Reborn Bao Guowei, I really didn’t want to be a great writer!

Chapter 475: Fugui's ambition? The Legend of Condor Heroes is released!
Obviously, Fugui was still upset about what happened during the day.

He finally found an excellent place to perform.

The area beside the Huangpu River can be said to be "worth every inch of land", and every stall has an owner.

Fugui finally inherited this business from a dock worker with great difficulty.

But now that this has happened, I can’t go there anymore.

Originally, the money earned from performing was only enough for the two of them to eat, but now there is nothing left.

Moreover, Master Huang Yiwu's leg was injured by goods because he wanted to work at a construction site to earn more money.

In order to cure his master's leg, Fugui mustered up all his strength and went out on the street to show off.

Otherwise, with Fugui's temper, he really doesn't have the face to show off in front of a group of laymen.

So when he saw that Huang Yiwu didn't answer, he stiffened his neck and spoke again.

"Master, you should have listened to me. It's just a big rock on your chest. Five dollars is worth it!"

"You fool!" Huang Yiwu hit the man's head hard with the pipe beside him, and said angrily, "Can you use your brain? He really used a stone slab on the roadside to break the stone with his chest?

Those are specially made stones, otherwise how could the people underneath survive?"

"But."

"But what?" Huang Yiwu said with his beard trembling. "Does that scoundrel look like someone who can take out five dollars? Use your brain to think about it.

Even if you were broken into pieces, he would probably run away immediately.

By then you won’t even have the money to see a doctor.”

Fugui finally understood and said, "The damned ruffians would resort to such dirty tricks. They must have taken a fancy to our good location and deliberately squeezed us out, and then found someone to set up a stall for themselves."

Having said this, he seemed very aggrieved again, wiping his tears and speaking with a crooked mouth.

“It’s not easy to make a living in Shanghai, why are you bullied everywhere?

Master, what should we do with your leg? If you don’t go see a doctor, your skills will be wasted in the future.”

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He immediately slammed the table and said.

"Master, wait a minute. I'm going to go out and ask that scoundrel for an explanation. I'm going to make him pay some money!"

"Go to hell!"

Huang Yiwu used his other good leg to kick his apprentice hard on the butt.

With a thud, Fugui fell flat on his face.

Fugui, who was originally eager to try, lost his spirit immediately after being kicked.

She didn't even get up, but just laid on the ground wiping her tears with her dirty sleeves.

Huang Yiwu felt distressed when he saw this, and thinking that his disciple was worried about him after all, he sighed heavily.

"Forget it, forget it." Huang Yiwu reached out to help Fugui. "We came to Shanghai, we have no one to rely on, so we should avoid trouble if possible.

Don't think you are strong and always want to fight with others. These street thugs are all members of gangs and we can't afford to offend them.

If I cut off one of your arms and legs, I won’t have the money to treat you.”

Huang Yiwu originally thought that this would be able to comfort the other person.

Who would have thought that Fugui would start to cry. He said while wiping his tears.

"Master, it's all Fugui's fault that he didn't live up to his expectations and didn't let you enjoy life. He even made you go to the dock and broke your foot.

Now I have no medicine or food, so I can only do this performing art for money."

Huang Yiwu touched his head helplessly, his eyes a little moist, and he deeply regretted leaving Hangzhou with his apprentice.

But now... it's too late.

Thinking of comforting his apprentice, he forced a smile with his wrinkles.

"What's the point of people crying and wailing? Don't we still have steamed buns and porridge? These are all the favors given to us by Mr. Bao. He gives us alms every day so that we don't starve to death when we can't make any money.

Look at this allicin, it is usually only available to the rich, but we can get some too."

Huang Yiwu pointed to the medicine and food on the table and a sincere smile appeared on his face.

"But."

"But damn it, why can't you listen to good words?" Huang Yiwu slapped Fugui on the head, making a crisp sound.

Fugui originally wanted to cry out, but this time, he was immediately silenced.

After a long while, Fugui wiped away his tears and nodded vigorously.

"Master, you are right. Mr. Bao is the best in the world. Not only does he write wonderful martial arts novels, but he also gives us food to eat so we don't starve to death."

Huang Yiwu smiled, touched his apprentice's head and said.

"This is a good boy."

Then he pointed with his pipe at the half remaining steamed bun on the table.

"Come and eat this steamed bun."

"Master, don't you want to eat?"

"No appetite."

