Chapter 30: Conscientious Manager Yang

Chapter 30: Manager Yang with a Conscience

Yang Shouli spoke frankly, breaking it down for him: "When writing a story, the worst thing is to be too highbrow and lose your audience. Your tale of the fox spirit repaying a kindness is well written—even fresher than most stories on the market—but you should know what readers today want when they buy a story. Whether it's court cases and legends or spirits and ghosts, everyone just wants a thrilling ride and a happy ending."

The common folk around here all held simple beliefs, trusting solely in the idea that "good people are rewarded and evil people are punished." Writers, in order to cater to their tastes, would always give a satisfying ending that left people cheering, no matter how twisted the opening or how many hardships the protagonist endured.

"In your story, the three main characters—whether it's Shen Mo, the fox spirit, or Yu Niang—each has their own unique virtues that make readers warm to them. But what happens to all three of them? Shen Mo dies right at the start, and after the fox spirit's identity is revealed, Yu Niang has clearly fallen in love with him. Everyone is hoping the two will open their hearts and fall into sweet romance, but then complications pop up out of nowhere—the same bandits who killed Shen Mo show up again. They can't do anything to the fox spirit, so they go after Yu Niang, a helpless woman.

The fox spirit learned what love was because of Yu Niang, but in order to save her, he burns through all his spiritual power and eventually reverts to his original form, returning to the desolate mountain temple. As for Yu Niang, after all this, she continues running her small spinning shop, living out the rest of her days alone, never remarrying. Though there's something to your ending, most readers will probably feel the same way I do—like something's stuck in their chest, and it doesn't sit right."

Wen Xi, who had never read the story, felt a sadness he couldn't quite explain after hearing Manager Yang's summary. Yes—since the two had already fallen in love, why couldn't they be given a happy ending?

Wen Xi looked over at Yan Fengan with a gentle gaze, not saying a word, but the meaning was clear enough.

Yang Shouli's words didn't ruffle Yan Fengan at all, but Wen Xi's pleading look was something he could hardly resist. Feeling the pressure, he said, "You make a fair point, Manager. But I think that in most things in this world, regret is the norm. A protagonist's unresolved sorrow might leave a deeper impression. Besides, I already hinted at the end that the fox spirit would cultivate human form again and return to find Yu Niang."

"You wrote it too subtly—not everyone's going to catch that. That said, while the ending is tragic, it's not the biggest problem."

There was more?

The confidence Yan Fengan had built up earlier was slowly deflated by Yang Shouli.

Yang Shouli took a sip of hot tea to wet his throat, then continued: "Judging from your title and the content, the fox spirit is clearly the primary protagonist. A grateful, loyal, devoted great demon willing to lay down his life for the one he loves—needless to say, the female readers will love him. But the male readers? That's a different story."

He paused, glanced at Wen Xi, and chose his words carefully: "We're all men, so you should get this. The men in the marketplace and the scholars in the academies all have the same tastes—they want to see protagonists getting revenge, climbing the ranks, and having beautiful women throw themselves at them. But your protagonist, the fox spirit, not only ends up raising another man's wife, but also loses his powers in the end and goes back alone to the desolate mountains. If this story were printed, I'm afraid most men would curse and toss it aside after two pages, calling it worthless."

Yan Fengan had already thought about these issues before he started writing. Once he finished this story, he knew he'd have to give up part of his audience.

In the Great Zhou Dynasty, literacy among women and gē'ers wasn't low, and stories sold well among this crowd. If he could win them over, he didn't need to worry too much about the male readers.

Just as Yan Fengan was trying to figure out how to explain this to Manager Yang, Wen Xi spoke up softly: "So you're saying this story doesn't meet your bookstore's standards, so you won't take it?"

Though Wen Xi felt melancholy about the story's ending, hearing the bookstore manager nitpick so many flaws made him indignant.

Their Fengan was a xiucai—a scholar! For this manager to be so picky about his writing was just plain clueless.

The word Wen Xi was thinking of was "condescending," but it was a bit too fancy, and he forgot how to say it.

"If you won't take it, then give us back the manuscript, and we'll go ask somewhere else."

He refused to believe that in a county town this big, this was the only bookstore. Surely there was someone with an eye for real talent.

Yang Shouli: ...

He never said he wouldn't take it.

He'd only wanted to talk things over with Yan Fengan and suggest some revisions. Who knew his young husband, who looked so gentle and meek, like he didn't have a mind of his own, would have such a temper?

"Master Yan's husband, please don't be so hasty. Although Xiucai Yan's story has some flaws, it also has clear strengths. If Xiucai Yan is willing to revise it according to my suggestions, I'll offer a high price of seventy wen per thousand characters for it."

