Republic of China Writing Daily Life

Also known as "I Write Novels in the Republic of China" and "Getting Rich by Writing Novels in the Republic of China." Daily updates, fixed release at 6 AM.

Yao Xiaoyu woke up...

Chapter 41 I am just a little fish, call me Ms. Little Fish

Chapter 41 I am just a little fish, call me Ms. Little Fish

On Sunday, Yao Xiaoyu went to the newspaper office of the "Complete Collection of Stories" as usual with her manuscript. Pi Kangxiu didn't say a word and couldn't wait to start reading. Yao Xiaoyu was used to his habit of reading first, so she just ate pastries and waited for him to come to his senses.

Is this the end?

After reading the last sentence, Pi Kangxiu looked at Yao Xiaoyu with a complicated expression. Yao Xiaoyu swallowed a mouthful of mung bean cake and nodded happily.

"Yes, Ding Xian has a new partner, her friend's business has a successor, and her cousin no longer has to be randomly chosen to marry someone. Everyone has a good ending."

Yao Xiaoyu decided to reveal her true identity and no longer hid her words. However, Pi Kangxiu, who was preoccupied with Ding Xian's story, didn't notice anything amiss and was still struggling with the ending. It wasn't that the ending was bad, but it was different from the perfect ending he had imagined, or rather, the one that the world considered a perfect ending of having many children and grandchildren and making dumplings.

Pi Kangxiu could already imagine how much controversy this ending would cause. Before Ding Xian published it, he always thought that the saying "papers in Luoyang are expensive" was just an exaggeration, but now... this is no small fish, it is clearly a whale, accompanied by bloodshed from beginning to end.

"At least write about Ding Xian's marriage. It's almost the end, and the schoolteacher still doesn't even have a proper title."

In the last ten thousand words of Ding Xian's biography, Ding Xian accepted the job offer and returned to her house. There, she saw her cousin, who was divorced and did not want to remarry, and wanted to ask her for advice.

My cousin's situation was even worse than Ding Xian's. Although Ding Xian was not as good as her brothers at home, she was still considered her parents' darling. When they got engaged, they specifically asked for her opinion, and she received all the expected dowry. Even after the divorce, her family helped her out.

So, although Ding Xian didn't spare her family from her slaps, she moved on afterward. Although she wasn't as close to her family as before, they could still get along peacefully. But her cousin was different. Her parents treated her like an object to be exchanged for money. When she reached a certain age, she got engaged to someone who could help her father. When they finally got divorced, she didn't bring a single penny of dowry with her.

Like Ding Xian's friend and Wen Jiazi's one-sided soulmate, she was a woman who had been removed from her family's social circle.

Ding Xian sympathized with her cousin's plight. Knowing that her cousin had nothing she wanted to do, she first arranged for her to work under her friend. Unexpectedly, her cousin, despite her young age, was extremely talented in business. Because of her solitary status, her friend took her under her wing, treating her as her heir.

On an ordinary morning, Ding Xian's tutor presented her with a bouquet of red flowers.

"Who said there's no official title? Isn't this a bouquet of red flowers?"

Yao Xiaoyu spoke with righteous indignation. When she was writing novels in modern times, the male protagonist would be overjoyed if he received a single pink flower in the comments section. For a while, the proper wife's demeanor and the behavior of a courtesan were popular. She wrote about the difference between a red and pink flower, but she didn't expect it to be established as a tradition in the comments section.

Strangely enough, when she focused on writing romance, readers always begged her to let the female lead continue on her career path. But once the male lead became just a background character, they would argue endlessly over a few words.

"What's so special about red flowers... How do you know the schoolteacher gave you a bouquet of red flowers? Are you literate? No, that's not right..."

Pi Kangxiu was about to retort when she suddenly realized something was amiss. Recalling what Yao Xiaoyu had said earlier, she gasped, her gaze towards Ding Xian filled with heartache. Yao Xiaoyu, unaware of the meaning behind that look, assumed Pi Kangxiu had discerned her identity and bluntly stated it:

"Because I am the author."

"Your young master wants you to be his concubine?"

Yao Xiaoyu's prediction and Pi Kangxiu's deduction came out simultaneously. The two looked at each other, remained silent for a moment, and then exclaimed in surprise at the same time:

"How could Mr. Little Fish be you?"

"How could you think that?!"

People outside the office cast curious glances at her. Pi Kangxiu silently closed the fully open door halfway, then thought for a moment and pushed it open again. She returned to her seat and took out a newspaper to block most of the view.

"How did you come up with the idea of ​​becoming a concubine?"

Yao Xiaoyu truly doesn't understand Pi Kangxiu's mental journey. Does her description have even the slightest connection to this word?

Pi Kangxiu scratched his face awkwardly behind the newspaper, not knowing how to explain... Could he say that when Yao Xiaoyu mentioned the plot, he subconsciously thought of someone reading it to her and reflexively locked the reading object onto the young master?

The young master was reading to the pretty, illiterate maid, telling a story about sending flowers but not giving her any official title. Wasn't his intention quite obvious?

"Sorry, I misunderstood."

Pi Kangxiu apologized somewhat awkwardly. It was indeed his fault for having such filthy thoughts this time, but…

"Mr. Little Fish?!"

Pi Kangxiu recalled what Yao Xiaoyu had just said, seamlessly transitioning from his earlier shock. Fortunately, the gazes of those outside reminded him of the occasion, prompting him to lower his voice. Otherwise, the two of them would have been surrounded by onlookers in no more than two seconds.

