Chapter 86: The Most Authentic British Rock!

Open Book Publishing House.

The phones rang incessantly with calls from all over the country.

A director burst straight into the president’s office. “President! The general distributor in the northwest just called—all the bookstores in the region are out of stock! They want us to send another five hundred thousand copies!”

“What? Five hundred thousand copies? That’s impossible! Didn’t they already sell out the one hundred thousand we gave them?”

Before he could finish, several more employees rushed in.

“President! Several bookstores in the capital are out of stock too. What should we do?”

“President! We’re out of stock in Magic City as well…”

“President…”

Good news poured in. Of nearly thirty sales channels nationwide, half had run out of stock. Of the remaining ones, over a dozen were seeing rapidly increasing sales, and their inventories were also running low.

Only two or three cities, perhaps due to insufficient early publicity or other factors, had average sales.

President Li Kaifeng stood with his mouth slightly open. He had expected “Ghost Blows Out the Light” to be a hit upon release, but never imagined it would be this explosive.

These days, with books available online, who still buys physical copies? Publishing has been a tough business for years. The highest single-day, single-title sales in the past five years was only a million copies.

Even the popular author Zhang Jiajia, whose latest book was published early this year, only sold six hundred thousand in the entire first half of the year.

This time, after much discussion, the company decided to print two million copies of “Ghost Blows Out the Light,” thinking that if it didn’t sell well, they could move them slowly.

Who would have thought that by mid-morning, many regions had sold out completely? The entire sales network had only about a hundred thousand copies left in stock. For a pure prose novel, such dazzling achievement hadn’t been seen in years!

Of course, Li Kaifeng had to admit the immense influence of celebrity fandom.

It was nothing new for top stars to publish photobooks or memoirs—daily sales exceeding a million were commonplace. Just recently, the popular idol Zhang Yixing released a semi-autobiographical illustrated book and sold nearly seventy thousand copies in a timed, twenty-four-minute flash sale, breaking new records in book pre-sales.

But pure prose novels were different. Aside from any celebrity effect, the story itself also drew readers, driving the book’s hot sales.

Other provinces were doing well, but the northwest distributor had just requested five hundred thousand copies in one go—that matched their typical quarterly sales.

“Hurry! Tell the printer to rush another two million copies!”

“Yes, sir!” An employee immediately went to execute the order.

“You, contact logistics. The first batch off the press should be sent to the major bookstores in the capital to ease the shortage!”

“Understood!” Another employee rushed out.

“President! Should we contact the author for a book signing event?” the director suggested.

“I’ll get in touch with his agency,” the president considered. “For now, our top priority is to get more books printed. We need to make sure the supply is steady. As for the signing events, hold one in the capital, and since the northwest is doing well, have one there too.”

“Yes!” The director nodded and left.

On Jiang Lun’s end, he had just learned “Ghost Blows Out the Light” was now on sale and was stunned.

The best sales happened to be in the very cities where he’d performed and composed songs—Chang’an, Magic City, and Zhengzhou.

It was a curious feeling. Apparently, singing songs related to certain cities could quickly attract local fans. Just as foreign musicians visiting China would win more fans by singing in Chinese, the logic was the same.

He started to wonder if he should write more songs about place names.

For several days in a row, topics about Jiang Lun dominated the top of Weibo’s trending list. Many other celebrities who had planned to spend money on promotion decided to withdraw.

Now wasn’t a good time to compete for headlines!

But there were exceptions.

Famed rock singer Wang Yitian woke up in the morning and posted a photo on Weibo—a divorce certificate, with the caption: “Today, I’m single again!”

But just posting a photo wasn’t enough. He contacted several PR firms to hype his news, spending a decent sum, but after a whole day, still couldn’t break into the top three of the 24-hour trending list.

He checked the rankings: Number one, Jiang Lun. Number two, “Ghost Blows Out the Light.” Number three, “Love Before the Common Era.” Number four, Jiang Lun’s new album.

Fifth place was a social news story about pension insurance—he knew he couldn’t outcompete a national policy.

But looking at the top four, though the titles differed, all revolved around one person—Jiang Lun.

Wang Yitian was indignant. How could a newcomer occupy the top four spots at once?

There had to be something shady going on!

He played “Love Before the Common Era,” the third most popular song, to see what the fuss was about.

After one listen, Wang Yitian frowned deeply and couldn’t help but post on the topic: “How can such a lousy song make the top three? Are all the netizens deaf?”