"Eat something."

"Don't talk nonsense to me. I haven't moved much today. I don't want to eat."

"Okay. You can eat these sweet potatoes, but you still need to take medicine."

The two of them went back and forth and divided up the little food on the table, even licking the packaging paper clean.

In fact, they don’t get food and medicine every day.

There were so many people queuing up in the relief queue that even if you went to the stall every day, you had to be lucky to get one.

It usually takes a few days for the two of them to get two portions of food and medicine at the relief stall.

Even so, the two were very satisfied. With the money they earned from performing, they could barely survive in Shanghai without starving to death.

That's more than most people on the street.

After dinner, the dim room suddenly became quiet.

After swallowing a few pale yellow pills, Huang Yiwu seemed to want to make his apprentice happier. He squinted his eyes and said with a smile.

"Boy, did you not lose the storybook I asked you to hide earlier?"

"Storybook?" Fugui's eyes seemed to shine, and he patted his head and said, "I almost forgot, I'll go get it now."

As he spoke, he climbed over the crowded pile of junk, rubbed the wall in the northeast corner for a while, and unexpectedly took out a novel from the crack in the wall. The novel was neatly wrapped in oil paper, layer by layer, and was extremely well protected.

When the cover appeared, it turned out to be "The Legend of the Condor Heroes".

"Master, don't worry. I, Fugui, am an expert at hiding things."

Fugui, seeking credit, handed the script to Huang Yiwu.

Huang Yiwu took the vernacular novel, stroked the cover of the book very carefully, and said as he spread it out.

"Even if the wind is cold and the stomach is hungry, it is not a pity to read this storybook."

Fugui excitedly leaned his head forward. He was not very literate, and neither was Huang Yiwu.

If two people want to read the storybook, they must get together and combine the words they know each other before they can understand it.

However, the cover of the storybook has turned a little white, obviously the two of them have read it over and over again many times.

To be honest, Fugui could recite the plot by heart.

So, although he was happy, Fugui couldn't help but complain.

"Master, this storybook is good in every way, but we have read it dozens of times. Mr. Bao is really something. Why hasn't he written a new one yet?"

Huang Yiwu grinned, showing his yellow teeth and looking very happy.

But when he heard this, his face immediately turned stern.

"How dare you!" Huang Yiwu knocked his apprentice on the head and said, "Who allowed you to say that about Mr. Bao? Have you forgotten whose meal you had tonight?"

"Master, I, I was wrong." Speaking of Bao Guowei, Fugui immediately lost his confidence and blamed himself for having no conscience.

What kind of person is Mr. Bao? How can I be qualified to criticize him?

The two of them took advantage of the remaining candles and began to read The Legend of the Condor Heroes, which they had already memorized.

About half an hour passed.

An old voice was also heard from inside the house.

"When will the next one come out? That's all I can look forward to."

"Master, I also want to be like Guo Jing and become a great hero who serves the country and the people."

There was another "bang", which sounded like a pipe hitting someone's forehead.

"Don't you want to live? You want to be a soldier these days? What's the difference between being a soldier for a warlord and going to die?
The village is trying to capture young men at the cost of their lives, and you want to deliver yourself to them?"

A voice said with some grievance.

"I heard that there's a different place."

"Where did you hear that? Don't talk nonsense! The situation is tense right now, and the government's officials are arresting people everywhere." Huang Yiwu seemed to cover his apprentice's mouth to stop him from talking nonsense.

"When I was queuing at the relief stall today, I heard some people discussing something like the Soviet area."

"Don't say it, don't say it."

"Master, we shouldn't waste our martial arts skills by performing on the streets, right?"

"."

The next morning.

The Times Editorial Department.

"Jingchang! Jingchang! Come over here and take a look at this!"

Huang Bohui looked exhausted, and his suit was even half open, revealing the fat underneath, which made some female editors in the editorial department scream.

Zhang Jingchang took off his gold-rimmed glasses, revealing a pair of panda eyes. As the editor-in-chief of the Times, he had not slept well for three or four days.

Ever since The Times became one of the top magazines in the South and made a fortune with a martial arts novel.

The business of publishing magazines and newspapers has become extremely inward-looking.

Of course, there are also influences from newspaper trends and the bad economy.

Many wealthy and powerful people want to get a piece of the pie by entering the newspaper circle.

Various magazines specializing in serializing martial arts novels emerged, and many newspapers also transformed and began to introduce various supernatural stories.

