Chapter 16: The Literary Arts Public Account

A few minutes later, a brand-new bank card was handed to Lin Qianfan.

“Your application was successful. You can activate and use it through mobile banking.”

After receiving the card, he walked outside to a bench, sat down, opened his phone, and sent the card number to Lanxing Studio.

Soon, a reply came: “Understood, Mr. Lin. The funds will arrive shortly.”

Lin Qianfan stared at the screen, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.

“This one hundred thousand yuan has finally landed in my hands.”

Sure enough, in less than half an hour, his phone received a message.

“100,000.00 yuan has been credited to your account ending with ****.”

He stared at the message for several seconds, then took a deep breath.

The money arrived even faster than he had imagined.

He immediately returned home, completed the song he had previously started, and sent it to Lanxing Studio.

After sending the email, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair, gazing blankly at the ceiling.

One hundred thousand yuan—now that he had this seed capital, what should he do next?

He opened his computer and began updating his novel.

While typing, his mind raced, calculating the next steps.

He currently had a good reputation at school, having just earned some recognition for the school in a math competition.

If he wanted to expand his resources further, the school might be a good entry point.

The funds needed to come from the school, but it couldn’t be done openly. He muttered softly to himself, “I have to think of a safe, reliable method.”

He rubbed his forehead, and suddenly a thought struck him.

“The school has very few artistic activities. If I start a literary public account, it should attract attention—and maybe bring in some money.”

On Sunday, he headed straight to the principal’s office.

The door was half ajar. Lin Qianfan knocked twice.

“Come in,” the principal’s voice came from inside.

Pushing the door open, Lin saw the principal looking down at a document.

“Principal, I have an idea I’d like to discuss with you.”

The principal looked up, glanced at him, and set the papers aside. “What is it? Speak.”

Lin Qianfan stood straight before the desk.

“Principal, I want to create a literary public account for the school.”

The principal frowned, as if pondering the meaning behind the words.

“A public account? You mean one of those online platforms?”

“Yes,” Lin nodded. “These are quite popular now. Our school could have one too, dedicated to sharing students’ poems, stories, and the like.”

“What use would that be?” the principal’s tone held a hint of skepticism.

Lin had anticipated this question and quickly replied, “Principal, although we have excellent students, our school isn’t well-known in the city.”

“If we create a literary public account to showcase our students’ talents, wouldn’t that enhance the school’s cultural image?”

He added, “Besides, if it’s done well, it could attract public attention and possibly even sponsorship.”

At the mention of “sponsorship,” the principal seemed intrigued.

“So, you’re saying this could bring both fame and resources to the school?”

Lin nodded firmly. “Exactly. And the costs are minimal—almost nothing.”

The principal pondered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons.

“How exactly would you operate this?”

Lin knew this was a sign of openness, so he continued eagerly.

“I can manage the public account myself.”

“All I need is your approval and for the school to help with some promotion.”

The principal looked up at him. “Alright, since you have a plan, give it a try.”

“But if it fails, you’ll be responsible.”

Lin breathed a sigh of relief and quickly promised, “Don’t worry, Principal. I’ll handle it perfectly.”

Leaving the office, he exhaled deeply, his steps lighter than before.

Back in the dorm, a few roommates were crowded around a computer playing games.

“Qianfan, you’re just in time! Come help us with the team battle!” Yongpan called over his shoulder.

Lin ignored him and tossed his bag onto the bed.

“Stop playing; this is serious!”

Yongpan paused, turning to look at him. “Serious? What serious thing?”

Lin sat down, elbows on his knees.

“I’m starting a literary public account, and the school has agreed.”

“You all have to help me get this off the ground.”

Silence fell for a few seconds as his roommates exchanged glances.

“A literary public account? Are you serious?” one asked.

Lin nodded. “Absolutely.”

“If it goes well, it won’t just make the school famous—it’ll also earn us some pocket money.”

“Pocket money?” Yongpan’s eyes lit up. “How?”

Lin smiled and lowered his voice. “I haven’t fully figured out the plan yet, but first, we need to set up the account.”

“You guys are good with computers, so this part’s on you.”

Yongpan scratched his head. “Alright, since you’re that serious, we’ll give it a shot.”

They quickly divided the tasks.

Lin sat quietly, mentally planning the next promotional moves.

By evening, the public account’s prototype was finally ready.

Lin took out his phone, snapped some photos of his busy roommates, added a short caption, and posted it on his social feed.

“School Literary Public Account launching soon—stay tuned!”

The next morning, Lin brought his phone to the principal.

“Principal, the public account is ready. Here’s the basic framework. Please take a look.”

He handed over the phone. The principal examined it and nodded.

“Not bad. It looks quite professional. What about promotion?”

Lin was ready.

“We can set up a bulletin board at school dedicated to promoting the account.”

“Plus, homeroom teachers can mention it during class. Students will know about it quickly.”

The principal considered it and agreed.

“Alright, I’ll have some art teachers help with the bulletin board.”

Lin nodded, already formulating plans in his mind.

Back in the dorm, he rallied his roommates to write a few articles to fill the account with initial content.

He then designed a promotional poster that read:

“Each submission requires a 5-yuan fee. Topics are open—poetry, stories, essays all welcome.”

After printing a few copies, he posted them on the school’s notice boards.

A day later, Lin stared at the backend data and saw only a handful of followers.

The dorm erupted.

“Are you crazy? Who’s going to pay five yuan to submit?”

“Yeah, that’s expensive. Who’d want to?”

In this day and age, five yuan was relatively steep.

Lin frowned, realizing that flyers alone weren’t enough; he needed something more enticing.

He thought for a moment, and a name immediately came to mind.

“We need a key attraction to drive interest.”

“What key attraction?” Yongpan leaned back, staring at him.

“The campus belle.”