Mingdian Coffee offers coffee, cold drinks and Western-style light meals, which can only be regarded as modest in 2015, but in 99 Songjiang is already a high-end place second to none, and the working class simply does not have the courage to come in and consume, let alone high school students.

The lavishly decorated café is filled with the aroma of coffee and music from an unknown country. Zhou Ming sat on the soft sofa seat, gritting his teeth in the face of the waiter's inquiry, for fear of revealing the secret that he was coming to such a high-end place for the first time.

"A cappuccino, a ...... Lemon black tea. Zhou Lin casually flipped through the wine list and made a decision, and then took out 40 yuan to pay the bill.

Waiting for the waiter to leave, Zhou Ming opened his mouth and said, "Cousin, have you won the lottery?" ”

"Less nonsense, what's the matter with me?" Zhou Lin said angrily.

In Zhou Lin's imagination, it should be Xu Yunyue sitting opposite him, the two of them chatting about life and the future, and maybe they can touch their little hands if they talk well.

As a result, sitting in front of him was Zhou Ming, who was stunned and had no lover flesh on his face, and the psychological gap was too big.

"Great joy. Someone is going to publish your novel! Only then did Zhou Ming remember what he was looking for Zhou Lin to do.

"Oh......"

"Oh? Why don't you do such a big thing? I see, aren't you happy that you don't know what to say? Zhou Ming was very unhappy with his reaction.

Zhou Lin smiled: "Then how should I react?" ”

Zhou Ming was stunned for a moment: "How awesome it is to sell a book in a bookstore!" With hundreds of books written by yourself at home, you can save face when you think about it! Aren't you supposed to be ...... Excited or something? ”

"There are hundreds of books at home...... Are you cursing my books for not selling? Zhou Lin couldn't cry or laugh, "Okay, did the people from the publishing house leave their contact information?" I'll talk to him. ”

Zhou Ming hurriedly took out a small note, on which a phone number was neatly written, and dedicated it to Zhou Lin as a baby.

Coffee and lemon black tea were served, and Zhou Ming was immediately attracted to attention.

Zhou Lin walked to the bar and chatted with the short-haired pretty waitress in a jujube short-shirted uniform, and then borrowed the phone.

He dialed the number, and the earpiece rang twice before it was connected, and a somewhat tired voice came from the opposite side: "Hello, this is Chunwen Publishing House, and I am Zhu Zifeng." ”

"I'm flying through the clouds."

Thousands of miles away in the deep city, in the office of the Chunwen Publishing House on the eighteenth floor of the Spring Building, Zhu Zifeng, who had been waiting to get off work after a busy day, suddenly shook his headset, and asked with some excitement: "Are you ...... Are you the author of "Zhu Xian"? ”

Zhou Lin: "Well, that's me." ”

Zhu Zifeng smiled: "Hello, I am Zhu Zifeng who contacted you, and I am very happy to receive your call." I am a loyal reader of "Zhu Xian......"

"I don't have much time, so I'm not talking nonsense. How many points can you give me in royalties? When Zhu Zifeng was finished, Zhou Lin said.

Zhu Zifeng didn't expect Zhou Lin to be so direct, and stammered: "Actually...... In fact, at present, there is only this intention, and there is no specific discussion of the number of royalties......"

"Then let me start with my conditions. I only sell the Chinese copyright of "Zhu Xian", which is valid for three years. I want 15% royalties and a minimum print run of 50,000 copies. ”

Zhu Zifeng still felt nothing when he heard the front, but he was stunned when he heard the back.

15% Royalty! 50,000 copies are printed!

Both of these conditions are exaggerated.

Royalty income = book price × royalties × number of prints

At present, in the Chinese publishing market, the royalty of writers fluctuates between 6% and 10%, and the minimum print run ranges from 5,000 to 20,000. New writers generally have lower than average royalties and print runs, while best-selling authors get high royalties of more than 12%, and the number of prints starts at 30,000.

The 15% royalty and 50,000 print runs are a treat that only top writers can enjoy in the industry. Chunwen Publishing House has only three writers in total who have enjoyed it over the years.

Although "Zhu Xian" is very exciting, Zhou Lin has not had any works before, and he does not have any fame in the publishing market, and he even asks for 15% royalties and 50,000 print runs, Zhu Zifeng really doesn't know whether he is too ignorant or too confident.

"Your requirements are too high, I don't think you know the ...... of the publishing market" Zhu Zifeng plans to popularize common sense to Zhou Lin.

Zhou Lin interrupted him and said, "What I just said is the bottom line. The reason why it is so high is because I am sure that "Zhu Xian" can bring enough fame and profit to your publishing house. If you can agree to my request, we will continue to talk, and if not, then we don't have to waste time. ”

"You're so confident?" Zhu Zifeng was puzzled.

Zhou Lin: "It's not self-confidence, it's rational analysis. I think "Zhu Xian" can bring great benefits to the publishing house, so why don't I try to fight for my share? ”

As a reborn person, or reborn into a plane with such a barren culture, if Zhou Lin didn't have this kind of self-confidence, he really didn't have to live, it was better to find a piece of tofu and kill him.

If it weren't for the need for a start-up capital, Zhou Lin would not even hand over the Chinese copyright of "Zhu Xian" to any publishing house.

Until the phone hung up and listened to the busy sound from the earpiece, Zhu Zifeng still didn't come to his senses.

In the past, when he contacted those new writers, which one was not grateful, which one was not ecstatic, he was already very happy to be published, and giving a little royalty was like pie in the sky, and he had never met such a confident person as Zhou Lin.

"15% royalty, 50,000 copies printed...... Am I going to get shot in the head by the editor-in-chief? Hey, are all writers who can write good works so individual? Zhu Zifeng had a headache.

Zhou Lin hung up the phone, and saw the waitress with clear eyebrows peeking at him, so he smiled and said, "I'm done calling, thank you." ”

The waitress smiled shyly, and then said a little curiously: "I heard you talk about royalties or something, are you a writer?" ”

"Sort of." Zhou Lin said.

"What books have you written, can you tell me?" The waitress looked admiring.

Zhou Lin took the note on the bar, wrote down the URL of the Singularity Literature Forum, and handed it to her: "There is a novel called "Zhu Xian" on it, which I wrote, please advise." ”

"I'll definitely go and see it." The waitress carefully put the note away and said with a smile.

Zhou Lin talked to her a few more words, and then returned to his seat.

There were two empty cups on the table, and only the residue at the bottom of the cups proved that some kind of fragrant and delicious liquid was once present in them.

"Where's my coffee, don't tell me they've evaporated." Zhou Lin looked at Zhou Ming, who was with a thief's eyebrows.

The guy squirmed: "The coffee is a little fragrant, I couldn't hold back after taking a sip...... Brother, do you know where the bathroom is, I have a little urgency! ”