Are you out of your mind? There’s flattery, and then there’s this—no one tries to win over their mother-in-law like that! (Please keep reading)

“Xueming, did you really write this manuscript!?”

After chatting amicably with his father-in-law outside, upon returning, he was immediately confronted by his mother-in-law, who rushed up and questioned him in a sharp tone.

“Mom! How about I give you another one instead? Actually, I have another piece on hand, it’s a novella, and I’ve already written nearly half of it!”

Having learned about Old Qian’s experiences in the front courtyard, Cheng Xueming was deeply moved and felt that his father-in-law’s concerns were not unfounded.

He thus thought it best to stick to the original plan and wait another month or two before making any decisions about this manuscript. For now, to reassure his mother-in-law, he could only let Yanjing Literature wait. If Zhang Dening asked, he’d just say his mother-in-law demanded the novella—should he oblige or not?

“You still have another manuscript? And it’s a novella?” Madam Feng’s expression was incredulous as she eyed her country bumpkin son-in-law with suspicion.

Was he joking? Was he some sort of sow? What on earth did these debt-collectors feed him? Writing was a highbrow occupation—how could anyone be so prolific?

Madam Feng calculated the time. Her son-in-law had only joined the family for little over half a month. In that time, how many pieces had he written? Two had already gone to Yanjing Literature, she had one in her hands, and he still had another, a novella no less!

In half a month, he was even more productive than a sow!

“Nearly half written…”

“Go fetch it for me to see!”

Before Cheng Xueming could finish, his mother-in-law urgently pressed him for the manuscript.

“Mom! I’d promised Yanjing Literature this novella… but I’ll go get it now!”

Cheng Xueming had wanted to make clear that the manuscript was already spoken for, and if not for her being his mother-in-law, he wouldn’t even mention it. But seeing her stormy expression, he didn’t dare insist, and quickly agreed, heading to his room to retrieve the novella.

“So? If you give this manuscript to October, do you dare publish it?” Father Feng referred to the manuscript Madam Feng now held, and asked.

“What’s there to be afraid of? It’s just as the debt-collector said—it’s even better and deeper than ‘The Horseman.’ I’ll take it to the office tomorrow and have Old Liu review it!”

Madam Feng didn’t see any problem; the manuscript was truly excellent. Luckily, she’d seen through the debt-collector’s tricks in time and snatched this piece.

Otherwise, if it got into Li Qingquan’s hands at Yanjing Literature, it would be another sensation.

Why should Li Qingquan be allowed to make a splash, but not October?

“Think carefully! This manuscript is even more explicit than Old Qian’s from the front courtyard. Aren’t you afraid your son-in-law will get into trouble?”

Father Feng didn’t want this piece to leave the house, but he knew his wife’s temperament—there was no use pressing her.

“Old Qian? Wasn’t he already rehabilitated? And everything restored? That piece was even reported on by People’s Daily at the end of last year!”

“Old Feng, it’s all in the past. There’s no need to be so skittish anymore!”

With that, Father Feng knew he wouldn’t be able to persuade her.

But he had to admit, his son-in-law had said the same thing. His inspiration had indeed come from that People’s Daily report.

Since People’s Daily had already set the tone, perhaps he really was being overly cautious.

But isn’t it always good to proceed with caution?

Their son-in-law already had ‘The Horseman’ published; there was no need to take another risk with this piece.

“All right, I’ll discuss with Old Liu again. Now that you’ve said this, I’m not sure Old Liu will have the nerve to publish it!”

Seeing her husband relent, Madam Feng herself became uncertain.

She wondered whether October’s Liu Xinwu had the same boldness as Yanjing Literature’s Li Qingquan to immediately approve her son-in-law for the cover story.

“Old Liu, huh!”

“His nerve might be even greater than Li Qingquan’s. At the beginning of the year, he dared to run ‘The Homeroom Teacher.’ If you give him the manuscript, there’s nothing he won’t print!”

Speaking of October’s Liu Xinwu, one had to mention that ‘The Homeroom Teacher’ at the start of the year!

That was the first shot fired in the ‘scar literature’ movement, and though Lu Xinhua’s later ‘Scars’ had even more influence, it was merely a follow-up.

