Chapter 28: Why Did He Write a Secret Agent?

Li Ye had secured Jin Peng, effectively resolving the issue of finding a companion for the trip to the provincial capital.

At this moment, Hao Jian raised a new concern: "If the two of us are going to the provincial capital, we need at least two bicycles! One bike will be occupied by the cargo and can't carry a person."

Qingshui County was forty kilometers from the provincial capital—a two or three-hour bicycle ride, or even faster by bus. However, carrying one or two hundred pounds of sesame candy on a bus in this day and age would invite endless trouble. Not only would it be exhausting, but there were also inspection stations along the way.

Li Ye, however, was well-prepared. Jin Peng owned his own bicycle, and Li Ye could swap bikes with Li Dayong, which would be sufficient for the initial phase. Hearing Li Ye’s confident reply, Hao Jian felt largely reassured. Still, being a shrewd man, he thought things through more thoroughly and inquired about Jin Peng’s character, implicitly asking if he was just a brawling brute.

Li Ye replied, "You don't need to worry about that. Jin Peng is very sharp. He knows when to be tough and when to be flexible, and he has a whole repertoire of ways to intimidate others. Besides, he is very familiar with the county seat; you can ask him about sourcing raw materials. With him following you, many things will be much easier to handle."

That Jin Peng was sharp was the conclusion drawn by Li Ye’s grandfather. The old man, who had seen countless people in his life, was certain to be a good judge of character.

Hao Jian nodded and asked, "Intimidate—how exactly does he do that?"

Li Ye casually reached up to the wall, grabbed a brick, and with one hand holding it, he smashed it with the other.

*Crack.*

The sturdy blue brick was snapped in two.

"That’s how he intimidates people. Sometimes he even smashes bricks against his own head..."

Hao Jian understood completely. So, the guy was a street performer. Whether it intimidated others or not, Li Ye’s display had certainly intimidated him.

...

Both Hao Jian and Jin Peng were highly capable. Two days later, they had finished their first batch of sesame candy, amounting to about 180 pounds.

The weight limit of a classic "Flying Pigeon" bicycle had never been strictly defined; in the Congo, people often loaded them with four hundred pounds. While that was a death-defying feat, it reflected the design characteristics of such heavy-duty bicycles.

When Li Ye proposed swapping bikes with Li Dayong, Li Dayong agreed gleefully. Although his bear-like frame looked somewhat comical on a 26-inch Phoenix, his own battered National Defense bike rattled and clanked—how could it compare to Li Ye’s brand-new Phoenix? After the swap, Li Dayong rode around the main streets of the county twice, feeling on top of the world despite the bitter winter.

Li Ye went to deliver the bicycle to Jin Peng. Jin Peng and Hao Jian had agreed to leave at dawn the next day, and Hao Jian was heading to Chenzhuang Township that evening to oversee the weighing and loading. However, at the gate of Jin Peng’s small courtyard, a minor complication arose.

"Brother, let me go too! I don't want money... just give me some candy to eat... I won't eat much... just an ounce a day..."

A boy with broad shoulders and a sturdy build, but with a simple, naive look in his eyes, tugged at Li Ye’s sleeve, pleading with him to take him along.

Li Ye sighed, not knowing what to say. The boy was named Wang Jianqiang, a childhood companion of Li Ye’s. The only problem was that his mind was too "simple"—he wasn't cut out for business. He had been hired by factories several times, only to be sent back each time. His parents and brothers didn't care for him, even begrudging him the food he ate, and his life was truly difficult. Now that Wang Jianqiang was asking him for help, it would seem too cold-hearted to refuse.

Li Ye asked, "Qiangzi, I don’t mind you going to the provincial capital with Brother Peng, but does your family agree?"

Qiangzi nodded repeatedly. "They don't care about me. I've been eating at Brother Peng’s place for the last two days, and they haven't even looked for me..."

Jin Peng quickly interjected, "Don't overthink it, Little Ye. I'll take Qiangzi with me. I'll cover his meals and such; after all, at two cents a pound, the two of us will have plenty to eat."

"What kind of talk is that?" Li Ye wasn't pleased. He pulled out five yuan and stuffed it into Jin Peng’s hand. "Take good care of Qiangzi on the road. Don't be reckless if something happens. We’re going out to make money, not to pick fights..."

"Little Ye, what are you doing? I haven't even started working yet, why give me money..."

"This five yuan is for Qiangzi’s meals. You stick to the two cents a pound; let’s keep the two things separate."

After some pushing and pulling, Jin Peng finally accepted the money, sighing and praising Li Ye for his righteousness.

...

Having arranged for Hao Jian and the others to "venture into the provincial capital," Li Ye returned to school to busy himself with his novel.

Although the sesame candy business was an immediate profit-maker, and once launched, it would bring in visible cash, Li Ye only controlled it indirectly. Hao Jian was obedient for now, but once the profits reached a certain level, unexpected issues might arise. Money was the ultimate test of a person’s character.

