Frank's office wasn't big; bookshelves crowded along both walls, a desk sat by the window, and files sorted into boxes were piled like a half-wall in the empty space beside the desk, with no other clutter. Only the secretary of the section head could have such a small cubicle in the prime office space; even assistant editors worked outside. The current executive editor of Century Weekly was named Orrison Bach. He had originally belonged to the telegraph department and brought two section heads with him. Mr. Alpha was one of them, responsible for the serial content section of the weekly. The other was in charge of the fixed column section. The serial section included long-form serials, short stories, poems, special articles, and interview columns; editors occasionally contributed as well. The author before Frank was named Kelisi. Ethan. He was twenty-six, a novelist who had debuted four years ago when he submitted an adventure novel to Century Weekly that was successfully accepted. After serializing for months, that novel received widespread praise. When it ended, the literature department upstairs compiled it into a collection and published tens of thousands of copies; it had been quite popular in its day. But after that peak debut, in the following three years, Kelisi. Ethan published a similar adventure series in Century Weekly. That one, however, got a poor response. Critics and readers jeered at him, thinking he only wanted to replicate a money-making story with no originality. Last year, he wanted to collaborate with Century Weekly for another serial novel and try again, but due to public opinion, the previous section head didn't give him the chance. He had to go to other small publishers, and this time even the jeers were absent—the book was simply unknown. At Dawling, at least the distribution department was the strongest in New York State; even if the content was poor, the distribution department could spread the publication everywhere through market operations. This time, hearing that Century Weekly had changed its section head, Kelisi. Ethan rushed over immediately, hoping to renew their past connection. Since he was a somewhat famous author, Frank couldn't brush him off with a clerk. But his writing was getting worse and worse, and he couldn't let him bother Mr. Alpha. Frank had to act as a meat shield. Hearing a commotion outside, thinking it was a clerk looking for him, he quickly called the person in, hoping to find an excuse to escape. But the person at the door was a complete stranger to Frank. He thought she might be a staff member from another magazine in the department; after a moment, he asked her suspiciously, "What's the matter?" Jenny swallowed, quickly assessing the situation inside the door. As a former editor, she could tell what Frank's hand-on-forehead bitter smile meant. The young, eager writer before him was a nuisance. He probably wanted to refuse for various reasons but couldn't completely snub him. Unfortunately, the literary scenes in the two parallel worlds before and after her transmigration were different. The famous authors and publishing companies were not the same, so she didn't know how this author would develop. But she thought she might help Frank solve the problem. "Uh, I'm a clerk from the monthly magazine next door. I have something urgent to discuss with you. Could we step aside for a moment?" For the sake of her future, Jenny started bluffing again. But Frank didn't care if she was bluffing. He immediately looked at Ethan, apologetic. "Sorry, I just moved into this office recently and have a lot of work to coordinate. I'm really busy. Have some tea here; I'll be back soon." Without waiting for a reply, he took his coat from the chair and followed Jenny out of the office. The spacious open area outside housed several clerks and typists directly responsible to editors, all borrowed from other departments. The other section head, Mr. York, and his secretary were still handing over work in the literature department and hadn't come down yet. The weekly's office area was still quite empty. Frank gestured for Jenny to come to an empty cubicle in the corner. He rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment. "You're not from the monthly next door, are you? I haven't seen you before. Come on, who are you? What do you want?" Jenny smiled. "I'm not, indeed. You have sharp eyes. I heard you're recruiting clerks for the weekly and came specifically to ask for a chance to interview." Frank twitched his cheek, complaining calmly. "Where did you pop up from? Everyone asks me for a chance, and it's not like I can decide everything alone." Still, Frank rarely saw someone as sharp as her. Even though she had never met him before, she could read his expression and even lied without flinching to call him out of the office in front of the author. So, after hearing her plea, he didn't just turn away. Jenny knew she had to be honest now. "I was originally a female collator in the printing department. I just learned that the weekly is short-handed. I want to recommend myself; I