Smith looked at Lu, then at Scott, feeling a bit confused. "What's going on?" he asked in a low voice, pointing to the manuscript. "Mr. Lu, may I have a look? Of course, if you think it's inappropriate, then forget about it."
Lu replied, "Of course, please go ahead."
Smith picked up the manuscript and read it carefully. After a while, he let out a sigh. Then, with some approval, he said, "No wonder Mr. Lu could see the artistic value of the title 'A Study in Scarlet.' It's because you're so familiar with English writing and you write so authentically."
Lu waved his hand modestly. "You flatter me."
Seeing his modesty, the smile on Smith's face grew. "You should know, this is no flattery."
In Lu's manuscript, there was a prelude—a nursery rhyme adapted from 'Mother Goose's Nursery Rhymes.' As this nursery rhyme collection was compiled in the late 18th century, its content included many bloody, cruel, and realistic sentences due to the dark era it originated from. Conservative individuals had limited acceptance of such content, so with each reprint, there would be deletions. The prelude quoted in Lu's manuscript was among the deleted verses.
Lu's ability to unearth and skillfully utilize its eerie atmosphere far exceeded most authors Smith had encountered. If it weren't for Xia Mu's introduction, Smith might have even thought Lu had lived in London for decades.
"This lad is a genius!" Smith remarked. "And your approach is quite innovative. This nursery rhyme... Is it a prophecy? I mean, do the main characters' deaths mirror those in the nursery rhyme?"
After speaking, he immediately denied his own words. "No, it must be that the murderer is imitating the nursery rhyme. There's no such thing as prophecy in this world."
Scott interjected, "And another well-designed aspect is that the story takes place on a secluded, isolated island. After the crime occurs, the police cannot intervene quickly due to the closed-off environment and limited conditions within. Solving the case relies solely on pure deduction."
"And there's more..." Smith added.
"Exactly, I think..." Scott continued.
"Take a look here..." Smith pointed out.
The two of them engaged in an active discussion, building upon the contents of the first three chapters.
This was the remarkable aspect of "And Then There Were None." While one innovation might be impressive in another book, "And Then There Were None" was the pioneering work of two modes:
Stormy Island Manor,
Nursery Rhyme Murders.
Many later works copied this isolated island serial murder pattern. Readers might find it ordinary after seeing so many, but in fact, they were all copying Christie.
Lu coughed lightly, interrupting their discussion. He retrieved the manuscript from the table, a regretful expression on his face. "Mr. Scott, since 'The Manchester Guardian' doesn't have a section for serializing novels, I'll have to submit it elsewhere."
Snap—
Scott grabbed his hand. "Wait!"
His expression was uncertain.
"Charles, don't act like a child. You should be well aware of the value of this novel," Smith said.
Scott nodded slowly, calculating in his mind.
As the editor of a high-circulation newspaper, his influence was not to be underestimated. Helping Lu serialize in some weeklies or magazines would be a piece of cake. However, favors were not free. Could this young man from China live up to his trust?
"Do you have an outline?" Scott asked.
Lu shook his head. "No outline. But I can make a table, listing the relevant profiles of the main characters one by one. Of course, doing so will inevitably spoil the plot to a certain extent. You should be prepared for that."
As soon as he finished speaking, Smith walked to the window.
"I'll check the street view."
Scott, somewhat helpless, muttered, "Damn it, spoilers... This is the first time I've hated my profession so much."
He took out paper and pen, handing them to Lu.
"Please."
Lu immersed himself in writing, without hesitation. The room was filled with the sound of pen tips scratching against paper.
Scott quietly read aloud:
"Lawrence John Walgrave, judge, sentenced Edward Seton to death;
Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, teacher, conspired to murder Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton;
Philip Lombard, soldier, guilty of mutilating twenty-one adult members of East African tribes...
Smith exploded in anger, "Stop reading them out loud!"
However, Scott ignored him, lost in thought with a furrowed brow.
After a while, he suddenly interrupted Lu, saying, "Could you change Philip Lombard's crimes from East Africa to the Boers? If you're willing, I can guarantee you a good price for this book, and it can be published in large quantities."
Lu looked deeply at him, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"The Boers?" Scott suddenly felt as if he had been seen through, feeling awkward.
"Is that not acceptable?" he asked.
Lu replied, "No, I think it's quite good. After all, the British Empire is currently engaged in back-and-forth conflicts with the Boers in South Africa. Newspapers report on it extensively every day, and readers are already familiar with the Boers, which indeed feels more realistic than East Africa."
As if remembering something, he slapped his forehead.
"Oh, yesterday's front-page headline in 'The Manchester Guardian' was about the Anglo-Boer War. Mr. Churchill criticized the government's policies in the Anglo-Boer War and strongly opposed the military expansion plan. Hmm, it was a brilliant news article."
Hearing this, Scott knew that his little scheme had been exposed.
Since that was the case, there was no need to pretend anymore.
He tapped the table lightly with his fingers.
"Whether supporting or opposing the war, the citizens of the British Empire have the right to know the truth. Don't you think so? At the very least, we shouldn't glorify the war like 'The Daily Telegraph.'"
Not glorifying the war was artistic processing?
Lu whispered, "Hehe, Mr. Scott, you should really consider going into politics."
Scott was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"No, that's too dull. I prefer running a newspaper, using 'The Manchester Guardian' to form a canopy that covers London's sky completely."
He had served as editor of 'The Guardian' since 1872, for a full 57 years. During his tenure, 'The Guardian' evolved from a local newspaper to a national one and became a world-renowned newspaper.
Moreover, Scott was a staunch Liberal.
He once declared, "Comment is free, but facts are sacred... The voice of opponents is as deserving of being heard as that of friends."
But now it seemed, was this inclination to cover up ambitious aspirations?
Which was more important in his value hierarchy: the vision of becoming a newspaper tycoon or the ideal of free commentary?
It's hard to say.
Lu straightforwardly commented, "Ideologies on the lips, business in the heart."
Scott didn't take offense.
"It's refreshing to talk to smart people."
Lu nodded. "So I'll make all the necessary changes. Like the nursery rhyme in the prelude, I plan to revert to the original text."
At this point, Smith also interjected, "Yes, I found it strange earlier. The nursery rhyme was originally 'Ten Little Niggers,' but how did it become 'Ten Little Indian Boys'?"
Of course, it was because of the absurd political correctness in modern Europe and America~
Lu didn't directly respond but looked at Scott.
"How's that?"
This "how's that?" naturally referred to the payment.
Scott understood Lu's implied meaning in changing to 'Ten Little Niggers' and hinting at the Anglo-Boer War.
He smiled knowingly.
"Since Mr. Lu is cooperating like this, I should also show sincerity. The quality of the first three chapters is very high, and I can offer 50 pounds per chapter. Of course, if the novel becomes popular, the price can be raised."
It was necessary to bind Lu with a high fee.
Otherwise, if this kid went to work for those old bastards at 'The Times' or 'The Daily Telegraph,' it would be a big loss.
Lu then asked, "Since 'The Manchester Guardian' doesn't have a space for serializing novels, where should my novel be published?"
Scott replied without hesitation, "In the Wednesday supplement of 'The Scotsman.' There's not much time left."
Lu blinked.
The headquarters of The Scotsman is in Edinburgh.
And Dahl's hometown is also in Edinburgh.
Isn't that a coincidence?