So Slow on the Uptake

That night, Wang Xiaoliang lay in his dorm bed, tossing and turning.

In the room, Li Jun's keyboard clattered and his mouse clicked, punctuated by the occasional roar at his teammates.

Wang Xiaoliang heard none of it.

All he could think about were the few lines Wei Zijin had sent him.

[They want your contact details.]

[They only want one thing: to ask you to write calligraphy for them.]

Writing calligraphy.

Selling calligraphy.

He sat up in bed and reached for the phone beside his pillow.

The screen's glow was a little harsh in the darkness. He opened the short-video platform and typed a word into the search bar: calligraphy.

Before he could react, countless categories appeared after it.

Calligraphy copybooks, calligraphy tutorials, calligraphy critiques, how calligraphy creators make money...

Of those, "how calligraphy creators make money" caught his attention the most.

He tapped it.

He browsed through video after video.

Many creators who posted calligraphy videos had anywhere from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of followers, and their traffic looked quite good.

He patiently studied over a dozen accounts and more or less figured out their approach.

Without exception, they showcased their calligraphy skills in short videos lasting a few dozen seconds, then enabled a personal storefront on their accounts.

The products in those storefronts were much the same: brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones-the four treasures of the study-along with some beginner copybooks.

The top creators, with more traffic and more followers, had even started selling tea, tea sets, and household goods.

Looking at those polished videos, Wang Xiaoliang felt a little daunted.

He knew nothing about filming.

Camera movements, editing, background music-all of it was completely unfamiliar territory.

He watched short videos every day, but he had never thought about how other people made them.

The Book of Fate said: conduct yourself with an eye for opportunity, and wealth can be sought.

He watched short videos every day, yet he had never realized he could use them to make money himself.

And they were, in fact, a powerful tool for making money.

He tried to picture his own videos, only to find his mind blank. He had no idea where to start.

I can't just give up.

He opened the search app again. This time, his keywords were: how to make short videos.

Information flooded in.

All kinds of tutorials and practical tips left him dizzy. Eventually, his eyes settled on a pinned advertisement-"199 yuan: from complete beginner to creator with a million followers. Short-video crash course."

199 yuan.

That stings a little.

But at the thought of that road that might lead to "ease and contentment," he gritted his teeth and tapped the payment button.

After exchanging a few messages with customer service, he received a compressed file.

Then they added him to a WeChat group.

That was it!!!

The compressed file contained dozens of prerecorded videos, with titles ranging from "Getting to know your phone camera" to "Learn viral-video editing in one minute."

A sense that he had been scammed welled up inside him.

This is their so-called training course? There isn't even any interaction?

He refused to accept it. He had already spent the money; he couldn't just let it go to waste.

He put on his earphones and opened the first video.

"Hello, everyone. Today, we're going to learn how to use natural light..."

The instructor's voice was unremarkable, and the content was all basic common knowledge.

Still, he forced himself to watch one video after another. He even took out a notebook and wrote down what he considered the key points.

"To do a job well, you must first have the right tools," the instructor droned in a preachy tone.

Wang Xiaoliang quietly paused the video and opened a shopping app.

Following the video's recommendations, he ordered the cheapest phone stand and a small circular fill light from a shop.

By the time he finished all that, it was almost midnight.

He put down his phone and tried to sleep, but his mind was still a mess. The excitement of doing something entirely new mingled with anxiety over the unknown, leaving him wide awake.

For some inexplicable reason, he thought of the Book of Fate again.

He slowly turned to a new page.

[Eighth Art of Fatechanging: Way of Livelihood. Do not lightly abandon your old occupation. Though its profits may be meager, it anchors your foundation and sustains your life. Only when your new occupation is established and its foundation secure may you choose which to pursue. If both can be maintained, that is best of all.]

Wang Xiaoliang read it word by word, deeply shaken.

Its meaning could not have been clearer.

Before a new business became successful and stable, he must never casually abandon the old one. Even if its profits were meager, it was still what kept him afloat. Only once the new business was established on a firm foundation could he make a choice. If he could manage both, that would be the best possible outcome.

The Book of Fate was simply incredible.

Just moments ago, he had been planning to stop selling drinks-that exhausting, undignified work-as soon as he could make money selling calligraphy.

And now this eighth art had appeared at exactly the right moment.

Like a stern teacher, it had thrown a bucket of cold water over him just as he was about to let excitement get the better of him and stake everything on one venture.

Wang Xiaoliang lay back down and reconsidered.

I can't give up selling drinks.

At least, not now.

But a new problem arose. The Library, his most important sales channel, had been completely cut off.

It had accounted for more than two-thirds of his sales.

The scattered orders from the dorm buildings alone would not even cover the legwork.

