The locking mechanic in Chapter 29, the new short story... it feels so familiar...
As the weather gradually turned colder, Yao Xiaoyu's thin blanket went from only covering her belly button to covering her entire body. After being woken up by the cold for the second time in the middle of the night, she silently added the day she was supposed to receive her royalties to her schedule for buying a thicker blanket.
She clearly earns a lot, so why does she always feel like she doesn't have enough money?
Looking at the pitifully small amount of silver dollars she could openly control, which could be counted at a glance, Yao Xiaoyu pondered ways to increase her income. After much thought, she turned her attention to the fountain pen in her hand—
"Isn't this Ding Xian's story?"
Yao Ping'an glanced at the manuscript Yao Xiaoyu handed him and looked at his daughter with some doubt.
"If this story gets published, I'll take my family out to eat mutton."
Yao Xiaoyu smiled at Yao Ping'an, revealing a set of white teeth. She seemed like a very sensible little girl, but Yao Ping'an always felt that there was a hint of mischief in her daughter's words.
"You said it."
Yao Ping'an didn't ask any more questions, but simply tapped Yao Xiaoyu's head with his pen. When Yao Xiaoyu went to deliver the manuscript again, the manuscript paper in her hand was several inches thicker.
***
"The biography of Ding Xian is almost finished. Does your young master plan to write a new story?"
As Pi Kangxiu handed over the silver dollars, he asked Yao Xiaoyu, "Thanks to that young master whose pen name we only know so far, their newspaper sells exceptionally well every time they publish Ding Xian's story, which also boosts the daily newspaper sales."
Although the royalties for this book are capped at 80 cents per thousand words, it has been said that if "a small fish" is willing to write a new book, the second book can be paid 1 yuan per thousand words.
Moreover, this is just the base price. If Mr. Xiaoyu wants a higher price, it is negotiable.
There are quite a few people who make a living by writing, but there are very few authors like Mr. Xiaoyu who are both punctual and write well. If you find one, you should sign him up quickly, otherwise he will be snatched away by another editor and he will have no one to blame but himself.
"We'll talk about it after it's finished."
Yao Xiaoyu has an idea for her new book, but whether or not to publish it in "The Complete Collection of Stories" depends on the newspaper's attitude. She doesn't plan to continue using the alias "Young Master." If the newspaper doesn't have any prejudice against her because of her gender and age, that would be great. But if... it's always good to make some plans.
"If you want to plan ahead, be sure to come to us first."
Pi Kangxiu understood Yao Xiaoyu's meaning and didn't dwell on the topic, instead turning to another difficult question—
Did your young master write a reply?
Yao Xiaoyu: ...
Unlike modern online commentary, the pace of life in this era was very slow, and communication with authors was usually done by mail. Because Yao Xiaoyu kept her information very secret, readers' letters were generally sent to the editorial department and then forwarded by the newspaper.
Every time Yao Xiaoyu came to submit her manuscript, she would take away a thick stack of letters. However, fearing that she would give herself away, she would only read them and never reply. When asked, she would say that the young master was too busy to write letters. But Pi Kangxiu would still ask every time, mainly because he was concerned about his reply—he had also written a very thick letter to Mr. Xiaoyu.
"...Young Master is busy studying and will probably have to wait another month before he has time to read the letter."
No, that's not true. In this era, words were very expensive. Because of the lack of reading, she had already opened and read all the letters. Most of them were accusations that were full of veiled insults against her, followed by expressions of love for the articles, and some love letters that were either veiled or straightforward.
"Wouldn't that mean we have to wait until Ding Xian's biography is finished?"
Pi Kangxiu was shocked and unconsciously stroked the manuscript that Yao Xiaoyu had just delivered, then realized that the texture was wrong—
Flipping through the pages from beginning to end reveals the continuation of Ding Xian's story, but flipping from end to beginning reveals no familiar characters.
"This is……"
Yao Xiaoyu "seemed" to realize something was wrong, her expression changed instantly, and she reached out to snatch it. Pi Kangxiu quickly kicked off the stool, throwing herself backwards to the ground. Fortunately, the backrest cushioned her fall, and apart from a slight buzzing in her head, she was otherwise unharmed.
With a serious and responsible work attitude, he took advantage of Yao Xiaoyu's fright from his fall to quickly flip to the beginning of the article and began to scan it rapidly.
A few seconds later.
Pi Kangxiu quickly put the manuscript into the drawer and locked it with a click. Yao Xiaoyu watched this smooth and efficient movement and felt a sense of déjà vu.
...
"Smack!"
The door to Pi Kangxiu's office was slammed shut, and the young girl who regularly came to collect her royalties left the editorial department with a cold face, her footsteps echoing loudly on the stairs.
The stairs here are newly built; unless someone deliberately used a lot of force, they wouldn't make such a loud noise.
what happened?
Everyone's curiosity was piqued, and then the mystery was solved—it was Pi Kangxiu who came out of the office.
His smile was more cunning than a fox stealing a chicken.
The last time he laughed like that was when he got Ding Xian's biography from Yao Xiaoyu.
"Kangxiu, what good articles have you received this time?"
One editor, who was on good terms with Pi Kangxiu, directly voiced what everyone was thinking.
"have no idea."
Pi Kangxiu shook his head. Seeing the disbelieving looks on everyone's faces, he could only explain in more detail:
"This article wasn't submitted to our newspaper; I was afraid she'd take it, so I..."
Pi Kangxiu didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood. Although they felt it was a bit unethical to keep tricking the little girl, they all clamored to read the article. But Pi Kangxiu hadn't even finished reading it, so how could he let others read the manuscript first?
