Chapter 42: The Trap

Competition within the same industry is always the most sensitive.

The moment she heard the name *Harvest* magazine, Chen Xiaomi immediately grasped what was happening.

This "December" must have submitted the same manuscript to multiple publishers. She just didn't know how many places the work had been sent to in total.

Although she was thoroughly angered by such a disgraceful act, having been in the industry for so long, this wasn't her first time encountering it.

After all, newcomer authors lacked resources, channels, and a proper understanding of certain unwritten rules within the industry.

Furthermore, a newcomer's first book usually featured less-than-mature writing techniques, making rejection highly likely.

Driven by an urgent psychological need for publication and a desperate longing for fame, some rookie authors—hoping to avoid putting all their eggs in one basket—would secretly submit their work to multiple magazines simultaneously simply to increase their chances.

Chen Xiaomi hadn't failed to consider this possibility beforehand, but she had been holding onto a sliver of wishful thinking.

Now, that lingering hope was shattered.

She wasn't quite sure how that phone call had ended; her mind felt somewhat numb, and her entire being was shrouded in a heavy gloom.

Zhou Chunlan, who had been cocking her ear to eavesdrop the entire time, noticed Chen Xiaomi frozen in place and immediately chimed in with fake concern:

"Xiaomi, what's wrong? Did something go wrong?"

A wave of intense disgust surged up within Chen Xiaomi toward her. She almost let out a string of curses, but ultimately managed to restrain herself. Maintaining a forced, perfunctory smile, she walked straight toward the editor-in-chief's office.

*Knock, knock, knock...*

"Come in!"

Pushing the door open, Chen Xiaomi got straight to the point as she looked at Zhou Mingwei: "Uncle Zhou, I need to make a trip to Shaoshi."

Hearing this, Zhou Mingwei, who had been burying his head in writing, looked up at her and laid down his pen a moment later:

"Have you run into a difficult problem?"

Given that this concerned a masterpiece as rare as *To Live*, Chen Xiaomi held nothing back, directly revealing the situation regarding "December" submitting the manuscript to multiple outlets.

What kind of storms hadn't Zhou Mingwei weathered? Having climbed to the position of editor-in-chief today, his mental fortitude was far beyond that of ordinary people. Upon hearing the news, his expression remained unchanged, completely devoid of ripples.

Had it been any other work, he wouldn't even have bothered, leaving his subordinates to handle it however they saw fit.

But this was *To Live*!

Even with his decades in the industry and vast reading experience, he could hardly name a few works capable of touching the deepest recesses of his soul, yet *To Live* had effortlessly achieved just that.

His rich experience told him this was a work destined to make a lasting name.

Deep down, an instinct warned him that if he rashly let this opportunity slip away, he might live to regret it profoundly.

Pondering this, Zhou Mingwei asked: "How many words are left?"

Chen Xiaomi replied: "December said there are about 95,000 words remaining."

Zhou Mingwei asked again, "Based on your phone call, what was your most direct impression of this author?"

Chen Xiaomi paused in thought for a moment before summarizing with two words: "Confident! Obsessed with money!"

Confidence meant it was the right fit!

Someone capable of writing such a work would lack that special edge if they weren't confident. Had that been the case, Zhou Mingwei might not have held such high expectations for the rest of the manuscript.

As for the obsession with money, opinions varied. Since she hadn't met the author in person yet, she wouldn't rush to judgment. After a brief contemplation, Zhou Mingwei authorized: "Within reason, you have full authority to handle this matter."

Chen Xiaomi had been waiting precisely for those words. She immediately declared: "Understood, I'm leaving right now."

Zhou Mingwei nodded gravely and instructed: "The opposition isn't weak. Indeed, the sooner the better. Take care of your safety on the road."

"Thank you, Uncle Zhou."

Armed with this ultimate endorsement, and thinking of the actions her old rival *Harvest* magazine might take, the anxious Chen Xiaomi didn't dare waste a single second.

After briefly tidying up the items on her desk, she hurried toward the exit of the editorial department.

