"Oh! Something is wrong! I'm only in the fourth grade of elementary school now, I'm in the fourth grade of elementary school! I'm only ten years old, is it true that I'm still Zhuxian, I'm still the monk Wukong, I'm still writing love and hate, no one believes that no one can believe me! Will I let a certain Zhouzi talk endlessly about me being a ghostwriter in the future?"

Wang Huan was worried, not ordinary. There are some good books. The problem is that there is not a single one who is suitable for his age. Selling songs? Come on, this thing has never been worth much in China. Even if it is powerful, it is only tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands. Now it is amazing. As for those novels with strong depth and literary nature, can you write a little kid whom you, a young man, who has not learned from Runtu? There are geniuses and monsters, but things that exceed his social experience are absolutely impossible. If the children born in the 1990s and 200s are still a little likely. After all, they have sex when they were in their teens, but the post-80s, especially those who were born in the 1985 years ago, would never be able to create such works.

What to copy? Even campus youth novels like the Flower Season and Rainy Season are all stories of middle school students, and they were written by Yu Xiu at the age of 16. What’s more, they have been published now, and they were published in 1990s, but now they have been in 1993!

Along the way, the friends chatted and quarreled with each other. There was no formation on the way halfway through the road, because he, Gong Wen, Cui Xiaoting, and another fat girl named Pan Jilian were the four children farthest on this route, so they could disband the formation after the last child left.

Wang Huan usually loves this time, but today he seems so taciturn, and his mind is full of how to make money, so he has the intention to mess with the little kid.

The friends were very happy one by one, and they didn't notice Wang Huan's miserable look at him. When he arrived at the door of his house, Wang Huan subconsciously walked towards the back door. However, when he found the red brick wall that should have been removed, he suddenly realized that it was in 1993. At that time, his home had a backyard and it was not demolished to make the living room and kitchen. The actual area of ​​the home is only 40 square meters instead of the sixty later.

"Well! Why are there so many people in this market? What about the great urban management master?" Wang Huan turned around and planned to walk through the original gate. Suddenly, he saw that there were people coming and going at the entrance of the market across the street. He was curious. You should know that although there were hawkers on this street, they were repeatedly arrested by the urban management. In the end, most of them entered the planned market, so they could only take motor vehicles on this street. Now, let alone motor vehicles, bicycles are pushed down.

"Hehehe, it happened a long time ago. I remember when I was a child, I often went to that bookstore to buy Dragon Balls." Wang Huan recalled that a sack of comics he had given to his cousin by his father after he was released from prison and was ruined by him. He would not agree to kill him in this life! Those comics were later valuable online and had collection value.

When entering this lively market, Wang Huan was like a slippery loach. His toes were pointed and used to quickly advance with an extremely skilled martial art called triangular step. This step is particularly good at walking a small range between several people and using it properly. If it is used properly, it is very flexible.

Soon the book stall without a name appeared in front of the royal city. This book stall was made of a small house with iron sheets. It usually sells newspapers and various magazines. Wang Huan often lingers here. There was no place to rent books at that time, and there was no game hall. As for computer rooms? That was two thousand years later, so this was the only paradise he had when he was a child.

Wang Huan glanced at the past, story meeting, story king, readers, he ignored all these things, comics were the key.

"The King of Painting! You really appeared, it was August! Destiny once again sent you to my hands!" Wang Huan saw the King of Painting, the most brilliant and short-lived comic magazine in China, sold one million copies a year but was discontinued in one year. This is a legendary thing!

Wang Huan touched his pocket, but fortunately hesitated to buy one. He bought it without hesitation. When the first version was sold for a few thousand yuan in 2012, there was no place to buy it.

Wang Huan couldn't wait to open the novel, but he was shocked. This is not right! There is no Saint Seiya, no Dragon Ball, no comics he is familiar with, and some are works by comic artists who have never heard of their names. Of course, their level is not bad, but it is definitely not as good as the comic classics in the previous world. What kind of world is this!

