Make a decision and implement it immediately. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Wu Xiaoyu had just finished making three phone calls, and immediately heard the voice simulated by 1A7489 in his ears:

"Parasite, write for the magazine."

Wu Xiaoyu, who received the order, quickly removed the SIM chip from the phone, stuffed it back into the drawer, and sat back at the desk where the computer was placed.

Then, he manipulated the mouse to double-click on the email sending and receiving tool, and the display screen immediately appeared a long list of emails with different subject names and the same source address.

After clicking into one of them at random, the most conspicuous image of the dark pupil reflection of the level 34 parasite is naturally the bold and highlighted text at the end: "P.S. If the content of the next submission can be innovated in areas other than torture and punishment, this magazine will be very welcome." ”

We need to innovate again...... What should I write this time?

This question took Wu Xiaoyu a whole second of thinking time.

A second later, Wu Xiaoyu put his hands on the edges on both sides of the keyboard, and his arms, wrists, and fingers worked together. Immediately, the poor keyboard flipped up and down, becoming bottom-side up and the casing peeling off, revealing the dense and tiny circuitry that would never have existed at the factory.

Wu Xiaoyu groaned slightly, and soon put ten fingers on the circuit and began to slide quickly.

Like any previous time, Wu Xiaoyu's movements were almost impossible to see with the naked eye. On the display screen, there are dense characters in rows...... No, pages and pages pop out of the white background. They appear almost simultaneously, and it is difficult to distinguish the order and time intervals.

Compared to push-button keyboards, circuit keyboards are more sensitive, faster input, and easier to operate...... And so on and so forth. ---- there are few drawbacks other than the inability to be used by normal humans.

After a few minutes, the image on the display froze, no longer scrolling downward.

Wu Xiaoyu finished losing the last character.

Without the slightest pause, the fingers of his arms, wrists, and wrists shook again, and the bottom case of the keyboard was reassembled, and the front was facing upwards again.

At this time, the virtual "send" button in the upper left corner of the display screen ends the animation after being pressed.

……

The earth rotates slowly, year after year, day after day, on its own, allowing all parts of your body to take turns enjoying the warm massage of the sun's rays.

Now, it's the turn of the North American continent.

"Tuk-tuk."

"Please come in." Grace/Akehays continued to stare at the papers on the desk, without looking up, and naturally did not look at the door that had just been knocked on and now pushed open.

"Good morning, Mr. Grace/Akerhays."

Grace still didn't look up, still wrestling with the thin papers on the table. With his left hand outstretched, he gestured with a finger with many wrinkles on his skin in the direction of the black soft chair in his memory, and then called out the name of the person who came: "Good morning, dear Mr. Lindbyer. ”

Anyone can do that.

There is no need to listen to that rather familiar voice, just the guy who always calls him by his first name and surname, but never adds a nickname to his position, there is only one manager in the entire Castle Publishing Group.

While there was still a very regular, seemingly heavy and slow footstep on the carpet, Grace quickly moved his right wrist and scribbled the last strokes on the paper.

"Bang!"

There was a soft thud. It seems that something heavy has fallen, or that your feet have stepped heavily on the carpet.

Immediately, the sound of being pressed by the body was also heard from the soft chair in front of him, and Grace raised his head and saw Lindebyer, who was slightly panting and looking slightly tired.

Grace put the pen on the cap, grabbed the end and gently tapped the table, and said, "Dear Mr. Lindebyer, thank you for coming to see me again, old fellow. Still, if I'm not mistaken, the last time I greeted that cute little girl in your office seems to have been a week and a day ago? ”

"Yes, Mr. Grace/Ackhays, your memory is as reliable as your signature......" The shutters opened through the office with small gaps, and the streaked daylight shone on Lindebyer, who was leaning on the soft chair, and on his serious face, adding a cloudy and uncertain mask.

Lindbyer groaned slightly, opened his mouth slightly, and continued: "...... Mr. Grace/Ackhays, I'm sorry to bother you without an appointment. However, there is one thing that I have to talk to you about right now. ”

"Dear Mr. Linde Baier, I believe that what you say must be quite important. Then please say, we have ......" Grace raised his wrist, looked at the time, and said, "...... A full eight minutes. ”

"Thank you very much. Mr. Grace/Ackhays. From Lindbeyer's tense expression and stiff voice, it is not difficult to see that Mr. Editor-in-Chief is really not very good at the tone of "thank you very much".

