267: Chapter 267 An Ordinary World, An Extraordinary Decision – Sponsored by <Yu Xi Is Not Open for Business Today>

Seven in the morning,

most of the office buildings in the Jiang City CBD were still immersed in the water stains left by cleaning ladies' mops.

Conference Room 1 of the Xinchao Publishing House, however, was brightly lit at this moment.

The air in the conference room was murky,

the cloying sweetness of instant coffee mixed with the burnt bitterness of espresso—the unique life-sustaining scent of overtime dogs.

Old Zhang from the Marketing Department pushed open the door, clutching a half-eaten sandwich in his hand, with two prominent dark circles under his eyes.

He set his briefcase on the table, his voice raspy from lack of sleep:

"Secretary Xu didn't breathe a word on the phone, only said to be on time. This is a first for such a setup."

He glanced around the conference room, pulled out a chair to sit, and habitually unscrewed the mineral water in front of him.

"I'm puzzled too. I got a call from Secretary Xu at five-thirty. I was wondering if something went wrong over in Europe."

"Europe?" The Operations Director's heart skipped a beat.

"Isn't the ferryman selling like crazy over there? Could a distributor have run off? Or a printing plant strike?"

"Hard to say," Old Liang tapped the table worriedly.

"Think about it, with Jian Shen's current influence, there are bound to be jealous people..."

Before he could finish, anxiety spread through the conference room like a flu virus.

Everyone turned their gaze toward the Head of International Channels in the corner.

That manager, who usually had slicked-back hair and walked with a breeze,

was now spreading his hands innocently, shaking his head like a rattle:

"Don't look at me. My phone is on twenty-four hours a day. Aside from insurance salesmen, I haven't received a single urgent transoceanic call.

I swear, until twelve last night, the sales data in Europe was still rising, and the distributors were monitoring normally."

"Then what is President Wang up to?" someone muttered.

"In the early morning, he couldn't have called us here for morning exercises, could he?"

...

In the restroom across the wall.

Cold water washed over his face, taking away the heat of a sleepless night.

Wang De'an looked up, staring at the middle-aged man in the mirror with bloodshot eyes.

The white hair at his temples was a bit jarring, but he couldn't worry about that now.

The exhaustion from staying up late was being forcibly suppressed bit by bit,

replaced by a nearly cold clarity.

"Getting old..."

Wang De'an reached out to wipe the water droplets from his face, his fingertips tracing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

He still remembered that a few years ago, Xinchao Publishing House was like a dying old man, lying in the ICU waiting for the plug to be pulled.

Back then, he looked in the mirror just like this,

filled with despair, even having prepared the dismissal speech for the bankruptcy liquidation.

It was that person named "Jian Shen" who, with The Miracles of the Namiya General Store,

forcibly dragged him out of the mire and sent him all the way to the peak of the publishing world in Su Province.

The outside world said he was the talent scout who recognized brilliance.

Only Wang De'an knew that he was just a lucky groom passing by.

The thousand-mile horse was right there; with or without Wang De'an, he was destined to gallop.

"This time, it's my turn to be the villain."

Wang De'an turned off the faucet and grabbed a paper towel to messily wipe his face.

He knew what the upcoming decision would bring.

Infamy, misunderstanding, and even internal mutiny.

But he had to do it.

Wang De'an straightened his collar in the mirror.

He knew Jian Shen's personality well—he lived transparently, almost detached from the secular world.

He didn't lack money, nor did he lack fame.

But Wang De'an felt that as a vested interest in this industry, he had an almost fateful responsibility.

Since Jian Shen was willing to take off his long gown and write stories of the soil, then New Tide should scatter this story back into the crowds, rather than letting it gather dust on a bookshelf.

Only then could that idol become a real person, and then lift him to a higher and further place.

Even if it meant bearing the infamy of being a "money-grubbing merchant."

"Whew—"

Wang De'an took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

...

The heavy mahogany door of the conference room was pushed open without a sound, but the noise inside came to an abrupt halt.

Wang De'an walked in.

He didn't bring a computer or any documents; his face, which usually wore a businessman's smile, was now as stiff as a piece of iron.

"It's over," Old Liang whispered, kicking the Operations Director under the table and mouthing the words.

Old Liang stared at Wang De'an's tense face, his heart beginning to drum.

The Operations Director swallowed hard, his hand gripping the pen ready for notes involuntarily tightening.

Wang De'an walked straight to the head of the round table and sat down.

"Everyone's here, right?" Wang De'an's voice was raspy, carrying a heavy sense of fatigue.

"Everyone's here, President Wang," the HR Director answered cautiously.

"Mhm."