More importantly, what about the regular customers who had added him on WeChat at the Library? If they still wanted drinks, he couldn't just say, "Sorry, the university won't let me deliver anymore," could he?

These were all potential customers-the "foundation" the Book of Fate had spoken of.

Turn them away outright? No, that would be too much of a waste.

Find someone to help with deliveries?

The moment the thought occurred to him, it seemed workable.

But who?

Li Jun?

Wang Xiaoliang immediately rejected the idea. Li Jun thought far too highly of himself. He would certainly refuse to do this sort of errand work, and might even mock him for asking.

Then... Liu Xinyu?

Liu Xinyu was easygoing and helpful. Whenever Wang Xiaoliang asked him to bring back a meal or lend a hand, he never refused.

He might agree to this.

Next question: how should we split the profits?

The profit on a bottle of drink was only a little over a yuan. Even splitting it fifty-fifty would earn just a few yuan per trip for a lot of hard work. Liu Xinyu might not want to run errands for so little money.

What if... I give him all the profit?

He would only take orders and supply the stock, while Liu Xinyu handled the final delivery and kept all the money they made. That way, although he wouldn't earn anything himself, he would retain his Library customers and free up his time to focus on figuring out how to sell calligraphy.

That idea made everything click into place.

He immediately picked up his phone and sent Liu Xinyu a WeChat message.

[Xinyu, are you asleep? There's something I'd like to discuss with you.]

[Not yet. Just finished a game. What's up?]

Choosing his words carefully, Wang Xiaoliang explained his idea in detail, then emphasized at the end: [...You only need to deliver to their seats in the Library. All the profit is yours. I won't take a cent.]

He felt Liu Xinyu had no reason to refuse those terms.

Yet Liu Xinyu fell silent for a long time again.

Just as Wang Xiaoliang began wondering whether he had fallen asleep, a message finally popped up.

[Xiaoliang, I can help with deliveries.]

Wang Xiaoliang's heart lifted.

[But I'll only deliver the orders you send me. I won't go around trying to sell anything.]

[And you don't need to give me all the profit. We can split it fifty-fifty.]

Wang Xiaoliang stared at the two messages, momentarily taken aback.

Without actively pitching to people, sales would definitely be much lower than before. And Liu Xinyu wanted to give him half the profit.

This differed somewhat from what he had envisioned, but it was better than losing the Library market altogether.

[All right, we'll do it your way,] he replied.

And that settled it.

Over the next few days, Wang Xiaoliang studied short-video production, while Liu Xinyu became his "dedicated Library deliveryman."

Things went much as he had expected. Without anyone actively selling, orders from the Library plummeted.

That afternoon, Wang Xiaoliang went to the wholesale shop off campus to collect more stock.

Fat Boss was sitting beside a case of beer, eating peanuts and pouring himself drink after drink. His face was flushed; clearly, he had already had quite a few.

"Oh, you're here? Sit down and have a drink with me." Fat Boss squinted at him. "Why are you picking up so little today?"

Wang Xiaoliang gave a wry smile. "I've got things to do, so I'll pass. Business hasn't been great lately."

"What happened?" Fat Boss grew interested and took another gulp of beer. "Weren't you pretty good at selling?"

Wang Xiaoliang briefly explained the incident at the university, how he was now barred from entering the Library, and how he could only ask a classmate to help deliver there.

After hearing him out, Fat Boss belched and pointed a greasy finger at Wang Xiaoliang.

"You really are slow on the uptake!"

Wang Xiaoliang froze.

"You're not the only student I supply. Some of those boys are a lot sharper than you." Fat Boss stood unsteadily and leaned closer, washing him in the smell of alcohol.

"They deliver everything! Takeout, snacks, fruit... someone even asked me to stock condoms for him! And here you are, stupidly delivering nothing but drinks?"

His words left Wang Xiaoliang a little bewildered.

Seeing that he still didn't get it, Fat Boss became even more animated.

"You think the Library is your marketplace? Wrong!" He slapped his thigh. "Your marketplace is your WeChat! Your Moments feed!"

"You worked so hard adding all those people at the Library. They're your real customers! Your regular customers! Do you understand?"

"Just because you can't enter the Library, do they stop drinking? Do they stop eating snacks? Do they stop needing someone to run errands? Do they stop wanting cheap goods?"

"Your Moments feed is your sales counter! You need to let them know you don't just sell drinks! You can sell anything! Deliver anything!"

The more Fat Boss spoke, the more worked up he became, until his spit was nearly landing on Wang Xiaoliang's face.

"Kid, think bigger! Stop fixating on that tiny patch of ground! Add people on WeChat! Post on Moments! Those people are your wealth!"

A few words jolted him awake.

Wang Xiaoliang stood rooted to the spot.

Fat Boss's coarse words were filled with streetwise wisdom.

WeChat... Moments... sales counter... wealth...