Chapter 088: Talent Nurturing Bookstore

In his previous life, Zhang Tan had little connection with fashion and could hardly keep up with the pop culture of the post-80s and 90s generations; in truth, he was rather tacky. He longed to be more humorous, and for that, he even crafted various scenarios—like how to respond wittily to others in conversation for a laugh.

Sometimes, in social settings, he would watch as someone told a joke that left everyone doubled over with laughter. Later, he would quietly practice it himself, hoping to find a chance to try it. Of course, the usual outcome was that he told a joke he thought was clever, only to be met with an awkward silence. In the end, he could only force a smile and pretend to be amusing.

Those moments were truly embarrassing.

The more he failed to grasp the rhythm of humor, the more he obsessed over how to tell jokes, digging up jokes from the internet that were seven or eight years old to arm himself.

Little did he know, outdated jokes were not funny in the slightest.

But now, there was no need to worry about jokes being old-fashioned; any one he told would leave people amazed. The humor he once desperately sought was now genuinely his, to the point that even a young girl like Liu Luyao was starting to see him as the very epitome of wit.

Such a remarkable individual.

There was no reason he wouldn’t become a campus legend, influencing an entire generation of students, then becoming part of Shuangdun High’s folklore. The day he casually quipped, “Don’t be infatuated with me, I’m just a legend,” it immediately became a classic catchphrase on campus, with everyone vying to imitate him. It reached the level of, “Though I’ve long since left the scene, my legend still circulates among the people.”

Now.

This so-called Legend was bent over a desk in his rented room, organizing a schedule.

He had gained some fame by now, so it was time to pull himself together and aim higher.

Since his rebirth, he had learned a great deal—music, literature, calligraphy, sports—and still had to make time for classes. Fortunately, much of this built upon his previous life’s foundation, so it wasn’t too strenuous.

In class, he did well in politics, history, geography, language, and English; after all, he had once studied hard. As he reviewed these subjects, their long-forgotten content gradually resurfaced, so he wasn’t doing too poorly. The only exception was math, which he had truly forgotten, making it a real headache now.

In music, his memory served him well—composing was a bit challenging, but with occasional practice, guitar and accordion weren’t too difficult to pick up. Writing novels required more effort; he only remembered the general plots of films, TV series, and original works, so he had to craft the text himself. He had learned calligraphy from his grandfather in his past life, so picking it up again came quickly, though mastering it would be tough.

In sports, he played a soccer match every week, participated in two half-court three-on-three basketball games, and ran every evening. Good nutrition and regular exercise were essential for a healthy physique!

Height and other attributes required proper nourishment.

In addition, when he needed a change of pace, he would organize the films and variety shows he remembered. Making movies was something Zhang Tan dreamed of—the prestige of being a film director was something he longed for, a persona he had to embody. As for variety shows, he was just preparing himself, thinking he might try to plan one someday.

The future held so many things he loved; as long as he had time and the mood, he wanted to try them all.

“To live carefree is to do whatever comes to mind and enjoy the freedom.” Zhang Tan often thought this, using it as an excuse to mask his lack of plans.

…

Where there is leisure, there is also busyness.

While Zhang Tan leisurely wrote, read, and played guitar, far away in Hunan’s Changsha, Wang Guohua was anxiously busy. After typesetting and proofreading, ten thousand freshly printed copies of "The Four Great Constables Shake the North" were ready.

The print run was small, which limited the risk.

But Wang Guohua wasn’t after low risk—he wanted high profit. So as soon as the books were off the press, he contacted his channels and sent them to cooperating bookstores and distributors.

Initially, he planned to sell only in a few cities in Hunan to gauge the response.

Every book release left Wang Guohua so nervous he couldn’t sleep. Although the publishing house bore the risk, his commission depended on sales, and poor sales meant a lower bonus and a negative impact on his job. The fierce competition within the publishing house added even more pressure—a number of people were eyeing his position as deputy director.

Especially at a time when book number trafficking was rampant, his legitimate deals never made much money and weren’t well received.

One misstep, and his deputy director job would be over.

“Xiao Wu, this afternoon get a car from the press. We’ll do a survey at the bookstores in Changsha and check the sales for 'The Four Great Constables Shake the North.'”

Wu Hai nodded immediately. “Alright.”

That afternoon at work, Wu Hai called for a jeep from the publishing house. Together with Wang Guohua, he set out for the city’s bookstores.

Their first stop was Yucai Bookstore.

Yucai had a good relationship with the People’s Publishing House, always giving new releases prime placement and settling accounts promptly. With heavy foot traffic and strong sales, Yucai was a bellwether for the market.

In those days, online literature hadn’t yet taken a toll, so the bookstore was bustling with people.

Some were buying books, but more were just reading without purchasing.

Wang Guohua played along, heading to the martial arts novels section. In a prominent spot, he found "The Four Great Constables Shake the North." He’d been there two days ago when it was just stocked—the book was displayed on the table, a stack of about twenty beneath a copy showing the cover.

Now, only three copies remained, the stack noticeably shorter than the others.

Nearby, two high school students sat on the floor, engrossed in their reading.

Wang Guohua picked up a copy. Unlike the green hardcover of the traditional edition, the simplified edition had a blue background with a landscape painting and a red title: “The Four Great Constables—Shaking the North, by Zhang Tan.”

Frankly, the cover design was quite crude, worse than even some pirated books.

But there was no helping it—quality matched the budget, and the publisher was unwilling to spend much on packaging for a martial arts novel, so this was the best they could do.

“Xiao Wu, go ask the counter how many copies of 'The Four Great Constables Shake the North' have been sold.”

“Okay.”

While Wu Hai was gone, Wang Guohua crouched beside the two high schoolers and softly asked, “Hey, is 'The Four Great Constables Shake the North' any good?”

The student wearing glasses looked up and nodded. “It’s great.”

The other added, “It’s especially exciting—the fight scenes are blood-pumping.”

Wang Guohua asked happily, “Have you read a lot of martial arts novels?”

The student with glasses replied, “Quite a few—I've read a lot by Wolong Sheng, Zhuge Qingyun, Zhang Feifan, and Li Tiebi.”

“How does this book compare?”

“It’s not much different, and I really like having the Four Great Constables as the protagonists. It feels so cool. Do you like martial arts novels? I’d recommend you buy this one. If I had more pocket money, I’d buy it myself.”

Wang Guohua instantly felt uplifted. “Do you know who wrote 'The Four Great Constables Shake the North'?”

“You mean this Tan Zhang, right?” The student with glasses flipped to the cover to check the author’s name, then turned to the back, where the author bio read: “Zhang Tan, a rising martial arts novelist from the mainland, whose works are popular in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Chinese communities worldwide. He has the makings of a master in the genre.”

“Right. So, do you know him?”

“Never heard of him,” the student admitted.

“Actually,” Wang Guohua said, barely able to keep the pride from his voice, “this Tan Zhang is about your age—a first-year high school student, just like you.”