kingnovel Chapter 440 The Second Time I Saw the Sloppy Puppy
Chapter 440 The Second Time I Saw the Sloppy Puppy
Seeing Ah Ling already lying in bed, Zhuang Chaoying quietly slipped into the covers and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp.
The room was plunged into darkness instantly, with only moonlight shining in from the window. After a while, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could gradually make out some shadows.
He propped himself up halfway up and called softly, "Ah Ling, are you asleep, Ah Ling?"
The only response he received was Ah Ling's breathing. He felt a little disappointed; she had fallen asleep in such a short time.
Just as he was about to give up and go to sleep, he suddenly heard a rustling sound beside him.
Immediately afterwards, a warm and soft body snuggled into his bed.
Huang Ling nestled against his neck, tilting her head back so that the tip of her nose gently touched his chin, her warm breath spraying onto his neck, making him tremble all over.
Her hands restlessly caressed his firm chest.
"Chaoying, you've suffered these past few months. I've heard that you writers all like romance and love all that 'wind and flower' stuff. You're a big writer now, so remember your place when you're out and about. You're a married man, and you belong to me, Huang Ling. You should cut off any thoughts you shouldn't have from the very beginning."
He felt a mix of helplessness and sweetness; he was clearly an honest man, yet he had been suddenly jolted awake by the blankets.
He couldn't help but gasp. "Hiss, Ah Ling, I have neither the heart nor the courage. I wouldn't even dare to think about it. Having you is enough."
As he spoke, he put his arm around Ah Ling's shoulder tightly and stroked her back with his hand.
......
Early in the morning, Huang Ling got up and cooked a pot of millet porridge, along with rice cakes and a few side dishes.
At the dinner table, she kept piling food into Chaoying's bowl, her eyes filled with reluctance. "Eat more, you won't get such a hot meal on the road."
Just after 8:30, Huang Ling dragged him to the bank.
Upon seeing these familiar faces, the bank staff, recognizing them as big spenders, immediately and warmly welcomed them into the office.
The staff patiently advised, "Mr. Zhuang, Ms. Huang, it's not worth it to withdraw now! If you wait another month, you can get 10,880 yuan in interest. If you withdraw now, you can only get 2,683 yuan at the current account rate!"
Huang Ling shook her head without hesitation.
"I can't wait any longer, my family urgently needs money."
She knew in her heart that this was a rare opportunity to buy a house in Kyoto, and she couldn't afford to lose out on something bigger than she gained.
When they left the bank, their bags were noticeably heavier.
Looking down at the hundred-yuan bills in my bag, I realized how fortunate I was to have issued large-denomination banknotes; if they were all ten-yuan notes, I would have needed two bags to carry them.
Lin Wufeng, who was off work today, rode his motorcycle to take him to the train station. Two days ago, Chairman Wang called him and said that the train ticket association had already bought tickets for him and Yu Hua. They would go to Shanghai first and then set off together.
He was pulling a suitcase with one hand and carrying a duffel bag with the other. "Mr. Lin, I have elderly people and young children at home, so I'd like to ask you to take good care of them."
Lin Wufeng patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Teacher Zhuang. Even if I forget, Song Ying won't forget. She's been coming to your house like she's on her way to work, at least once a day. She's practically living here. She calls me the moment something happens."
Lin's laughter made Zhuang Chaoying feel much more at ease.
In front of the train station, Lin Wufeng took a net bag out of the trunk of his motorcycle.
"Here you go! These are some pickled vegetables Song Ying made, some beef jerky she made herself, and some snacks to tide you over on the road. Tastes differ between the north and south, so these will come in handy if you don't like the food!"
"Mr. Lin, Ah Ling prepared a lot of food, I really can't carry it all!"
Lin Wufeng forcefully shoved the net into his hands. "Stop talking nonsense! If you don't take it back, I won't be able to explain it to my son, Xiao Song."
Watching Zhuang Chaoying enter the station, Lin Wufeng stood there waving until he could no longer see her figure.
