Chapter 49: Pressing In Relentlessly

Signing Detective Sherlock was a sure-win deal for Nanhai Publishing Company. Even if the high school entrance exam top scorer’s craze died down in a month, they were confident they could reignite the hype.

“Zhang Chu, if you’re willing to sign a five-year publishing contract with our company, we’ll use all our resources to build you into a leading figure in Chinese detective fiction. What do you think?” Gu Xinxue wanted nothing more than to tie Zhang Chu permanently to Nanhai Publishing. Detective fiction was waning in China; they desperately needed a standard-bearer.

But Zhang Chu was not interested. In his previous life, he’d barely read any detective novels. If it weren’t for the Holmes-themed writing contest and its prize money, he wouldn’t have bothered adapting a British TV series into a novel.

Out of all genres, detective fiction offered the least promising prospects for reputation or fortune.

“There’s no need to sign such a contract. I’m not even sure if I’ll have time to write when I start university.”

To him, this was an alternative kind of indenture—a shackle he had no wish to wear.

Gu Xinxue understood he was being hasty. He tried to reason, “You probably know the domestic detective fiction market isn’t exactly thriving. Publishing such books is risky and costly. Unsold stock piles up in warehouses, so overall, authors in this genre don’t earn high royalties.”

“That’s true. I haven’t read much by domestic authors. So, what’s your offer?” Zhang Chu was in high demand now. Detective Sherlock likely wasn’t only being eyed by Nanhai; any publisher with sense would be reaching out to Age of Mystery.

“There are two options. The first: 100,000 yuan for the full rights to the book—after that, all sales income is no longer yours. All other copyrights remain with you; we don’t interfere.”

“That’s not acceptable. What’s the other option?” Zhang Chu refused without hesitation. To sell the simplified Chinese rights to Detective Sherlock for a mere 100,000 yuan was far too cheap!

Gu Xinxue didn’t mind. “The second option is to sign a contract, and after three months of publication, we pay you an advance royalty for the first print run. For someone with your track record, we can go up to a first print of 20,000 copies, with a royalty rate of 5%.”

Zhang Chu quickly did the math. A first print of 20,000 copies at 5% royalty, multiplied by the cover price—regardless of whether the books sold or not, his advance was set. If the book was priced at 30 yuan, his pre-tax advance would be 30,000 yuan.

Compared to the buyout, this seemed much less lucrative. But the advantage of royalties was the potential upside—what if the book became a hit?

If he sold the rights outright, he’d never see another cent no matter how many copies sold.

But to earn 100,000 yuan, Detective Sherlock would have to sell sixty or seventy thousand copies, a daunting task for a new author. Even the renowned Age of Mystery usually sold just a few tens of thousands per issue. For a newcomer to reach that figure with a detective novel would be legendary.

Even in the best cultural climate, with little piracy and many readers, all it meant was a taller pyramid for book sales. For authors at the base, it was still hard to sell their work—especially in the overlooked detective genre, where newcomers struggled to survive.

Zhang Chu weighed his options seriously and ultimately chose the royalty model. He decided to take the gamble. Nanhai Publishing wasn’t offering him many concessions; even a 20,000 copy first print run was a bold move, betting on the current heat.

Compared with other rookie authors who had nothing, Zhang Chu had plenty to use for promotion.

“Then please send us the rest of the manuscript as soon as possible so we can expedite publication.”

He wasn’t the first to urge Zhang Chu to write faster. Zhang Chu readily agreed. Now that his path was clear, he opened his bedroom door and powered up his computer.

…

Xu Fei right-clicked to refresh the page and was stunned to see Detective Sherlock’s vote count had reached 410,000, catapulting it to fifth place in the Holmes contest ranking!

“This is way too fast. Even with all the media exposure, it seems suspicious.”

Having nothing better to do, Xu Fei had spent the past two days glued to the voting chart. He also had another identity: the author of The Will of Holmes, currently first in the rankings.

He’d thought the 500,000 yuan first prize was in the bag, but who could have predicted such a formidable contender would appear just before the deadline?

In two days, Zhang Chu had amassed 410,000 votes, and the momentum was still building. In just a few minutes, it had climbed by nearly ten thousand—astonishing speed.

“It’s already June 29. The contest ends tomorrow at midnight. He shouldn’t surpass me, right?”

He consoled himself—after all, the gap was still nearly 800,000 votes—but a nagging worry gnawed at him.

His colleagues didn’t know he was a novelist; it was a secret he kept closely guarded. Meanwhile, in the “Detective Writers” group on QQ, everyone was actively discussing the contest.

“Old Lin, you’re really unlucky. Knocked off the podium in the last two days. With 100,000 yuan just within reach, want to buy some votes?” someone joked.

“Forget it. I wrote this just to fulfill a dream. I’m not in it for the money,” Lin Yong replied. He was the unlucky one Zhang Chu had just overtaken.

Liu Zhuo sent a worshipping emoji. “With Zhang Chu’s momentum, I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes first place. Fei, you’d better brace yourself!”

Xu Fei was frustrated. “It took us ages to reach a million votes, and he racks up four hundred thousand in two days. No way he’s not buying votes. And his writing is awful, too. Shameless.”

“Best keep such talk here among us. Don’t make baseless accusations without evidence,” Lin Yong cautioned.

Then Liu Zhuo messaged Xu Fei privately. “Fei, do you need some campaign help? Our Blue Whale PR company offers leaderboard management and online review services. You’re in a dangerous spot. First place means 500,000 yuan; lose it and you’re down to 300,000.”

Xu Fei hadn’t planned to resort to such tactics, but the lure of fame and fortune was overwhelming.

He’d been ahead for half a month. If he lost in the final two days, he’d probably cough up blood in frustration.

After a fierce internal struggle, he asked, “How do you set your prices?”

“We can manually provide 200,000 votes, undetectable by anti-cheat systems. We’ll also spread negative reviews of Detective Sherlock online, exposing the ‘truth’ about this top scorer. The package is just 50,000 yuan, paid via Taobao for your peace of mind.”

For someone on a salary like Xu Fei, 50,000 yuan was a huge sum—but if it worked, it was only a tenth of the prize money.

Xu Fei decided to grit his teeth, borrow some cash, and max out his credit cards to gather the sum.

“Hurry up. Especially find and promote the weak points in Zhang Chu’s novel—I’ll help you collect them for faster dissemination.”