Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

The editor-in-chief's office at the end of the line.

Chen Ping is forty-six years old. He has been working in this industry for fifteen years.

What kind of hit product haven't I handled? What kind of outrageous author haven't I seen?

But the contract that Song Siyi handed him today made him put on his reading glasses and look at it twice.

"An 80/20 split?"

Chen Ping slapped a few pages of paper onto the large mahogany desk.

"Song Siyi, are you out of your mind?"

Song Siyi stood opposite him, her hands behind her back, her back ramrod straight.

"Mr. Chen, I suggest you read the draft first."

"I don't care about the manuscript. 80/20 split, and the film/television adaptation rights still belong entirely to the author—are you signing a contract or are you paying someone to do it?"

Chen Ping took off his reading glasses and waved them in the air. "Since the company was founded, the highest I've ever given is 73%. That was for a top author whose annual sales exceeded one million copies. You, a new author, are starting with 82?"

"He is not a new author."

"Who is he? What has he written?"

Song Siyi took out the printed manuscript from the folder and pushed it in front of Chen Ping.

"Jiang Fan. The Jiang Fan who wrote 'Blue and White Porcelain'."

Chen Ping paused for a moment, holding his reading glasses.

He'd heard of "Blue and White Porcelain." Who in Shanghai's cultural circles hadn't?

Writing songs and writing novels are two different things.

"A singer crossing over to write a book?" Chen Ping scoffed, throwing his glasses on the table. "Nine out of ten will flop."

"Editor-in-Chief Chen, please take a look first."

Chen Ping reluctantly picked up the manuscript, put his glasses back on, and turned to the first page.

Five minutes passed. Chen Ping finished reading the first episode.

Without saying a word, he moistened his finger with saliva and flipped directly to the second chapter.

Song Siyi estimated that it would take a while, so she walked over to the leather sofa next to her and sat down, casually flipping open a magazine.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes.

Chen Ping slowed down his page-turning.

At first, I just glanced at it, but later I ran my finger across the paper line by line.

When he encounters certain paragraphs, he will stop, turn back to the previous page, and read them again.

The only sound in the office was the rustling of papers turning.

Forty minutes later.

I've only read one-third of the 50,000-word manuscript.

Chen Ping closed the manuscript. He took off his reading glasses, placed them on the table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

This is not the time to watch it all at once.

He leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on the armrests.

The office was quiet for half a minute.

"This...did he really write it?"

"Yes."

"How much is left?"

He said about a hundred times. That's roughly 800,000 words.

Chen Ping's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.

"One hundred chapters. One million words. The world-building established by the first seven chapters alone is more substantial than that of any other Xianxia novel on the market."

Song Siyi nodded; she had thought the same thing last night.

"After this work is released, how many things can it spawn? Film, animation, games, merchandise. Each one of them is a source of profit that investors will fight tooth and nail for." Chen Ping looked at Song Siyi. "Giving him the film and television adaptation rights is like giving away the fattest piece of meat."

"He's not short of money," Song Siyi said, getting straight to the point. "And he doesn't necessarily have to come to us."

Chen Ping tapped his fingers on the table.

"The current online literature scene is too homogenized. Readers are already experiencing aesthetic fatigue. Major platforms are all looking for ways to break this deadlock, spending money on writing contests and poaching top authors, but the results are not good."

"Give him the film and television adaptation rights." Chen Ping picked up the contract again. "An 80/20 split is fine too. But I have one condition."

"What are the conditions?"

"Exclusive serialization rights must be granted to the end platform. They cannot be given to other platforms for at least three years."

Song Siyi nodded. "I'll talk to him about it."

Chen Ping pushed the contract aside and rubbed his face vigorously with his palms.

"Song Siyi, if the rest of this book is of this quality, this is the first time our platform will have a chance to wrest territory from Qidian.com."

"Even if it's 80/20 or 90/10, I'll still have to bite the bullet and argue with the board of directors."

"OK."

"Go ahead and get it done. The contract should be processed through the legal department on an expedited basis; make sure it's stamped before the end of the day."

Song Siyi stood up, turned around and walked out.

"Wait a moment."

She stopped.

Chen Ping's voice came from behind, his speech slowing down.

"What's your relationship with this author?"

Song Siyi turned around.

"Grown up in an orphanage."

Chen Ping opened his mouth, but didn't ask anything more.

-

Song Siyi left the editor-in-chief's office and returned to her workstation.

She stepped onto the anti-static carpet in high heels, taking larger strides than usual.

Pull out a chair and sit down.

Song Siyi opened her phone and sent a message to Jiang Fan.

"Song Siyi: The contract is approved. The legal department will stamp it today and send it to you tomorrow."

"Song Siyi: Exclusive serialization rights for three years, is that alright with you?"

Song Siyi's heart was pounding the whole time as she typed.

She was actually gambling. Gambling that Jiang Fan still had the trust he had when they were children.

The exclusive serialization rights for three years are a blessing for ordinary authors, but a restriction for someone like Jiang Fan who holds a trump card.

He could easily distribute it across the entire internet to maximize his profits.

The reply came very quickly.

Jiang Fan: No problem.

Looking at the "No problem" message on the screen, Song Siyi felt a mix of emotions she couldn't quite describe.

The little boy who used to follow her around with a runny nose can now shake the entire online literature world with just a few keystrokes.

Song Siyi: I believe you. But what if you stand me up—

"Jiang Fan: I know about the bedwetting photo."

Song Siyi burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

My colleague next to me poked his head over, his eyes sparkling.

"Sister Yi, what are you laughing at? What kind of agreement did you sign that's making you so happy?"

"I'm laughing at your big head. Get back to work."

My colleague pursed his lips and shrank back.

Song Siyi opened her work email, ready to process other authors' manuscripts.

I opened an outline for a novel called "Sword Piercing the Heavens." After reading three pages, not a single word stuck in my head.

My mind is filled with images of the golden cudgel and the somersault cloud.

The cultivation setting that used to seem acceptable now looks incredibly boring.

She took off her glasses and threw them on the table, then covered her face with both hands.

I can't take this class.

-

Six o'clock in the afternoon.

Shen Nian pushed open the door to Jiang Fan's office.

She had just finished filming a Gucci promotional video and hadn't even completely removed her makeup yet.

Her bright red lip gloss was eye-catching, and there were tiny glittery glitters at the corners of her eyes. Her long hair was casually tied back.

She was wearing an oversized black hoodie that covered her thighs, and white flat shoes.

"Finished filming?" Jiang Fan looked up from the computer screen and saved the document.

"Hmm." Shen Nian walked to the sofa, threw herself into it, and let out a long sigh of relief.

Jiang Fan closed his laptop and walked over to sit down next to her.

"Are you tired?"

Shen Nian turned her head to look at him; there were a few red streaks in her eyes, but she was in good spirits.

"It's alright. Much more fulfilling than before." She rolled over, leaning on the sofa armrest and looking at Jiang Fan. "I feel like I'm dreaming."

"This is not a dream. You deserve it."

Jiang Fan reached out and pinched her cheek.

"Let's go home, I'll cook for you."

Shen Nian immediately cheered up, jumped up from the sofa, and her previous fatigue vanished.