244: Chapter 244 When the rain has soaked through, people will naturally look for torches.

China Standard Time, July 8th, midnight sharp.

There was no traditional bell-ringing ceremony,

but within the invisible torrent of data, a floodgate was suddenly flung open.

To coordinate with this historic "cultural export,"

Xinchao Publishing House, in conjunction with the China Publishing Group, contacted distributors across sixteen countries,

and adopted a strictly enforced "Absolute Midnight" strategy:

Global servers were unlocked simultaneously, and physical store keys became active at the same time.

At almost the exact same second, the Asian region was the first to reach a boiling point.

Outside Kinokuniya Bookstore in Shibuya, Tokyo, long queues had already formed.

Although it was late at night, for Japanese readers deeply influenced by Chinese culture,

the mysterious author "Jian Shen," who wrote The Miracles of the Namiya General Store, was already synonymous with the healing genre.

Seoul, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur... Bookstores in major Chinese-populated areas were brightly lit, the scanning sounds at checkout counters forming a dense rhythmic beat.

International students and local Chinese people flooded into the stores, waving cash.

They weren't just buying a novel.

In the late night of a foreign land, they were venting a long-awaited, head-held-high sense of national pride.

Backend data showed that in just ten minutes,

the sales curve for the Asian region shot up vertically at a ninety-degree angle, as if injected with adrenaline, a piercingly bright red.

However.

The scene shifts back to China.

The New Tide Publishing House building.

Inside the top-floor command center, there was no crisp sound of champagne bottles popping.

The air was thick with the heavy scent of tobacco and a suffocating low pressure.

"Mr. Wang, the Asian region has exploded! The initial stock might not last three days!" the operations director reported excitedly.

"I can see that," Wang De'an's voice was hoarse, but there wasn't a hint of joy on his face.

He was staring intently at the right side of the screen.

That was the monitoring area representing the European and North American markets.

Unlike the soaring red curve on the left, the lines on the right were a nerve-wracking green.

"Is this... the cultural barrier?"

Wang De'an muttered to himself... Vienna, 6:00 PM local time.

There was no late-night shopping frenzy here, only a sudden cold rain.

The sky was a dull gray, like a rag that couldn't be wrung out.

Pedestrians on Kärntner Straße turned up their collars and hurried along,

not a single person sparing even a glance at the roadside bookstore windows.

The "The Silent Mozart" Bookstore.

The owner, Hans, dressed in an exquisite vest,

was elegantly wiping a newly arrived bookshelf with a piece of velvet cloth.

"Damned distributors, insisting on stocking at this time."

Hans grumbled in German, casually picking up a copy of the ferryman with its deep blue cover.

He hadn't followed the previous agreement to place these books in the best-seller recommendation section near the entrance.

Instead, several epic fantasies about knights were displayed there.

Instead, he shoved the stack of the ferryman into the "Miscellaneous Section" at the very back of the shop,

right next to the perennial shelf-warmers: Hiking Guide to the Alps and Introduction to Gardening.

The plastic wrap on the top few sample copies hadn't even been removed; the reflective film glinted coldly in the dim corner,

looking like a pile of abandoned, expired magazines, completely out of place next to the hardcover, gold-stamped local guidebooks.

"Ding-ling—"

The wind chime rang out crisply.

Several young people with East Asian features folded their umbrellas,

rushing in with the dampness of the rain, their eyes eagerly scanning the store.

"Hello, sir! Do you have the ferryman?"

The leading boy asked in fluent German, his eyes full of anticipation.

Hans stopped what he was doing,

his face wearing that signature professional smile—flawless yet aloof.

"Oh, that Eastern... specialty?"

Hans pointed to the innermost corner with a white-gloved finger, his tone as gentle as if he were guiding a lost child:

"In the Miscellaneous Section."

"Oh, on the bottom shelf."

The international students didn't catch the sting in his words, or perhaps they just didn't care. They cheered and headed straight for the corner.

"Great! Finally got it!"

"Quick, quick, I'll get one for Ivan too. I'm going to pull an all-nighter reading tonight!"

They carefully picked up the books, and while checking out,

the boy even specifically bought an extra Vienna postcard to tuck inside the book, a satisfied smile on his face like meeting an old friend in a foreign land.

As the wind chime rang again, the young figures vanished into the curtain of rain.

Hans watched them leave, then turned and shrugged at the clerk who was tidying the shelves.

"See that?"

Hans casually shut the cash register with a sharp "bang."

"That's what I call a placebo.

This kind of book is like the fortune cookies given out at Chinese restaurants; except for their own people looking for a sense of belonging,

who would spend dozens of euros on this kind of illogical Eastern myth?"

...Across the street from the bookstore, under the awning of an outdoor café.

Lin Que sat there, a cup of cold latte in front of him.

He wore a pair of large black sunglasses bought from a street stall, his hat brim pulled low, his entire being almost merging into the shadows.

Rain dripped from the edge of the awning, forming a small stream at his feet.

He saw the international students clutching their books with joyful faces,

he saw the desolation of that corner in the bookstore, and he saw Hans's dismissive expression after seeing the customers out.

But there was no expression on his face; he was as calm as an outsider.

His phone vibrated.

It was a voice message from Wang De'an, the background noise as chaotic as a wet market.

"Teacher Jian Shen... the latest data is out."

Wang De'an's voice carried the exhaustion of consecutive sleepless nights.

"One hour after release, sales across the entire German-speaking region... are less than twenty thousand copies."

"More than fifteen thousand of those were supported by bulk purchases from our embassy and local Chinese chambers of commerce.

Which means the actual organic sales... are almost negligible."

The voice message paused for a long time, followed by a heavy sigh.

"This wall is even thicker than we imagined."

Lin Que picked up the long-cold latte and downed it.

The chilled coffee had a strange sourness to it,

which happened to dilute the slight boredom from watching the scene earlier.

He pressed the voice record button.

"Editor-in-Chief Wang, what we are planting are trees."

Lin Que stood up, brushing off the water droplets that had splashed onto his hem,

his gaze piercing through the rain for one last look at that brightly lit yet prejudiced bookstore.

"Arrogance is a hard shell. To break it, you can't rely on brute force; you need warmth.

When the rain soaks through and they feel the cold, they will naturally come looking for a torch."

Having said that, he put away his phone.

He turned and walked toward the hotel.

Since the sparks have been sown, the rest can be left to the wind... Back in China, at the command center.

Wang De'an held his overheating phone,

the words "When the rain soaks through, they'll naturally seek a torch" echoing in his ears.

That composure emanating from the very bone was like a shot of adrenaline, piercing through the anxious atmosphere of the command room.

Is it true, what's the rush?

"Phew—"

Wang De'an let out a long breath, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray overflowing with butts,

and turned his bloodshot eyes toward the dejected employees of the operations department.

"Everyone, lift your heads! Who are you mourning for with those long faces?"

He slammed his palm onto the table, making the teacups rattle.

"Withdraw? Who said anything about withdrawing? Anyone who dares mention pulling resources can get out right now!

Keep investing! Even if you have to paste the ads right under their God's nose, you hold the line for me!"

"As long as Teacher Jian Shen hasn't said we've lost, we'll keep fighting this battle even if we have to spend every last cent!"

...