Chapter 116: A Pleasure Doing Business

The old, casual approach to writing no longer fit the reality. Nowadays, popular authors almost all signed with literary agents; otherwise, who would have time to write and manage their own image? Not everyone had a cheat code like Zhang Chu—others had to use their brains to write, while Zhang Chu only needed his reputation points to activate off-site assistance.

So many things had happened in just one morning that Zhang Chu felt he needed to rest his mind properly. After all, there was still an exclusive interview with Southern Weekend in the afternoon, and they certainly wouldn’t let him off easily.

The system’s lottery for beginner English proficiency had left his head spinning, and now the noisy crowd inside McDonald’s was growing louder during lunchtime.

“Why do others choose high-end coffee shops for conversations, but I ended up at McDonald’s?” Zhang Chu pondered. It seemed a bit undignified.

Choosing a literary agent was a matter that would affect his future, so he had to decide carefully. A good agent could multiply his earnings several times over, while a mismatched one wouldn’t just meddle in his creative content but could cause rifts that might lead to a breakup.

While waiting for Zhou Kang to arrive, Zhang Chu slowly listed out his requirements in his mind. If Zhou could agree to them, that would be ideal. If not, even for the sake of Zhang Bowen, he wouldn’t sign.

Women fear marrying the wrong man; men fear entering the wrong profession. If he signed with an incompetent agent, Zhang Chu might just end up in tears.

About half an hour later, Zhou Kang appeared smiling, dressed in a blue polo shirt.

“There are reporters everywhere outside looking for you, yet here you are hiding inside McDonald’s eating fast food. I bet no one expected that.”

Zhang Chu shrugged, “I’m not deliberately hiding; I just wanted a place to sit and rest. Uncle Zhou, let’s get down to business. I won’t lower my standards just because you and my dad were classmates.”

“Alright,” Zhou Kang said, “let me briefly explain my situation. I’m currently employed at Yanjing Dreamlong Cultural Media Company. Our main business is signing promising writers like you. We already have four top-tier popular authors under contract, and several of their works have been successfully adapted for film and television, such as ‘Blooming Moon,’ ‘Criminal Wanted,’ and ‘The Ode to the Goddess.’”

“How many signed authors do you have in total?”

Since this was business, they set aside seniority and personal connections and communicated as equals.

“I currently have three signed authors. If you sign with me, I’ll hand them over to my colleagues who will specifically manage your works.” Zhou Kang understood Zhang Chu’s concerns. “Our company’s CEO is the deputy editor-in-chief of a literary publishing house and is well connected in the publishing world. He also holds shares in a film company.”

For literary agents, their income is closely tied to the authors’. If an author’s earnings are too low, the agent can’t sustain themselves. So they either sign many authors to increase volume or focus on quality, where one bestselling author can be worth ten or even a hundred others.

Right now, Zhou Kang saw great potential in Zhang Chu. Setting aside ‘Detective Sherlock,’ even ‘Psychological Crime’ was already attracting inquiries from film companies, since suspense and crime genres have a strong market.

Zhang Chu knew he would produce more and better works in the future. If the agent couldn’t effectively promote them, signing would be pointless.

So he straightforwardly asked, “Uncle Zhou, how do you calculate your commission? I think we could sign a provisional contract—if both sides are satisfied within a month, then we can sign a formal agreement. How does that sound?”

It’s better to see actual results than rely on empty promises.

Zhou Kang was confident he could keep Zhang Chu and replied promptly, “Our standard is 10% of your royalty income and 10% of your copyright income.”

There were all kinds of profit-sharing arrangements; some agents even demanded 50%, and surprisingly, some authors agreed.

If one felt disadvantaged, they could only rely on the terms of the contract and part ways once the period ended.

These percentages were always the result of negotiation. Zhang Chu found 10% acceptable and smiled, saying, “Then let’s agree on that for now and sign the provisional contract tomorrow.”

He wasn’t worried about losing out in the contract. Just today, three top American lawyers had offered to help with legal matters, which should serve as a warning to deter any ill-intentioned parties.

Zhou Kang knew he only had one month to prove his worth. If nothing substantial happened within that time, Zhang Chu would surely refuse to sign a formal contract.

“Well then, I’ll get started right away. Tell me about this afternoon’s and tomorrow’s schedule. Everyone’s looking forward to interviewing you!”

Zhang Chu raised an eyebrow. “This afternoon there’s only an exclusive interview with Southern Weekend—this was arranged earlier and probably can’t be postponed.”

Zhou Kang chuckled softly, “No need to postpone. You definitely should have a media outlet to speak through—Southern Weekend is very authoritative. It’s just that they booked you too early. If they were to invite you again today, I’d have to make them hand over the cover feature for this issue.”

Zhang Chu’s fame today was vastly different from before. Even appearing on Southern Weekend’s cover would be well deserved.

“I’ll go with you to the interview this afternoon to see if there are any deliberately difficult questions and also introduce myself to the media for future contact,” Zhou Kang said.

These were minor matters, and Zhang Chu nodded in agreement. He casually asked, “Do you have any plans for my future career?”

He had been haphazardly copying books here and there without seriously considering what he truly wanted to write or having a clear goal.

Zhou Kang clearly recognized this. “Your most important task now is to enroll at Yanjing University and study hard. Dropping out is a tactic others have tried; it’s not a good idea to follow that rebellious trend. You were the top scorer in the college entrance exam, so it’s easy to mold you into a scholar-writer.”

“Also, while suspense and detective fiction help your popularity, it’s still too niche, and I believe you’re aware. No matter how popular ‘Psychological Crime’ or ‘Detective Sherlock’ are, they haven’t affected others much. In fact, your poetry is quite good—just a bit unconventional. It would be best if you develop in the literary world while maintaining commercial success.”

Zhou Kang’s vision was to shape Zhang Chu into the heir of China’s literary scene. Of course, this heir must produce valuable works, or else it’s just empty talk.

One hand in literary art, the other in commercial bestsellers—grasping both!

Zhang Chu nodded. “I’ve been realizing this too. ‘Journey to the West Diary’ was a simple experiment to break out of the suspense and detective genre.”

“That’s a good idea but the method is wrong. Like your ‘Psychological Crime’ serial online—so many chapters updated, but the ending never came. That disappoints loyal readers and easily causes them to drift away.”

“You have so many works now. If you don’t respect your readers, why should they respect you or exclusively read your works?”

Zhang Chu fell silent. The issue with ‘Psychological Crime’ was indeed a mistake by him and the publisher, aiming to turn online popularity into sales by maintaining suspense.

“Don’t repeat the same mistake with ‘Journey to the West Diary.’ By the way, do you have any ideas for your next book?”