He pretended not to hear, retreated to his office, and locked the door before finding the key in the corner and opening the drawer where the manuscripts were kept.
The article wasn't long, but after reading it, Pi Kangxiu had only one thought in his mind—luckily, he was quick-witted and pretended to have fallen badly, scaring the little girl and keeping the article.
...
Once Yao Xiaoyu left the editorial department, she no longer displayed an angry expression; she simply made her footsteps a little louder as she went downstairs.
Why are you out so late today?
Zhou Chunhua, carrying an empty oil paper bag, asked if she had finished eating all her chestnuts.
When Yao Xiaoyu went to collect her royalties, Zhou Chunhua didn't go upstairs. But she didn't have a clock and easily got anxious waiting for her granddaughter. So when Yao Xiaoyu got downstairs from the newspaper office, she would buy some chestnuts from a nearby vendor so that Zhou Chunhua could eat them while she waited.
Normally, by the time Yao Xiaoyu comes in and goes out, about 60% of the chestnuts will be eaten, and even if she has something to say, only about 80% will be consumed. But today, all the chestnuts were eaten, and her granddaughter still didn't come out.
"Grandma, I want to eat diced chicken. Can you ask Mom to make it for me?"
Yao Xiaoyu dangled around Zhou Chunhua, vaguely mentioning that she had written a new article. Zhou Chunhua, unable to resist her nagging, went with her to a dried goods store. On the way, Yao Xiaoyu recalled her new article.
This time, she gave Pi Kangxiu a short story of 10,000 words. The inspiration came from the material she had recorded when she saw the bowl mender, as well as the porcelain bowl that was repaired in her dream with gold and jade, which was worth more than the box. The name was straightforward, just called "Golden Bowl".
Yao Xiaoyu originally wanted to write a long novel, a story about the rise and fall of a family revealed by a bowl, but she did not have enough information. Group portraits are most afraid of making things up, and forcing it would only result in a bad-looking, incomprehensible work that ruined her reputation. In the end, she only wrote a short story.
Using objects to symbolize people is a common writing technique in this era. However, Yao Xiaoyu sets up a dual storyline where the state of the porcelain bowl and the protagonist's fate are intertwined, one explicit and one implicit. Coupled with her writing style and vivid imagery, the story becomes quite ingenious.
Yao Xiaoyu recalled the way Pi Kangxiu hurriedly locked the article and sighed in her heart—it's not a business that's eager to sell. The "young masters" don't lack money, so they have a good attitude and pay high royalties. Therefore, this article could only have been seen "accidentally".
The plan went even more smoothly than Yao Xiaoyu had imagined. As for the fall... it was really an accident, but fortunately, she was not seriously injured.
The payment for short stories is slightly higher, but I don't know if it can break through one yuan per thousand words.
"Mr. Jing has finally figured out his feelings for Ding Xian. If he continues to struggle with this, I'll worry for him."
"I think this sentence is really well written: [Don't look for someone who is very nice to you, but look for someone who is already very nice.]"
"That factory owner is really annoying. He wants the formula but can't just buy it honestly. He actually wants to take her as a concubine."
"I still think it's a pity about Young Master Wen. What a perfect couple they were, how did things turn out like this?"
...
People on the roadside were talking about Ding Xian again. Yao Xiaoyu and Zhou Chunhua exchanged a glance and tacitly started picking out eggs.
There was no way they were eavesdropping; they just happened to see that the eggs next to them looked fresh and good, so they stopped to buy some.
Yao Xiaoyu's biography of Ding Xian is about 130,000 to 140,000 words long. 100,000 words have been sent to the newspaper, and 90,000 words have been published. The story is already more than halfway through.
The family that hired Ding Xian was preparing to travel across the ocean to live in a country untouched by war. Ding Xian declined their invitation to go with them and stayed behind to start a soap business with Wen Jiazi's true love.
However, the two women had no protection and their journey was very difficult. They finally managed to turn their workshop into a factory, but then they were targeted by a powerful person who wanted to swallow them up along with the factory.
...
Because she was afraid of touching on sensitive topics and being targeted, Yao Xiaoyu would check her work repeatedly after finishing each piece. However, her modern understanding was deeply ingrained, and no matter how much she tried to dance in shackles, some traces would inevitably show.
For example, when Ding Xian slapped the Wen family in the face, she didn't just attack her difficult mother-in-law. Her seemingly innocent father-in-law was also exposed for his kindness but ignorance. It's not that the mother-in-law was innocent, but in a patriarchal society, the mother-in-law was just a accomplice, a puppet on a string.
At least that's the case in the Wen family.
The more Yao Xiaoyu wrote, the greater the controversy became, including some harsh words that struck at her sore spots.
"Women should support their husbands and raise their children; a hen crowing at dawn is a great scourge to the nation."
The old man, whose face was full of wrinkles, sighed loudly, which drew a chorus of agreement.
"Exactly, I wouldn't want a woman like that who shows herself in public, even if she were given to me for free."
"Who knows how that business started?"
...
Zhou Chunhua looked at Yao Xiaoyu with concern, but Yao Xiaoyu just smiled and looked at the alley next to her, where there was a woman with a small stall and clothes embroidered with two small blue fish.
Three, two, one.
"ah--"
The old man, spewing foul language, let out a scream and spat out a tooth.
-----------------------
Author's Note: I've written several versions of the story of "The Gold-Patterned Bowl," but I'm still not entirely satisfied.
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