Chapter 138 Going South
Zhao Shouyan nodded solemnly, replaced the wine with coffee, drank it all in one gulp, and promised: "Comrade Deming, I will discuss the arrangements when I return to the Commercial Printing Bureau later today!"

"Arrange printing and publishing as quickly as possible!"

"Thanks!"

The so-called comrades are people with the same ideals. Wang Deming originally thought that this trip to Shanghai would have some twists and turns, but he did not expect it to be so smooth.

If someone else made such a promise, he would still have doubts, but Zhao Shouyan on the other side was 120% confident.

It has been circulated in Beijing: When Zhao Erxun died, Zhang Zuolin, the King of Northeast China, came to Beijing from Northeast China to mourn for him. He knocked his head and bled in front of the gate of Zhao's courtyard and almost fainted from crying.
The Zhao family has a lot of old friends in the cultural circle.

The most important issue of this trip was solved. Although Wang Deming was in a heavy mood because of the news he had just heard, he was relieved that the "Rural Doctor's Handbook" could be successfully published.

Fortunately, the Commercial Printing Bureau is not in Beijing.

Wang Deming took out a wad of money from the briefcase beside him and pushed it across the table. “Comrade Shouyan, I know the rules and regulations of the Printing Bureau. Usually, the first print run is only 2000 copies.

"Here is the 5000 yuan raised by members of the Chinese Medicine Association. We hope that the first print run will be 5 copies!"

Zhao Shouyan glanced at it casually, returned the money, stood up, waved to the waiter, and said to Wang Deming: "Put the money away, I'll take you to the Printing Bureau and deposit it directly into the account."

"Okay!" Wang Deming stood up.

"Sir, how can I help you?" As expected of Shanghai, the waiter was dressed the same as in his previous life, a white shirt, black trousers, and a bow tie at the collar. After walking over and standing still, he naturally crossed his hands in front of his belly.

Zhao Shouyan pointed to the square table and said, "Pay the bill, and then please bring me and this gentleman's coats."

"Yes."

Seeing Wang Deming take out his wallet, Zhao Shouyan waved his hand at him to take the wallet back, "I am older than you, and I am a guest."

He took out 2 yuan and 2 cents from his wallet, handed it to the waiter, and explained: "Although my family is not well off."

"But there is still some legacy from our ancestors. The rent in Harbin and other places is about 1000 yuan a month. Although it can't compare with best-selling authors like you, it is enough for us to support our lives."

Wang Deming smiled, took back his wallet, and did not emphasize to him that all his royalties had been donated.

The two put on gray camel hair coats with fur collars and walked out of Huizhong Hotel together.

Zhao Shouyan looked back and said to Wang Deming with some regret: "Huizhong Hotel is also going to apply for closure like Huamao Hotel. Their coffee and Western food are still good."

Wang Deming then looked back, then turned back to look at No. 20 The Bund across the street, smiled, and replied: "The country is developing, and everything will recover in the future."

"Besides, I have always believed that Chinese food is the best cuisine in the world. When you have the chance to come to Beijing, I will take you to Dong'an Market to eat a variety of Shandong, Guangdong, Sichuan, Huai and other dishes, as well as various authentic snacks. I guarantee you will never forget it."

"OK!"

Zhao Shouyan waved his hand, and two human-powered tricycles stopped in front of the two of them, one in front and one behind. "The Commercial Press, Qipan Street (now No. 211 Henan Road)"

Soon they stopped in front of a four-story European-style building. The third floor had a few large cement characters "Commercial Printing Bureau" on it, and a bright red flag with a red star was planted in the center of the roof.

The streets were crowded with people, bicycles, cars, rickshaws, human-powered tricycles, Mao suits, Western suits, long gowns, and short-collared cotton jackets, giving Wang Deming the feeling of watching a TV series from the Republic of China. There were five different plaques hanging on the five storefronts on the first floor: Sanlian Bookstore, Zhonghua Book Company, Commercial Press, Kaiming Bookstore, and Lianying Bookstore.

The storefronts are all open-plan, and there is a constant stream of people coming to buy and read books. Among them are many female comrades, wearing Lenin suits, cotton cheongsams, or work clothes, but unfortunately they look so bulky on their bodies that you can't see any lines at all.

In addition to the most popular short hair, there are also many people with permed hair with big waves.
Zhao Shouyan took Wang Deming upstairs from a small door on the side instead of entering the storefront on the first floor. He explained as he walked: "This was originally the main distribution center of our Commercial Press. The printing center and the Oriental Library are both in Baoshan, covering an area of ​​80 acres."

"But it's a pity that a lot of it was burned down when the little ones invaded!"

"The crimes that Xiaozi has committed in our country are too numerous to list!" Wang Deming sighed, and then asked in confusion: "Brother Shouyan, why are there five plaques hanging on the first floor?"

"Oh, at the end of the 50s, our five units were merged into the China Book Distribution Company."

Zhao Shouyan arranged Wang Deming to sit at his desk first and poured him a glass of water. "Deming, wait for me. I'll go find the chairman right away."

"Thank you for your hard work, Brother Shouyan!"

"Well, this is my job!" Zhao Shouyan took the manuscript of "Rural Doctors' Handbook" and rushed into the office on the easternmost side of the fourth floor with the chairman's sign hanging on it with full confidence.

Wang Deming held a cup of water in his hand and looked curiously at the publishing house on the fourth floor.

After being used to seeing the traditional and antique furniture in Beijing, I suddenly felt like I was in a TV series from the 80s when I came here: wooden cabinets lined up along the wall, filled with all kinds of thread-bound and printed books and documents, most of which were clamped with wooden clips;

There was a long table and a few chairs neatly placed in the middle of the room; but the pile of manuscripts and open notebooks on the table looked messy;
Black-framed glasses, gold-rimmed glasses; Zhongshan suits, Western suits, almost everyone was writing furiously. Occasionally, they would look up and see Wang Deming, smile and nod, then continue working at their desks.

There was no movement in the chairman's office for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, and 15 minutes.

Wang Deming stared at the tightly closed door unconsciously, frowning slightly, wondering if there were more twists and turns.
Suddenly, quarrels and table slamming were heard from the office, "We are China Book Discovery Company!"

“Not a vassal of any educational or health institution!”

"Chairman Zhang, you have met the leaders! Don't you know their attitude? Yes, I studied in the United States! But I have never denied our own traditional Chinese medicine, our culture!"

"My son was delivered by Dr. Lin Qiaozhi two years ago! But this doesn't stop me from taking Niuhuang Jiedu Pills when I get angry!"

"Bang bang! Are we going to block the way for speech?!"

"Bang! Is it wrong for us to be responsible for the lives and health of the people?"

"They? Are they right?"

Listening to the quarrel, Wang Deming's heart couldn't help but feel worried. Is there no way to publish in Shanghai?
Could it be that they are really preparing to submit a joint letter as Chairman Zhao Shuping said?

Will a joint petition be effective?

The quarrel gradually died down, and could no longer be heard.
After a while, seeing Zhao Shouyan coming out of the office, Wang Deming stood up unconsciously.

(End of this chapter)