After gathering with her girlfriends, Ms. Zhao was tempted by their beach trip plan and decided to recharge her vacation by going on an impromptu trip.
Upon returning home to Jiang city, she had a tan but was delighted. At that time, Xiang Wan’s training course was also nearing its end.
Meanwhile, the audio drama of “Shrine” announced its official release date.
When the official announcement was made, Yu Zhou paid special attention to the online reactions and even registered an account for battling with netizens, just in case there were any controversies.
Hilarious, there was absolutely no controversy.
Everyone was saying the novel hit the jackpot.
Yu Zhou was happy but not that happy.
Because the official trailer was a little different from the one Yu Zhou had listened to, there was no mention of “SC Studio’s joint production.”
She wondered if Su Chang had changed her mind when it was about to be released, being afraid of their past being exposed.
But she asked directly this time, during a conversation about vaccinating cows and cats.
Su Chang had explained that the “SC Studio” name was too simple and easy to associate with her. Her fans would show particular support for her work, given that this was her first audio drama production.
She further explained that the production team would want to hear feedback from those who were not so quick to give their approval.
The message was subtle but Yu Zhou understood.
Su Chang also hesitated, as the producer, she had the responsibility of disclosing the production company behind the work to ensure the consumers’ right to know.
She discussed the matter with the head of the Zhi Er team and concluded that, as a mere investor, she could refrain from publicizing her involvement in the production.
Therefore, the final version of the trailer only showed the production company, “Zhi Er App.”
It was a bit complicated, if Yu Zhou had not inquired further, she would never have realized how much thought Su Chang had put into it.
She suddenly remembered some previous misunderstandings with Su Chang, where she had allowed her speculations to fester, thinking that Su Chang did not want any personal issues with her.
Yu Zhou realized that she had a fatal flaw – she was fond of avoiding things. For instance, when she presumed Su Chang was way above her, she gradually distanced herself from Su Chang, not disturbing Su Chang and not allowing any possible chance of getting hurt.
This was a form of self-protective mechanism, as well as a complete ostrich behavior.
She always convinced herself to accept reasons that seemed relatively “safe” for her current way of life. Even if those reasons weren’t entirely reasonable.
There was a graduation exam for Xiang Wan’s training course, which was her first exam since arriving here, so she took it quite seriously and spent several days reviewing at home.
Every night she locked herself in her room to study, working even harder than students in high school final year.
Ms. Zhao revisited her days as a high school parent, preparing a fruit plate every day for Xiang Wan to send to her study room. Ms. Zhao sought fulfillment in “being needed,” just like Yu Zhou did. It felt like having her second child.
And Xiang Wan was without a doubt the promising “second child.” Although she had not yet graduated from the training course, she accepted two non-commercial voice acting roles and gradually gained recognition in the forums, earning a name apart from “sister-in-law.”
The broadcast of the audio drama “Shrine” didn’t explode as many people had anticipated.
Despite its star-studded cast and decent quality, the original work was just too…unknown.
CVs like Su Chang, although they could attract more attention, it also meant that their fans had many options.
Because they were not lacking in work to listen to.
Among the many big IPs where Su Chang was the lead, “Shrine” appeared less eye-catching.
There was a small peak, which came with Xiang Wan’s episode. When Xiang Wan’s name appeared on the CV list, many people suddenly realized that Xiang Wan’s history with Su Chang dated back to a long time ago.
No big explosion didn’t mean there wasn’t a noticeable boost. After a few episodes, Yu Zhou’s Weibo fans increased from over ten thousand to over fifty thousand, and the number of comments steadily stayed in the three digits.
Fans began to care about her in private messages, as well as daily greetings.
Advertisements began to approach her, mostly sex toy ads.
When the number of “Shrine” collections exceeded 30,000, a publishing house came to her.
Yu Zhou held up her cell phone, looking at Ms. Zhao, who had been living here for a long time, with a proud and tearful expression. “Mom, I’m going to be an author.”
What does publishing mean to a writer? Of course, it’s not just about money.
It means that your words can be printed, well-designed and properly preserved by people who love them, it also means that they qualify to be displayed in bookstores and on bookshelves, side by side with the many different kinds of books we read as children.
Every writer should have longed for a bookstore at some point in their lives.
For those who love words, books on the bookshelf are like boxes of chocolates and we are small travelers among them. We look at the variety of books on display and choose one to pull out. It’s like discovering a whole new world.
Yu Zhou wanted “Shrine” to become a small world for a stranger to enjoy on a quiet afternoon.
Meanwhile, Xiang Wan was washing dishes while watching Yu Zhou bouncing around. She laughed like a proper young lady.
Amidst the sound of rushing water, she said, “Congratulations, your each character is also worth a fortune now.[1]“
“Hey,” Yu Zhou leaned against the sink. “You speak with hidden implications, complimenting me while also trying to compliment yourself!”