just need an interview opportunity, nothing else." So she was someone with no knowledge, experience, or connections. Frank lost interest. "The clerk resumes have already been screened. Tomorrow the editors will conduct interviews... You didn't participate in the screening. Go back where you came from." That was just officialese; actually, arranging interviews and resumes was as easy as a word from him. But to get him to say that word, she had to prove herself. Talking alone wouldn't do. Frank turned, walked toward the walnut cubicle door, and grasped the handle. He heard her voice behind him. Jenny said calmly, "That person next door—he wants to see the person in charge, but you don't want him to, right? Is it him or his writing that's the problem? He looks stubborn and will waste a lot of your time. How about you leave him to me? I'll handle it. If I can make him stop pestering, can you arrange for me to interview with everyone tomorrow?" Frank stood by the door, turned the handle, and took two steps out. Then he suddenly turned back to look at her and shrugged. "If you think you can, go ahead." After five minutes of understanding. Jenny carried a wooden tray and a cup of black tea into Frank's office. She lowered her eyes, drawing on her previous life's experience with such matters, clenching her back teeth tightly. "Sorry, Mr. Frank has some things to handle." As she reached the desk, she had already convinced herself she was a professional, exchanging Ethan's tea. Ethan frowned immediately. "What things? He's not going to come back, is he? I still need to see the editor. I've been preparing this novel for half a year; it's no less than my debut. He can't stop me." "Frank isn't deliberately stopping you. It's just that the weekly had some trouble recently, and the handover is very busy. The new editor-in-chief is very responsible and is currently sorting through past manuscripts and files. If you disturb him now, he might not review your story carefully. Stopping you now is purely for your own good." "Oh, why didn't he say so earlier? Sigh, I've brought the outline and the first chapter manuscript. I've been writing for a long time." Jenny saw he was softening and had another idea. "The new editor-in-chief... has some personal preferences. How about you let me take a look at your manuscript? If there's anything to note, I'll give you a heads-up, so you don't make a wasted trip today." Jenny thought of what Frank had said earlier: that this guy wasn't a problem, and the company wasn't unwilling to give him a chance, but he was too immature. He had no structural awareness, relied entirely on inspiration, and his writing deteriorated year by year. The editors had plenty of mature authors; why would they give him so many opportunities? Ethan looked at Jenny skeptically. After a year or two of decline, he felt nervous when someone actually offered to look at his work. "You? You're just a clerk. What can you see?" "Whatever, I've got nothing better to do." Ethan sighed, opened his manuscript, and handed it to Jenny. Jenny stood in place, took the stack of linen paper, and began flipping through it, about five or six pages. Using the ingrained thinking from her previous life, she quickly outlined the main thread. "The protagonist wants to take a ship to Europe, but ends up stranded on a deserted island after a shipwreck, starting a survival adventure. That's the main storyline, right?" "Yes, yes." Jenny frowned slightly. "But in the first chapter, your protagonist spends the whole time bargaining on the ship, showing the ship's environment, introducing his past experiences, and even his love life. It's like a cake covered with a burnt black rye crust—by the time you eat the crust, you're already full." A laugh sounded from outside the cubicle, but it was stifled. Jenny continued, "I think you should move the shipwreck scene to the beginning to grab attention. After the protagonist survives and swims ashore, then introduce who he is, why he was on the ship, and what he plans to do now that he's stranded on a deserted island." Ethan stared at her blankly; his eyes suddenly cleared. Outside the door, Frank listened for a long time, but suddenly there was no sound inside. He was about to move closer when the door suddenly opened, and Ethan, clutching his manuscript, was about to leave. "Hey, why are you leaving?" Frank asked. Ethan's face reddened, a bit embarrassed. "I suddenly realized there's something wrong. I want to go back and revise." With that, he darted out of the editorial office, leaving Jenny greatly relieved as she looked at Frank. "What time is the interview tomorrow? Which office?" Frank pointed to the empty office next door and handed her a business card. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Mr. Eliot and Mr. Sharpe, the editor and assistant editor, will be selecting people. Only twenty clerks will be chosen, and there are about fifty interviewees. If you don't make it, don't blame me." … —————————— Author's note: Department partners > Executive editor > Section head > Editor > Assistant editor