Marrying My Bestie's Ferocious Brother - He Calls Me His Baby!-Chapter 296: They Said No One Was Reading? The Next Second, Remittance Slips Piled Up Like a Mountain!
"Seven copies?"
A sharp voice broke the silence.
The old editor Qian Zhenyu calmly put down his enamel cup, making a soft "click" sound.
He adjusted his reading glasses and looked at Sun Ping.
"Chief Editor Sun, did I hear that right? Seven copies?"
"Last issue, we sold seven thousand copies at the same time."
Qian Zhenyu stood up and paced to the middle of the meeting room.
"I have said it many times, what do readers want to see? Heroes! Soldiers! The clashing of weapons on the battlefield!"
He pointed at the magazine with a laboratory on the cover on the table, unceremoniously.
"Not these people in white coats fiddling with bottles and jars! Who wants to look at them!"
"And now look, the sales have plummeted! Chief Editor Sun, you have ruined our newspaper’s decades-old reputation by trying to promote one person!"
"Can you take responsibility for this?!"
Sun Ping’s face turned ashen.
Lin Wan Yi sat opposite him, saying nothing, just raised her teacup and took a small sip.
Qian Zhenyu became even more irritated seeing her demeanor.
"Comrade Lin Wan Yi, don’t think that just because you drew something, you can consider yourself significant! If the market doesn’t accept it, what you draw is just waste paper!"
"I suggest stopping this ’Hope of the Land’ immediately to cut losses!"
Several veteran editors chimed in.
"Yes, Chief, we can’t continue like this!"
"Mr. Qian is right, readers don’t like it!"
Sun Ping slammed his fist on the table.
"Everyone shut up!"
...
In front of the bookstore in the supply and marketing cooperative at the west of the city.
The kiosk owner, Old Wang, was sighing at a stack of brand new Renminhua Magazines.
"Such a sin!" he complained to the woman selling sunflower seeds beside him, "Such good paper, printing stuff no one can understand! They might as well print some Martial Arts Secret Manuals or love stories from Shanghai Beach!"
A middle-aged man wearing glasses and a faded blue Chinese tunic suit came over.
He was a physics teacher at a nearby middle school, named Chen.
"Boss, one copy of Zhenli Newspaper, please."
Teacher Chen paid and was about to leave when his gaze casually swept over the pile of Renminhua Magazines.
He stopped.
He picked one up and flipped through it casually.
Then, he couldn’t move his feet anymore.
The cold wind blew at the edge of his clothes, but he didn’t notice.
He just stood there in front of the kiosk, turning the pages slowly.
The kiosk owner looked at him, bemused.
"Hey, are you buying it or not? Don’t block the business if you’re not buying."
Teacher Chen looked up.
His eyes were red.
He didn’t speak, pulled out his wallet from his pocket, and slapped all the money he had on the counter.
"Boss." His voice trembled.
"These... this magazine, how many do you have here?"
The owner was stunned: "Huh? You want these?"
"I want them all!"
Teacher Chen tightly hugged the stack of magazines, like holding a world-class treasure.
He turned and left, took two steps, then turned back to the dumbfounded owner and earnestly said.
"What’s drawn in here are not bookworms."
"They are heroes!"
"They are heroes who enable everyone in our country to stand tall!"
"I want to take them back, show them to all my students! Let them see who are the real stars of this era to look up to!"
...
Three o’clock in the afternoon.
The editorial department of Renminhua Magazine was lifeless.
Qian Zhenyu was holding a teacup, recounting his glorious past to several old colleagues.
"Ring, ring, ring—!"
The phone in the corner of the office, covered with dust, suddenly shrieked.
A young editor nearby listlessly picked up the receiver.
"Hello, Renminhua Newspaper."
"What?!" He suddenly jumped up from his chair, "They want... want thirty copies?!"
"Hello! Yes! We are the magazine! What? You are from Beijing’s No. 1 Machine Tool Plant Technical Department? You want fifty copies?!"
"Hello! Agricultural College! You want one hundred copies!"
"Chief Editor! The Hydraulic Design Institute! They want two hundred copies!"
The phone bells, one after another, rang incessantly!
The entire editorial department, everyone went crazy!
They pounced on the phones, each with an incredulous glee on their faces!
