Literary Master: Starting with Refusing to Be a Child Star

The night Luo Jinnian finished writing the first book of "My Little Pony," he didn't immediately turn off his computer. He read through the document from beginning to end, then leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the text on the screen about rainbows, ponies, and friendship for a while.

He recalled his past life, in his early twenties, working a mundane job at a small company, doing some freelance writing, and spending weekends holed up in his rented apartment watching TV shows to kill time. Back then, he watched My Little Pony; he had always had a habit of watching animated films, though of course, at that age, he couldn't watch every cartoon.

But the vibrant colors of My Little Pony, the simple and almost naive stories, and the few lines at the end of each episode summarizing "friendship is magic" made him feel that the world wasn't so bad after watching it.

Later, he researched the background of the animation and discovered that its audience in the United States was enormous, ranging from young children to adults in their fifties and sixties, from housewives to college students—people of different ages, genders, and cultural backgrounds were watching the same thing. It has been translated into more than twenty languages ​​and broadcast in over one hundred countries and regions, with derivative products ranging from toys to clothing to stationery, filling the shelves of major department stores worldwide. Why would an animation about colorful ponies transcend so many boundaries?

The answer is simple: it speaks a language everyone can understand. That language has nothing to do with age, cultural background, or how many books you've read or how many roads you've traveled. It says, "You don't need to be strong to be loved," "Friends will stand by you in your most difficult times," and "The world may not be perfect, but it's worth making it a little better." These words might sound naive to adults, but for a child just beginning to understand the world, they are the foundation, the points that will support them as they move forward.

And Luo Jinnian is becoming the one who lays the foundation.

He opened the sample copy of the first volume of *My Little Pony*, the cover featuring a purple unicorn drawn by Chu Qingning standing on the Rainbow Bridge. He thought of those impressive sales figures. The global children's literature market had reached nearly ten billion US dollars in 2024 and was still growing. Within this enormous market, the top works possess astonishing vitality. J.K. Rowling's *Harry Potter* series has been translated into more than eighty languages, with global sales exceeding five hundred million copies, making it one of the most commercially successful literary works in publishing history. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's *The Little Prince* has sold over two hundred million copies worldwide, translated into more than four hundred languages, making it one of the world's best-selling literary works. E.B. White's *Charlotte's Web*, since its publication in 1952, has sold over fifty million copies worldwide and is considered a must-read classic by countless parents and teachers.

Behind these numbers lies a common logic: the first book children read often leaves the deepest impression on them. Those stories become their first set of tools for understanding the world—what is good, what is trustworthy, and what can be relied upon. And the quality of these tools determines their attitude towards the world later in life.

Luo Jinnian wrote a sentence in his memo: "Children's literature is not about 'coaxing children,' but about laying the foundation for future adults." He recalled his own work, "Charlie IX"—a series that had sold over 70 million copies in his previous life, with the highest single-volume sales reaching 3 million copies. In 2014, it occupied 23 of the top 30 spots on the sales charts, making it a veritable top seller of domestic youth literature.

There's also "Laughing Cat Diary," a series that has been a bestseller for nearly twenty years, selling over 85 million copies and becoming a landmark brand of original Chinese children's books.

These two sets of books have one thing in common: neither of them is "teaching" children anything. They are simply telling stories—about adventure, about growing up, about trust and misunderstandings between friends—and then children find what they are looking for in the stories themselves. Those things are not forced in; they grow out of their own.

"Many books written for adults tell readers 'how you should live.' But children's literature is different. Children's literature tells readers 'look, this is how some people live.' It doesn't tell you right or wrong; it only shows possibilities. A child won't immediately become a better person after reading a book. But at some point, perhaps many years later, he might suddenly recall a passage from the book and make a different choice than before. At that moment, the book has truly fulfilled its purpose."

He closed his laptop, stood up, and walked to the window. A sliver of twilight lingered on the distant horizon, a blend of deep blue and orange-red. He thought, those children reading *Charlie IX* will grow up in a few years, leave childhood behind, and enter a world far more complex than Equestria. But they will retain a rainbow bridge in their hearts, and the phrase "Friendship is magic." And what he needs to do is make that bridge strong enough, and that phrase resound loud enough.

Jiabei later mentioned another matter in a phone call: "A kindergarten teacher contacted the publisher, saying they wanted to buy a batch of 'My Little Pony' books as class reading materials and asked if we could do a group purchase. Several picture book libraries are also asking if we can hold offline book clubs." After listening, Luo Jinnian didn't answer immediately, but thought for a moment before saying, "We can offer a discount for group purchases, and we can postpone the book clubs until a few more books are published." Jiabei didn't ask why, and only replied with "Okay."

After finishing the cover, Chu Qingning showed the draft of the pink pony to Luo Jinnian. Looking at the pony on the paper with its bright, round eyes and fluffy mane, Luo Jinnian said, "Its mane could be drawn even fluffier, like the texture of cotton candy." Chu Qingning put the draft away and sent a revised version the next morning—the edges of the mane had a ring of fine curls, like sugar threads scattered in the wind.

Luo Jinnian replied with a simple "No".

During that time, Luo Jinnian was writing "My Little Pony". He no longer needed to repeatedly compare his memories of his past life to confirm the plot's direction as he had at the beginning. The structure of those stories had become like a familiar street in his mind—he knew what he would encounter at which intersection.

One afternoon during his self-study period at school, a girl sitting in the row in front of him was flipping through a bound volume of "Laughing Cat's Diary." When she turned to a certain page, she stopped and looked at it for a few more seconds.

Luo Jinnian sat two rows behind her, and through the distance of several rows of desks, he could see her profile and her smile. He thought that the readers of those books would probably never know who the author was, but that didn't matter; the author didn't need to be known.

Luo Jinnian only needs to make a child smile when a child turns to a certain page.

He shifted his gaze back to his notebook, making sure the girl didn't notice he was looking at her. He scribbled a small line in the corner of the notebook:

"The bridge depicted in the children's artwork is being built brick by brick. Today we lay a purple brick, tomorrow a pink brick. No rush, the bridge is long, but it will eventually be finished."