Grandpa's great writer

Chapter 145 Wang Meng
"Last month, you told me that it will be released at the beginning of this month, and at the beginning of this month, you told me that it will be next month, and now you tell me that it will be in March?"

Han Xun's tone was a little worried, because his new book has been delayed for too long.

Zhang Xin, the editor-in-chief of Huaxia Social Sciences Publishing House on the other end of the phone, said with a flattering smile, "We can't blame us for this. The vegetative state in the fifth grade has been getting too much attention recently, so of course we avoid it whenever we can."

"What if they publish new books every month? My book won't be published?"

"How is this possible, Mr. Han, are you kidding me?"

"Anything is possible."

"Then, if it's still released at the end of this month, anyway, the preliminary work is ready, and it can be put on the shelves at any time."

Zhang Xin's words made Han Xun angry all of a sudden, "What do you mean, you think I'm afraid?"

"No, no, I didn't mean that, Mr. Han, please don't get me wrong. In fact, it's pretty good to be released at the end of the month, and you can get a head start. I have a general idea of ​​the next month's plan at Surging Literature, and it will be released at the beginning of the month "A Bouquet for Algernon" does not conflict with the category of your new book, and we still have at least a one-month buffer period."

Han Xun pondered for a while, and said, "This is still a bit risky. After all, the heat of "Ten Little Indian Boys" has not yet passed, and there will be "Murder on the Orient Express" later, and my "Suspect in Tibet" is sandwiched in the middle." Not having a good time."

Zhang Xin curled his lips on the other end of the phone, and said he was not afraid?This is all cowardly, okay?

Originally, the publishing house meant that the new book would be released in the middle of this month. It was Han Xun himself who called and said that the time would be changed.

This is what Han Xun meant, and now Han Xun himself came to question their publishing house, and Zhang Xin even suspected that Han Xun was schizophrenic.

Zhang Xin thinks that Han Xun is really a little timid. There is really no need for this. Isn't this just winning the Huaxia Detective Master Award for a novel and stably suppressing a fifth-grade vegetative person? ?
"You see, if it is possible, we will publish the book at the end of the month."

Han Xun was silent for a while, and finally said, "Then try."

Zhang Xin said with a smile, "Okay."

……

When Zhang Zhong received Fang Xingkai's call, he was lying on the balcony basking in the sun with Pengpeng.

The heavy snow stopped a few days ago, but the sky has been exceptionally clean in recent days, and the attendance rate of the sun has also increased a lot.

The wide glass door kept the cold wind out, leaving only the warm sunshine in. Peng Peng was lying on the recliner covered with bedding, her little face flushed from the sun.

When the phone rang, Zhang Zhong hurriedly got up and walked to his room. He was afraid of disturbing Peng Peng who had just fallen asleep.

He didn't speak until he got to his room, "Hey, Xing Kai, what's the matter?"

"Ms. Zhang, it's a good thing. Do you know "Shilin"?"

Zhang Chong found that Fang Xingkai always liked to ask him if he knew this or that, as if he didn't know anything.

"Well, what's the matter?"

""Shilin" wants to reprint your article "Mountain People" by Mr. Zhang. They said they contacted you on Weiyu, but you didn't reply, so they found our publishing house and let us convey it to you Their wish." Fang Xingkai said.

"Okay, is it the official account they contacted me?"

"Yes, I said I sent you a private message."

Zhang nodded, "Then I'll talk to them directly on Weiyu."

"Alright, then I'll hang up first."

"Ah."

After finishing the call with Fang Xingkai, Zhang Zhong turned on Weiyu and searched in the list of private messages.

As a "star" with more than 1000 million fans, of course his private messages have exploded, and there are "99+" news every day.

However, it is not difficult to find Shilin's official account, you just need to filter it.

Soon, he saw a private message from Shilin's official account.

It's still a private message from the day before yesterday.

"Mr. Zhang Qianli, writer, hello..."

The other party made it very clear that they were willing to reprint the poem "Mountain People" in the weekly magazine "Shilin" at a price of 100 yuan per word.

The poem "Mountain People" has more than 2 words with punctuation, and if each word is [-], the total price is more than [-].

[-] is not too much, but "Shilin" only wants reprints, so this price is already very sincere.

Being able to give this price is probably due to the name of the fifth-grade vegetable.

Zhang Zhong didn't ask for the 2 yuan, he directly private messaged the other party on Weiyu, and verbally authorized them to reprint the poem "Mountain People" for free.

If the 2 yuan is required, it involves manuscript fees, and both parties have to sign a contract, which is a bit troublesome, and Zhang Zhong does not rely on the 2 yuan to make a fortune.

He not only licensed "Mountain People" to "Poetry Forest" for free, but also sent a message, affirming that as long as this poem is within the scope of copyright law, everyone can use it for free.

……

Wang Kewang stood respectfully by the desk. He knew that when grandpa was writing, he was most annoyed to be disturbed by others.

After about 5 minutes, Wang Meng stopped writing. He looked up at his grandson and said, "Are you busy these days? Last time I heard your father say that you have to work on New Year's Eve."

Wang Kewang smiled and said, "It's because I have to work on New Year's Eve, so I came back early to see you."

"What's so interesting about my old bones? If you don't come back on New Year's Eve, will Liao Er and his family come back to celebrate the New Year?" Wang Meng asked while washing his pen.

"Liao Er is back, and he will probably be home tomorrow."

"That's good. I haven't seen my great-great-grandson yet."

Wang Kewang rubbed his hands, "As a grandfather, I haven't seen him yet."

After washing his pen, Wang Meng walked around from the back of the desk to the front, pointed to the chair for Wang Kewang to sit down, "You are already the one who has a grandson, so you should be careful in doing things. Your kid has been frizzy since he was a child, but "The Forest of Poems" is doing pretty well, it's a bit of progress."

"Grandpa taught that." Wang Kewang smiled knowingly. He was already in his 50s and had reached the age of knowing his destiny, but he was still a child in the eyes of his grandfather.

Probably in Wang Meng's eyes, the age of 50 is only half of his life, after all, he himself is already in his early [-]s.

There are many people who can live to be a hundred years old, but it is very rare for someone like his grandfather Wang Meng to be so healthy and healthy when he is more than one hundred years old.

His father is in his 70s this year, but he sees that his health is getting worse every day. There are no major illnesses, but minor illnesses continue.

Wang Meng was originally a college student, but when the war broke out, he dropped out of school and became a soldier. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, he took off his military uniform and took up a pen again to become a literati.

Over the years, he has written more than 100 novels, and he has already written many books.

"I wrote a pair of words just now, you can take it to your father later."

Wang Kewang nodded, "Okay, I'll send it to my dad in a while, what did the old man write this time?"

"It's the modern poem you recommended to me last time."

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(End of this chapter)