My era, 1979!

Chapter 24 Xu Zhiqing's First Royalties

"Xu, the educated youth from 302! There's a registered letter for you!"

Early in the morning, Aunt Wang Likun, who was in charge of the warehouse, shouted that her voice echoed throughout the entire guesthouse.

Xu Chengjun's heart skipped a beat in surprise.

Afraid that Aunt Wang would yell again, Xu Zhiqing hurriedly replied, "Coming."

He casually picked up the food coupons and cash that he and Qian Ming should have paid for the past two days of lodging.

The morning light slanted in through the wooden windows of the guesthouse lobby, illuminating the kraft paper envelope in Aunt Wang's hand, with the red seal of "Hefei Evening News" in the upper right corner shining brightly in the light.
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From the 1960s to the 1980s, the "Workers, Peasants and Soldiers Guesthouse" was a state-run accommodation institution during the planned economy period. Its management system had distinct characteristics of the era. It mainly served people on official business, and accommodation required the payment of grain coupons and cash, as well as a letter of introduction from the work unit. However, in 1979, at this critical juncture, the policy was slightly relaxed.

However, back then, Aunt Wang's job was considered quite respectable in Hefei.
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"Judging from this cover, isn't it a money order?"

Aunt Wang smiled with her eyes narrowed, tapping her knuckles on the envelope.

“The other day, Xiao Ma from the provincial newspaper was telling me that your article about the melon seed stall was going to be published. You really made money, didn’t you?”

"I have a good eye; I saw early on that you, this great writer, are extraordinary!"

Xu Chengjun rolled his eyes inwardly. When he first arrived, he thought Xu Jiatun was from there.

That sense of superiority that city dwellers have is impossible to hide.

As he calmly accepted the envelope, his fingertips touched the stiff paper inside.

This was the first royalties he received after traveling back to 1979.

"Aunt Wang, could I borrow your scissors?" He pinched the corner of the envelope between his fingers, but couldn't tear it open for a moment.

"Look how anxious you are." Aunt Wang pulled out a pair of rusty scissors from under the counter. "When I was a sent-down youth, I didn't even act like this when I received grain coupons from home."

With a sizzling sound as scissors sliced ​​through the envelope, a green remittance slip slid out, along with half a sample copy of the Hefei Evening News. It was the edition with the headline "Libra Shines in the Spring Breeze," written in bold regular script, standing out starkly against the rough paper.

The number on the remittance slip made him pause: "Ten Yuan and Twenty Cents".

Next to it, in small print, was the note: "Manuscript 'The Scales Shining in the Spring Breeze' payment: 4 yuan per thousand words."

His essay "Weighing the Stars" has a total of 2830 characters. At four yuan per thousand characters, he earned exactly eleven yuan and thirty cents.

“This payment isn’t high! Anhui Literature gives you 6 yuan per thousand words!” Qian Mingxun looked at the payment slip.

“The nature of the work is different!” Xu Chengjun explained without looking up. “Provincial-level literary journals pay higher rates for long articles, while city-level newspapers pay relatively lower rates for short articles.”

In fact, the standard payment for articles in the Hefei Evening News during this period was generally two yuan per thousand words for newcomers, three yuan per thousand words for those with some fame, and four yuan per thousand words for Xu Chengjun was the maximum given because of his work in Time and the unpublished Granary.

The difference in royalties between the Hefei Evening News and Anhui Literature is essentially a microcosm of the resource allocation model of the planned economy era in the cultural field.

Provincial-level literary journals benefited from policy advantages, financial support, and an elite positioning, becoming beneficiaries of the cultural revival in the early stages of reform and opening up; while local newspapers, due to financial constraints and unclear functional positioning, struggled to break through the "low-level equilibrium" of royalties.

"A lot!"

It was the time when everyone was up and running errands in the morning, and before I knew it, a group of people had gathered around me.

"I make this much money just by going to Shanghai to resell polyester fabric, braving wind and rain. You make money just by sitting at your desk writing and drawing, it's much more respectable than what we do!"

The guy who came to Hefei to resell shirts was a little envious.

"How can you compare them! Comrade Xu is a great writer. The People's Daily has said that we should respect knowledge and talent!"

"Indeed, our guesthouse has produced a celebrity!" Xu Chengjun smoothed out the sample newspaper and smiled as he responded to the compliments from those around him.

