The art style is beautiful, yet it exudes a sophisticated sense of loneliness.
It is the newly released physical book of "The Ferryman".
Wow! The texture is absolutely amazing!
A girl in a trench coat picked up a sample book.
My fingers traced the UV frosted finish on the cover, my eyes practically sparkling.
"These character illustrations! Dylan and Tristan are exactly how I imagined them! They're like characters straight out of a manga!"
She excitedly tugged at her best friend's sleeve, shaking the complimentary merchandise that came with the book with a rustling sound:
"Look at this laser bookmark, it has a hollowed-out design!"
And this metal badge—is this a free gift with the book purchase? So generous!
In this era where the cultural and entertainment industry is still in a rudimentary stage where "it's good enough to watch,"
This kind of "dimensional reduction attack"—treating books as works of art—is truly impressive.
Its impact on young readers is comparable to that of a nuclear bomb.
My best friend, wearing black-rimmed glasses, is clearly a seasoned book fan; she looks completely calm.
"That's right, look who wrote the book. It's a book by a big shot like Jian Shen, so it has to be top-notch."
"but……"
The girl in the trench coat flipped the book to the back and looked at the logo under the spine, a little confused.
"Huh? I remember Jian Shen's last book, 'The Miracles of the Namiya General Store,' was published by Egret Publishing House. How come it's published by New Wave Publishing House this time?"
She scratched her head:
"Huh? Why is the publishing house so trendy? Wasn't it always Egret Publishing House before?"
"Egrets? They're way too cold by now."
Xinchao is now so wealthy and powerful that it has even acquired Bailu.
Look at the paper used, the craftsmanship—it's something that the stingy Bailu paper of the past could never compare to.
This is what you call having profound insight that leads to success; even the publishing house would have to change its name.
"hiss--"
The woman in the trench coat gasped, her eyes widening like saucers.
"That's incredible? Supporting an entire magazine with just one author, and even swallowing up a long-established publishing house?"
"It wasn't just swallowed."
My bespectacled best friend picked up a copy of "The Ferryman," her eyes gleaming with fervor.
"It's all over the industry. Although Jian Shen didn't show up in this acquisition, he's the real MVP."
As long as the prestigious reputation of Jian Shen remains intact.
Even if Xinchao only published one book, it would still rank among the top in the country!
"Is this the kind of prestige a top player has...?"
The girl in the trench coat sighed and silently hugged the book in her arms tighter.
"No, I have to buy another copy to keep as a memento. It'll be a way to witness history."
A long line formed in front of the checkout counter, with everyone holding a dark blue book.
The cashier's hand ached from scanning so many barcodes.
But the shop owner standing nearby listened to the crisp "beep" sounds...
It was as if I could hear the wonderful sound of gold coins falling into a pocket.
...
Jiangcheng, SOHO Future City.
The studio curtains were half-drawn.
Lin Que nestled in the ergonomic chair, holding a copy of "The Ferryman" in his hand.
Compared to the fervor of the fans in the bookstore, he remained calm, like an outsider.
When fingertips trace the raised, gold-embossed lettering on the cover
— [When seeing profound meaning],
His eyes flickered slightly.
That's the weight of a physical book.
Unlike the 0s and 1s that jump on the screen in online novels,
This thing is heavy and smells of ink.
It is a cultural brick that can be held in the hand, placed on a bookshelf, and even passed down to the next generation.
"One million copies..."
Lin Que muttered to himself.
This number, even in the world of my previous life where entertainment was extremely developed, is remarkable.
It's also the pinnacle of bestselling books.
In this world, however, this is merely a warm-up.
I flipped it open casually.
On the title page is printed the preface he typed himself—"A Love Letter to the Living."
If fate is a lonely river, who will be your ferryman?
We spend our entire lives searching for that person who can lead us across the wilderness. But in the end, you'll find that that person is actually yourself.
The text is short, yet it possesses a power that strikes straight to the top of one's head.
Lin Que closed the book and solemnly tucked it into the bookshelf behind him.
The once empty bookshelf now has two books.
One book, "The Miracles of the Namiya General Store," and another, "The Ferryman."
The two solitary books are like two majestic monuments that have not yet fully revealed their true forms.
"Ding-dong."
The computer screen suddenly lit up.
A new email popped up.
The sender wasn't Xu Lan, the editor who was always so careful.
Instead, it is Wang De'an, the current head of Xinchao Publishing House.
The email subject is very simple.
Yet it exuded an aura of wealth that made Lin Que's eyelids twitch:
Supplementary Agreement on Adjustment of Mr. Jian Shen's Royalties and Strategic Cooperation for the New Book.
...
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