bed early tonight. He knew this old leader's habit: when he encountered a really good manuscript, he was like a cat that had smelled its prey, and he wouldn't let go until he had it in his hand.

When Lao Han got home, it was almost eight o'clock.

His wife was watching TV in the living room. When she saw him come back, she said, "The food is in the pot," and continued watching her drama. Old Han responded, but didn't go to eat; he went straight into the study.

By the time he finished reading the last page, it was almost dawn. Old Han picked up his phone and sent a message to Song Zhiping: "I've finished reading the manuscript. Call everyone to the meeting this morning."

The next morning, Lao Han arrived at the magazine office half an hour earlier than usual.

When he arrived, Song Zhiping was already in the office.

At nine o'clock sharp, the conference room was full of people, including the six group leaders from the editorial department, Lao Han, and Song Zhiping.

Old Han sat in the main seat, with a stack of manuscripts in front of him. "Old Song, you go first."

Song Zhiping stood up and distributed the copied manuscript to everyone. He then spent ten minutes explaining the core trick of the entire case.

Xiao Liu spoke first: "150,000 words, more than ten installments, that's too long. Can readers wait? I'm afraid they'll forget the details from earlier in the series."

"I think so too," Old Wang, sitting across from me, chimed in. "This kind of work should be read in one sitting. Once you open it up, the flavor fades."

Old Han remained silent until everyone had finished expressing their opinions before he spoke up, "My suggestion is to publish 'The Astrological Murder Mystery' as a standalone book."

Old Han continued, "Our magazine has published several volumes of standalone mystery novels, and the market response has always been good. But in recent years, we've found fewer and fewer articles that we feel are worth publishing. It's not that we don't want to publish, it's that we haven't had enough quality works. Now, this one is good enough."

He flipped through the manuscript, turned to the pages containing the core trick, and pointed at them with his finger: "This trick is the first one I've ever seen in all my years of making it. The experience of being completely fooled and then suddenly realizing what's going on, when it's broken up into a series and published one issue at a time, is completely different from the experience of reading it from beginning to end."

Old Han stood up, placed his hands on the table, and looked at everyone present. "If no one has any questions, this matter is settled." Old Han waited for a while, and seeing that no one spoke, he said, "Then that's it, meeting adjourned."

Old Han looked at Song Zhiping and said, "You contact the author and tell him our decision. Regarding the royalties, we'll follow the royalty system. You can discuss the specific amount with him."

"it is good."

At noon, Song Zhiping picked up the phone and dialed the number in Shanghai.

"Feed?"

"Lin Shubai? I am Song Zhiping from 'The Deduction of Time'."

"Hello, Teacher Song."

"Your manuscript has been read by both the editor-in-chief and me. We had a meeting today and decided not to publish it as a serialized work, but as a standalone book."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"A standalone volume?" Lin Shubai's voice held a hint of surprise.

"Yes, 150,000 words. It would be a waste to split it into a serial. We've published mystery series before and have experience with standalone books. For your story, we plan to follow the same approach—publish it as a standalone book."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then a voice said, "Okay, I have no objections."

"Regarding the contract, I've had my legal department prepare it and will send it to you in the next few days. If there are no problems, you can sign it and send it back. If you're not satisfied with anything, you can contact me. The ISBN, layout, cover, and printing—we'll handle everything according to standard procedures."

"it is good."

After hanging up the phone, Song Zhiping leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. He went to Old Han's office. "The author has agreed. It'll be a standalone book, made according to the standards of a mystery series."

"Keep an eye on the cover; don't make it like last time."

Don't worry.

The cover of the previous "Detective Story" book was criticized by Lao Han three times. The designer made five versions, but Lao Han was not satisfied with any of them, saying that it was "too commercial," "too pretentious," and "too much like a horror novel." In the end, Song Zhiping found an art student to make a version with the simplest black and white color scheme, and only then did Lao Han nod in approval.