“Which means it really is all in the past! Besides, what did Old Liu gain from ‘The Homeroom Teacher’? His reputation was made!”

“So, don’t let our timidity hinder your son-in-law’s future!”

“Xueming had ‘The Horseman’ first, and now this manuscript. I think his future won’t be any less bright than Old Liu’s!”

Since Father Feng mentioned Old Liu’s ‘The Homeroom Teacher,’ Madam Feng was all the more determined to publish this piece.

“I suppose you October people won’t rest until you launch a major sensation!” Father Feng frowned, still cautioning, “But have you considered just how big this bombshell will be?”

“That’s why I said we’d discuss it further—Old Liu may not dare go through with it!”

Madam Feng was still unwilling to give in. This manuscript was truly better than ‘The Horseman.’ If October wanted to surpass Yanjing Literature and regain their prestige, this might be the only way.

“All right, handle it as you see fit! Xueming says he’s fine with it! I don’t know where he picked up these rumors.”

Seeing her unwilling to listen, Father Feng could only hope he was overthinking and all would be well.

“Xueming, what did Dad talk to you about?” Inside, Feng Jiayou had already hidden her payment slip. When she saw Cheng Xueming return, she asked curiously.

“Nothing much! Just talked about Old Qian’s deeds in the front courtyard.”

“And Dad said their bureau pays in foreign exchange certificates for manuscripts. Should we submit a few pieces and earn some foreign currency?”

Speaking of earning foreign currency, Cheng Xueming already had a killer idea.

Harry Potter!

He knew well that this would become the highest-earning book worldwide in his last life, with royalties of hundreds of millions of US dollars.

If memory served, the author would begin writing the first volume in just a few years.

To pay homage now was perfect timing—he could rake in foreign exchange hand over fist.

“Sure! Didn’t Dad say yesterday he’d submit your ‘The Horseman’? We’ll have him get us some foreign exchange certificates then!”

Feng Jiayou was tempted; foreign exchange certificates were precious—who wouldn’t want to earn some?

“Yeah! Let’s test the waters with ‘The Horseman’ first!” Cheng Xueming nodded and pulled the novella manuscript from the drawer.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Mom wants to see it!” Cheng Xueming replied with a wry smile.

“But… wasn’t this novella promised to Dening? Why mention it to Mom?”

Feng Jiayou was displeased. Was he trying too hard to curry favor with her mother?

He’d already promised Yanjing Literature—going back on his word would be a bad look and would damage his reputation in literary circles.

“Show-off, aren’t you!” She figured her husband was just trying to impress his mother-in-law, eager to hand over every manuscript. She snatched the manuscript from him, saying, “I’ll talk to her.”

“Be tactful…”

Cheng Xueming followed her out, curious to see how she’d handle it.

“Xueming, so you wrote ‘The Horseman’ in this issue of Yanjing Literature?”

When the two emerged, her elder brother Feng Jiazhao and sister-in-law Ke Yumei had returned. Hearing that the front-page story in Yanjing Literature—the hotly debated ‘The Horseman’—was written by their brother-in-law, they were utterly stunned.

The lead story of the current Yanjing Literature was written by the man from northern Shaanxi, Feng Jiayou’s husband?

Feng Jiazhao and Ke Yumei exchanged glances, marveling that no wonder Jiayou had kept it such a secret.

No wonder the atmosphere at home had been so tense all day, with not just a sense of gunpowder in the air, but the kitchen stove still cold and no one cooking!

“Brother, I was lucky to get published, just lucky!” Cheng Xueming replied modestly to his brother-in-law.

“Hah! So it really is your work?” Feng Jiazhao’s mouth twitched—he was nearly choked by this ‘lucky’—his brother-in-law was too humble.

“Mom, just to be clear, this manuscript was already promised to Yanjing Literature! Don’t make things difficult for your son-in-law!”

Feng Jiayou, not at all modest, said bluntly before handing over the manuscript.

“Let me see it first!”

Madam Feng did not respond directly, but fixed her eyes on the manuscript in Jiayou’s hand.

“It’s not finished, but already has over a hundred thousand words!” Jiayou handed it over, then quickly pulled it back. “Mom, is the business with ‘The Horseman’ settled yet?”