Fortunately, the content of the next conversation does not fall into the category of "thank you very much".

Lindebyer put out the words that had been in his head several times: "Mr. Grace/Akehays, there is something that you probably don't know yet. He paused and said, "Just last night, we received the latest submission from the 'Archon'. ”

"Now I know. And then what? Grace picked up the paper she had just processed and placed it on top of the thin pile of papers on her left.

Linde Baier watched his movements and said, "This latest submission is still a 'cage in the sky'"

"Huh?" Grace easily removed a new copy from the other thick stack of papers stacked on the right-hand side.

This was not at all the reaction that Lindbyer expected. He raised his voice slightly to hide the slight frustration in his tone: "Mr. Grace/Akhays, is it okay to go on like this?" I mean, don't you think we should do something about it? ”

"Do something? ......" Grace raised her head, stared at the gentleman opposite with an inquiring gaze, and said, "What do you mean...... Perhaps we should give this lovely 'archon' a little more remuneration? Dear Mr. Lind Baier, what do you think of the 7 stars and stripes per word......"

"Not ......"

"Maybe you think you should have a column for Mr. 'Archon'?"

"No ......"

"Interview? Invited? Arrange a tour? Or ......"

In Lindebyer's eyes, the look of hope gradually dimmed, and with Grace's words, the skin on his face trembled slightly, and under the table, in a position that Grace could not see, Lindebyer's hands were clenched tightly, and his eyes quickly changed to another intense gaze.

Finally, before Grace could finish speaking, Lindebyer touched the large stack of thick papers that had been stuffed into his coat pocket ten minutes ago, and then said:

"No, it's not an interview, it's not a visit, it's not a tour. Mr. Grace/Ackhays, I mean, the cage in Skyrim can't go any further. Since Skyrim's cage one, two, and three, it's now Skyrim's cage ten. Mr. Grace/Ackhays, I have to say, that damn 'consul' treats our magazine as a serialized story club! ”

"Serial?" Grace frowned slightly, as if she hadn't seen Lindebyer's slightly agitated reaction at all. The old man leaned his back back into the soft chair, rested his gray hair on top, squinted his eyes, and continued: "The cage of Skyrim is serialized? Dear Mr. Lindbyer, thank you very much for telling me this valuable news, even though it happened two months ago. ”

"Besides......" the old man said calmly, "what does it matter if it is serialized? Isn't 'supernatural tales' often serialized stories? Could it be that I am mistaken? ”

After saying the hurried words just now, Lindebyer's chest gradually calmed down a little: "Yes, Mr. Grace/Akhays, 'Supernatural Tales' does often have serialized stories. Some good stories that are coherent, realistically described, thematically sensitive, and engaging! But after Skyrim's Cage Two, it's not a good story either, or rather, it's nothing at all. ”

Lindebair's chest began to rise and fall violently again: "From beginning to end, this damned cage has no role but the torturer and the torturer; There is no other storyline other than the punishment; There are no other scenes other than a cage; Except for ......"

"Hey...... Hey...... Hey...... Dear Mr. Lindbyer, Grace interrupted him with a wave of his hand, saying, "Dear Mr. Editor-in-Chief, you are an expert, and of course you know what makes a good story. ”

"However, as an ignorant general manager, a stubborn old thing, I only believe in one thing, and I only agree with one thing: a story that readers like to read is a really good story."

"Yes, Mr. Grace, I completely agree with you."

The tone of Lindbyer's words was strange. Grace couldn't tell whether he agreed with the first half, the second half, or the whole sentence.

Moreover, Grace could not make a judgment based on Lindebyer's expression. Because, at the time of saying that, Mr. Lindbyer had already bent down inexplicably and burrowed under the table.

Then, his voice continued from there.

"I also think that 'whether readers like it or not' is really the most important criterion......"