For the sake of security, Li Ye decided to "walk on two legs" and earn his first pot of gold as quickly as possible. If he went to Beijing for school next year, he would need to secure a small place to stay, wouldn't he? While Li Ye didn't intend to get rich through "hoarding houses," there was no reason to pass up an opportunity sitting right in front of him.

*What was the price of a courtyard house in '82?*

Li Ye activated the "biological hard drive" in his mind, searching for relevant data. By 1982, legal property transactions were already possible in Beijing. A small but well-located courtyard house could be had for one or two thousand yuan.

What was the concept of one or two thousand yuan in this era? Li Ye’s grandfather’s monthly salary was just over a hundred. After supporting a large family, he could probably save twenty or thirty a month. That meant if one scrimped and saved for five, six, seven, or eight years, one could afford a courtyard—provided there were no major expenses during those years and the prices in Beijing didn't rise.

Possible? Time to wake up. By 1986, the price would jump to ten thousand. Ten thousand! Would a "ten-thousand-yuan household" spend their entire fortune on a dilapidated house? Most people would certainly be reluctant. But to Li Ye, this price might not even cost the royalties from a single novel.

*Must write fluff, but write it with class.*

Li Ye made up his mind to adapt the television series *Lurking* back into a medium-length novel, aiming for at least one or two hundred thousand words. However, after writing a detailed outline based on the TV show’s plot, he felt that if he wrote that much, there wouldn't actually be much "fluff" to it.

The TV version of *Lurking* added far more plot content than the original novel. Moreover, the character portrayals in the show were three-dimensional, allowing Li Ye to grasp the direction of the character settings clearly, making the writing easier and more precise. Character development was an unavoidable hurdle in any novel—it was the soul of the book.

As Li Ye wrote *Lurking*, whenever he got to Yu Zecheng, his mind was filled with the image of Sun Honglei. Perhaps Sun’s performance hadn't entirely followed the original character, but there was no doubt that his portrayal was successful. Li Ye only needed to "skin" it. Conversely, if Li Ye had to build a Yu Zecheng from scratch on a blank sheet of paper, he would have to spend time constantly pondering and fleshing out the protagonist, and if a mistake occurred, he would have to revise it repeatedly.

One was "skinning" a ready-made model, the other was building from nothing—the difference in difficulty was more than several times over. This was one of the reasons why fan-fiction web novels were easier to get into but harder to break new ground with.

For example, the courtyard-themed novels that suddenly became popular and attracted crowds of writers were a classic case. In the era of precise short-video delivery, many readers had seen highlights of the TV drama and had impressions of Qin Huairu’s seductive gaze or Sha Zhu’s shrewd yet—well, you know—personality. As long as you were writing a courtyard story, a few hundred words at the start could achieve or even exceed the impact of hundreds of thousands of words in other web novels.

*Qin Huairu, a shrewd little widow, a vampire latched onto Sha Zhu, who had lost his soul to her and was willing to support her, her son, her daughter, and her mother-in-law. Sha Zhu was in his first marriage, earning over sixty a month with his sixth-grade salary and side hustles, living in three rooms... Qin Huairu was a widow with three kids and a mother-in-law, earning twenty a month as a second-grade worker, yet the neighborhood patriarchs pushed them together, telling Sha Zhu not to miss out on such a great bargain.*

He believed that once readers finished this paragraph and combined it with the mental images of the TV show, they would clearly understand what kind of "tea-bitch" character the author was describing. But without that TV show? An author would need much more time, ink, and effort to build Qin Huairu’s image in the reader’s mind bit by bit. And in that process, the author might end up with a Qin Huairu that wasn't the "brilliant" one from the show, perhaps veering off by eighteen miles before realizing, "What kind of trash is this?"

But if there was an excellent actor already ingrained in the public’s mind, wouldn't it save the author a lot of work? Of course, the difficulty of fan-fiction lay in the struggle to innovate, as the character archetypes were already fixed.

It was 1981. There was no TV series *Lurking*, but Li Ye’s mind held countless brilliant and successful character images. Wasn't that just... convenient? Li Ye felt he was too smart; he was saving effort so subtly that no one could see through it.

He spread out a stack of letter paper and, fully immersed, began to write the first chapter of *Lurking*.

*Yu Zecheng was in charge of monitoring, and he found himself deeply agreeing with the sentiments expressed by the progressive individual...*

As Li Ye wrote, he faintly noticed that his desk-mate, the little spy, had habitually stretched her neck to peek at his work.

*Is he really writing a novel?*

Wen Leyu was immediately filled with admiration for Li Ye. Although she didn't know how well he would write, in the era of 1981, simply daring to write a novel already surpassed countless peers.

But soon, Wen Leyu grew surprised, then tightly furrowed her brows, looking quite displeased.

*He... why is he writing about a dog of a secret agent?*