1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Michelle was startled by Michael's sudden change in expression.

The middle-aged editor, who had been nonchalant just moments before, now stared at him as if he were some rare treasure.

I'm fairly handsome, so maybe this editor didn't even see the manuscript, only his face. After all, it's a British tradition... after all, it's the "British Country," those who know, know...

"Cough cough."

Michael cleared his throat, trying to appear professional and calm, but the excitement in his voice betrayed his true emotions.

"Mr. Michel, this article of yours is really..."

He paused, as if searching for the right adjective: "Unexpected yet reasonable, and most importantly, it moved me deeply. This story is truly excellent."

Michelle smiled slightly upon hearing this.

The three great masters of the short story each possess their own unique skills. The reason I chose to heavily modify this O. Henry story is precisely because I was drawn to its signature O. Henry ending.

This ending pattern lays the groundwork and foreshadows future events. The preceding descriptions seem straightforward, but the ending takes a sudden turn, making it unexpected yet perfectly logical. In this era, it's absolutely unique.

"but......"

Michael continued.

Michelle's smile froze instantly, her heart skipping a beat: "The story is good, but..."

He was all too familiar with this kind of phrasing... In his past life, when his mentor evaluated papers, he would always start with "Well written," then add "However," and finally give a bunch of suggestions for revision. The praise at the beginning was not to be taken seriously; the subsequent comments were the key.

Michelle's heart sank, a sense of helplessness rising within her: "Even O. Henry's masterpieces don't work in this era?"

"But... I'd like to know, is this your original work?" Michael suddenly stood up, walked around the table piled with manuscript papers, and stood in front of Michelle. "The concept of this story, the plot design, and that ending—good heavens, that ending was simply too perfect to believe."

Michelle was stunned for a moment, then her heart finally settled down.

Is this questioning his plagiarism? In this timeline, his work is absolutely 100% original.

"Of course it's original, I swear to God," Michelle said with a smile.

O. Henry's "The Last Leaf" wouldn't be published until 1907, and it was 1836 now, more than seventy years before that.

Michael stared at Michelle for a long time, his sharp eyes seeming to see right through her.

After a long while, he suddenly laughed too.

"Very good, excellent!" Michael patted Michelle on the shoulder. "Professor Joseph has really recommended a gem to me this time. To be honest, I originally thought it would be just another self-important college student writing some bland and uninteresting stuff."

Michelle's lips twitched, so what she had overheard outside the door was indeed Michael's true feeling.

"Come, come, sit down and let's talk." Michael gestured for Michelle to sit down, while he leaned against the edge of the table, still holding the stack of manuscript papers in his hand. "I want this story. The London Express is willing to publish it."

It's done? It really is done? Michelle's heart raced instantly.

"As for royalties..."

Michael pondered for a moment: "According to our newspaper's standards, the usual fee for a new writer is one shilling per thousand words. Your piece is about three thousand words, which is three shillings."

Three shillings.

Michel quickly did the math in his head: one shilling equals twelve pence, so three shillings is thirty-six pence. And he owed his landlady one pound in rent, which is two hundred and forty pence.

This amount of money isn't even a fraction of the rent.

Michel felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his heart. He had thought that the royalties would solve his immediate problem, but he never expected the difference to be so huge.

"However..." Michael changed the subject, "that's the price for regular manuscripts, yours is different."

Yet another "however," Michelle looked up, feeling like Michael was about to give her a heart attack. "Editor, can't you just say it all at once?"

"This story is of such high quality that it could easily be featured in our newspaper."

"Based on this standard, I can give you five shillings per thousand words."

Three thousand words is equivalent to fifteen shillings. Although it's still not enough to cover the rent owed, it can cover most of it.

Forget it, at least we can get some first, and we'll figure out how to get the rest later.

Michelle took a deep breath.

"I accept this payment."

"Wait a minute." Michael waved his hand.

"I haven't finished speaking."

Michelle looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"I personally have a very high opinion of this work." Michael straightened up and said seriously, "So I'm willing to use my authority to give you a special price—ten shillings per thousand words."

Michelle stood up abruptly.

Ten shillings equals one thousand words; three thousand words equals thirty shillings!

Thirty shillings equals three hundred and sixty pence!

Not only can I pay off the rent, but I'll also have over a hundred pence left!

"Are you sure?" Michelle could hardly believe her ears.

"Of course I'm sure," Michael laughed. "But I have one condition."

Sure enough, there's no such thing as a free lunch. Michelle forced herself to calm down and prepared to hear Michael's terms.

"What are the conditions?"

"The conditions are very simple," Michael said with a smile.

"I hope you will continue to contribute to the London Express. Not too frequently, one article a month will do. But it must be of this quality."

One story a month? Michel's mind raced. He had read plenty of short stories in his previous life—O. Henry, Maupassant, Chekhov… a few of them would be enough.

"Okay." He agreed almost immediately.

"Great!" Michael rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"Then let's sign the contract now."

"Oh, by the way, your article should be published in the next few days. As for the payment, it will be settled within a week after publication."

Does that mean I won't receive my payment for another week or so? That should be in time for my landlady's ultimatum...

Michelle nodded, indicating that she understood.

Michael pulled a contract from the drawer, quickly filled it out, and handed it to Michelle.

"Take a look, if there are no problems, just sign it."

Michelle took the contract and read it carefully. The terms were simple, stipulating the frequency of contributions, the remuneration standard, and the ownership of copyright.

After reading the contract, Michelle frowned slightly.

According to the contract, the copyright of the articles belongs to the London Express, and Michelle only retains the right to be credited. This means that if they are to be published as a collection in the future, she will have to negotiate with the newspaper.

But I can't worry about that now. If I don't accept this contract, I won't even be able to pay the rent.

Moreover, copyrights were far less valuable back then than they are today.

Michelle picked up a quill pen and signed her name and mailing address on the contract.

"Great!" Michael put the contract away in the drawer and handed another contract to Michelle.

"Then I wish us a pleasant cooperation!" The two large hands clasped tightly together.

(This is the 1-shilling coin that Michel received in 1836.)