Chapter 133: Revised to Death
Five thousand gold coins! This massive figure struck Owen Green’s head like a hammer, his mind swirling like a shallow pond splashed by a falling mountain from the sky.
Jima’s face behind the black veil remained incredibly calm, as if she were saying, “I spent a silver coin on a cup of fresh milk this afternoon.”
Owen Green took a deep breath, barely recovering from the shock.
Of course, he didn’t know that Jima’s calm was mostly derived from the fact that “it wasn’t her money being spent”—spending someone else’s gold coins didn’t hurt.
“I’ll sign, I’ll sign… half a gold coin for a thousand words?”
“Is that too little?”
“No, no, esteemed lady, I just wanted to ask, how many words does this book need to be?”
“This book? Depending on the results, a good one might need to be a million words, if it’s not good, then just a hundred thousand.”
Owen Green had previously loathed such novels, filled with the stench of money, bottomless vulgarity, and only suitable for idle entertainment. But now, doing some quick math, a million words equaled five hundred gold coins, and he looked forward to the book being a hit.
He immediately signed his name at the top, his thumb pressing on red clay, about to stamp it on the paper.
Jima’s gaze lingered on the faint cloud-like shape in his chest; it represented Owen Green’s pain, while others’ pain was Jima’s joy.
She said, “Wait a moment.”
Owen Green looked up.
“Think it over carefully; don’t rush into it.” Jima said, “I don’t want you to give up halfway.”
“Ms. Jima, your reminders are as refreshing as your appearance.” Owen Green replied, “I’ve already thought it through; I swear I will write seriously and won’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”
With that, he pressed his thumb firmly down on the paper, leaving his thumbprint.
Jima’s lips curved slightly as she slapped the papers Owen Green wrote onto the table and said, “Alright, revise this section, that one, and that one. Too much irrelevant description; make it more concise and don’t just copy the settings. Use the story to illustrate the settings.”
Owen Green twitched his lips, looking at Jima in disbelief.
Jima smiled, “I’ve worked as an editor and helped my friends revise their writings. You know, it’s hard for amateurs to accurately describe their revision suggestions.”
Owen Green showed a sympathetic expression, saying, “Thank you.”
“Thank you for what?”
“Thank you for helping me share the workload.” Owen Green said, “You must be a literary-minded lady; with your help, my work will be much easier.”
After all, she was the client.
Jima held back a laugh and said, “Just a small effort. By the way, do you have a good place to stay right now?”
“No, I don’t.”
“There happen to be a few empty rooms next to the Lexan Publishing House that you can stay in.” Jima said, “You can stay for free; that way, it’ll be more convenient for you to work, how about that?”
“Thank you so much.”
Jima clapped her hands.
The door opened, and a respectful maid walked in, sent by someone for Jima’s aid.
“She will come every evening and noon to collect your manuscripts and relay your revision suggestions.” Jima said, “If you have any needs or suggestions, just write them on paper for her.”
Once she finished giving orders, Jima stood up to leave.
Leaving behind a stack of outlines for the scribe to write slowly.
Jima got into a carriage, which she had bought; in the end, she couldn’t help but buy a carriage at a friendly price of five hundred gold coins. However, Jima felt she was being frugal since it was a second-hand carriage at a friendly price.
Sitting in the carriage, the driver slowly steered towards Jenna’s estate.
Jima calculated in her heart the expenses over this period.
The publisher used five thousand gold coins, the carriage five hundred gold coins, and another five hundred gold coins reserved for printing costs. The cover artwork had to be specially printed, requiring experienced workers—well, she also had to leave five hundred gold coins to pay the scribe.
Not counting other living expenses, she optimistically estimated her cash was down to only one thousand five hundred gold coins.
Jima leaned against the window, gazing longingly at the distant den of iniquity, letting out a sigh.
She had been so frugal, buying a second-hand carriage, staying at a woman’s place, even Adolf’s fallen girls and wives, found she had no time or money to save.
Why was money still running out so fast? Thankfully, it was funded by the collateral of George’s armor.
