Chapter 54: Unable to Withstand the Pressure, Bringing Money

Lin Yuyao felt embarrassed and could only say, “Brother Fu, it’s time for me to get off work.”

What Fu Huayi felt inside from her glance was a different story; his heart raced.

He was just pretending, and others couldn’t see through it.

He pretended to be indifferent as he looked at his watch.

Oh, it was indeed time to get off work.

Time flew so fast.

“Can you help me pack these books?”

“Sure.”

Lin Yuyao quickly went to help him with the borrowing registration.

The two of them exited the bookstore together.

Lin Yuyao locked the door, and Fu Huayi waved from his motorcycle.

“Let me give you a ride back.”

Last time he said not to send her, but this time…

Forget it, if he wanted to give her a ride, then so be it.

When they reached the building where she rented her room, Fu Huayi didn’t leave; instead, he parked the motorcycle and followed her up the stairs.

Lin Yuyao said, “Brother Fu, it’s getting late; you should head back. I can go up by myself.”

“Mm, it is getting late, but I don’t plan on going back.”

Huh?

“Tomorrow is the weekend, so I don’t need to work. I have to help my grandfather deliver a gift, and it’s quicker to go from here.”

But…

“But… I rent a single room; it might be… inconvenient.”

Lin Yuyao felt extremely awkward.

If he weren’t such a good person, she would definitely think he was being inappropriate.

How could he make such requests of a single young woman?

Seeing her delicate brows nearly knitted together, Fu Huayi couldn’t help but want to laugh.

But he was well-trained and managed to hold it back.

“I’m not staying at your place.”

“Huh?”

Lin Yuyao looked at him in confusion.

“My cousin has a house nearby. When her bookstore first opened, she did everything herself and often worked late. To make it convenient, she bought a small one-bedroom apartment here. Now she hardly comes over, so the apartment just sits empty. I occasionally stay there to help clean it.”

With that, he raised the keys in his hand.

Lin Yuyao’s mouth fell slightly open as she stared at the keys he waved, feeling so embarrassed she could dig a hole to hide in.

Her face turned red, and she quickly turned to dash up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to her, the apartment he mentioned was right downstairs, a one-bedroom layout similar to her single room.

Her top floor had a small terrace, while the downstairs apartments were all one-bedroom layouts.

In these times, such small apartments were quite common.

That night, she slept uneasily, even dreaming about him.

Though it was just an ordinary scene of him borrowing books from the bookstore.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Fu Huayi felt restless and uneasy.

During the day, his casual actions were magnified in his mind at night.

Every glance, every word she said was enough for him to fantasize about for a long time.

He finally exhausted himself to the point of sleep.

The next day, he woke up with dark circles under his eyes.

Looking at his disheveled self in the mirror, Fu Huayi suddenly recalled a line from a poem.

“Those who have never loved will not know love’s pain; those who have loved will suffer from it.”

It was truly tormenting.

It seemed that Yi Yunshuo was right; he was indeed suffering from lovesickness.

…

That day, Lin Yuyao received a call from the publisher.

When she submitted her manuscript, she left the bookstore’s phone number.

Yes, the bookstore had a phone, but long-distance calls were expensive, so Lin Yuyao had never used the bookstore’s phone for personal matters.

Although Sister Leyi had told her she could use it freely, she still left the bookstore number for convenience regarding her submissions.

Once on the line, the other person said, “Ms. Lin Yuyao, your submission has been accepted. We are very interested in your story. I see that you mentioned the entire novel is about one hundred thousand words, correct?”

“Yes.”

After a pause, the person continued, “We discussed it and can offer you a buyout price of twenty yuan per thousand words. What do you think?”

Twenty yuan per thousand words means two thousand yuan for one hundred thousand words.

Lin Yuyao remembered that a relatively well-known author received over a hundred yuan for a ten-thousand-word story in ’81 when he was still unknown, and his books weren’t worth much.

Now it was ’88, and prices couldn’t be compared to seven years ago.

However, she was still a newcomer, so twenty yuan seemed reasonable.

Never mind the money—she just wanted someone to want it, no matter the price.

As long as she opened the market, things would be easier in the future.

“That sounds good.”

The person on the other end smiled, “If that’s the case, please do not submit this book to any other publications.”

“Okay.”

“Then we will send you a contract to sign. This is not a copyright contract, but a gentlemen’s agreement. Once signed, your book can only be sold to us.”

“Alright, thank you.”

“Let me confirm your address: it is the new Hua Bookstore in Chenshan Town, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Great, we will send the contract within three days.”

“…and after you receive it, please sign it and send it back as soon as possible.”

After hanging up, Lin Yuyao was overjoyed.

It was accepted! Wonderful!

Although it was a buyout, two thousand yuan was a huge sum for her.

Once she got the money, she could not only repay Fu Huayi but also send money home to help her parents repay their debts.

Of course, money was a minor matter; the important thing was that someone wanted her work.

It was normal to take a loss on the first book; even famous authors had to take losses.

As long as she opened the market, she wouldn’t worry about not making money on the second book.

If the sales were good, the second book might even make a lot of money.

Lin Yuyao wasn’t working that day, so she bought some food and went home early.

She brewed a cup of cheap tea, pulled up a chair, turned on the fan, and started writing furiously.

She had always struggled with certain subjects in school, but writing was her forte, and she enjoyed it.

Unbeknownst to her, two hours passed, and ideas kept flowing; she couldn’t stop.

Unfortunately, her hand couldn’t keep up; her wrist was aching.

Fearing tendonitis, she had to stop, rubbing her wrist to relax.

The tea was gone, so she went to boil another pot.

After resting for a while, she continued.

Money provided motivation.

That night, she wrote intermittently until ten o’clock, about five thousand words.

She was sleepy; tomorrow was the weekend, and she had to work, and it would be busy.

Time to wash up and go to bed.

The next day, she was having porridge and steamed buns downstairs when someone sat down opposite her.

Her mouth was full of buns; when she looked up, she saw Lu Jiangting.

Her good mood was instantly ruined.

Lin Yuyao quickly finished her porridge, grabbed her unfinished bun, and turned to leave.

Lu Jiangting chased after her and grabbed her wrist.

“Yuyao.”

Lin Yuyao frowned, saying coldly, “I remember we’re no longer together; why are you looking for me?”

Lu Jiangting was hurt and, in an attempt to keep her, frantically reached into his pockets.

“I’m here to return your money.”

Huh?

Return my money?

Okay then.

“Go ahead and return it.”