"Are you kidding me?"

Pi Kangxiu said this, but in his heart he already believed it to some extent—even the most carefree person would not come to the publication of a story once, unless the author himself was the one who submitted the manuscript.

Moreover, apart from the initial few times she received royalties, Yao Xiaoyu's subsequent pretense wasn't particularly convincing; she simply hadn't considered this possibility. Now that the two are being equated, Pi Kangxiu realizes that there were almost flaws everywhere before.

The author's pen name is "A Little Fish," and the person in front of him is Yao Xiaoyu—completely homophones with different characters. How come he hadn't noticed before?

"Write a few words for me to see?"

Pi Kangxiu didn't ask about the details of the article. Yao Xiaoyu probably knew less about it than the readers, since many readers had actually memorized certain parts of Ding Xian's biography and done reading comprehension exercises along the way.

For example, after Ding Xian married Wen Jiazi, the green curtains that were changed to summer were interpreted by readers as symbolizing Ding Xian's feelings of being cuckolded. However, Yao Xiaoyu just made up a color randomly, because the Yao family was so poor that even their clothes were patched, and the curtains had long been sold.

"Okay, but my handwriting is different from the one on the manuscript."

Yao Xiaoyu reminded Pi Kangxiu of something, and then wrote down a short poem she had memorized before: One or two miles away, four or five houses in a village shrouded in mist. Six or seven pavilions, eight or nine or ten branches of flowers. [1]

Yao Xiaoyu's handwriting hadn't improved from writing manuscripts; it was still neat and tidy, which might be considered good in modern times, but in this era it could only be described as barely acceptable. At least Pi Kangxiu only glanced at it before silently looking away.

It's definitely different; the handwriting on the manuscript is better than this.

Why are the characters different?

Pi Kangxiu regretted asking the question as soon as he finished. There were only a few reasons why the fonts were different. What he needed to do was to confirm Yao Xiaoyu's identity, not get bogged down in these trivial details.

"The original manuscript had too many revisions and was difficult to read, so I had my family copy it over again."

Yao Xiaoyu didn't explain why she didn't copy it herself, and Pi Kangxiu didn't ask either. There were quite a few authors on their side who would just hand over the original manuscript. It's perfectly normal for authors not to want to copy what they've already written.

"If you insist on comparing notes, the first 20,000 words were copied by myself."

Yao Xiaoyu pondered what other evidence could prove her identity, but Pi Kangxiu was already completely convinced. While thinking of treating the two manuscripts as family heirlooms, she kept calling her "Little Fish Girl"—"Sir" is a respectful title for men, and "teacher" is no longer a term for the author. Calling her "girl" is a bit inappropriate, but there was no better choice.

Miss Little Fish found it strange; if she were called "little sister," then she would really be taking advantage of the situation.

“You may call me Madam, Madam Little Fish.”

After listening to Pi Kangxiu's troubles, Yao Xiaoyu offered another option. In her original era, although some people still recognized outstanding women as "Mr," the term "Ms" was also used more widely.

"Little Fish... Madam?"

Pi Kangxiu found it difficult to address him; for some reason, he even found it harder to say than "Mr. Little Fish."

"Um."

Yao Xiaoyu could tell that Pi Kangxiu was being awkward, but she wasn't going to give in. It didn't matter if she wasn't used to it; she could just call him that a few more times and she'd get used to it. It was a seller's market now; if Pi Kangxiu didn't call him that, plenty of others would.

"Now that you know my true identity, do you still want the story of 'Shanghai's Road to Wealth' from your newspaper?"

Seeing that Pi Kangxiu looked confused, Yao Xiaoyu belatedly explained:

"It's about Miao Youjin... Miao Wuni's story. It's the title I came up with a couple of days ago. Do you think it sounds good?"

Yao Xiaoyu was quite proud of the name—it's hard for someone who's bad at naming things to come up with a suitable book title. "Shanghai's Road to Riches"—you can tell it's about making money just by listening to it. But for some reason, Pi Xiukang's face looked a little green.

What's the story behind Miao Youjin?

Pi Kangxiu chose to change the subject between praising the book title against his conscience and telling the truth about the missed work, using his position to ask his own doubts.

"This is the name Miao Wuni changed to later. Wu means her birth order, and Ni is a term of endearment for a woman. If you call out to her on the street, three or four out of ten people will turn around."

The remaining five or six weren't named because they had names, but because they had different ranks and nicknames: Ni, Niu, Niang, Shi, Miss... They all had the same name and the same face, making their features very indistinct.

Oh, there are some differences, such as the straightforward Zhaodi, or the slightly more subtle Pan'er and Yinzhang.

"It needs to have a proper name."

Even the name Susu Ruanruanzhizhi, which is often criticized in modern times, is better than this meaningless name.

Yao Xiaoyu's casual remark stirred up a storm in Pi Kangxiu's heart.

...

"The story of Miao... Youjin is tentatively priced at one yuan and one jiao per thousand words. If it sells well, the price will be raised to one yuan and forty jiao."

Pi Kangxiu knew the price was a bit low, but their newspaper mainly published love stories of lovers, and there were very few stories like Miao Wuni's about struggling from the bottom of society in the novel world. Publishing such stories would be risky for them.

Sigh, why won't Ms. Xiaoyu write another story like Ding Xian's biography? That way, he wouldn't have to worry about royalties and could just give her a high price.

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The author's note: [1] This poem is "Thoughts on a Mountain Village", written by Shao Yong of the Song Dynasty.

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