Chapter Thirty-Four: A Bitter Parting

Perhaps sensing that there was something unusual in the way Zhou Xuan had asked his questions, Wei Xiyue did not think too much of it. He merely assumed Zhou Xuan was still dissatisfied with the terms.

So he tried his best to persuade him. “Zhou Xuan, these are already the best terms the publishing house can offer. You should know that in recent years, pure romantic novels like Love of the Hawthorn Tree are nowhere near as popular as they were a few years ago. Without strong promotion, it would be difficult for this novel to sell even five hundred thousand copies.”

What Wei Xiyue was thinking, however, was that if they could work together with the film’s publicity, reaching one million copies should not be a problem. But he would never say that aloud.

“Besides, you have no idea how depressed the film industry is right now. Last year’s nationwide box office was less than one billion. Many people in the trade have switched careers, and many cinemas have already been turned into warehouses. It is fair to say that one hundred thousand yuan for film and television rights is already a very high price. Unless it is an exceptionally good novel, it would never fetch such a sum. And if, in the end, no one takes a fancy to the script, then the publishing house’s one hundred thousand is a complete loss, not to mention all the resources that must be spent to make it happen.”

Wei Xiyue continued, analyzing the pros and cons for Zhou Xuan, the whole point being that Zhou Xuan was getting an enormous bargain under these terms.

If it were anyone else hearing such an offer, they would have agreed on the spot. But Zhou Xuan was not so inclined. Once the rights were sold, there would probably be nothing left for him to do.

In Zhou Xuan’s view, investing in films and making money was one thing; another was building ties with talents like Zhang Yimou. If he wanted to expand his business, then as his enterprise grew, he would surely need all kinds of capable people in the future. For a major director like Zhang Yimou, this was the perfect chance to broaden his network. How could Zhou Xuan possibly let it slip by?

Thinking of the future Penguin Group, of acquiring Qidian Literature and laying out a strategy for online fiction, of building intellectual property and producing so many excellent television dramas, films, and comics—each year generating tens of billions, even hundreds of billions, in output—

And it could be said that film was one of the most profitable industries of all. By using his memories to invest in the most lucrative movies, Zhou Xuan could multiply his capital twofold, threefold, even tenfold in a single year.

As for the terms proposed by Xiling, Zhou Xuan felt they were still acceptable. What disgusted him was that they clearly knew Zhang Yimou had taken a liking to Love of the Hawthorn Tree, yet still wanted to seize the film rights at a low price.

When it came to the publication of Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty, Zhou Xuan felt that Xiling Publishing House had actually been quite good to him, and had treated him with great respect. They had not only promoted Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty with great force, but had also paid him his royalties in advance and given him a New Year bonus. When Northland Publishing House provoked them, they had even gone to great lengths to mobilize their resources in counterattack.

Zhou Xuan had seen all of that. If he did not give up the film rights, then a fifteen percent royalty share was still acceptable.

Love of the Hawthorn Tree was unlike Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty; it had only a little over one hundred thousand words, and Zhou Xuan already felt that earning a million in royalties would be excellent.

After thinking it over, Zhou Xuan still did not want to sour relations too much with Xiling Publishing House, so he said, “Editor Wei, I’m sorry. I’m very satisfied with my recent cooperation with Xiling Publishing House. By rights, I should agree to your terms. However, I attach great importance to the film and television rights of Love of the Hawthorn Tree, and I hope it can be made into a movie someday. So for now, I will not be transferring those rights.”

Wei Xiyue was stunned when he heard this. He had not expected Zhou Xuan to value Love of the Hawthorn Tree so highly, especially the film rights.

Thinking of the recent success of Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty, he was sure many publishing houses must have approached Zhou Xuan about Love of the Hawthorn Tree. He assumed Zhou Xuan was simply holding out for a better price.

