Writer Ch.14

Chapter 14: Secretly Signing the Contract, Without Letting Others Know

However, the things these beastmen focused on left Song Wenlan both amused and helpless. Many of them fixated on details that would never pass review.

[The position the author wrote about, I’ve never tried before. I’ll give it a shot tonight.]

[Even though there are still misunderstandings between them, I can tell that Bai Ye really does love Hu Sanli.]

[It’s clearly just a simple bunny costume, so why does it feel so exciting to me?]

[I got hooked on this book because our young master recommended it. It’s really well-written. I’ll never say novels are boring again.]

Under this comment, there were a lot of people chiming in.

[Our young master is so innocent. I just saw his neck turning red.]

[Hey, the young master can see these comments too!]

As soon as that was said, the comments above immediately vanished.

Song Wenlan, who happened to see that comment: ……

So that’s what it was—turns out they all belonged to the same tribe. Song Wenlan could practically picture a little young master with a flushed neck, going around eagerly promoting her book.

It was actually kind of cute. Song Wenlan smiled quietly.

Of course, some readers also noticed the special footnotes Song Wenlan had added.

“Note 1: Gas stove, a kind of cooking appliance. Food is the god of the people; culinary culture is one of the most important aspects of human culture.”

“Note 2: White Snake, a traditional folk love story. White Snake is a white serpent who cultivated for a thousand years. To repay Xu Xian for saving her, she marries him. During the Dragon Boat Festival, White Snake drinks realgar wine and reveals her true form, frightening Xu Xian to death. To save him, White Snake steals the immortal herb lingzhi, and in the end, she successfully brings him back to life.”

As for the story of White Snake, Song Wenlan hadn’t written it out in full—she only chose a section that was related to her content.

After all, that drama had so many episodes. If she wrote the whole thing, would she even have time to write her own story?

Even so, those two footnotes still sparked heated discussion among the readers.

Some focused on food.

[“Food is the god of the people”—these words feel so weighty. Maybe the author will include more dishes later in the story. I’m really looking forward to it!]

[In our interstellar era, we don’t have any of those delicious, tempting dishes. It’s always just nutrient packs and more nutrient packs.]

[My friends, actually, the interstellar does have vegetables. Blue Star has always cultivated them. But vegetables are too rare and too expensive. My entire year’s salary is only enough to buy a single leaf. I’m so jealous of Hu Sanli and Bai Ye in the novel—vegetables are actually so cheap there.]

Seeing that comment, bitterness rose in Song Wenlan’s face as well.

She had searched the Blue Star cultivation base listings before: a lettuce the size of a palm cost one hundred thousand interstellar credits.

And she herself was penniless.

Who knew when she would ever achieve food freedom?

Of course, compared to food, the audience discussed White Snake even more.

[Why did White Snake have to marry Xu Xian just to repay him? Couldn’t she have chosen another way?]

[I think Xu Xian doesn’t deserve White Snake’s love at all. Just seeing her true form scared him to death.]

[What kind of place is the underworld? The worldview of this story seems fascinating too. Author, when will you write White Snake’s story?]

Even when Song Wenlan went to find the Meng Xingchong, its first question was this very one.

“Author Zao Si, would you be interested in writing the story of White Snake? I could talk to the chief editor and apply for an A-level contract for you.”

Looking at the very first line sent from the other side, Song Wenlan felt a little helpless.

It seemed this editor really was a devoted reader of hers—her story hadn’t even been out for long, yet he had already finished reading it.

But on this matter, Song Wenlan made her stance very clear.

“White Snake isn’t my original story. I don’t have any intention of writing it out.”

Of course, if she really wanted to, she could write it. With the existing storyline already there, the money would be easy to earn.

But no matter how many stories she wrote, Song Wenlan firmly believed that original work was original work. No matter who else tried to write it, it would never capture the feeling of the true creator.

Besides, she wasn’t lacking stories of her own—so why should she go and write someone else’s?

This was Song Wenlan’s pride, and also her bottom line.

The Meng Xingchong quickly replied:

“Then… would you be able to recommend the original author? I was just asking casually. If I’ve offended you, I apologize.”

“The original author has already passed away,” Song Wenlan answered directly, cutting him off before he could keep asking. “That work is also lost. If I ever manage to find it, I’ll let you know.”

“That really is a pity.” The Meng Xingchong sounded regretful, but he also knew the real purpose of today’s conversation.

He quickly sent over a B-level contract to Song Wenlan:

“Author Zao Si, please take a look and see if there are any issues. If you have other requests, you can let me know as well.”

After receiving the contract, Song Wenlan carefully began to read through it.

The terms at Insect Literature Novel Website were extremely generous. Aside from the 70/30 revenue split between author and platform, there was also a full-attendance stipend of five thousand interstellar credits every month.

Most importantly, even after signing the contract, the copyright still belonged to the author. Later on, if the work was adapted into film, television, or animation, the platform would only take a small fee.

It was rare to see a contract where the author still held the copyright after signing, and this point struck right at Song Wenlan’s soft spot.

“No problem. It’s just that my current identity is a little special—I can’t appear in public. Can I sign the contract under my brother’s name instead?”

The Meng Xingchong hesitated for a moment.

But he also understood that if he refused, the other party might not sign at all.

Being quick on his feet, the Meng Xingchong immediately agreed:

“That’s fine, but you’ll need to sign a guarantee agreement yourself.”

“Alright.”

Soon, Song Wenlan received the guarantee agreement. In black and white it stated: the author must not write content inciting the masses or threatening interstellar peace, nor any remarks that smeared particular races, and so on.

Song Wenlan signed swiftly, then took the contract to Xisha for his signature.

Her timing was just right—Xisha hadn’t left for work yet.

When he saw the contract, he was a little surprised.

“You actually managed to get a contract?”

“Of course. If I wasn’t confident I could make money, how would I have dared to promise you?”

Song Wenlan said with a bright smile.

Xisha choked for a moment. “I hope you can keep up that confidence.”

He glanced down at the contract and happened to see the book title.

My Demon Hunter Arch-Nemesis.

Xisha thought the title of the book was very strange, but since he had no curiosity about such energy-wasting novels, he had no intention of reading it.

He quickly signed his name in the required places, patted Song Wenlan on the shoulder, told her to keep working hard, and then hurried off to the basement to work.

The Meng Xingchong, upon receiving the contract: It was signed just like that?

The surprise came so suddenly that the Meng Xingchong couldn’t help but pat his own face with his wings.

Feeling the faint sting of pain, he pursed his lips, glanced around, and secretly broke into a smile.

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