Sun Ping rushed out of the office, grabbed the receiver from an editor’s hand.
"Hello! This is Sun Ping!"
An excited voice came from the other end: "Chief Editor Sun! I am the principal of the Third Middle School! Our school wants three hundred copies of your magazine! For all the teachers, one per person as teaching material!"
Sun Ping put down the phone and picked up another one.
"I’m from Beijing Union Medical College Hospital! We want five hundred copies!"
Sun Ping, with eyes red, roared at the entire editorial office.
"Count! Count for me immediately! All the orders! Right away!"
Ten minutes later.
Xiao Li, the statistician, rushed into the meeting room again.
He held a new list in his hand, his face flushed not with fear, but with excitement.
"Chief Editor!"
"The additional print orders... have already... already exceeded three thousand copies!"
The smile on Qian Zhenyu’s face froze.
Sun Ping snatched the order list and strode over to Qian Zhenyu.
He didn’t say a word.
He simply slapped the paper, filled with orders, hard against Qian Zhenyu’s face with a "smack".
"Mr. Qian!"
"This is what you called, waste paper!"
...
The next day, at Beijing Agricultural College.
As soon as Lin Wan Yi walked through the school gate, she was surrounded by a crowd of people.
They were all young students, each with expressions of excitement and admiration.
Every one of them held a brand-new copy of Renminhua Magazine.
"Teacher Lin! Teacher Lin is here!"
"Teacher Lin! Can you give us an autograph?"
"Your painting made everyone in our laboratory cry!"
"Our mentor said, you captured the soul of our researchers!"
Lin Wan Yi was caught in the middle, feeling somewhat helpless.
At this moment, a shout came.
"What are you all doing? What does it look like crowded here!"
Dean Li, panting heavily, ran over, followed by two school security guards.
He pushed through the crowd, spread his arms like a mother hen protecting her chicks, shielding Lin Wan Yi behind him.
He glared at the students.
"Move aside! Move aside!"
"This is our nation’s chief figure! A national treasure! If she gets jostled, who among you can bear this responsibility!"
The students stuck out their tongues and obediently made way.
Only then did Dean Li change his expression to a smile, personally accompanying Lin Wan Yi to the laboratory.
"Wanyi, your pen is much more effective than the mouths of us old folks!"
...
A week later.
The relay room of the newspaper office.
Old Zhang, the mailman, pushed a creaky bicycle to the door.
He didn’t deliver the letters as usual.
He just wiped the sweat from his head and shouted inside.
"Chief Editor Sun! Quick! Quickly call someone to help!"
Sun Ping and Qian Zhenyu, who were arguing over the layout of the next issue, both came out upon hearing the voice.
They saw Old Zhang pulling a gigantic burlap sack from the bike.
With a "thud", he dropped it on the ground.
He untied the bag’s opening and tilted it.
Whoosh! White letters flowed out of the sack like a flood breaking through, piling up into a half-human-high hill at the relay room’s door.
Everyone in the newspaper office was stunned.
Old Zhang sat down on the mailbag, panting heavily.
"Chief Editor Sun, has your newspaper poked a hornet’s nest?"
Sun Ping was bewildered: "Old Zhang, are these... all for us?"
"Indeed!" Old Zhang pointed to the mountain of letters, "All addressed to someone named ’Yi Yi’! Sent from all over the country, like snowflakes!"
He grabbed a handful from the pile and handed it to Sun Ping.
"See for yourself!"
Sun Ping took it with trembling hands.
The envelope was thin.
But what was inside, was hard.
He opened one envelope.
What fell out was not letter paper.
It was a brand-new ten Yuan postal money order!
The note read: [Donate to the ’Hope of the Land’ fund! Please ensure it’s forwarded to the heroes in the painting!]
He opened another, and there was another money order!
The third, the fourth, all the same!
All the editors rushed over, tearing open envelopes as if mad, money orders falling out like snowflakes, covering the floor.
Old Zhang, watching the wild scene, added another line, his voice with awe.
"Chief Editor Sun, this is just a part."
"In my mail van, bags like this one..."
"There are three more!"
Qian Zhenyu stood outside the crowd, looking at the mountain made of letters and money orders, looking at the young colleagues with excited, flushed faces.
His body swayed, and his old face instantly turned bloodless.