Xiang Wan looked down and smiled.
“What if I become famous? Will I become too full of myself and look down on you?” Yu Zhou was a bit worried.
Xiang Wan gave her a look like “Joy leads to sorrow.[2]“
“Don’t worry, we’ll both mind our own business. You can call me a great author and I’ll call you a great CV.” Yu Zhou joyfully came to this conclusion.
“Great author, are you going to pick up your socks or not?” Ms. Zhao shouted from outside.
“I’m coming,” Yu Zhou responded as she went to grab the socks.
Afterwards, she started thinking about the publishing house issue. She didn’t really understand it so she found information on the publisher with Xiang Wan, but they hadn’t heard of it before.
Ms. Zhao wasn’t any help either.
Then, while Su Chang sent her a picture of her cow cat getting its second vaccine shot, Yu Zhou added something more to the conversation.
“A publishing house contacted me.”
It wasn’t just because she was confused; she wanted Su Chang to know.
No, she wanted to show off to the world.
“Congratulations.”
“But I don’t know if this publishing house is any good. Should I sign with them? I’m a little nervous.”
“Didn’t you already sign with Changpei? Ask your editor.”
“Oh, right.” She had an editor now.
“But I suggest you wait.”
“Why?”
“Other publishing houses might be coming.”
Su Chang always had this confidence about her. It was like she never worried about missing out on opportunities. She always had faith that the world would give her the best.
But this was the first time Yu Zhou felt that Su Chang was putting this confidence in her, in her own work, and she felt it was very subtle.
It was like she was just an author, on an equal footing with a CV, discussing the possibilities of her work being published.
Back then, she would never have acted like this. Writing was a relatively private affair for her, a means of conveying her deepest and darkest emotions through flowery words and adjectives; she was too ashamed to let anyone she knew read her work.
She didn’t want Ms. Zhao to read it, nor did she want her father Mr. Yu, or even her bed partner.
So for the longest time, writing for Zhou meant “confiding beyond intimacy,” where she poured out her deepest and most conflicted feelings to someone she would never meet in her life.
Now, she and Su Chang had drifted apart.
Su Chang just became another reader among countless others, holding a ticket to read her work.
In Chapter 6, Xiang Wan said her works are “each one was worth a fortune”. [return to text] The phrase “范进中举” is an idiom that tells a story about a person named Fan Jin, who dedicated himself to the imperial examinations but failed many times. Finally, he succeeded and was so overjoyed that he became insane. [return to text]
After gathering with her girlfriends, Ms. Zhao was tempted by their beach trip plan and decided to recharge her vacation by going on an impromptu trip.
Upon returning home to Jiang city, she had a tan but was delighted. At that time, Xiang Wan’s training course was also nearing its end.
Meanwhile, the audio drama of “Shrine” announced its official release date.
When the official announcement was made, Yu Zhou paid special attention to the online reactions and even registered an account for battling with netizens, just in case there were any controversies.
Hilarious, there was absolutely no controversy.
Everyone was saying the novel hit the jackpot.
Yu Zhou was happy but not that happy.
Because the official trailer was a little different from the one Yu Zhou had listened to, there was no mention of “SC Studio’s joint production.”
She wondered if Su Chang had changed her mind when it was about to be released, being afraid of their past being exposed.
But she asked directly this time, during a conversation about vaccinating cows and cats.
Su Chang had explained that the “SC Studio” name was too simple and easy to associate with her. Her fans would show particular support for her work, given that this was her first audio drama production.
She further explained that the production team would want to hear feedback from those who were not so quick to give their approval.
The message was subtle but Yu Zhou understood.
Su Chang also hesitated, as the producer, she had the responsibility of disclosing the production company behind the work to ensure the consumers’ right to know.
She discussed the matter with the head of the Zhi Er team and concluded that, as a mere investor, she could refrain from publicizing her involvement in the production.
Therefore, the final version of the trailer only showed the production company, “Zhi Er App.”
It was a bit complicated, if Yu Zhou had not inquired further, she would never have realized how much thought Su Chang had put into it.
She suddenly remembered some previous misunderstandings with Su Chang, where she had allowed her speculations to fester, thinking that Su Chang did not want any personal issues with her.
Yu Zhou realized that she had a fatal flaw – she was fond of avoiding things. For instance, when she presumed Su Chang was way above her, she gradually distanced herself from Su Chang, not disturbing Su Chang and not allowing any possible chance of getting hurt.
This was a form of self-protective mechanism, as well as a complete ostrich behavior.
She always convinced herself to accept reasons that seemed relatively “safe” for her current way of life. Even if those reasons weren’t entirely reasonable.
There was a graduation exam for Xiang Wan’s training course, which was her first exam since arriving here, so she took it quite seriously and spent several days reviewing at home.
Every night she locked herself in her room to study, working even harder than students in high school final year.
