Four o'clock in the morning, Citigroup, Washington.
Citigroup in the 1960s was not as beautiful as the rumors say. Although it was a city full of neon lights and had advanced technology, the air here was not sweet and the moon was not as round as anywhere else.
At this time, it was full of noise and turmoil everywhere, and various movements emerged one after another and became more and more intense.
As the capital of Citi, Washington is naturally not immune. Even though it is early in the morning, there are still pedestrians playing and marching on the streets.
Their characteristics are very obvious and similar. They wear strange clothes, carry pills in their pockets, like rock music, and prefer to live in groups. They have a resounding name - hippies!
A group of young people with peace, friendship, and freedom as their ideals and rebellion and dissatisfaction as their core.
Very West Coast…
"Bang bang bang!"
Amidst the pleasant American-style chorus, the lights were still on in a small shabby newspaper office located in a dark alley on the north side of New York Street near St. John's Church.
This is Chrissy's newspaper, called Blue Oak. It is a small, broken newspaper that makes a living by breaking news about public figures. The boss and employees can't even put together five fingers.
"You must be crazy to put everything on a book!"
In the newspaper office, a well-dressed, gray-haired old white man stared angrily at Chrissie, who had messy hair and a big beard in front of him.
This old man is Old Boli, Chrissie's uncle, an official in the city hall, and an old gentleman who likes to kick people's butts with his black pointed leather shoes.
And the reason why he was so irritable was entirely because of the wanton nephew sitting in front of him.
Chrissy, the bearded man, is quite courageous!
After he returned to China with Avima's autobiography, in order to maximize his profits, he completely ignored his family's objections and mortgaged his house and car. He also used all his savings to buy a publishing house that was on the verge of bankruptcy, and even gave up his personal life.
Every last cent of my money was spent on printing this book.
It can be said that he bet all his wealth on this book!
"Don't worry, uncle. In the words of a Chinese friend of mine, I now have the right time, location, and people. This book will definitely be a big seller, and everything I invest will be earned back many times."
"Yes!" Chrissy said confidently, his eyes were very hot, and the beard on his face trembled with the shaking of his chin. From time to time, a piece of dried noodles or a piece of noodles could be seen falling from it.
Light yellow bread crumbs.
"Then just pray here."
Old Boli sighed angrily, then tightened the autobiography under his arm, gently smoothed the collar of his suit, turned around and strode out of the newspaper office.
"Tu tu tu tu!"
Listening to the distant roar of the engine, Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief, slumped down on the chair, rummaged through the ashtray on the table, and finally found an ashtray with a small section left.
Cigarette butt.
"Praise Satan!"
He cheered and put the cigarette butt into his mouth, and reached out to touch the lighter in his pocket, but found nothing. Chrissy then remembered that the silver antique lighter had been sold to him for two hundred dollars the day before yesterday.
The price was too high, so I had no choice but to find half a box of matches from the drawer and light the cigarette butt.
"hiss!"
"ha!"
The orange firelight flickered in the newspaper office. Chrissy looked out the window in ecstasy, murmuring: "Believe me, Avima, we will all become successful people in the upper class! Definitely!"
"Then let's make that damn Chu the housekeeper...the gardener...the cook...forget it, let's fill him with cement and sink him to the bottom of the sea."
…
It was eight o'clock in the morning, the wind was warm and the sun was shining brightly.
"Crash!"
Old White, who had a hangover yesterday, bleary-eyedly removed the chain from the bookstore door, opened the door and started a new day of business.
Dragging heavy steps into the store, he cleaned up as usual, then made himself a cup of refreshing coffee, returned to the counter and sat down.
"Zi Liu!"
After taking an elegant sip of hand-ground coffee, Old White secretly took out a book from under the table and read it with relish.
This book is Avima's autobiography.
In fact, he didn't know who Avima was. The reason why Old White watched it was entirely because of the exciting scenes in the second half where Avima was persecuted.
Therefore, as soon as he took out his hand, he opened the book to the second half.
"Tsk, tsk, this guy really knows how to play!"
Old White was amazed and planned to spend ten yuan of his own money to find someone to try after get off work.
"Pap tap tap..."
At nine o'clock, footsteps sounded at the door, and a young man in a suit and leather shoes walked into the bookstore. He was a regular customer of the store and had frequented here since junior high school.
"Hi, White, are there any new books today?" he asked directly after entering the room.
"There are two books, one is this." Old White raised the autobiography of Ivy in his hand, and pointed to the rows of bookshelves in the store: "The other one is in the second row of shelves turning right in front.
above."
"Let me take a look at this first." The young man curiously took the autobiography from his hand, glanced at the cover, and flipped through the content, then shook his head and handed it back indifferently: "I have never heard of this person.
.”
After saying that, the young man walked inside again and read the second new book called Western Love. He found that it was not his favorite type, so he could only leave with disappointment.
Old White didn't hold back. He shrugged and lowered his head and continued reading his book.
The day passed quickly. Old White closed the door happily and walked to the gathering place of famous teachers in the city with ten yuan in his pocket.
Today, his business was relatively good. He sold a total of more than fifty books, including thirty-six new ones, including thirty-four Western Mysteries and only two poor books of Evermar's Autobiography.
…
"I have to change my job again!"
8 p.m., Blue Oak Press.
A young black man put down the sales data of Evema's autobiography he had just collected in despair. The number of just over a hundred copies was so shocking.
Although the small publishing house acquired by his boss had limited channels and only had sales in a dozen states including Pennsylvania, Ohio, and North Carolina, the data was really bleak, so bleak that he couldn't bear it.
look!
"well!"
Xiao Hei sighed and stood up. While thinking about finding a new job, he came to Chrissy's office with the data sheet and put the thin piece of paper on his desk, hesitating about this preferable job.
The kind-hearted boss who dared to hire him, a black man, asked, "Boss, can I still get my salary for this week?"
"Only more than a hundred copies were sold?"
Chrissy looked at the poor data sheet without showing much surprise. He seemed to have expected it. He gently put the data sheet down, looked up and his eyes were rolling around, trying to figure out what should be moved to offset the salary.
Xiao Hei, the old man stretched out his legs on the table and said calmly: "Don't look at it, I have sold everything that can be sold in this room. Also, who told you that I am going to lose money?"
?If you don’t let the bullet fly for a while, how do you know whether it hit the target?”
After saying that, Chrissy was suddenly stunned, Huh? How did I learn to speak like Chu?
