Who Would Fall in Love After Being Reborn?

Chapter 41: Truly Worthy of the Literature Club

TL: Etude

Some doors, once opened, cannot be easily closed again.

Su Nai, feeling utterly forlorn, lay sprawled across her desk. Her crimson cheeks pressed against the cold surface, yet unable to cool her racing heart.

She felt she had gone astray, ever since that unwarranted curiosity arose. She began to linger and marvel at the world’s splendor, even picking up a few phrases of a foreign language to express refusal.

Without a doubt, she had become a bad girl.

Jiang Qin coughed to change the subject nonchalantly, “There’s another thing, Su Nai, could you make me a small program for automatic replying to posts?”

“Automatic replies?” Su Nai lifted her head slightly.

“Like setting up some virtual ID bots to comment generic flattery under each post. ‘Wow, this is so well written, I’m moved,’ or ‘This is brilliant, such literary talent,’ just to give the poster a sense of achievement.”

Su Nai pushed her glasses up, “I could copy an existing one from the internet, modify the code a bit, and see if it works.”

Jiang Qin, sensing potential in her response, still advised earnestly, “Focus on work and watch less videos.”

“Ugh…”

Su Nai collapsed back on the desk, her sorrow flowing like a reversed river.

Jiang Qin didn’t tease her further, reminding himself of his resolve to be heartless. Provoking her anger wouldn’t end well.

“Junior, I’m leaving now.”

“Thank you, senior. Please go ahead…”

Jiang Qin pursed his lips. The young girl had seen all sorts of things and yet still acted shy. He pocketed his borrowed library card and left the library.

The website was up, but still a shell, like a freshly handed out blank essay paper. The structure was there, neat and orderly, but devoid of content.

To retain visitors, a website needed substantial, engaging content.

Jiang Qin decided to visit the Literature Club at Linchuan University, hoping they could write some original stories for him.

The Literature Club, under the Literature Department, was located in the East Campus. Without a car, Jiang Qin had to walk all the way there. Fortunately, it was the season of club recruitment, so he didn’t arrive in vain. Upon entering, he saw a group busy preparing their promotion boards.

“Bold and change the ‘Club Recruitment’ to red for more visibility,” he directed.

“Hey, you there, why are you just sitting around? Can’t you see everyone is busy?”

Jiang Qin, hands behind his back, casually directed the activities in the classroom. A sophomore, previously slacking off, unsure of Jiang Qin’s role, reluctantly put away his phone and got to work.

Eventually, someone couldn’t hold back and asked, “Who are you? Are you a new teaching assistant in the Literature Department? You look so young.”

Jiang Qin flashed a cheeky smile, “I’m just an ordinary freshman,” which earned him a high dose of friendly ridicule.

However, once he explained his purpose, someone called over the person in charge of the Literature Club.

The president, Yao Yanling, a third-year student in Chinese Language and Literature, and the vice president, Dong Wenhao, a second-year student in Broadcasting and Hosting, listened to his request.

“Life stories, a thousand words for five yuan, and any content is acceptable?”

Jiang Qin pondered, “I’m looking for first-person narrative stories, bizarre but not outrageous.”

Dong Wenhao was intrigued, “So, fabricated pseudo-documentary literature?”

Jiang Qin appreciated his summary, “Exactly that. Stories like efficiently managing time with three girlfriends, secrets never told even at the cost of perpetual agony, experiences with a campus beauty girlfriend, how handsome the guy in Finance Class 3 is, controversial topics like these.”

“Sounds like a men’s health magazine. ‘Separated for Three Years, Yet The Wife is Mysteriously Pregnant’ kind of stories?”

Jiang Qin was surprised, “Vice President Dong has read such literary masterpieces? I indeed came to the right person!”

Yao Yanling couldn’t help but interject, “Are you publishing a magazine?”

“No, I’m running a website.”

“Can your website serialize original s?”

Jiang Qin was caught off guard by Yao Yanling’s question.

The idea of serializing s was something he had never considered, but it could be a good way to retain a substantial user base through regular updates.

However, serializing s posed a problem. Extensive word counts would definitely increase the cost of manuscript fees, and poorly written content would go unread.

“Serializing s is possible, but they must pass my review first. I won’t pay for worthless content.”

Yao Yanling smiled confidently, “I have an original of my own. The writing is definitely top-notch, but I’m not satisfied with five yuan per thousand words. It should be at least ten.”

Jiang Qin shook his head, “I’m not looking for literary style, I want something engaging.”

“A well-written story is definitely engaging. If you agree to ten yuan per thousand words, I can arrange a part of it for you to review.”

“What about the collaboration?”

Dong Wenhao leaned forward slightly, “I’ll handle the collaboration. Our Literature Club has sixty-seven registered members. You’ll be satisfied with the volume of submissions, but I have a condition.”

Jiang Qin leaned back in his chair, “Let’s hear it.”

“Six yuan per thousand words. I’ll organize the writers and control the quality, while Senior Yao mainly handles the serialization. What do you think?”

Jiang Qin gave Dong Wenhao a second glance, sensing that he was more astute than Yao Yanling.

Serializing s could indeed garner more fees through volume, but involving sixty-seven people would bring in more money than working alone. Dong Wenhao had immediately seized control of the submissions, clearly sensing a profitable opportunity.josei

It seemed not everyone at Linchuan University was just idly trying to make money.

In contrast, Yao Yanling was more engrossed in literature and less interested in money. Her insistence on ten yuan was more about validating her work.

“My words can sell for ten yuan, but yours only for five.”

Such a person could achieve great things if they truly had talent. But there’s a fear that they might be too ambitious and fragile, getting lost in their own world.

“Six yuan per thousand words is fine, but let’s calculate the manuscript fee at five yuan,” Jiang Qin said on his own.

Dong Wenhao’s eyes flickered with confusion, “If it’s six yuan per thousand words, why is the manuscript fee still five?”

Jiang Qin grinned, “I can’t let the senior help for free. The extra yuan can be your commission for strictly controlling the quality of the submissions.”

Dong Wenhao’s breath hitched, and his crossed leg involuntarily lowered.

He had wanted six yuan to take a commission from each manuscript, but Jiang Qin had bluntly exposed his plan. What was meant to be a private matter was now out in the open. The money he would receive was justified, but controlling quality had turned from a casual promise into a real task.

In simpler terms, he had gone from a middleman to a worker.

“I’m the vice president. It’s my duty to fight for the members’ interests. I shouldn’t take a commission. It’s not right.”

Jiang Qin glanced at Yao Yanling, “There’s no such thing as working for free in this world. What do you think, Senior Yao?”

Yao Yanling thought Jiang Qin’s allocation was fair, “Wenhao, since you’re reviewing content for the members, it’s only fair you get a commission.”

“Then… then I’ll accept it reluctantly,” Dong Wenhao agreed, looking troubled.

Jiang Qin inwardly mocked the situation. ‘Reluctantly accept,’ what a cultured way to accept money. Truly worthy of the Literature Club – even asking for money can be done so elegantly.

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