Chapter Thirty-Nine: Fair Competition

When Hu Fangyong heard that Liao Yuan had come to sign a contract with Changhong Publishing House, he was both surprised and invigorated. In the publishing world, Huaxia Publishing House had a far greater reputation than Changhong, and he was confident he could offer even more attractive terms to entice Liao Yuan.

With a smile, he said, “Mr. Liao, one should always compare before making a choice. Picking the right publisher to work with will surely lay a solid foundation for your future popularity.”

He then turned to Hou Jie and said, “Chief Editor Hou, I trust you won’t mind?”

Hou Jie rubbed his nose and replied with a wry smile, “Would it matter if I did? Old Hu, I haven’t just met you yesterday. You’re like a cat that smells a fishy scent—once you spot something good, you never let go.”

Hu Fangyong chuckled. “I’m not fond of that metaphor, but I think ‘where there’s a will, there’s a way’ suits me better.”

“Then how about the two chief editors—and me as well?” came a voice from outside the door.

Everyone turned to look. A woman entered, pushing open the door, sauntering in with an air of nonchalance. She wore a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, a black silk scarf around her neck, a white sun-protective jacket, and black-and-white spotted casual pants. On her back was a red backpack—she looked every bit the traveler.

She was about 1.7 meters tall, slim and graceful. As she stepped into the room, she changed into slippers and removed her sunglasses.

Ignoring the surprised looks around her, she calmly took off her cap, and instantly, a cascade of glossy black hair tumbled down. Many say that a woman is never more beautiful than in the moment she brushes back her hair, and this woman was living proof.

Her slender, jade-like hand lifted, and she swiftly tied her hair into a ponytail, securing it casually with a barrette. In that moment, her entire face was revealed to all.

Her skin was like flawless jade, her cheeks tinged with a bashful blush. The curve of her brows and the softness of her eyes exuded both charm and innocence. Her delicate nose and rosebud lips only accentuated her perfectly oval face.

“Everyone…”

She greeted them with a radiant smile, evidently used to such attention. “I’m not late, am I?”

Before such beauty, every man in the room seemed to forget to breathe.

Even Liao Yuan couldn’t help but steal another glance or two.

In his mind, this woman’s looks and figure would stand out even among the most dazzling stars of the entertainment world.

But in the end, he noticed the details.

No one is perfect… he thought. The way she walked, with that signature swagger, was strikingly bold.

Hu Fangyong was the first to regain his composure. He coughed lightly and said with a smile, “Dong Ling, it must be a year since we last saw each other at the China Reading Summit. I never expected to meet you here. You’re as radiant as ever—what a pleasure.”

“What’s there to congratulate? If you spent half your salary every month on self-care, you’d be a handsome man yourself,” Dong Ling retorted with a snort. She set her backpack at her feet, ignored the curious stares, and walked straight to Liao Yuan, extending her hand. “I’m Dong Ling, deputy chief editor of Tang Dynasty Publishing. Pleased to meet you.”

Liao Yuan hesitated for a moment before taking her hand. “Hello.”

Her hand was cool as ice—that was his first impression.

He tried to withdraw, but Dong Ling held on, looking at him with curiosity. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“My name is Liao Yuan,” he answered, then realized something and asked, “You don’t know me? Then you just now…”

Dong Ling released his hand and laughed lightly. “Oh, I just wanted to join the fun, is that not allowed? Let me guess—you must be a writer, and a newly rising one at that. In this industry, I know pretty much every writer with some fame. Hmm, let me think, which newcomers lately have caught Chief Editor Hu’s interest…”

Suddenly, Dong Ling seemed to recall something. She exchanged a glance with the slightly anxious Hu Fangyong, then looked at Liao Yuan in surprise, her eyes growing brighter. “Are you Liao, the author of ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’?”

Before Liao Yuan could reply, Hu Fangyong exclaimed, “How did you know?”

Dong Ling swept her hair back and said smugly, “Since you’re asking so sincerely, I’ll be generous and tell you. Haven’t you been liking Liao’s posts on Weibo at all hours these past few nights?”

Details make all the difference.

Hu Fangyong clutched his chest, feeling as if he might cough up blood.

“Well, since this is Liao, I’ll join the fun too. Chief Editor Hu, this time…?” Dong Ling winked at Hu Fangyong.

He shook his head like a rattle drum. “Dong Ling, your Tang Dynasty Publishing has signed plenty of bestsellers lately—you don’t need this one. But at Huaxia Publishing, we’re hungry for good books. ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’ has been my goal for a long time. I’ve come all the way from the capital to the East Sea for this book, and I won’t let it go, no matter what. Don’t bother with your winks—this time, I’m determined to win.”

“Oh?” Dong Ling replied, sitting at a tea table and pouring herself some tea. As she prepared her tea, she said, “Mr. Liao, the three most powerful publishers in the country are all here before you. I can’t speak for the others, but our sales channels at Tang Dynasty Publishing are second to none in Southeast Asia. We have over a hundred stores there and run the largest online bookstore nationwide. Even in North America and Europe, our reach is extensive. As long as it’s a good book, selling overseas is a breeze for us. So—do you see? A successful writer should always choose the best partner!”

Hu Fangyong’s face darkened.

Dong Ling was already in her early thirties, yet she still looked like a girl in her twenties, eternally youthful with a doll-like face—she was practically a fairy. Many had been fooled by her looks and entrusted her too easily.

Dong Ling was famous in the industry, even legendary, a constant topic of conversation among her peers. Ten years before, she had been a war correspondent. After switching to editing, it took her less than a decade to become deputy chief editor at the nation’s largest publishing house.

That alone spoke volumes of her abilities.

Few in the editing world possessed both looks and talent, but Dong Ling was a rare exception. In ten years, she had signed countless bestsellers. Chang Wu, the world-class writer who won China’s third Nobel Prize for Literature in 2018, had been lured away from his original publisher by little more than a few words from Dong Ling, signing his post-award book with Tang Dynasty Publishing instead. The incident caused a huge stir. Changhong Publishing, his former home, sued Tang Dynasty for unfair competition, but ultimately lost. Such cases were already too numerous to count—and Dong Ling was always at the center.

So, when Dong Ling appeared, Hou Jie, chief editor of Changhong Publishing, fell silent. He was afraid his composure would slip and he’d be bested by Dong Ling once again.

After all, she was a Taekwondo master, trained in the bitterest winters and hottest summers. Don’t be fooled by those slender, alluring legs—her spinning kick could fell a burly man in a flash.

And it wasn’t just Hou Jie. Hu Fangyong, too, remembered the fear of being outmaneuvered by Dong Ling in the past.

Now, as Dong Ling began her pitch, he gritted his teeth inwardly but kept his smile, restraining his pride and impatience. He moderated his tone and said, “That’s not quite right, Mr. Liao. Our channels at Huaxia Publishing are just as strong. Our reach, both domestic and international, is on par with Tang Dynasty’s. Also, though writers are noble, they are still human—they need to make a living. So, let’s put other factors aside and talk just about the signing terms for ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light.’ The three of us can lay out our offers right here for you to choose. How does that sound, Mr. Liao?”

Liao Yuan nodded. “I agree.”

Seeing this, Lai Yibai could no longer contain his excitement. He patted Liao Yuan’s shoulder encouragingly.

In a corner, watching the three publishing giants negotiating fine contract details with an unknown newcomer, the famous suspense novelist Pi Jianzhou squatted down and began tracing circles on the floor, feeling as if he had faded from their world.