Figuring that Yan Fengan's story was about seventy-three thousand characters, at seventy wen per thousand characters, he would receive four thousand nine hundred wen—close to five taels of silver.

For a newcomer, this was already a very good price.

After working out the numbers, Yan Fengan asked, "And if I insist on not revising?"

Manager Yang said, "You should think it over carefully. Without revisions, sales won't be as good as they would be with them. In that case, I can only offer you forty wen per thousand characters."

Forty wen per thousand characters—that came to only two thousand eight hundred wen, a full two taels of silver less. How could that not sting?

Yan Fengan wrote stories to make money. Any intelligent, rational person would know which choice to make.

But this story had been written in one inspired flow—every plot point was unique and special. If he followed Manager Yang's advice and changed the story beyond recognition, would it even be the same story anymore?

Earlier, Li Er had told him about how stubborn and unyielding Scholar Liu was, how he wouldn't listen to advice. Now that it was Yan Fengan's turn, he realized he was just as stubborn himself—and Li Er's dismissive words might as well have been about him.

Yan Fengan looked at Wen Xi with some difficulty, as if seeking his opinion.

Four thousand-plus wen versus two thousand-plus wen—anyone could tell which was more. But the troubled expression on Yan Fengan's face showed that his inner scale was clearly tipping toward the other side.

Wen Xi couldn't understand all the things Manager Yang had said, and he didn't want to add pressure to Yan Fengan by siding with an outsider. The story was Yan Fengan's to write, so it was naturally his to decide.

Wen Xi said, "I'll follow your lead."

Feeling Wen Xi's support, Yan Fengan steeled his resolve. He cupped his hands toward Yang Shouli and said, "No revisions. Just pay me the forty wen per thousand characters, Manager."

Scholars all had their own integrity. Yang Shouli wasn't surprised by his stance: "Then it's settled. Our bookstore acquires stories through outright purchase plus excess profit sharing. If sales stay within two hundred copies, the bookstore barely breaks even, and you'll only receive the purchase price. If sales exceed two hundred copies, you'll get a ten percent cut of each additional copy sold. At the end of every month, we post the sales numbers on the wooden board outside—you're welcome to check anytime."

For new writers, most bookstores used outright purchase only. Wencui Pavilion was the only one that used this arrangement. No wonder writers loved bringing their stories here—Manager Yang was indeed one of the few merchants with a conscience.

Yan Fengan nodded in agreement. Yang Shouli drafted the contract, and they would find a witness at the brokerage across the street to finalize the deal.

Proper scholars often looked down on stories as "trivial scraps of words." Yang Shouli, being in this trade, held no prejudice against them—but others might not be so open-minded.

A xiucai like Yan Fengan, instead of writing proper essays, was writing these stories instead. If people found out, they would surely scold him for neglecting his duties and debasing himself.

Thinking of this, Yang Shouli added, "Have you chosen a pen name for yourself, Xiucai Yan?"

Yan Fengan thought for a moment and said, "I'll go by Linxi Hermit."

Manager Yang wrote down this pen name based on his words. From now on, all of Yan Fengan's stories would be published under this name.

Noticing that the character "xi" in the pen name was identical to the "xi" in her own name, Wen Xi's heart began to beat a little faster, though she didn't know what it signified.

Manager Yang handed the completed contract to Yan Fengan for review. Yan Fengan read through it carefully, clause by clause. The contract stated that he was permanently selling the story "The Jade-Faced Fox" to Wencui Pavilion, guaranteeing its originality and exclusivity. Should any issues arise with these two points afterward, all consequences would be borne by Yan Fengan alone.

The rate per thousand characters and the profit-sharing arrangement were all clearly stated.

The contracts for new writers were all the same. The terms Manager Yang wrote were transparent and fair, with nothing that could be twisted. Yan Fengan said, "I have no objections to the above content, but I'd like to add one more clause: without my permission, the bookstore may not reveal my true identity."

Yang Shouli said, "Our rule at Wencui Pavilion is that heroes are judged by their deeds, not their origins, and stories by their merit, not their authors. As long as nothing illegal is involved, even the emperor himself couldn't pry a writer's identity out of me."

To put Yan Fengan at ease, he still added the clause to the contract. Whichever party violated any of the terms would have to pay one hundred taels in compensation.

Yang Shouli had been burned on this before. Not all scholars had integrity—some would do anything for money. Simple trend-chasing was bad enough, but the truly shameless ones would plagiarize others' stories outright. When things blew up, outsiders would accuse Wencui Pavilion of colluding with such people.

Yang Shouli couldn't tolerate that. His business philosophy was "honest dealings, guaranteed quality." To deter such despicable behavior, he set the penalty clause so high.

With this rule in place, no plagiarist dared to submit work to them.

Once the contract was finalized, Yang Shouli led the two downstairs and had Li Er go to the brokerage across the street to find a witness.