Speaking of this, Lindebyer's voice suddenly began to be choppy, and it seemed to have some more ingredients that seemed to be quite difficult: "...... And...... That's exactly what it is...... I would like to explain to you the most...... of a point. ”

With that, Lindebyer got up from under the table and stood back in front of Grace.

"Oh ......" The old guy who controlled the direction of the Castle Publishing Group tilted his head back, his mouth opened, and his body shrank suddenly, and he was finally taken aback.

Directly opposite, Mr. Editor-in-Chief is holding a cardboard box half a meter long, half a meter wide, and half a meter high.

It must be quite heavy. For Mr. Lindbyer's face, hands, and neck were covered with bruises, his teeth were clenched, and his lips trembled slightly.

Then, the cardboard box half a meter long, half a meter wide, and half a meter high, like a bomb, smashed into Mr. Grace's desk, making a loud "bang", making the pens, papers, folders, nameplates and other small objects on the desk, bounce or jump or roll, and follow them together for a long time.

In the process, through the unsealed top, Mr. Grace saw that the inside of the cardboard box was a whole box of neatly stacked envelopes. They were already level with the mouth of the box, as if they would overflow if they put one more one.

"What is this?"

"That's what readers ......" Lindbyer wiped his forehead, pointed to the box, and fixed his eyes on the stunned Grace, "...... That's what readers think of the cage of death. Moreover, this is only the comments received by the editorial office in just half a month after 'Skyrim's Cage Nine. You can see how much readers hate it. ”

"Oh, ......" After being surprised, Grace propped up her glasses and resumed her original sitting position. He didn't touch any of the envelopes, but opened his mouth and asked, "Mr. Lindbyer, I think you'd be happy to tell me how much readers hate it?" ”

"Cruel, bloody, excessive, procrastinating, trivial, off-topic......"

Grace waved his hand again, interrupting Lindebyer's gushing momentum, and said, "It looks like there are still a lot of people who don't like our 'Archon' very much. However, dear Mr. Editor-in-Chief, I don't care about that. I just want to know, how many letters read: If you continue to publish Mr. 'Archon's article, you will simply stop buying it? How many letters have been sent to Mr. 'Archon' in the hope that 'supernatural legends' will remove Mr. 'Archon's article? ”

Lindebyer groaned slightly: "...... Part. ”

"Part of it?" Grace leaned forward slightly, smiling slightly, revealing a slight, resolute expression of inquiry.

Lindebyer licked his lips: "Not too much. ”

"Not too much?"

Damn it! Lindebyer felt a little dry in his mouth and said, "Well, there are only a dozen letters." ”

"yes, only a dozen of them."

Hearing Lindebyer's bitter voice, Grace smiled contentedly and let out a voice that bordered on emotion.

After a short moment, Grace withdrew her smile, sat up straight, and said in a rather formal tone: "Mr. Lindebyer, in fact, even if it were all letters against the 'Consul', it would be impossible for us to weed out his manuscript. ”

Looking at Lindebair, who was sitting upright in a soft chair with a slightly crooked collar, Grace continued: "As an ignorant general manager, a stubborn old thing, I believe only one thing, and I agree with only one thing: a story that readers like to read is a really good story. ”

"Moreover, for an old thing like me, readers' messages, readers' feedback, readers' letters, etc., all cannot be used as the basis for readers to judge whether they really like it or not."

At this point, Grace flipped through the pages and found a thin document, saying, "This is what really says what the readers really think, and it's the only thing we should care about." ”

With that, Grace gently placed the piece of paper on the cardboard box that Lindbyer had brought in. Lindebyer saw at a glance that it was exactly what he himself had looked at countless times: the increase in the number of supernatural legends in print.

The data on the table, starting in February of this year and ending in June of this year, add up to the following total growth:

371%。

Lindebyer suddenly felt that his eyes were slightly dizzy and a little trance-like, and he actually felt that the thin paper was a little heavier than the thick box underneath.

After so many years in the Castle Publishing Group, Linde Baier certainly knew that it would be difficult to convince the group's top management based on what he had just said.

Still, there is hope for him.

Lindebyer touched the large stack of paper that had been stuffed into his coat's pocket ten minutes earlier.

----

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