Today was another day for Adolf’s high-end flesh traders to reminisce about Jima.
As evening approached.
At Jenna’s estate.
Jima sat in front of the fireplace’s armchair, leisurely tearing a stack of invitations and tossing them into the fire.
“I didn’t expect that I actually have charm.” Jima muttered to herself, “Should I gather a few pounds to read to George?”
The copper bell by the door rang.
“Come in.”
A servant walked in and said, “Ms. Jima, dinner is ready.”
“And Jenna?”
“She is also preparing to have dinner with you.”
“I meant, did she make this dinner?”
“Um… the servant doesn’t know.”
Jima mumbled, “I really miss Lily, having her around could detoxify me.”
Unfortunately, Lianxi Cat was far away in the Knight Bartok country.
Jima walked downstairs, following the aroma to the spacious dining room, arriving at a large dining table covered with a white cloth, enough for fifteen people to share a “Last Supper,” highlighting how little food was on it.
Jenna was already sitting at the table waiting for Jima, the table bearing the weight of the snow peak for her.
Jima recited, “Here it is tranquil and secretive.”
An invisible barrier isolated this place, blocking out all information, making it hard for outsiders to peek inside.
Jenna said, “You’re too cautious; there are only some old servants here.”
“Even if they’re old, they are still new servants to us.” Jima sat down, carefully cutting a small piece of fragrant honey bread and slowly bringing it to her mouth, taking a bite.
It was genuinely edible.
Jenna, with her green eyes, watched Jima and said:
“Don’t worry; there are none of my works in there.”
“I’m just on a diet, cutting down on sweets.” Jima said, “By the way, how well have you mastered the low-temperature water cooking method?”
After saying that, Jima sliced a piece of steak with her sharp knife.
“I just tried it in the kitchen.”
Jima hesitated for a moment as she lifted the fork that was holding the meat, however, just for a moment; being a succubus with a flair for performance, she “naturally” placed the fork in front of her bowl and asked:
“Was the effect good?”
Jenna replied, “The water temperature was controlled very well.”
Jima, gathering courage, shoved the meat into her mouth and chewed naturally.
Oh my God! It was actually quite decent; it was edible!
Jima swallowed the meat and praised, “You did really well.”
Jenna smiled, saying, “I burned the meat; it’s currently in the dog’s bowl.”
Jima paused for a moment, instinctively pondering if Jenna was insulting her by calling her a dog, and quickly concluded that Jenna was speaking literally.
At that moment, outside, an old man’s voice yelled.
“Prodigal dog! After taking such a big bite of meat, you don’t eat it! I can’t even bear to eat that!”
The dog whimpered, “Awooo, awooo.”
“Get it down now.”
The dog’s whimpering grew louder.
Jenna was indeed speaking literally.
Jenna smiled awkwardly and said, “It’s incredible that your extraordinary abilities allow you to hear outside sounds.”
“Of course, otherwise, this ability would be self-harming.” Jima reassured herself and bit into a pastry.
“Jima, one week from now is George’s birthday.”
“He has a birthday?”
“I want to give him a surprise.” Jenna’s face flushed slightly, “The milk you mentioned last time.”
“I’ll get it to you at noon.” Jima felt a bit sour inside.
“Thank you!” Jenna said, “Speaking of which, what gift are you preparing for him?”
“None.”
“Ah?”
“I’m just joking.” Jima put down her knife and fork, laughing: “I plan to surprise him with you; haha, generally speaking, ninety percent of men get very excited seeing two women on their bed hugging each other.”
“And the rest?”
“Male partners.”
“Jima, can you let me in on that?”
“Of course, you’re the protagonist; I’ll assist you from the side.”
Jima’s plan rang clear in her mind; Jenna would be the cannon fodder, and she would swoop in, directly taking George down.
This overbearing dragon should taste the bitterness of a man’s inadequacy for once.
Just the thought of the helpless George lying to the side, watching his childhood friend and herself engage in a fierce battle made Jima feel exhilarated.