The contract was made in triplicate, legally binding. Should any disputes arise later, having a witness would help clarify matters.

Using the "xingge" character-counting method, Yan Fengan's story was approximately seventy-three thousand characters. At forty wen per thousand characters, the bookstore owed him two thousand nine hundred wen—two taels and nine mace of silver.

The first payment for one's writing, no matter the amount, always brought joy. As Yan Fengan was leaving with Wen Xi, the bookstore's clerk offered his congratulations: "Congratulations, Xiucai Yan! I knew you'd make it."

Like Wen Xi, he had complete faith in the learned xiucai.

Yan Fengan fished ten copper coins out from inside his robe and handed them to Li Er, saying, "Thanks to your advice. Here, go buy yourself some wine with this."

Li Er pushed it back, saying, "I can't take this, I really can't. How could I accept your money?"

"Keep it. Once the book is printed, I hope you'll help spread the word about it."

It wasn't like Yan Fengan had money burning a hole in his pocket, but he'd have plenty of dealings with the folks at Wencui Pavilion in the future. Li Er might just be a shop hand, but he could come in handy.

When customers came into the shop to buy storybooks, if Li Er pushed his book, the odds of it selling would go way up.

"Well... since you put it that way, I'll take it."

Li Er dealt with plenty of young gentlemen and ladies, but most of them looked down their noses at common folk like him.

Even though the man in front of him was a scholar, Li Er felt they were on equal footing. He didn't have to bow and scrape like a dog when talking to him.

Plenty of people came through the shop selling their storybooks, but not one of them had ever tipped Li Er.

Most folks in this line of work were just scraping by—life was tough for all of them, and Li Er never expected a thing.

Yan Fengan had given him a tip of his own accord. It wasn't much, but it touched Li Er deeply. He said, "Don't worry, once your book comes out, I'll push it hard."

Yan Fengan nodded slightly, bought writing supplies—brush, ink, and paper—and, with the two-plus taels of silver tucked away, left the bookshop contentedly with Wen Xi.

Li Er was happily clutching the ten coins he'd gotten for free when Yang Shouli had appeared behind him out of nowhere. Startled, Li Er flinched and hurriedly stuffed the coins into his sleeve.

Just as he was about to explain, Yang Shouli waved his hand and said, "I'll mind the shop for now. Take these manuscripts to the printer right away and tell them to rush-print The Jade-Faced Fox Gentleman."

Lately, Wencui Pavilion's storybook sales had been sluggish. Without fresh material, they couldn't hold onto old customers, and even Mobao Pavilion, their constant rival, was slowly edging ahead of them.

Yan Fengan's storybook had its issues, sure, but it was fresh. Handled right, it might just turn things around for them.

—

Back at the bookshop, Wen Xi had been careful to mind his manners and keep his feelings in check. Once they were a good distance away, he couldn't hold in his joy any longer. He gently tugged at Yan Fengan's sleeve and said, "You made over two taels of silver in one shot. You're amazing."

Yan Fengan felt a happiness he couldn't quite put into words either. He hadn't expected to get rich off this, but after pouring so much effort into it, of course he wanted others to recognize his work. And if that recognition came with a bit of silver, even better.

Now that his little wish had come true, how could his heart not feel light?

With that major matter settled, Yan Fengan's nerves relaxed. Seeing the hint of admiration in Wen Xi's eyes, a mischievous impulse stirred in him. Putting on a straight face, he said, "You got that wrong."

Wen Xi's smile slowly faded. "Wrong? What'd I say wrong?"

Yan Fengan replied, "It should be 'Husband, you're amazing!'"

Wen Xi's cheeks slowly grew warm. Never mind in public—even in private, he would be too embarrassed to say such a thing.

Yan Fengan was indeed his husband, but those words felt too sticky-sweet, too hard to utter.

Yan Fengan coaxed him in a low voice, "Say it once, and I'll get you a gift."

A gift again. Wen Xi had been fooled once before and wasn't about to fall for it so easily.

His thoughts churned as he walked a few steps in silence, but finally he couldn't help asking, "What gift are you going to give me?"

He was like a child tempted by candy from an adult—knowing it wouldn't come easily, yet still craving it.

"Say it first, and then I'll tell you."

Wen Xi's face flushed slightly. The words rolled around in his mouth several times before he swallowed them back down.

"When we get home... when it's just the two of us... can I say it then?"

Any other husband with a temper would have scolded Yan Fengan for being so improper.

How did he manage to wear such an honest, simple expression on that handsome face while saying things that left a person all tangled up inside?

Yan Fengan let out a helpless sigh, took Wen Xi's hand, and said, "Fine, fine, whatever you say. Come on, your husband will take you to buy some jewelry."