Chapter 68: The Newcomer's Opportunity

“You child, you promised to help me herd the sheep, so why are you leaving?” Old Mrs. Lin held onto Zhang Chu’s hand, speaking with deep reluctance, unwilling to let go.

Zhang Chu protested innocently, “Grandma, I never said I’d help you herd the sheep—I just came to play. You must be remembering it wrong!”

He accidentally blurted out his true thoughts. Old Mrs. Lin, wise with age, patted the back of Zhang Chu’s hand and said earnestly, “Remember to bring your book when you come back. I want to show the neighbors that our good grandson has published a book and become an author.”

“I got it. I’ll send it to you by express mail; it’ll get here in a day at most.” Zhang Chu had no intention of returning to herd sheep again. The dazzling world of the city suited him much better—there was nothing here for him, and even the ginger cat eyed him hungrily all day.

With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Zhang Chu boarded the bus and waved at Old Mrs. Lin through the window. His heart brimmed with joy—partly because his work was being published, but mostly because he felt liberated.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message to his close friends’ group chat: “Brothers, your prodigal son has finally returned! Who wants a signed copy of my book?”

“Me!”

“I want one too!”

“Save me a copy.”

His friends quickly chimed in, raising their hands virtually. While none of them were novel enthusiasts, owning a signed book to keep at home was harmless enough.

But Zhang Chu replied with feigned arrogance, “If you want one, bring your book to me tomorrow.”

“Pfft! I thought you were going to give me one as a gift. I don’t want it anymore,” Wei Wenlin replied, pretending to be upset. “Even if you brought it to my door, I wouldn’t forgive you.”

With nothing better to do on the bus, Zhang Chu bantered with his friends.

Meanwhile, South Sea Publishing was seizing the moment after the media coverage, rushing to get the book stocked in all the major bookstores nationwide. They also listed it on their official website and several major shopping platforms’ flagship stores.

As for how many copies “Detective Sherlock” would sell, that would depend on the readers.

...

After more than two hours of jostling on the bus, Zhang Chu felt almost in pieces by the time he pushed open the doors of Hanlin Pavilion Bookstore. He discovered that his family’s store had transformed into a veritable sea of Sherlock Holmes. Movie stills, enlarged covers of “Detective Sherlock,” and towering piles of books filled the shop. Zhang Bowen had even displayed his treasured collection of British-style hats, pipes, and canes.

Anyone who didn’t know better would think a Holmes-themed party was about to start. Clearly, there was great confidence in Zhang Chu’s book.

“Dad, isn’t this a bit much?” Zhang Chu was embarrassed—what if only a couple of books sold, wouldn’t that be incredibly humiliating?

Zhang Bowen clapped his son on the shoulder, full of confidence. “This is nothing. Your mother is even planning to print flyers to hand out! Quite a few neighbors have already come to buy a copy to support you—they’re just waiting for you to return and sign them.”

As he spoke, he pushed Zhang Chu over to the cashier and passed him a pen.

Fortunately, when he drew his system lottery, he’d won basic mastery in calligraphy—equivalent to a top calligrapher’s entry-level skills, more than enough to impress now.

After signing his name in an elegant flourish, Zhang Chu thought how nice it would be if their bookstore could expand. Then he could sell his own books right here, earning profit from both ends.

But nowadays, running a brick-and-mortar bookstore was costly, and no single author could keep one afloat; it took a mix of factors.

“As a newcomer, you shouldn’t aim too high. Sell what you can, and that’s enough.” Zhang Bowen lectured him as if he were the one who had published the book.

Zhang Chu rolled his eyes. “Dad, you talk as if you’ve published a book yourself.”

“I haven’t, but does that mean I can’t understand the publishing world? Don’t forget, this bookstore has been running for over ten years. All your primary and secondary school fees came from here.”

Hanlin Pavilion’s business was never as booming as the state-run Xinhua Bookstore, but it kept the family afloat. Otherwise, Zhang Bowen would have switched professions long ago.

“Even though our country protects copyrights well and there are plenty of readers, just look at the annual sales data—every year, it’s the classics that top the charts. For a newcomer like you, having any buyers at all is an achievement, so don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But Zhang Chu disagreed—here was the generational gap in perspectives.

“Dad, why do people keep reading the old classics? Isn’t it because most new books aren’t up to standard? If new books were as exciting as the classics, they’d sell just as well. That’s where the real opportunity lies!”

New books lagged behind the classics in sales because of content, quality, and reputation. Zhang Chu believed his “Detective Sherlock” had real dark horse potential.

Since it could win the Sherlock Holmes writing contest, why couldn’t it perform just as well in physical sales?

Zhang Bowen was left speechless by his son’s argument and could only turn away, pretending to restock the shelves.

This was genuinely how Zhang Chu felt—true talent lies in seeing unique opportunities, just like a salesman convincing monks to buy combs. It’s all about thinking from a different angle.

Back upstairs at home, Zhang Chu tossed his backpack aside and quickly pulled out his phone. There were no physical sales numbers yet, so he could only glean clues from the e-book stats.

All formal bookstores in the country were now required to use the national copyright bureau’s unified sales system, which made it easy to verify authenticity and access the latest sales data. But only professionals could view real-time stats; everyone else had to check the official website’s daily update at 7 p.m.

For now, Zhang Chu didn’t have the connections to get insider information, so he logged onto the country’s largest e-book platform—Amazon—to take a look.

On Amazon’s Kindle store, there were many recommendation slots and rankings, with special deals and the new releases sections getting the most clicks. Fiction e-books also sold well by genre.

“Not on the bestseller list, not on the rising stars list...” Zhang Chu’s heart sank. Was his book really performing so poorly online? Did no one know “Detective Sherlock” had been released ahead of schedule?

After searching for a while, he finally found his book among the latest releases. It wasn’t a top recommendation spot, but it was visible. The e-book was priced at 9.99 yuan, with only three reviews so far—at least a little income.

Given that the book had only been listed for a few hours, Zhang Chu felt at ease. Three reviews meant at least six people had read it—many readers simply read without leaving a rating.

“Keep climbing up there, don’t hold back now.”

...

There were things to take care of at home today, so I’m squeezing in this update.

So few recommendation tickets! Calling on readers for more. When I have time, I’ll do a triple update burst!