Chapter 109: You Reap What You Sow

At a large-scale book fair like this, the stranger walking past you might well be the author of a certain book, and the reader browsing the shelves might be a grandmaster of a specific genre. For writers, it is always the works that become famous; the individuals themselves rarely achieve such recognition, and the public has little idea what they actually look like. Even if that couple nearby were holding a copy of "Sherlock Holmes," they would never guess that the young man standing next to them was the author himself. If they had known, they certainly would have asked for an autograph! Only those who treat writing as a stepping stone try to emulate pop stars. Once upon a time, we could name countless classic characters without knowing who the actors were; now, we can only name the actors, with no idea what roles they actually played.

Just as Zhang Chu turned to leave, he noticed a few pot-bellied, middle-aged men walking over, chatting and laughing. Their target was clear: the very bookshelf he was standing by.

"Old Qin, let's see if your book has been put out on display. Maybe a reader will ask you for an autograph later. I heard your 'Laws of Murder' was recommended to a film company; maybe one day we'll be watching it in the cinema."

"Sigh, who can say for sure! They said my 'Ace Detective' was being eyed, but there hasn't been a peep for years. Rather than daydreaming about film adaptations, I’d rather sell a few more copies of the book." Another man with a bass voice spoke, but his words were filled with boasting, as if he were terrified that someone might not know his other book had also caught the attention of a film company.

Zhang Chu, already standing on the other side of the shelf, couldn't help but laugh. Is this really a case of narrow roads meeting? The man opposite must be Qin Mu, who had once targeted him; after all, "Laws of Murder" and "Ace Detective" were both his works.

"Hey, Old Qin. Why don't I see your book here?" the first man asked.

Qin Mu, who had been in the middle of showing off, suddenly changed color. How could this be? There are only so many mystery and suspense novelists in the country, and his "Laws of Murder" had sold quite well this year. How could it not even qualify for the "Reading China" popular book display?

"That can't be right. Let me look."

Qin Mu no longer had the mood to show off. Appearing on this display stand meant popularity, yet after scanning the area, he couldn't find his book at all. Seeing that stack of "Sherlock Holmes" in the prime spot, Qin Mu felt as nauseated as if he had swallowed a fly. Why should that guy get such a prime position?

Although Zhang Chu couldn't see the man's expression, he could hear the embarrassment in Qin Mu's voice, and it felt incredibly satisfying.

"Don't worry, Old Qin. Let's look again. If we really can't find it, we'll ask the publisher. They have limited quotas, and you're an established author; you shouldn't be treated this way."

Qin Mu said in a flustered rage, "It must be that Zhang Chu snatched my spot! Why does a newcomer like him get the official recommendation from 'Reading China'? Let's go, I need to go talk to the publisher."

"I'm afraid talking won't do much now; the organizers won't change it," his companion advised. "Maybe the publisher went by sales or buzz. His book is selling quite well; it's still moving thousands of copies a day."

"Sorry for the embarrassment, guys. Let's go, let's look somewhere else."

Qin Mu felt as if he had lost all face. These friends were writers from all over the country, gathered together thanks to the book fair. He had brought them here to show off, only to find nothing.

After hearing their footsteps recede, Zhang Chu emerged from behind the bookshelf, only to see that someone had placed several copies of "Sherlock Holmes" on top of his own book! If Zhang Chu hadn't been sharp-eyed, future visitors would never have known his book existed.

"Damn, this guy is so petty!"

Who else could have pulled such a childish stunt? Zhang Chu was furious. This move was clearly intended to hide his book from visitors. Without a second thought, he identified the culprit, pulled out a notebook and a pen from his bag, put on his duckbill cap, and jogged over.

Qin Mu and his group hadn't gone far and were pointing at books in another section. Zhang Chu walked quickly up to Qin Mu and said with a slightly nervous tone, "Teacher Qin, I accidentally overheard you earlier. I really love your 'Laws of Murder.' Could you sign it for me?"

Qin Mu, who had just failed to show off, finally smiled. He swore to himself that this was definitely not a plant! The young man had come at the perfect time. Qin Mu smiled and took the pen, noting that there was already a name in the notebook, but he didn't think much of it and signed his own. "All signed. Thanks for your support."

Zhang Chu felt that his acting skills at this moment could win an Oscar. After successfully trapping Ma Bo'en with the same trick, Qin Mu had now walked right into the net himself. With the "48 Hours of Bad Luck" in effect, what kind of trouble would this cause?

Watching Qin Mu walk away, Zhang Chu's smile broadened. He was looking forward to the rest of the show.

...

At 9:50, Zhang Chu arrived at the entrance of Hall 8 with his temporary pass. Outside, banners and display boards read "2018 Chinese Suspense Literature Summit" in large characters. Many people were signing their names on the wall and posing for reporters.

When the staff saw Zhang Chu's ID, they looked suspicious; they couldn't believe such a young and handsome man could be a writer.

"Teacher Zhang Chu, please sign in over here. Your seat is in the tenth row, seat sixteen. The event is about to start; please take your seat."

When the handsome-looking Zhang Chu walked in behind the staff, the nearby writers cast their eyes on him. They hadn't seen young, talented newcomers before, but this one seemed almost too new—he didn't even have stubble on his chin; people would believe him if they said he was a pop idol straight out of the entertainment industry.

"Who is this? I've never seen him before."

"With a face like that, why bother writing?"

"Does anyone recognize him? How did he get into the summit? What does he write?"

"Could he be a star here to gild his resume?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen a newcomer. Why don't you go ask?"

"He went to the Nanhai Publishing Company side. Let's watch for a bit."

Even the most seasoned writers were full of curiosity about the strange newcomer. Qin Mu, who was in the middle of a fit of hiccups, suddenly noticed a familiar face walking toward the empty seat in the row ahead of him.

"You, you were the one from before... *hic*... the one who asked for my autograph! How did you get in here?"

Qin Mu covered his mouth, trying to stop, but the hiccup sound still came out muffled, making the people around him want to laugh but not daring to.

Zhang Chu reached out and introduced himself, "Hello, Teacher Qin. I'm Zhang Chu, the one who wrote 'Sherlock Holmes'."

"It's you!"

Qin Mu performed an instant feat of Sichuan opera-style transformation; his face turned grave in a flash. The person who had pretended to be a fan to get his autograph was actually the one he had targeted earlier.

In his emotional agitation, Qin Mu even forgot to hiccup, but the "Bad Luck Notebook" wouldn't let him off so easily.

*Pfft.*

A loud sound suddenly came from behind him, and a foul stench instantly filled the air!

The writers around Qin Mu couldn't avoid it in time; they covered their noses and mouths with their hands, using paper to fan the air in an attempt to disperse the odor.

The group cursed their luck, thinking that sitting next to this guy—with his hiccups and his flatulence—was like sitting next to a chemical bomb!