His words kicked up a storm, especially since he posted with his own verified Weibo account—the prominent blue V icon was hard to miss. Many fans, who were in high spirits, instantly turned on him.

“Oh? Isn’t this Wang Yitian? What’s special about today? Did they let you out?”

“Uncle Wang, you still have your singer certification? Haven’t released anything new in so long, we thought you’d disappeared!”

“Ha, no wonder Wang Yitian’s so angry today. Turns out he just got divorced! Probably failed in both love and career, so he’s lashing out here!”

“Wang Yitian! Woof woof woof woof woof woof woof… Another day gone!”

These were the more civil comments—there were countless others who hurled profanities and personal insults.

After posting his comment, Wang Yitian got up to make a cup of coffee. When he returned and saw the replies, his hands shook with anger, spilling coffee all over himself and jumping up from the burn.

Now he was even angrier. His first instinct wasn’t to wipe off the coffee, but to turn into a keyboard warrior and fight back.

He picked out the most obscene insults and fired back, then posted again: “At the end of the day, this is about music. I believe rock is the greatest genre in the world. I’ve listened to several of Jiang Lun’s so-called rock songs—those aren’t real rock, just pop songs dressed up as rock. And that so-called Peking Opera rock? I criticized it before—it’s an insult to both rock and our national heritage! ‘Chang’an Chang’an’ can’t escape its folk roots, ‘Once You’ is still just pop—none of it is authentic rock! Just pretenders!”

As soon as he posted, the insults started pouring in again.

“Go back where you came from! I think ‘Chang’an Chang’an’ is rock! What do you call your stuff? Screeching nonsense, imitating foreign rock but ending up neither here nor there. You’re the one insulting rock, just profiteering off it!”

“Ha! Uncle’s post reeks of sour grapes!”

“Screw your mother! Wang Yitian’s just trying to get noticed again! Go home and bark where no one cares about you, don’t come here to stir up trouble!”

…

The attacks escalated. Under his divorce certificate post, people lined up to call him scum, some even accusing him of cheating.

Wang Yitian glanced at his Weibo ranking. He’d been sixth, and thought this ruckus might at least bump him up a spot. But with an hour to midnight, he’d slipped to seventh, overtaken by a boy band.

His frustration and humiliation boiled over. He lashed out again, denouncing Jiang Lun as clueless about rock, just dabbling at the surface, and seized on the song “Beijing Night,” claiming it not only insulted rock and traditional arts, but was full of innuendo, vulgar, and pandering.

One post wasn’t enough—he fired off dozens, fixating on that point, even tagging the official account of the Ministry of Culture, demanding a ban on Jiang Lun and his “filthy songs.”

While the internet raged, the official accounts of Rainy Day Music, Music TV, CC Music, Five Star Music Radio, and Jiang Lun’s personal Weibo all posted simultaneously at 11:30 p.m.: Jiang Lun’s new album’s second lead single would premiere at midnight on Music TV and CC Music.

Fans cheered—they’d get new music.

Wang Yitian sneered, posting more sarcasm: probably another weird mess like “Love Before the Common Era.”

Finally, midnight struck.

Music TV launched the music video for the second lead single. CC Music gave it a featured spot on their homepage, Five Star Music Radio aired the midnight premiere…

All the platforms carried the slogan:

“Meteor”—the most authentic British rock!

Fans were electrified, many rushing to Wang Yitian’s Weibo to mock him.

Didn’t you want real rock?

Here’s the most authentic British rock. Can you handle it?

Wang Yitian listened, unwilling to concede, trying to find faults or elements that weren’t truly Brit-rock.

But he couldn’t.

Reading the lyrics, hearing the music, Wang Yitian was full of resentment, but utterly powerless.

He fell silent, while Jiang Lun’s fans reveled even more.

“Uncle! Say something! Give us your review!”

“Where’s Wang Yitian? Gone into hiding?”

“Is Jiang Lun keeping tabs on us? Otherwise, how could the timing be so perfect? A pillow right when you’re sleepy, and a coordinated release across all these platforms. Wang Yitian must have been thoroughly humiliated!”

“I bet that’s it! How else could it happen so coincidentally?”

“Old Wang, come out and bark a few more times for everyone?”

“Ran off so soon? Ha, dealing with this kind of guy is just too easy!”

“Guys, stop arguing, let’s go listen to the song!”

“Yeah, let’s go…”

Wang Yitian backed down, and the fans quickly forgot him, leaving his Weibo to stream “Meteor” instead.

A new day had come, bringing a fresh wave of trending topics and headlines.