Chapter 71

The novel *I, Robot* has received an unprecedented level of attention and popularity overseas. In China, it has mainly circulated within the circle of science fiction enthusiasts, but abroad, it has made it to major TV stations and prominent newspapers.

This was the honor it deserved. Lin Han brought this novel from Earth to this world, and the brilliant success made him feel a sense of shared achievement, as if he were spreading the essence of Earth's civilization.

If he had read more novels, he could have written more of them, but his knowledge of other literature was limited to what he learned from his Chinese textbooks. Although there was no Mo Yan in this world, Lin Han couldn't bring over Mo Yan's masterpieces because he hadn't read them. He was just a science fiction enthusiast, not a traditional literature enthusiast. He only knew that Mo Yan had won the Nobel Prize in Literature, and of his works, he only knew *Red Sorghum* because it had been made into a movie and TV series. He knew nothing about Mo Yan's other works, so he couldn't transform himself into another writer.

At that moment, Lin Han was pushing a cart through the supermarket, carefully selecting vegetables like any other ordinary citizen. The Spring Festival was approaching, and while others were preparing to return home, he could only stay in his rental apartment alone, so he needed to stock up on food.

The supermarket was filled with a festive atmosphere, with red Chinese knots, printed couplets, door gods, and the character for "blessing" adorning the shelves. Red lanterns hung from the ceiling, and cheerful music played continuously. Piles of Wawo gift packs formed small mountains, and various gifts were prominently displayed. By the Spring Festival, it was estimated that half of Yanjing City would be empty.

Lin Han placed a few heads of Chinese cabbage in his shopping cart, knowing that they would keep for a while, allowing him to stay at home for a few days.

Just as he was about to go weigh his purchases, his phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, is this Mr. Lin Han? I am a staff member of Amazon Online Bookstore. There is something I would like to discuss with you. Is it convenient for you?"

Lin Han looked up at the speakers playing music and quietly moved to another corner. "It's convenient. What's the matter?"

He was puzzled why Amazon would contact him at this time. Was it to distribute the sales commission from last month? But wouldn't that be directly transferred to his bank account? He had already provided his bank details when he uploaded the novel.

The soft-voiced woman on the other end continued, "The matter is this: an American publisher is interested in your novel *I, Robot*. I would like to ask if you still hold the English, Spanish, and French publishing rights?"

"The rights are currently in my possession, but I have exclusively authorized the simplified Chinese publishing rights to the People's University Press. Could you tell me which publisher is interested?"

"If possible, I think it would be better for you to communicate directly. The publisher is Random House, a traditional American publishing house. I will contact the staff of Random House's China branch shortly. Please wait."

Lin Han needed time to discuss this with Chen Jiaxuan, so he readily replied, "No problem, see you later."

After hanging up, he quickly pushed his cart to the checkout, paid with his card, and hurried home with the bags. This was a matter of urgency, and he needed to discuss it thoroughly.

After communicating with Chen Jiaxuan over the phone, Lin Han finally calmed down and composed himself.

As he put the items from the bags into the refrigerator, he said to himself, "It's just a query, and I couldn't even stay calm. I've really let Asimov down."

In the publishing industry, he was still a newcomer. He had only published his first simplified Chinese novel, and now a global publishing giant was reaching out to him. It was hard not to be excited.

Chen Jiaxuan rushed back from CCTV, where she had been trying to smooth things over to prevent the cancellation of a singer's program from the Spring Festival Gala.

"Are you sure it's Random House that wants to publish it?" Chen Jiaxuan opened her prepared folder in a hurry. She never thought Lin Han would go international so quickly; the domestic market had only just begun to open up.

In other words, she hadn't prepared the necessary materials and needed to catch up quickly.

Lin Han spread his hands, "It should be. It's not April Fool's Day, so no one would prank me like this."

"Still, be cautious. After the call, I'll find someone to check on Random House."

...

Half an hour later, the unfamiliar number rang on time. Lin Han pressed the answer button and put the call on speaker so Chen Jiaxuan could hear.

"Are you Lin Han, the author of *I, Robot*? I'm from Random House China. You can call me Qin Jun."

The tone made Lin Han slightly uncomfortable, as if the caller was acting superior, treating him like a god of authors.

"Yes, it's me. May I ask if the company interested in the publishing rights is the Chinese branch or the American headquarters?" Lin Han was concerned about this. He didn't want to sell his rights cheaply to a shell company.

Qin Jun said impatiently, "Of course, it's the headquarters. The Chinese branch wouldn't have any use for it. The rights are mostly in your possession, right? Our company is willing to pay $50,000 for all rights except the simplified Chinese, including film and TV adaptation rights. Other royalties will be calculated separately. What do you think?"

Chen Jiaxuan found it both amusing and infuriating that they thought $50,000 was enough to settle the matter. Did they think Chinese people had never seen money?

Lin Han was also taken aback by the offer. So many rights for just $50,000? He didn't even want to haggle. "I'm sorry, the price is too low, and the rights you're asking for are too extensive. I won't sell the film and TV rights."

"Do you know that the publishing market isn't doing well right now? Not many authors can get a five-figure deal, and this is a Chinese science fiction novel. It's uncertain whether Americans will buy it. After the novel is published, you can get a 3% royalty, which is a very generous contract for a new author."

Chen Jiaxuan shook her head at Lin Han and quickly wrote on a piece of paper: This guy is crazy!

Seeing the words, Lin Han couldn't help but laugh. "Mr. Qin, it seems your publishing house hasn't recognized the value of this novel. I don't think there's any need for further discussion."

Qin Jun had encountered many authors who, upon hearing that Random House was publishing their novel, were almost overjoyed and didn't care about the terms of the contract, thinking it was great just to have an English edition.

But this didn't apply to Lin Han. A 3% royalty plus $50,000 was not enough to take the rights to *I, Robot*. Random House was being too optimistic.

"Do you know who we are at Random House? We have merged with Penguin Publishing Group and control 25% of the global publishing market. If you sign with us, you will be a renowned author both at home and abroad. Random House can give priority to publishing your next book." Qin Jun hinted, "Our Japanese branch is also in contact with a science fiction author. I believe you will make the right choice."

The name Random House was indeed prestigious, but emphasizing their strength without offering better terms was just empty talk.

Lin Han didn't want to beat around the bush anymore. He said straightforwardly, "I think we are not a good fit. Let's consider future cooperation."

"Do you know that you are rejecting Random House? You will regret your decision. Don't say I didn't warn you. Once this opportunity is gone, Random House won't wait for you."

Qin Jun had never thought he would fail. In the past, the name Random House was almost invincible, so his tone was tinged with frustration and anger.

8,100 recommendations this week! The author never imagined there would be so many votes, and he almost laughed in his sleep.

He had just moved into a new rental house, but unfortunately, there were no chairs or stools. He had an empty computer desk, so he had to sit on the floor and place his laptop on a cardboard box. The swivel chair he ordered online would arrive the next day, and he hoped to get off the floor soon.

...

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