At noon on March 7, 1977.
Lin Baicheng finished proofreading the first volume of The Storm Riders, taking the solid first step toward earning his first bucket of gold through writing novels.
After two o'clock, Lin Baicheng left home with the manuscript in hand and took a bus to Causeway Bay in the Eastern District.
Causeway Bay, located in the eastern part of Hong Kong Island, was a hub of manpower resources. Its economy ranked just behind the top districts of Central-Western and Wan Chai. In fact, Causeway Bay could be said to be the economic heart of the Eastern District, the busiest and most crowded place there.
The bus didn't take long before reaching its stop.
In later years, Causeway Bay would be known as a "shopping paradise." By the 1970s, it had already begun to take shape.
Since his rebirth, Lin Baicheng hadn't gone out to stroll around yet. Still, thanks to the memories of his body's original owner, Hong Kong wasn't unfamiliar to him. But this was his first time truly experiencing it for himself.
Causeway Bay was bustling with commercial prosperity. High-rises towered into the sky; restaurants, cinemas, appliance stores, and all kinds of shops lined the streets. Billboards in every style competed for attention. The roads were jammed with endless streams of cars and people. Though the style was different from the modern decades he remembered, the lively atmosphere was the same.
But Lin Baicheng, having grown used to the malls of later times, wasn't some country bumpkin visiting the city for the first time. After glancing around curiously, he stopped gawking.
Although the memories of the body's original owner kept him from being a stranger to Hong Kong, that person had never visited Ming Pao before. Fortunately, that wasn't a problem—after asking a few passersby for directions, he soon found the place.
Yes, this time Lin Baicheng had come to submit his work to Ming Pao.
The reason he chose Ming Pao was because of its fame—after all, Jin Yong, the grand master of martial arts fiction, held court there.
Hong Kong wasn't large, but there were plenty of newspapers, dozens of them. Of these, the ones with the largest circulation were Oriental Daily, Ming Pao, and Sing Tao Daily.
Lin Baicheng naturally wanted to make a splash, so his first choice had to be one of these three.
Ming Pao wasn't just one of the three major newspapers—it was also the leader in cultural publishing, serializing many novels. It was the best place for serialized fiction, with a built-in readership. If a novel was good and well-liked by the public, it could spread across Hong Kong in no time.
Of course, having written entertainment novels set in Hong Kong before his rebirth, Lin Baicheng clearly knew one thing: Jin Yong was rather stingy when it came to paying writers. He definitely wouldn't offer a high price—especially not to a newcomer like him.
But to Lin Baicheng, as long as the pay wasn't too low, that was fine. What mattered most was getting serialized. If his novel could be serialized and become a hit, then whether through book publication or other rights, he would surely make a fortune.
Lin Baicheng walked into the Ming Pao building, where people bustled to and fro.
Since this was his first time there, he approached a security guard and asked which floor Ming Pao was on.
The guard, a man in his forties, gave him a once-over. "What are you here for?"
"I wrote a novel. I'm here to submit it to Ming Pao."
"Submitting a novel?"
The guard chuckled. "You can't be twenty yet, right? Too young. My advice is to head home. Do you know how many people come here every day trying to submit manuscripts, all hoping to get famous? Yet in a whole year, only a handful ever make it to print. And those people are teachers, lawyers—folks with rich life experience. Even they don't make it. Do you really think you can?"
"A novel is judged by its content, not by the author's life experience."
Lin Baicheng shook his head, unwilling to argue further. "Uncle, since I've already come here, I definitely want an editor to at least take a look at my novel. Just tell me how to find the right person. If the editor really doesn't like it, then I'll accept that."
"Well, fine. Wait here, I'll make a call for you."
The guard sighed. After all, he was just a guard—he couldn't physically drive someone away if they insisted. And besides, this young man wasn't even twenty. If things got heated, it would only end badly for him.
"Thank you, Uncle," Lin Baicheng said gratefully.
The guard went aside to make a phone call. Soon after, he waved for Lin Baicheng to come over.
"I'm not taking you up. Just head to that elevator, go straight to the sixth floor, and find the front desk there."
The guard pointed toward the elevator. He wasn't supposed to leave his post so easily.
"Got it. Thanks."
Lin Baicheng nodded and walked toward the elevator.
In no time, he reached the sixth floor and went straight to the reception desk, briefly explaining his purpose.
The receptionist, a young woman in her twenties, was clearly used to this sort of thing. Though a little surprised at his age, she skillfully led him to a meeting room, poured him some tea, and told him to wait a bit before leaving.
Lin Baicheng didn't wait long before the door opened and a middle-aged man of about forty entered.
Seeing only Lin Baicheng inside, the man was slightly startled. "Young man, you're the one submitting a manuscript? Is it a novel or a short story?"
"Yes, that's me."
Lin Baicheng stood up. "I've written a full-length novel, though so far I've only finished the first volume—about 180,000 characters."
"Sit, let's talk."
The middle-aged man gestured for him to sit back down, then sat across from him. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Chen Changming, and I'm one of the editors for Ming Pao's serialized novels."
"Lin Baicheng. 'Lin' with double wood," he said politely.
"You don't mind if I call you Lin Jai, do you?"
Chen smiled. When he saw Lin shake his head, he continued: "Lin Jai, judging from your age, you can't be twenty yet. Are you still in school? What made you decide to write a novel?"
Patiently, Lin Baicheng replied: "I'm only eighteen. I just graduated from Form Five and stopped studying because my grades weren't good. The reason I decided to write a novel is because I really enjoy reading Jin Yong's martial arts stories. Plus, I have a lot of ideas in my head, so I decided to put them into words."
Chen knew exactly who this "Grandmaster Jin" referred to. Lin wasn't the first to call him that. He simply nodded. After all, there were plenty of people like Lin who, inspired by their love of martial arts novels, tried writing their own. He had already received more than a few such submissions and was well-practiced at handling them.