For a time, similar to the rise of "pulp magazines" in the United States, this track was flooded with countless quick money.

The economy is bad, and other factories and companies are closing down or suffering losses.

But the newspaper industry seems to be doing okay?

Therefore, for a time, the newspaper industry in the Republic of China completely became a blue ocean because of the influence of Bao Guowei alone.

It is hard to say that it was entirely Bao Guowei's fault, but he still played a role in fueling the situation.

Seeing Huang Bohui making so much noise every day, Zhang Jingchang, his subordinate, felt helpless.

He said bluntly: "Mr. Huang, please don't bring those friends' works anymore. With all due respect, the level of these gentlemen is really not enough to be published. They are very rich and are all business tycoons, but writing novels still requires talent.

Not everyone can become Pingjiang Bushoushen, Bao Guowei, or Huanzhu Louzhu. "

Obviously, Zhang Jingchang has seen too many nonsense works.

The most important thing is that the authors of these works are all well-known figures in Shanghai.

Many of them, after reading the martial arts novels on the market, were inspired and felt that they could do it too, so they began their creative careers.

Some people even paid a lot of money just to be published in the Times.

Paid writing is a yes.

But for The Times, publishing these works would be tantamount to making a laughing stock and destroying the vitality of the publication.

During these days, Zhang Jingchang has exhausted all his energy in dealing with these manuscripts.

The most important thing is to do it in a tactful way and not destroy the fragile creative minds of these bigwigs.

This is so difficult.
Zhang Jingchang covered his messy hair and said a little collapsed.

"Mr. Huang, can you please let me go? I haven't found the manuscript for this issue yet.

You don't want to make money from the Times, but I want to support my family with this job!"

In a sense, Zhang Jingchang cared about the survival of the Times even more than Huang Bohui.

Huang Bohui didn't care about losing the Times. His family was well-off, so his situation wouldn't be that bad.

But it’s not the same for Zhang Jingchang. If he loses this job, he will really be homeless!

Huang Bohui said speechlessly: "Jingchang, I haven't told you what the manuscript is yet!"

"You used the same trick to scare me last time, sir. This trick doesn't work anymore, sir."

"No, no, no, this time it's real."

"Sir, please do something!" Zhang Jingchang had a sad face and was about to collapse.

"Just take a look and you'll know."

At this moment, Huang Boyui felt that he was very tongue-tied and had countless words but just couldn't say them.

He forced the manuscript into Zhang Jingchang's hands.

"Don't damage it. If you damage any page, I won't be able to explain to Bingwen!"

Looking at Huang Bohui's ruddy face, Zhang Jingchang said helplessly: "You have used this trick before to sell the works of Yu Qiaqing, the rice tycoon in Shanghai, to me.

I won’t again”

The words stopped abruptly because Zhang Jingchang had already seen the first page of the manuscript.

Those are a few neat title words.

"The Return of the Condor Heroes"

For a moment, Zhang Jingchang felt his throat was a little dry.

Because even if he died, he would never forget the owner of these words.

Isn’t he the big boss behind their newspaper, Bao Guowei and Bao Bingwen, the popular literary giant in China today?

But Zhang Jingchang still found it a little unconvincing. After all, Bao Guowei's sequel had been delayed month after month for more than half a year.

During this period, there were many reports that he was going to release a sequel, but they all came to nothing.

How come it was such a coincidence this time that the newspaper needed a manuscript of a martial arts novel and he suddenly showed up?

The story of the boy who cried wolf had been told so many times that Zhang Jingchang no longer dared to believe it was true.

He looked at Huang Bohui suspiciously and said, "Did you find an expert to imitate Mr. Bao's handwriting?

There is no point in this kind of thing.”

Huang Bohui knew that he was in the wrong, so he did not get angry when the other party spoke sarcastically to him.

Instead, he found a chair, sat down next to it, picked up the teacup on the seat, and savored the tea without any hesitation.

"Jingchang, just take a look and you will know."

He crossed his legs, looking quite confident.

Are you so confident?

Zhang Jingchang frowned and began to believe the authenticity of the manuscript.

So, he endured the discomfort and forced himself to read it word by word.

But as the story unfolded before his eyes bit by bit, Zhang Jingchang's pupils began to slowly dilate.

Gradually, I could no longer take my eyes off it.

It seems like I have fallen into a world of martial arts!
(End of this chapter)