He then pulled a tin candy box out of the canvas bag.

"Try it, the sugar from Wuhu is sweeter than the sugar from our local communes and supply and marketing cooperatives." He smiled and stuffed two pieces into the hand of the young man selling Dacron, and then shared some with the others watching.

"This amount of money is really not much."

He took out a match and lit a cigarette for the young man, then lit one for himself, the smoke slowly dissipating. "Deputy Editor Zhang said he'd give four yuan per thousand words, thanks to the poem 'Time.' For a newcomer submitting a manuscript, that's pretty good."

He pointed at Qian Ming and said again.

"Last year, Qian Ming wrote articles for the county radio station, and he only got 1.5 yuan per thousand words."

Qian Ming was staring blankly at the headline in the sample newspaper when he heard this. He looked up and laughed, "How can they be the same? Your article 'Libra Star' has been the talk of the town in Hefei!"

“It’s all thanks to the seniors for their kindness.” Xu Chengjun flicked his cigarette ash and glanced at the onlookers. “The editors of the Hefei Evening News are willing to mentor us, which is ultimately thanks to the policy. Everyone’s talking about ‘respecting knowledge’ these days, and we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Those around him discerned that Xu, the educated youth, spoke with a steady and reliable manner, neither boasting nor pretending to be foolish. Instead, he attributed the credit to others, which made him seem more genuine.

The young man scratched his head: "Comrade Xu, with your literary skills, you should really work as a clerk at a newspaper."

"Don't."

Xu Chengjun waved his hand and shoved the candy box into Qian Ming's hand. "With my limited writing skills, I'm only good for writing about rural things. If I really went to a newspaper, I'm afraid I wouldn't even be able to write a proper report on a meeting."

"Look at him, everyone! He's going to be a legitimate high school student taking the entrance exam for Beijing Foreign Studies University this year!"

When the topic turned to Qian Ming, everyone naturally crowded around to inquire about the college entrance examination.

In the crowd, I vaguely saw Qian Ming pointing his thumb down at Xu Chengjun.

Xu Chengjun took the opportunity to slip the remittance slip into his inner pocket. His fingertips touched the royalty slip, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

Although what he said was just polite talk, he was secretly overjoyed. This 10.2 yuan wasn't much, but it was the first brick he used to open up the world with his words.

"Xu, you're treating us!"

Suddenly, Ma Shengli's voice came from the corridor. He was carrying a military green satchel and had beads of sweat on his forehead.

“My cousin said that after your article was published, many readers called the newspaper office to ask, ‘Is Lao Zhou Nian Guangjiu?’ Deputy Editor Zhang asked me to send you a copy of the newspaper collection!”

"Oh, you received it all?"

Well, it's not going to be peaceful today!
However, the fact that the issue of royalties has attracted so much attention is indeed a rare occurrence in this era, and it is also a legacy left over from a special period.

In the early days of the People's Republic of China, the first National Publishing Conference in 1950 established the basic framework of the new China's manuscript remuneration system. The "Draft Provisional Measures for Manuscript Remuneration" promulgated in the same year stipulated that remuneration should be calculated in actual units, that is, in the form of daily necessities such as rice and flour, with 8-16 actual units per thousand words of manuscripts.

In 1958, the Ministry of Civil Affairs issued the "Draft Provisional Regulations on Book Royalties," which set the basic royalties for manuscripts at 4-15 yuan per thousand words, a figure that was halved to 3-8 yuan. In 1960, the royalty system was abolished, and professional writers began receiving state salaries, with royalties serving only as supplementary income.

Later, royalties were no longer paid nationwide, and authors could only receive symbolic subsidies. Publishing houses generally implemented a "task" system, requiring amateur authors to be seconded to write, with their own food and lodging and no pay.

In 1977, the GJCB Bureau began to pilot the news and publishing remuneration and subsidy system, ending the state of no remuneration. It stipulated that the remuneration was 2-7 yuan per thousand words for manuscripts and 1-5 yuan per thousand words for translations, but emphasized "low remuneration and payment only once".

Later generations often refer to 1980 as the golden age of Chinese literature, precisely because a notice was issued in 1980 that raised the standard of royalties to 3-10 yuan for original works and 2-7 yuan for translated works, and restored royalties based on print runs, which comprehensively enhanced the creative vitality of writers.

(End of this chapter)