Chapter 20: Advancement—Conquering the Editor-in-Chief!

"Sigh, if this novel had been submitted ten days or half a month earlier, it would very likely have taken the top spot." Chen Haodong was filled with regret. Among all those fan works, his favorite had always been "Holmes's Will," but now, with "Detective Sherlock," he immediately cast aside his former love.

Liu Qiao felt the same sense of loss. Such an excellent piece missing out on the prize—those several hundred thousand yuan in prize money would be the total annual income for many authors, if not more. If one could secure it, at least their creative endeavors would be worry-free for the near future.

If the author of "Detective Sherlock" thought his novel wasn't good enough and gave up writing because of that, wouldn't that be a real shame?

As soon as this thought crossed Chen Haodong's mind, he quickly reminded Liu Qiao in front of him, "Xiao Liu, hurry up and call the author to explain the situation. We'll be publishing his work in the next issue, and make sure to encourage him to continue writing. If the subsequent installments of 'Detective Sherlock' are just as good, we'll increase his payment rate."

No amount of verbal encouragement could compare to a boost in payment.

Liu Qiao agreed at once; she didn't want to miss out on such a promising author.

Judging by the writing style, this author named Zhang Chu was likely a newcomer, or at least a little-known writer who hadn't published much—someone with tremendous potential for growth!

If they could tie him to the great ship that was Years of Mystery, the returns in the future would surely be considerable.

After leaving Chen Haodong's editor-in-chief office, Liu Qiao returned to her desk wearing a broad smile. She immediately found the submission email she had received earlier, which contained Zhang Chu's name and phone number.

"Sister Liu, what did Editor Chen say just now?" asked Wan Yuan, a young editor hired just last year, who had also read "Detective Sherlock."

Liu Qiao's lips curved into a confident smile. "It's brilliant—probably the main feature for the next issue. Now, I need to ask the author if the following chapters can be serialized in our magazine as well."

"As it should be! If the subsequent chapters are just as good, maybe a publisher will want the book too," chimed in Zhou Ling, a squat, cheerful editor. These days, mystery and detective novels that make it to print are incredibly rare, and even when they are published, sales are usually disappointing.

"That's an ace up our sleeve. The lure of getting published should be pretty strong," Liu Qiao said confidently.

Just then, a tall, lanky middle-aged man appeared, looking puzzled. "Did I hear you say the next issue's feature is changing? Wasn't it set to be Wu Hua's 'Angel of Sin'?"

He was one of the magazine's old hands since its founding—Li Yuanqing, who always liked to pull rank. It was he who had strongly recommended "Angel of Sin." Now, his face showed obvious displeasure.

Liu Qiao and the others didn't want to be confrontational, so they replied vaguely, "Nothing's decided yet; no one knows which article will be the next issue's main feature."

"No, I need to go ask Old Chen," Li Yuanqing said, putting on a sour face as he strode toward the editor-in-chief's office, looking every bit like he was going to pick a fight.

Wan Yuan and the others quickly returned to their seats, glancing sideways at the editor-in-chief's office, ears perked for any sign of drama.

Even in a small magazine editorial office, internal power struggles were inescapable.

...

Meanwhile, Zhang Chu, lying at home and doing nothing, was completely unaware that his stagnant reputation score had just crept up a little more. The two editors at Years of Mystery Magazine were full of praise for him, nearly declaring him the hope of Chinese detective fiction.

He was browsing through the world's literary works on his phone. Thanks to strict copyright protection, literature here was thriving; book sales were high, and writers held a very prestigious status.

But over the past decade, few new books had truly moved readers—most sales were of old classics, and more and more people were realizing the literary market might be headed for a long dry spell!

Just as he was looking at Xinhua Bookstore's authoritative book sales rankings, his phone screen switched to an incoming call from an unfamiliar number.

Zhang Chu answered, "Hello, who is this?"

Liu Qiao glanced at the number she had dialed. It seemed correct, but the voice on the other end sounded like a middle schooler. "May I ask, are you Mr. Zhang Chu, the author of 'Detective Sherlock'?"

"Oh, yes, that's me. What's up?" Zhang Chu's heart leapt into his throat. Having lived two lives, this was his first time submitting to a magazine, and he had no idea how the submission process worked.

But if it were a rejection, they probably wouldn't call—at least, his father Zhang Bowen's rejections always just came as email bounces.

"I'm Liu Qiao, an editor at Years of Mystery. After discussion in our editorial department, we've determined that your novel, 'Detective Sherlock,' is of excellent quality and will appear in the next issue. After publication, it will automatically advance to the semifinals of the Holmes fan fiction contest."

Though he'd half expected this, hearing it made Zhang Chu leap excitedly from the couch. He'd done it!

Liu Qiao continued, "May I confirm that this manuscript is your original work? Has it ever been submitted elsewhere?"

"No, I just finished writing it recently."

"Next, we'll sign a publication agreement with you. You're not selling the copyright, just the rights to publish. The payment is 500 yuan per thousand words, pre-tax. Is that acceptable?"

Zhang Chu already knew the standard. He did a quick calculation in his head: this short story was thirty-five thousand words, meaning a fee of over seventeen thousand yuan. Quite a deal.

"So if I want to publish a book in the future, I don't need your magazine's approval, right? If that's the case, I have no problem with it."

There were many more stories to "Detective Sherlock." Zhang Chu had only submitted one for now; he wasn't about to hand them all over to Years of Mystery, which was still a rather niche magazine.

"I'll send the agreement to your email in a moment. The electronic contract will require a scanned copy of your ID, your bank card number, and the bank's details. Please fill it out and return it as soon as possible so finance can transfer your payment."

Zhang Chu quickly agreed. "No problem, I'll scan them in a bit."

"Alright, wish you a pleasant day. Goodbye!"

After hanging up, Zhang Chu clenched his fists in excitement, overjoyed. He'd just earned more than seventeen thousand yuan for writing thirty thousand words?

In his past life running a bookstore, he'd worked himself to the bone and never made that much.

"There really is gold in books! Writing is easy, profitable, and brings fame!"

Zhang Chu's eyes shone with excitement. He could hardly wait to write all the following stories in one go!