Ms. Zhao revisited her days as a high school parent, preparing a fruit plate every day for Xiang Wan to send to her study room. Ms. Zhao sought fulfillment in “being needed,” just like Yu Zhou did. It felt like having her second child.
And Xiang Wan was without a doubt the promising “second child.” Although she had not yet graduated from the training course, she accepted two non-commercial voice acting roles and gradually gained recognition in the forums, earning a name apart from “sister-in-law.”
The broadcast of the audio drama “Shrine” didn’t explode as many people had anticipated.
Despite its star-studded cast and decent quality, the original work was just too…unknown.
CVs like Su Chang, although they could attract more attention, it also meant that their fans had many options.
Because they were not lacking in work to listen to.
Among the many big IPs where Su Chang was the lead, “Shrine” appeared less eye-catching.
There was a small peak, which came with Xiang Wan’s episode. When Xiang Wan’s name appeared on the CV list, many people suddenly realized that Xiang Wan’s history with Su Chang dated back to a long time ago.
No big explosion didn’t mean there wasn’t a noticeable boost. After a few episodes, Yu Zhou’s Weibo fans increased from over ten thousand to over fifty thousand, and the number of comments steadily stayed in the three digits.
Fans began to care about her in private messages, as well as daily greetings.
Advertisements began to approach her, mostly sex toy ads.
When the number of “Shrine” collections exceeded 30,000, a publishing house came to her.
Yu Zhou held up her cell phone, looking at Ms. Zhao, who had been living here for a long time, with a proud and tearful expression. “Mom, I’m going to be an author.”
What does publishing mean to a writer? Of course, it’s not just about money.
It means that your words can be printed, well-designed and properly preserved by people who love them, it also means that they qualify to be displayed in bookstores and on bookshelves, side by side with the many different kinds of books we read as children.
Every writer should have longed for a bookstore at some point in their lives.
For those who love words, books on the bookshelf are like boxes of chocolates and we are small travelers among them. We look at the variety of books on display and choose one to pull out. It’s like discovering a whole new world.
Yu Zhou wanted “Shrine” to become a small world for a stranger to enjoy on a quiet afternoon.
Meanwhile, Xiang Wan was washing dishes while watching Yu Zhou bouncing around. She laughed like a proper young lady.
Amidst the sound of rushing water, she said, “Congratulations, your each character is also worth a fortune now.[1]“
“Hey,” Yu Zhou leaned against the sink. “You speak with hidden implications, complimenting me while also trying to compliment yourself!”
Xiang Wan looked down and smiled.
“What if I become famous? Will I become too full of myself and look down on you?” Yu Zhou was a bit worried.
Xiang Wan gave her a look like “Joy leads to sorrow.[2]“
“Don’t worry, we’ll both mind our own business. You can call me a great author and I’ll call you a great CV.” Yu Zhou joyfully came to this conclusion.
“Great author, are you going to pick up your socks or not?” Ms. Zhao shouted from outside.
“I’m coming,” Yu Zhou responded as she went to grab the socks.
Afterwards, she started thinking about the publishing house issue. She didn’t really understand it so she found information on the publisher with Xiang Wan, but they hadn’t heard of it before.
Ms. Zhao wasn’t any help either.
Then, while Su Chang sent her a picture of her cow cat getting its second vaccine shot, Yu Zhou added something more to the conversation.
“A publishing house contacted me.”
It wasn’t just because she was confused; she wanted Su Chang to know.
No, she wanted to show off to the world.
“Congratulations.”
“But I don’t know if this publishing house is any good. Should I sign with them? I’m a little nervous.”
“Didn’t you already sign with Changpei? Ask your editor.”
“Oh, right.” She had an editor now.
“But I suggest you wait.”
“Why?”
“Other publishing houses might be coming.”
Su Chang always had this confidence about her. It was like she never worried about missing out on opportunities. She always had faith that the world would give her the best.
But this was the first time Yu Zhou felt that Su Chang was putting this confidence in her, in her own work, and she felt it was very subtle.
It was like she was just an author, on an equal footing with a CV, discussing the possibilities of her work being published.
Back then, she would never have acted like this. Writing was a relatively private affair for her, a means of conveying her deepest and darkest emotions through flowery words and adjectives; she was too ashamed to let anyone she knew read her work.
She didn’t want Ms. Zhao to read it, nor did she want her father Mr. Yu, or even her bed partner.
So for the longest time, writing for Zhou meant “confiding beyond intimacy,” where she poured out her deepest and most conflicted feelings to someone she would never meet in her life.
Now, she and Su Chang had drifted apart.
Su Chang just became another reader among countless others, holding a ticket to read her work.
In Chapter 6, Xiang Wan said her works are “each one was worth a fortune”. [return to text] The phrase “范进中举” is an idiom that tells a story about a person named Fan Jin, who dedicated himself to the imperial examinations but failed many times. Finally, he succeeded and was so overjoyed that he became insane. [return to text]
