Forty-five percent?

Burns took the special funding from Li Danio and traveled to New Zealand, intending to use a financial offensive to loosen the lips of the New Zealanders.

It wasn’t that Li Danio was dead set on buying the Auckland Islands in New Zealand—there were other options—but for the people of Tuvalu, this location was simply the most suitable. The suitability wasn’t only about the similarity in living environments, it was also tied to the price. There were better places, certainly, but with Li Danio’s current financial situation, they were simply out of reach.

The Auckland Islands were a significant improvement over Tuvalu’s current home, but compared to other human settlements, they remained rather remote and lacked any substantial resources. How expensive could such a place really be?

Moreover, Li Danio possessed a system for crossing worlds, which might at any moment grant him black technologies from the realm of cinema. He could only quietly develop such things in slightly more secluded locations; otherwise, under the watchful eyes of the superpowers, how could he possibly settle down in peace?

Handing over the bribery matters to Burns, Li Danio washed his hands of it—after all, he was now the ruler of a nation and should not concern himself with such affairs.

He opened his computer, intending to check if there was any news about his new book online. The time difference meant that while he slept, a whole day had passed in America.

As soon as he logged into his EyeBook account, Li Danio was greeted by a system notification of 999+ alerts.

“What’s going on?”

Although Li Danio had played with EyeBook and similar platforms before crossing over, he’d never encountered anything like this—the 999+ notification simply meant the alert limit had been exceeded.

Opening the system notifications, he saw that the vast majority were follows. Looking at his follower count, he saw it had already reached seven thousand.

“Did the EyeBook staff all follow me?” Li Danio pondered, but could only come up with this utterly implausible explanation; the EyeBook team would have to be bored out of their minds to follow him en masse. As for readers, it seemed equally unlikely—his book had only been on sale for four or five days, how could it possibly have sold seven thousand copies without any publicity? Let alone having all those buyers flock to EyeBook to follow him.

He checked the status he’d posted previously and found a slew of comments beneath it.

“Are you really a king?”

“Where exactly is Tuvalu?”

“As a king, isn’t it a bit irresponsible to go off and write books?”

“I’ve decided to buy your book, because you actually made that sharp-tongued Renault apologize.”

“You’re the first author to make Renault apologize. Does it feel like a great achievement?”

“Your Majesty, I saw on the encyclopedia that your country is a pseudo-constitutional monarchy, but in fact it’s an absolute monarchy. Your words are law. So, do you implement the right of first night in your country?”

“Can someone please explain what on earth the right of first night is?”

…

Renault? Li Danio glanced at the verified notifications tagging him—every single one was from Renault, the venomous reviewer who had previously planned to publicly criticize him.

“Tarek? Are you the author Tarek of that book?”

“Oh my God, are you really a king?”

“Please forgive what I said before.”

“Your book is simply fantastic.”

“Are you online?”

“Could you sign a copy for me? I think I’ve become your fan.”

Aside from these messages tagging him, Renault’s own page had several new updates.

“I admit I misjudged this time. Of course, it’s not really my fault, because who could’ve imagined that a twenty-something king would write such a brilliant story? Yes, I’m talking about ‘The Lord of the Rings.’”

“After finishing this book, my first reaction was to urge you all: hurry to the bookstore and buy a copy. There were only a hundred thousand printed in the first run. Trust me, in a week you may not be able to buy it anymore.”

“Some may think I’m exaggerating—how could a debut author’s book sell out in a week? Or even if ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is really that good, there’s no rush. I just want to say: once you’ve read it, you’ll understand why I say this.”

Li Danio looked at Renault’s posts and found his urge to quarrel dissipated. The man’s attitude had changed so sincerely, and he’d brought so many new followers—how could he bear to pick a fight?

Is seven thousand followers a lot? Compared to public figures who routinely attract millions, or even tens of millions in the great Celestial Empire, it’s really nothing. But for Li Danio, whose pre-crossing microblog never broke double digits, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Of course, at present, most of these followers were just onlookers from Renault’s page, curious because Renault had apologized to Li Danio—not genuine fans.

Looking at their questions: the right of first night? What kind of nonsense is that? Do you think this is still feudal society? How could such a blatantly inhumane law exist?

Seeing he finally had followers, Li Danio didn’t care if they were passersby; he excitedly posted a new status.

“I am the King of Tuvalu. Though my country is a monarchy, it is actually highly democratic. Apart from the threat of our homeland being submerged, my people do not find sadness in their lives.”

Perhaps because it was nighttime in America, those following Li Danio were either asleep or partying, so half an hour after posting, he hadn’t seen a single reply or like.

“How awkward.”

Li Danio chuckled, then tagged the reviewer Renault: “Your words show you’ve finished my book. Thank you for your support.”

His reply was neutral, neither warm nor cold.

Just as he was about to post a few more updates to show off his royal lifestyle, Li Danio heard his phone ring.

“What’s going on?”

For the past month or two, his phone hadn’t rung at all. If it weren’t for browsing the web and making calls, he’d have thought it was broken. Yet these past couple of days, it wouldn’t stop—was it because he was about to become famous?

“Hello?” Li Danio answered the phone in the brisk style of his homeland—a single, crisp greeting.

“Hello, is this King Tarek?”

“Yes, and you are?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, Your Majesty. I am Louis, chief editor of Sunshine Publishing in America. Do you have time to discuss a potential collaboration regarding your new book, ‘The Lord of the Rings’?”

“Go ahead.”

“Your Majesty, I’ve heard your ‘The Lord of the Rings’ was self-published? Moon Publishing only handled the shelf placement?”

“That’s right.” Li Danio couldn’t help but admire Louis’s speed. The news of his self-publishing had indeed been revealed by Renault, who had over a million followers, but less than twenty-four hours had passed. In such a short period, just buying a copy to read would be tight—yet Louis had already thought of collaboration and acted on it.

“Your Majesty, you know, for a book to sell explosively, it needs strong publicity. Sunshine Publishing might be less famous in the publishing world than Moon Publishing, but we are a subsidiary of Sunshine Group, which owns Sunshine Media. Sunshine Media ranks in the top ten in America, and is well-known in other major countries, so in terms of promotion, we have a big advantage.”

“Just get to the point,” Li Danio said. Although he appreciated Louis’s vision and drive, he had no patience for roundabout talk. Publicity or not, his book was destined to be a bestseller; they might as well just discuss the revenue split.

Louis seemed briefly taken aback, but quickly recovered.

“Forty-five percent. What do you think?”