As she boarded the train bound for Shanghai, Zhuang Chaoying quickly transferred the cash from her bag to the system's shelves when no one was looking.
He put the food that Lin had prepared for him into his luggage.
More than two hours later, the train pulled into Shanghai Station.
A slender figure stood in front of the Writers' Association building.
Zhuang Chaoying recognized Yu Hua at a glance—this young writer, six years older than Tu Nan, was wearing a denim jacket and had slightly messy hair, looking exactly like a "sloppy little dog".
Upon seeing the person from afar, Yu Hua immediately approached and greeted them politely. "Teacher Zhuang!"
Zhuang Chaoying chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't call me teacher, call me brother!"
Looking at the energetic young man in front of him, he thought of his own son.
Although Yu Hua has already made a name for himself in the avant-garde literary circle with his works "1986" and "Going Out into the World at Eighteen", Zhuang Chaoying still sees him as a younger brother who needs guidance.
Anyway, I can't let this scruffy little dog call me Uncle Zhuang.
"Brother Zhuang, let's go to the Writers' Association to register first, and then head to Kyoto!" This was Yu Hua's second time going to the Lu Xun Academy of Literature in Kyoto. Unlike the last time when he was simply studying, this time he was also thinking about whether or not to write novels full-time.
"Brother Zhuang, we've been waiting for you!" Yu Hua jogged up to him and took the bag from his hand before he could react.
Zhuang Chaoying chuckled, surprised by the enthusiasm. "Yu Hua, you little rascal, you came right on time, didn't you?"
"Perfect timing!" Yu Hua wiped his sweat, revealing a set of bright white teeth.
"Brother Zhuang, I still have a lot of questions I want to ask you when I go to Kyoto for training. Don't find me annoying! I specifically asked Uncle Wang to let me participate in the training. Have you ever been to Kyoto? We can stroll around the academy together on our days off!"
He gestured wildly as he spoke, completely lacking the aloofness that avant-garde writers and literary youths usually possess.
Zhuang Chaoying couldn't help but mutter to herself.
As expected, he is the literary "e-person" who leaves the pain to the readers and the joy to himself. He is so familiar with me after only meeting me twice.
However, he responded gently. "We learn from each other, it's not about seeking advice, but we can go for a walk together on our days off."
As the two walked side by side toward the Writers' Association building, he noticed that half of Yu Hua's notebook was sticking out of the side pocket of his backpack, with the edges curled up, as if he had written a lot down.
Pushing open the door to Chairman Wang's office, a strong smell of smoke hit you.
When Wang Yougui saw the two men enter, he quickly took a deep drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray full of cigarette butts.
He opened the drawer, took out two long white train tickets, and pushed them onto the table.
"Here you go, these are your train tickets. The train leaves around 6 PM. It's still early, Xiao Zhuang. Your manuscript, *The Time Traveler's Wife*, has been reviewed and proofread. The publisher plans to print 50,000 copies for the first edition."
Before he finished speaking, he pulled out a thick envelope: "Xiao Zhuang, this is your royalties. I've recommended your manuscript to the Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House. Your novel is suitable for publication there. Fifteen yuan per thousand words is the highest they can offer, totaling two thousand four hundred and forty-eight yuan."
Zhuang Chaoying took the envelope. He knew that Uncle Wang treated him quite well. Since he said that, it must be that Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House was more suitable for publishing long novels than Harvest Magazine.
In this era where a thousand-word fee buys out the copyright, the subsequent bestseller status and reprints of the book are irrelevant to the author.
He vaguely remembered that the royalty system was proposed by Wang Shuo of Kyoto, but the exact time was unclear in his memory.
Yu Hua, who was standing nearby, leaned over. "Brother Zhuang, you're so fast! I really admire your productivity..."
President Wang tapped the table. “Young people, don’t rush. Xiao Zhuang is prolific and diligent. Yu Hua, you need to settle down and focus on the training. By the way, during this time at the Lu Xun Academy of Literature, make sure you connect with editors and publishers in Kyoto; you might find new opportunities.”