Wang De'an nodded, crossed his hands on the table, and swept his heavy gaze over everyone present.

"I know what you're guessing. No need to guess; the company isn't bankrupt, Europe hasn't exploded, and I don't have a terminal illness to settle my affairs."

A few awkward dry coughs sounded from below.

He scanned the crowd.

"Late last night, Jian Shen sent over the manuscript for the new book."

"Whoa—"

An uncontrollable stir broke out in the conference room.

The originally tense atmosphere instantly relaxed, replaced by the relief of surviving a disaster and a huge surprise.

"Scared me to death! So it's a new book!"

Old Liang's heart, which had been hanging, finally dropped back into his stomach. He slumped back into his chair and opened his thermos with a wry smile:

"President Wang, next time there's good news, can you just say it directly? I almost pulled out my fast-acting heart-saving pills."

"A new book? That's great!" The Copyright Department Manager's eyes lit up.

"Is it a sequel to the ferryman? Or another healing-type one?"

"What's the title?"

The Operations Director had already pulled out his notebook, ready to record this keyword that was about to ignite the market.

Facing the expectant eyes, Wang De'an didn't keep them in suspense. He pressed the projector remote, and five bold characters jumped onto the screen—

—ordinary world.

The conference room fell silent for a second.

"ordinary... world?"

The smile on the Copyright Department Manager's face froze, his hand holding the pen suspended in mid-air.

"This name... is a bit plain."

In this era where people can't wait to name books "The Overbearing CEO Falls in Love with Me" or "I'm a Dragon Hero in Another World,"

in a market where even serious literature has to be called "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" to boost its prestige,

the name ordinary world,

sounded like walking into a ballroom full of evening gowns wearing a set of dusty work clothes.

They said "plain."

But everyone knew the actual word in their hearts.

It didn't look at all like the work of the great god Jian Shen, who wrote "souls have no borders."

"President Wang, what is this book... about?" Old Liang asked tentatively.

"It couldn't be... a rural theme, could it?"

"Yes," Wang De'an nodded.

"It's a rural theme. It's about a farmer's son, how he scrapes for food on the Loess Plateau, how he hides in a corner and weeps just to eat two black flour steamed buns."

The executives looked at each other.

If it weren't for Wang De'an's serious face, they would have suspected the president was joking.

To have this healing-style godfather, who shook the European literary world, write about eating black flour buns? The contrast was so great it made their brains ache.

"But that's not important."

Wang De'an interrupted the whispering.

He straightened up, and in those bloodshot eyes, that crazy flame flickered again.

"I've already reviewed the content of the book."

Wang De'an paused and dropped a real bombshell.

"Today I called you here not to discuss whether the book title sounds good. I'm here to announce a decision."

He pointed to the chart on the large screen in the conference room showing the "New Tide APP Daily Active Users."

"Taking the opportunity of the release of ordinary world · Part One, we will officially launch the 'Paid Reading' section of the New Tide APP.

This book will no longer follow the traditional path of physical first, then electronic. We want it to be serialized on the APP like a web novel, charging by the chapter."

"After the serialization is completely finished, we will then proceed with physical publication."

"Boom—"

The conference room, which had only been whispering, suddenly erupted into an unbelievable uproar.

"No! Absolutely not!"

The Director of the Editorial Office put down his fountain pen heavily, his tone grave:

"President Wang, our current brand premium is entirely supported by Jian Shen's status.

Once we enter a serialized model of charging per chapter,

the integrity and sense of authority of the work will be completely dissipated by fragmented reading. This is destroying our own Great Wall."

"That's right, President Wang." Old Liang was also anxious, advising earnestly.

"Paid reading is the tactic for web novels; the audience is all looking for gratification-focused stories. Our readers are here for the sentiment of physical books. If you pull this, readers will definitely think we're being greedy, and they might even think Jian Shen's value has dropped!"

"I object too!" The Operations Director also stood up.

"We've worked so hard to make New Tide a high-end brand. If we turn it into a paid web novel site, that prestige will vanish in an instant! Who will buy physical books after that?"

The waves of opposition rose higher and higher.

In the minds of traditional publishers, there was an insurmountable chain of contempt between web novels and serious literature.

Web novels were fast food, for entertainment.

Serious literature was art, to be enshrined.

To have an artist perform on the street was an insult.

"And..."

The Director of the Editorial Office took a deep breath and delivered the most fatal blow.

"President Wang, have you thought about it? Would a lofty person like Jian Shen agree?

You're asking him to lower his status for this bit of tips and subscription money?

If you annoy him and he terminates the contract with us,

that would be a catastrophe for our New Tide!"

...