Chapter Fourteen: The Book Signing Event

Beijing, Haiding District, Beijing Film Academy.

Gu Zhi had accepted an invitation from Kuangming Daily Publishing House to come to Beijing and attend a signing event for “Wukong Chronicle” and “The Road Without Hardship.” The venue was none other than the Beijing Film Academy.

Today happened to be April Fool’s Day. Up to now, sales of “Wukong Chronicle” in the mainland had already surpassed 200,000 copies.

In addition, there was a piece of good news that Gu Zhi hadn’t expected at all: the traditional Chinese version of “Wukong Chronicle” had sold even more in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Macau than it had in the mainland, reaching a staggering 230,000 copies.

No wonder these old capitalist territories had economies that now outpaced the mainland’s by far, with much stronger protection of intellectual property. As a result, they effortlessly broke the mainland’s sales records.

Sales of his other book, “The Road Without Hardship,” were close behind. In the mainland, it had sold 150,000 copies; in Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan combined, about 200,000, and it seemed poised to surpass “Wukong Chronicle” soon.

“The Road Without Hardship” depicted the story of cops and robbers in Hong Kong, so once the traditional Chinese version was published, it became an instant hit, with the majority of those 200,000 copies sold to Hong Kong readers.

For a good seven or eight months, these two books had dominated the top two spots in book sales charts both in the mainland and in the traditional Chinese markets, sweeping aside all competition.

Han Shao's “Three Sects” was officially published and released after the New Year, but in the mainland it had always ranked third, trailing “The Road Without Hardship” by over a hundred thousand copies, with little hope of catching up anytime soon.

And that was only mainland sales; the traditional Chinese edition of “Three Sects” hadn’t even been published yet, so there was nothing to compare.

Gu Zhi’s fame had thoroughly eclipsed Han Shao’s, and he was even more well-known now than Han Shao had been in his previous life. Now, not only the mainland, but nearly the entire Chinese-speaking world knew about this young author.

As for the fact that both he and Han Shao had dropped out of high school, that had been completely overshadowed by their explosive sales. Criticism from society could only stir up a few ripples in the water.

Seeing such phenomenal sales, Kuangming Daily Publishing House seized the opportunity to press the advantage, signing agreements with multiple overseas publishers. They had already begun printing English, Japanese, and Korean editions of “Wukong Chronicle” and “The Road Without Hardship,” which would be launched overseas soon.

They wished they could sell these two books throughout the entire world!

With this golden goose in Gu Zhi, the publishing house had doubled its profits compared to last year. This year was even more spectacular—just three months in and profits had already matched the previous full year, with predictions for a quadruple increase by year’s end.

He Jianping, the editor-in-chief who had the foresight to discover Gu Zhi’s talent, had also been rewarded handsomely, rising from editor-in-chief to become vice president of the publishing house.

Truly, when one person ascends, even their dogs and chickens follow.

Now the publishing house couldn’t have treasured Gu Zhi more. They footed the bill for this signing event, providing free, extensive publicity for him. Posters of him and his books adorned major bookstores, and a large spread in their own paper announced his arrival in Beijing for the event.

After he arrived in Beijing, the publishing house took care of all his travel, food, and drink, and even booked him a VIP room at the five-star Oriental Junyue Grand Hotel, making him feel almost overwhelmed by their hospitality.

Before arriving in Beijing, Gu Zhi had taken some time to tally up his total royalties so far.

Including the 170,000 yuan from before, the two books had brought him about 1.66 million yuan in total income, with nearly a million of that coming from the traditional Chinese royalties.

Because the traditional Chinese editions in Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan sold for much higher prices than in the mainland, he earned about 2.2 yuan per copy—far more than for the mainland versions. With sales higher too, his earnings from those regions were substantial.

With this sum, Gu Zhi had planned to splurge on the presidential suite at a five-star hotel in Beijing, something he’d never done in either of his lives. But the publishing house had thought of everything for him and welcomed him with such fanfare, he was happy to accept.

Originally, the publishing house had planned to hold the signing at Wangfujing Xinhua Bookstore. Only after Gu Zhi’s insistent request did they change it to the Beijing Film Academy.

Because of this, the staff privately teased Gu Zhi, guessing that the real reason for the change was to see beautiful women.

Everyone knew that the Beijing Film Academy was famous for its handsome men and beautiful women—many stars had gone from the performing arts department here to dominate the film and television world, filling half the country’s entertainment industry.

When it came to the influence of celebrities nationwide, who could compare with the Beijing Film Academy?

But many only saw the glamorous stars, overlooking another important force within the academy.

The academy’s famous programs included not only acting, but also the directing department.

Today, Gu Zhi’s real purpose here was to find a rising star among China’s new generation of directors.

The signing event officially began at nine in the morning. In addition to signing books, Gu Zhi would also interact with his fans and answer their questions.

It was only eight o’clock, but the main athletic field of the Beijing Film Academy was already packed, almost everyone clutching two books—one copy of “Wukong Chronicle,” one of “The Road Without Hardship.”

A large portion of the crowd were film academy students, but there were also book lovers from across Beijing who had come early.

Some fans had even traveled from other cities, arriving in Beijing days in advance and booking hotels just to attend the event.

Most of these out-of-town students carried large backpacks stuffed with Gu Zhi’s books, bringing them on behalf of classmates.

For those who couldn’t make it to Beijing, they entrusted classmates or colleagues to bring their books for Gu Zhi’s autograph.

Some people even charged a fee to sign books on others’ behalf, using the money to pay for their own travel to Beijing for the event—a true show of fan solidarity and teamwork.

Security staff worked tirelessly to maintain order.

Fortunately, most attendees were students with good manners, and many student volunteers from the academy had stepped up to help keep things organized. The crowd formed orderly lines, and no serious incidents occurred.

At nine sharp, the event began.

Today, Gu Zhi was dressed smartly, with short hair and a crisp shirt, looking clean and presentable.

But in Beijing’s chilly April air, his attire left him a bit cold...

The moment he appeared, the crowd erupted in screams; the atmosphere was livelier than a concert.

For many fans, it was their first time seeing Gu Zhi in person. He was just as handsome as in his photos, and everyone felt their trip had been worthwhile.

The event began with a brief Q&A. Because there were so many people, the publishing house staff selected the ten most common questions for Gu Zhi to answer.

Most questions were simple—the most frequently asked concerned Gu Zhi’s love life, followed by questions about his two books, and two about him dropping out of high school.