“Are you done? You didn’t even write it! Xueming just said he’d swap the novella for October!”

What a tiresome debt-collector, always poking at sore spots.

Whether ‘The Horseman’ could be let go would depend on the quality of the two manuscripts in hand.

The previous one was solid, perhaps even better than ‘The Horseman,’ but Madam Feng wasn’t sure Liu Xinwu would dare print it.

She had to see the novella first.

And besides, her husband had agreed—they’d swap the novella, regardless of prior promises.

If Li Qingquan of Yanjing Literature objected, he could come find her, Gu Xueqing, at October.

Gu Xueqing didn’t believe it! What was wrong with a mother-in-law using her son-in-law’s manuscript?

Push her too far and she would stop giving Li Qingquan anything at all.

“What’s this about swapping the novella? Wasn’t the short story good enough? October only publishes once every two months—why hoard so many manuscripts?”

“With the same time, we could submit to Yanjing Literature and pocket the royalties!”

It wasn’t that she looked down on October.

Yanjing Literature paid better, and as a monthly, published more frequently.

October was a bimonthly, publishing only in odd-numbered months.

Stacking up manuscripts for October was a loss for them as a couple—they were saving up for a home of their own.

“How about you give the short story back and I’ll send it to Yanjing Literature?”

Seeing her mother silent and already absorbed in the novella, Jiayou added.

“Go on, let me read first! I’ll decide after I finish this novella!”

With the hefty stack of manuscript in hand, Madam Feng glanced at her son-in-law with a peculiar expression. Just how fast could he write, to produce so much in such a short time?

And not just quantity, but quality—two of his short stories were already cover stories for Yanjing Literature, and the one she’d intercepted was even more impressive, possibly a sensation bigger than ‘The Homeroom Teacher,’ ‘Scars,’ or ‘The Horseman.’

If October could catch this sensation, they could overtake Yanjing Literature at a stroke.

So, under no circumstances could this manuscript be given away. Even if it had to sit in her desk until the situation clarified, it would never be handed over to Li Qingquan.

As for the novella, even the opening pages showed promise—but with a thick pile of pages, over a hundred thousand words, she couldn’t judge at a glance.

“If these two pieces can help Mom turn the page, then so be it. At worst, I’ll find time to write Yanjing Literature another one.”

Back in their room, Cheng Xueming comforted Feng Jiayou.

“Xueming, what kind of brain do you have? How can you keep writing such great pieces one after another?”

Feng Jiayou gazed at his face with utter admiration and couldn’t help but ask.

“Heh! Born with it!”

“Maybe your husband was born for this line of work. As long as you, my wife, inspire me—I’ll always find inspiration!”

“That was a close call—should we celebrate escaping this disaster?”

Cheng Xueming laughed, his tone wicked.

“Celebrate, you rascal!” Feng Jiayou shot him a flirtatious glance and shoved him away, though her heart was brimming with happiness.

“But you promised yesterday! If I helped Mom rush out a manuscript and she accepted it, we’d celebrate!”

“Well, did she accept it? Did she say it would definitely be in the next issue?”

“Er…”

So all that frantic writing was for nothing?

Not quite. Under his persistent persuasion, Feng Jiayou finally relented.

The next morning, Madam Feng left for work beaming, her purse on her arm.

“Eh? Mom, didn’t you say you were too embarrassed to go to work? Why are you in such a good mood?”

Feng Jiayou teased as she chased after her mother.

“Debt-collector, don’t ruin my mood!” Madam Feng could not have been happier—she had two major manuscripts in her possession, both by the author of ‘The Horseman.’ How could she not be pleased?

And best of all, Old Liu and the others didn’t know that the celebrated author Lao Xu was actually her son-in-law, Cheng Xueming.

Just wait till they found out—wouldn’t they be shocked and surprised?

They laughed at her for marrying a rustic, but which of their sons-in-law could write something as good as ‘The Horseman’?

“So, Mom, are you proud? Want me and Xueming to go with you and show you off?”

Feng Jiayou followed her, teasing about the ‘pride’ her mother had once dismissed, her own face radiant with joy.