Chapter 22: Clash of Kings

  In the living room, Yi Feiyang looked around at the decorations, among which a deer head hanging on the wall and a rifle mounted on it caught his attention.

  "That was the one I shot in Indiana last year. God, I almost fell off a cliff chasing it, but thank God, I'm lucky and got back with honor. And that rifle is my grandfather's favorite weapon, it can hold seven rounds at once, and its shooting power is extremely strong, boom! One shot can blow any animal's head off!" Stephen King proudly introduced his trophy and collection.

  Yi Feiyang smiled and said: "I also like hunting, let's study together when we have a chance."

  "Research? Oh yeah? Okay." Stefan King said with a dazed smile.

  Yi Feiyang then picked up the rifle with ease, loaded it, took aim, and with a flourish, spun the rifle around in his palm once, looking elegant and handsome.

  "Good shot!"

  Watching his opponent's "familiarity", Stefan King was obviously somewhat unaccustomed. More afraid that he would drop this antique gun on the ground.

  Those literary young men who came to visit me in the past, weren't they all nervous and at a loss for words when facing me? But this one in front of me is clearly not that type.

  Just as Stefan King worried that the other party would hold a gun and didn't know when to compare, Yi Feiyang put the gun back in its original place, then raised his second leg, sat on the sofa, with a ready-to-talk look.

  "Coffee or tea?" Stefan King asked enthusiastically as Yifei sat down. "I know you Chinese people all like to drink clear tea, I have good West Lake Longjing and Tieguanyin here, of course, they were all bought in Chinatown, but I don't know if they are genuine."

  "Whatever, anything is fine." Yi Feiyang smiled. To be honest, he didn't have too many requirements for drinking tea or wine.

  "You seem like a carefree person... then let's have Longjing tea, I love its taste."

  Stephen King had tea ready and sat down, saying to Yi Fei Yang: "You must be very curious why I invited you to meet. To put it bluntly, it's about your manuscript." He then placed the manuscript that Yi Fei Yang had sent on the table.

  "It's undeniable that your creative writing is great, really great. I've never seen a newcomer design the creativity of a short story so perfectly."

  "However, I'm afraid I have to point out that your writing is somewhat...". Stefan King puckered his lips and gestured as if searching for the right words.

  "I understand what you mean, isn't it too rotten?" Yì Fēi Yáng replied.

  "Hmm, yes, you can say that." Stefan King felt somewhat surprised by Yi Feiyang's words. After all, anyone who does creative work is particular about saving face, and it's rare to see someone as candid as this young Chinese man in front of him.

  "I admit, it's really bad. In terms of wording and sentence structure, I'm not a master in this area after all," Yi Feiyang paused for a moment, "so I'll give you these three short stories to review, hoping you can offer some opinions." Yi Feiyang looked at Stephen King with an ambiguous smile.

  Stephen King was very uncomfortable with this way of talking.

  Although he is a writer, since he became famous, whether it's the editor of the publishing house or the book distributor, when talking to him, he takes the initiative.

  "Ah, dear Mr. Yi, is it okay to call you that? I have to say, you're a very straightforward person, and I like people like that! So now let's get down to business... the key point is, if you hand these three pieces over to me, I can polish them into masterpieces! Masterpieces, do you understand? The kind that can be published in newspapers, magazines, or even as standalone books!" Stefan King said with a solemn oath.

  Yi Feiyang smiled and then said in a very out-of-place tone: "How much money?"

  "What?!"

  "I'm saying I'll sell these three to you, how much can you give me?"

  Stephen King hesitated for a moment, talking about money is always hurtful, but it seemed that the two of them didn't have much feelings to talk about anyway.

  They say Chinese people care about saving face and dislike talking about money, how come he's bringing up Money right away? Is he not Chinese but Korean or Japanese instead?!

  Stephen King stared at himself in shock, and Yi Feiyang couldn't help but remind him: "Three pieces, how much money?!"

  "Cough, cough, if you insist on talking about money, then name a price." Stephen King's meaning was clear. Many young authors and I would discuss these things at times when they felt embarrassed to talk about money. As long as I could give them some guidance, they were already grateful. You're the first one, kid.

  Yi Feiyang didn't think it was shameful to talk about money at this time. Chinese people are just dying to save face and suffer, but Yi Feiyang is not that kind of saint.

  "One price, thirty million US dollars!"

  Considering you're an idol, let's give a discount, 300,000 will cover the costs!

  This is someone's kind intention.

  But Stephen King just laughed, a rather scornful laugh.

  "Oh, dear Chinese Yi, it seems you still don't understand the situation; I invited you here today not to do business with you, but because I see potential in you and think you have a future, that's why I'm telling you all this; while you, on the other hand, seem to be unclear about your own identity, right now you are nothing..."

  "Of course, I'm not denying that you may become a great writer in the future, but for now, I still hope you can face reality. Three pieces, three million dollars, it's simply a joke! Tell me, who in the entire United States would give you three million dollars just for these three ideas? My god, you're overestimating yourself!"

  A string of condescending words, sarcastic remarks that make people's heads ache.

  But all of this did not make Yi Fei Yang change his expression.

  To be honest, if it were three days ago, Yiyang might have considered selling these three cheaply due to his poverty. But now... damn it, Yiyang smiled.

  "Dear Mr. Stephen King, according to your meaning, how much should these three volumes be worth?"

  "How much?" Stefan King hugged his arms, leaning against the sofa, "I can pay you at most $30,000! This is already the largest amount!" His expression was full of a patronizing tone.

  In Stephen King's eyes, the amount he offered was already enough to give face to the other party. Shit, ordinary small-time authors wouldn't even get $10,000, let alone $30,000. Moreover, the other party is a Chinese person, and in this country where racism is severe, it seems like there hasn't been any precedent for a Chinese author to make a name for themselves.

  Yi Feiyang shrugged and smiled wildly at Stephen King's "Charity".

  "Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Stephen King. I know that this may be the highest price you can offer, but it's still far from my request! In that case, there's nothing more to discuss. However, I have one thing to tell you..." Yi Fei stood up, looking down at Stephen King with a condescending attitude, staring at the famous American "Master of Horror".

  "You don't have to buy these three pieces from me now, it's okay. Because in the future they will be worth at least 30 million!"

  Three million, US dollars?!

  Stephen King could hardly contain his laughter.

  How is this possible?!

  This Chinese person is too humorous!!!!!

  "Unless you are truly blessed by God or favored by the goddess of fortune, such a miracle would never happen!"

  Yi Feiyang knew that saying more would be useless, "Alright, you just wait and see. I, Yi Feiyang, won't take long to make you know that everything I said will become a miracle!" He stood up and left.

  "Miracle? Haha, okay, I'll wait! Don't send me off, dear friend!" Stefan King sat on the sofa, not getting up, looking at Yifei Yang leaving with some disdain.

  A woman came up behind him and wrapped her arms around Stephen King's neck, "What's wrong, dear? Why didn't you see the guests off?"

  "He's too arrogant, I don't like him."

  "Oh really? But his stories are actually very good, I especially like that one '1408: The Phantom Zone'."

  "So what? In a place as complex as the United States, who would know him? Even if he wrote a great story, he's just an unknown! And besides, he's Chinese!" Stephen King laughed.

  "That's also uncertain, you weren't famous before either, but now, you've become a great writer." The woman gently stroked Stephen King's hair.

  Stephen King bit off the end of a cigar and smiled.

  "America may have Santa Claus but there will never be a miracle like this!"

  "Besides, becoming famous in such a short time, is that possible?!" Stefan King shook his head and puffed out a mouthful of smoke.