"Hey, Xiaomi, where are you rushing off to in such a panic?"

Sister Liao usually had a decent relationship with her, so she voiced the question on behalf of the curious colleagues.

Chen Xiaomi glanced sideways at Zhou Chunlan and replied, "I've arranged to meet with December, so I need to go make some preparations."

Everyone in the editorial department was an old hand. From this simple sentence, they sensed something out of the ordinary. Uncle Dai offered words of encouragement:

"Little Chen, I wish you a resounding success! Buy this old man a drink when you get back."

"I'll take your auspicious words for it, no problem."

Leaving People's Literature Publishing House, Chen Xiaomi first rushed non-stop to the post office to send an urgent telegram to Shaoshi.

Next, she found a public telephone booth and called a friend of her father to secure tickets—train or plane, either would do.

...

Shaoshi, No. 1 High School.

Using the exact same method and tactics, Li Heng had just replicated the process on a male editor at *Harvest* magazine, completely baffling the poor fellow.

As he placed the red receiver back onto its cradle, the English teacher asked: "Playing tricks like this, will it really work?"

Li Heng pondered aloud: "It's hard to say right now. We'll see the results in a few days."

The English teacher sat cross-legged on the sofa, picked up her teacup, took a couple of sips, and asked: "You're just a newcomer author. What will you do if they refuse to coddle you and simply give up?"

Li Heng was full of confidence: "They won't! I know what I've written."

Seeing her expression of skeptical disbelief, he added: "After the scholarship exams, if the two publishing houses still haven't responded, I'll try submitting to *Contemporary* and *October*. This time, I won't play any tricks; I'll just honestly earn my royalties."

Hearing this, Wang Runwen lingered her gaze on his face for a long time, and asked with utter perplexity:

"A place as big as Shaoshi, with so many intellectuals, hasn't produced a single famous writer all these years, nor anyone with the ability to publish a novel.

Take Teacher Wang Qi and the others—they show off for a long time over a piece of writing the size of two fingers published in the newspaper.

You're not even eighteen yet; why aren't you satisfied after achieving such a great result? Why are you so obsessed with money?"
Li Heng calmly shook his head: "I bled my heart out writing a book, only to earn a few hundred or a thousand yuan. Why should I be satisfied?

Right now, I have no other sources of income and can only rely on this, so I must maximize my profits."

Hearing this and recalling his impoverished family background, Wang Runwen did not argue further with him on the topic.

After finishing her cup of tea slowly, she checked her watch and said: "Let's go. There's no food cooked at home, so let's grab a bite outside while there's still time."

Li Heng asked naturally: "Am I freeloading a meal?"

Wang Runwen countered with a sly smile: "Why not call it living off a woman?"

Li Heng instinctively glanced toward her chest; it certainly looked soft enough.

Seeing this, Wang Runwen directly hurled the empty teacup in her hand at him.

Damn it!

Fortunately, he dodged quickly, otherwise, his skull would have definitely taken a bump.

After a ten-second standoff, Li Heng decisively raised his hands: "Too violent, I surrender."

Wang Runwen shot him a look that was half-smile, half-serious, picked up her wallet from the coffee table, and walked out first.

With a teacher leading the way, the gatekeeper uncle didn't give him any trouble. For the first time during the campus lockdown period, Li Heng reached the outside world without a hitch.

Looking at the Fat Brother Restaurant across the street, he asked full of anticipation: "Teacher, are you treating me to a big feast?"

To his surprise, Wang Runwen didn't even pay him any mind and walked toward the egg fried rice stall next door.

Li Heng was deeply disappointed: "I thought we were going to eat something good, which almost got me killed by a flying teacup."

Wang Runwen said coldly: "My salary isn't high. If you think egg fried rice tastes bad, you can eat steamed buns instead."

Steamed buns were good too—big, soft, and white. Li Heng reached out in exasperation and called out: "Boss, add an egg to my fried rice!"

"Coming right up, please wait a moment."