In Wei Xiyue’s eyes, Zhou Xuan’s demands were a little too presumptuous. The matter of Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty had been understandable enough; in the first place, it had been the publishing house’s narrow vision that led them to sign a wager agreement with Zhou Xuan.

But now, for a novel of just over one hundred thousand words like Love of the Hawthorn Tree, which had originally received a rather lukewarm response, it had only become popular because of the publication of Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty. To refuse even a fifteen percent royalty share and a one hundred thousand yuan transfer fee was truly going too far.

Wei Xiyue frowned and said unhappily, “Zhou Xuan, we have already done all we can under these terms. This is not the same as the wager over Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty. You should understand that the potential of Love of the Hawthorn Tree is far below that of Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty.”

Unexpectedly, Wei Xiyue was actually angry. Zhou Xuan found it rather amusing and said, “Editor Wei, I’ve already said I’m not selling the rights. I’ve explained the reason, and it has nothing to do with the royalty rate being too low.”

Compared with Yan Ling from Zhongzhou Publishing House, Wei Xiyue’s cultivation was indeed lacking. No wonder Xiling had always hovered just outside the ranks of the top-tier publishing houses, while Zhongzhou had long stood as one of the country’s old and established first-rate publishers.

Seeing how firm Zhou Xuan was, Wei Xiyue said no more, though thoughts continued to churn in his mind.

At that moment, Zhou Xuan’s phone rang again. It was Deng Cheng. Zhou Xuan was puzzled. Had they not said they would only arrive tomorrow? Could they already be here today?

Yesterday, Zhou Xuan had received a call from Jiang Yun, saying that he had fully recovered and would come to Rongzhou in a couple of days specifically to thank him for saving his life.

On the phone, Deng Cheng said they were almost at Nancheng County. Zhou Xuan told them to come directly to the South Gate Tower, where they could meet.

“Sorry, some friends are coming over. How about we stop here for today? Apart from the film rights, I can accept a fifteen percent royalty. Editor Wei can go back and think it over?” Zhou Xuan said.

Wei Xiyue looked at Zhou Xuan with some reluctance, as if he wanted to say more. After a brief pause, he sighed. “Very well. I will convey your request to the publishing house. Let us keep in touch by phone. Goodbye.”

This meeting had ended with a faint air of discord, since Wei Xiyue had deliberately concealed things and Zhou Xuan had chosen not to expose him.

Seeing that Jiang Yun and the others were almost there, Zhou Xuan did not want to waste any more time here, so after bidding farewell to Wei Xiyue, he headed toward the South Gate.

Watching Zhou Xuan’s brisk departing figure, Wei Xiyue only became more convinced that Zhou Xuan was arrogant and overbearing, using his few accomplishments as an excuse to demand the moon.

Wei Xiyue had rarely felt this angry. In front of those authors who wanted to publish, he had always held himself high; never before had he been made to feel so humiliated.

Thinking of the twenty percent royalty on Chronicles of the Ming Dynasty, Wei Xiyue felt a fire burning in his chest. But when he remembered the thirty million yuan penalty for breach of contract, that fire was extinguished at once. Still, seeing that penalty clause, he could not help but admire Zhou Xuan’s foresight. It had left the magazine with absolutely no way out.

“Ah...”

With a sigh, Wei Xiyue hailed a three-wheeled taxi and returned to the hotel, intending to think things over carefully.

Within minutes, he arrived at the county’s most upscale hotel, the Nine Dragons Inn. Just as he entered the lobby, he suddenly heard someone calling out to him.

Wei Xiyue found this odd; in this county town, apart from Zhou Xuan, he did not know anyone else.

When he turned around, he saw a woman sitting on the sofa in the lobby. Who else could it be but Yan Ling from Zhongzhou Publishing House?

To be honest, the industry circle was not that large, and as the chief editor of Zhongzhou Publishing House, Yan Ling was naturally someone Wei Xiyue knew.

“Hello, Editor Yan. Long time no see!” Wei Xiyue said with a smile, feeling that things might yet take a favorable turn.