A Literary Life Starting from the First Year of High School

November 27th, Sunday, 2 PM.

Lin Shubai sat on the sofa in Zhou Mingyuan's office, holding a cup of tea in his hand. The tea had gone cold, and he hadn't drunk much of it.

Zhou Mingyuan sat behind his desk, a pile of documents spread out in front of him, and was reviewing them.

The office was quiet. The clock on the wall ticked away. With each second hand, Zhou Mingyuan couldn't help but glance at the door. It was 2:05, 2:10, 2:15. The data from the distribution department should have been available before 2:00, but for some reason it was taking so long today.

Zhou Mingyuan picked up the phone on the table and dialed an internal number. "Old Wu, has the data come out yet?" He listened for a few seconds, frowned, and said, "Okay, send it up as soon as it's out." After hanging up, he looked at Lin Shubai and said, "The distribution department is compiling the data. Wait a little longer, don't worry."

At 2:30, there was a knock on the door.

Zhou Mingyuan glanced at Lin Shubai, his eyes conveying "You're here," and then called out towards the door, "Come in."

The door opened, and a man in his forties walked in, wearing a dark blue work uniform, holding a folder in his hand, his hair disheveled, as if he had just gotten up from in front of the computer. His name was Wu Xuan, the director of the distribution department, who had reportedly held this position for fifteen years.

"Mr. Zhou, the data is out." Wu Xuan placed the folder on the table.

Zhou Mingyuan didn't open it immediately, but glanced at Wu Xuan and said, "Just tell me directly, don't keep me in suspense."

Wu Xuan's face began to light up. "First-day sales: 4,037 copies."

Zhou Mingyuan looked at Lin Shubai, his expression changing subtly—he paused for a moment, then the corners of his mouth began to turn upwards.

"I knew it." Zhou Mingyuan stood up, walked to the coffee table, picked up the bag of fruit Lin Shubai had brought last time, and said, "Let me tell you, my last book, 'The Little Bear's Adventures,' sold a thousand copies on the first day. Yours will definitely sell just as well."

Zhou Mingyuan broke off half of the peeled orange and handed it to him, saying, "Four thousand on the first day, today's sales will definitely be even higher, so don't worry."

Wu Xuan chimed in from the side, "President Zhou, there's something else."

"What is it?"

"The data from the online bookstores hasn't come out completely yet. Dangdang said their system is delayed, so the actual sales might be higher than what we've reported, probably an extra 500 to 800 copies."

Zhou Mingyuan walked back behind his desk, sat down, opened the folder, and glanced at the specific data. "Shanghai sold the best, with 1,200 copies. Beijing was second with 900 copies. Guangdong was third with 600 copies. Shandong, Zhejiang, and Jiangsu also sold over 200 copies each. The distribution channels are very healthy; it's not just relying on one place."

Wu Xuan nodded. "The Xinhua Bookstore system sold about 2,200 copies, private channels sold 1,200 copies, and online bookstores sold more than 600 copies."

Zhou Mingyuan wrote a few words on the folder, then looked up at Wu Xuan and said, "Contact the printing factory this afternoon about the reprint. Be quick and try to get it into stock before next Friday. The end of the year is the peak sales season, and we can't afford to run out of stock."

"Okay, Mr. Zhou, should we print another 10,000 units this time, just like before?"

"No, this time we'll add 20,000 copies directly."

"Okay, I'll take care of it right away." Wu Xuan turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "President Zhou, the kids in the distribution department said they want to celebrate with dinner tonight?"

"Eat, eat, all you ever do is eat. Go on, but don't drink too much; you have to go to work tomorrow."

"Okay!" Wu Xuan pushed open the door and went out.

The office fell silent. Zhou Mingyuan crossed his arms over his stomach and looked at Lin Shubai. "How do you feel right now, great writer?"

Just as Lin Shubai was about to reply, Zhou Mingyuan's phone suddenly rang. Zhou Mingyuan glanced at his phone and smiled, "Old Chen's calling, probably to ask about sales."

He answered the phone, "Hey, Lao Chen... Yes, the data is out... Guess... Four thousand... Not four hundred, it's four thousand... Yes, the first day... Why would I lie to you? When have I ever lied to you?... They reprinted it, twenty thousand... Calm down, you're not young anymore... Okay, okay, come over here. I'll have Xiao Lin wait here. Call me when you get there, and I'll send someone down to pick you up. Don't make me go down and look for you if you can't find it."

After hanging up the phone, Zhou Mingyuan looked at Lin Shubai and said, "If you're free, wait a little longer. Chen Yuanshan is coming over."

"it is good"

About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door, three loud knocks.

The door was pushed open, and Chen Yuanshan stood in the doorway. He didn't say anything, walked in, sat down on the sofa, put his briefcase on the coffee table, and then looked at Lin Shubai.

"Four thousand on the first day?" he asked, his voice a octave higher than usual.

"Yes," Zhou Mingyuan answered for Lin Shubai.

"Okay, I knew I hadn't misjudged you." Chen Yuanshan patted Lin Shubai on the shoulder excitedly.

Zhou Mingyuan glanced at Chen Yuanshan. "Alright, stop laughing. You came all this way just to look at the data?"

Chen Yuanshan ignored him, took out a brown paper envelope from his briefcase, and placed it on the coffee table. "This is a sample copy of 'October,' the December issue. I'm giving it to you in advance." (In reality, "October" was published in odd-numbered months, but for the sake of the plot, the even-numbered "October: Long Novel" was deleted, and "October" was changed to a monthly issue.)

Lin Shubai took the envelope, opened it, and found a brand new copy of the magazine "October". The cover was dark blue with a picture of a mountain and a person standing on the edge of a cliff. He flipped to the table of contents and saw the words "Lin Shubai, whose life is like a string on a zither" in the third position.

Chen Mingyuan continued, "I heard from Lao Zhou that you wrote another fairy tale?"

"Yes, it's called 'The Little Prince,' and we've already signed a contract with Teacher Zhou."

"Okay, while you're still young and can still write, write more."

Chen Yuanshan paused, then added, "You write good fairy tales, but you can't keep writing fairy tales forever. You're still young; you need to broaden your horizons."

Lin Shubai nodded, put the sample copy back into the envelope, and set it aside. He thought about it and felt that this was a good opportunity.

"Teacher Chen, Teacher Zhou, I have something I'd like to tell you."

Both editors looked at him at the same time.

"I am writing a novel."

Chen Yuanshan raised his eyebrows, his teacup hovering in mid-air: "How many words were you expecting? How much have you written?"

"I've written the first 20,000 words. The complete story framework and character relationships are all in my mind. All that's left is to fill in the content." Lin Shubai paused. "I want to finish writing it before winter break."

Zhou Mingyuan and Chen Yuanshan exchanged a glance.

"Before winter break? It's late November now, winter break is probably late January." Zhou Mingyuan counted on his fingers, "Two months, one million words?"

"almost."

Chen Yuanshan put down his teacup, leaned back on the sofa, and stared at Lin Shubai for a few seconds: "Are you sure what you wrote isn't just a diary entry?"

"Teacher Chen, you'll see when you see it."