After reading it, Wang Huan frowned and thought. It was obvious that this was not the original world of his own, but it looked like a parallel world. People were still those people, but there were huge deviations. Many classics were gone, but many new classics appeared in this world. The knowledge they mastered in their hands increased by many times!

By the way, I’ll just build a comic magazine myself. When the time comes, you will unify the country. Do you think that high comics in China will not make money? A joke! If anyone who has experienced that era knows how great the development potential of the painting king was back then.

You should know how awesome the painting king in this era is? The leaping momentum of the youth weekly magazine, which is comparable to the peak, is caught in the jumping momentum of the first-class domestic cartoonists, let alone Xiaoshan Diary, Xueya, etc., the most popular comics in Japan are all caught in one go, and one million copies are sold a year.

Maybe you would say that one million copies is what it means. You should know that in that era, comics were just children reading, and what is the concept of one million children! What's more, it was just the first year, and the Juvenile Weekly Jumping didn't sell this number in the first year? What's more, it's a monthly magazine! One hundred thousand copies a month is not a negligible number.

Wang Huan returned to the door of the house with the painting king. He looked at the familiar wooden door in front of him and sighed. The door was changed ten years later, but the security door was also installed. However, it was more convenient to go out of the back door, but it became a back door.

After knocking on the door, Wang Huan was excited. What did her mother look like more than 20 years ago? It seems that her mother has always been quite young. Although she is fifty-five, she said that she had all of her forties just now. Unfortunately, her father is even more unpromising. She did not allow her to enjoy a truly leisurely and wealthy life. She is almost sixty years old and is still working hard to open a factory. She is unfilial!

The door opened immediately. My mother's young appearance was as beautiful as she thought. If my father hadn't been tall and handsome, he wouldn't have wanted to marry his mother with his family conditions. My grandfather was one of the earliest college students in China, from Tsinghua University! If it weren't for the special period and the previous generation was a big businessman, my grandfather would have no pressure to be at the level of a full-time department.

"You little bastard, what's the key? Why don't you knock on the door? I'm cooking! Come in!" My mother looked dissatisfied. Wang Huan was definitely a little devil when she was a child, and she could definitely count the naughty things, so my mother never looked good to him.

Wang Huan immediately threw himself into his mother's arms and shouted, "Mom, I miss you so much, come and hug me!"

My mother suddenly made a big furious face. Did this guy take the wrong medicine today?

Bang!

My mother slapped Wang Huan on the butt and said, "Little bastard! What trouble did you cause? Do you break someone else's stuff in a fight? Is it a piece of key?"

Wang Huan touched his butt and smiled helplessly: "Mom, you are so wronged. I just miss you. What a fight! He is a good baby."

Wang Huan imitated the crayon Shin-shi's coquettish behavior, which made her mother almost fall out of goosebumps. She said with a hunched face: "Don't be slick, you and I don't know? Can you act like this if you don't make trouble? What other mothers are you calling me mom! Am I very old?"

Of course, Wang Huan knew what he said at this time, and he immediately said sweetly. He knew my bad temper. It was the best way to coax it a little, otherwise her bad temper would really beat her up. Although he was no longer afraid of my shoes, he didn't want to relive the feeling.

"Hey! What is this?" My mother saw the king of painting in Wang Huan's hand, and she immediately took it over and flipped it over.

"For comics! Is it good for my mother to give me some money?" Wang Huan said indifferently. Later, he got along with his mother like his friends. He gave his mother face in front of outsiders, but he was very casual when he was alone. Although he was reborn, he still talked in such a habit.

"You little bastard, I'm giving you a week's pocket money. You actually sell comics to read? No money! Don't think about it this week!"

"I just want to buy some manuscript paper!" Wang Huan said depressedly.

"I'll buy it for you! You little bastard will use it randomly if you have money. Don't you know the family is nervous?"

My mother went back to cook angrily. Wang Huan shook her head. In this era, business opportunities are everywhere. She must let her mother quit her job as a broken factory. She can make a fortune by going into the market at a speed. She can make a lot of money by doing anything with her creativity.
Chapter completed!