131. Running Naked and Disturbing the Public Order

Countless bets were made in moments of impulse and for profit. Yet, when the outcomes finally emerged, how many would truly honor their wagers?

The editor-in-chief of the Hollywood Daily had recently experienced a rollercoaster of emotions, filled with ups and downs that left him utterly tormented.

At first, like other newspapers, he reported routinely on the miracles created by David Lee’s films, yet felt the frustration of seeing no boost in sales. Then, a sudden inspiration struck: capitalizing on David Lee’s latest flop, he took a contrarian stance against mainstream coverage, attracting countless eyeballs and triggering a surge in sales.

Promotion was out of reach—after all, the boss was above him—but a raise still seemed attainable.

Unexpectedly, David Lee cut ties with them and even seized on two seemingly discriminatory phrases from their reports, inciting netizens to attack the newspaper. That dashed any hope of a raise; the editor’s sole goal became keeping his job.

After successfully diverting attention, he felt a misplaced sense of pride, convinced that this time he had ruined David Lee’s chances of ever publishing again. Could this be his greatest achievement?

If they won, his name and the Hollywood Daily’s would gain worldwide recognition.

In the editor’s view, victory was assured. After all, the first three weeks of “Harry Potter” sales totaled only 150,000 copies—how could it possibly sell 350,000 more in just one week? This wasn’t a critically acclaimed masterpiece like “The Lord of the Rings,” but the poorly reviewed “Harry Potter.”

In the days following the bet, the editor fantasized that after losing, David Lee might admit defeat, plead for mercy, and continue writing. After all, any book David Lee wrote could easily earn millions of dollars—there was no way he would give up.

But events unfolded in ways the editor could never have imagined—they grew stranger and stranger.

At first, advertisements for “Harry Potter” appeared outside middle schools across America. Though odd, this was not entirely incomprehensible; after all, student spending power should not be underestimated. Still, with such a terrible reputation, did they think students were fools? Would mere ads persuade them to buy the book?

Then, on many middle school forums and student social media posts, “Harry Potter” was repeatedly recommended, praised with extravagant language, some even claiming it was better than “The Lord of the Rings.”

Was this some kind of joke? Had their hired shills gone overboard?

The editor was certain these glowing posts and recommendations were orchestrated by David Lee or Sunshine Publishing’s online agents, aimed solely at hype. But this tactic was beneath contempt—how could such a lousy book be hailed as comparable to “The Lord of the Rings”?

He wanted to say: I disagree.

Though he targeted David Lee to boost sales and profits, he himself was a fan of “The Lord of the Rings.” After all, watching “The Lord of the Rings” and then “Harry Potter” felt like comparing apples to oranges.

Yet, no matter what the editor thought, after these two developments, middle schoolers’ enthusiasm for buying “Harry Potter” increased, and sales began to rise.

But these two measures alone could never sell 350,000 copies in just a few days. Didn’t advertising take time? Didn’t accumulating word-of-mouth through posts require time?

Such things cannot happen overnight; they require a process of warming up, unfolding, growing, and exploding.

Just as the editor reassured his boss, data arrived showing “Harry Potter” sales were skyrocketing.

Before he could fully process it, “Harry Potter” had sold 500,000 copies, ranking second on the monthly bestseller list and first on last week’s weekly chart.

“You said it couldn’t hit 500,000 copies this month! Tell me, am I seeing things, or did the data compilers make a mistake?” the Hollywood Daily’s boss slammed his desk again in his office.

The editor wiped his sweat, awkwardly trying to dodge responsibility.

“Boss, this has to be cheating by David Lee. He must be colluding with the publisher, buying his own books. These numbers are definitely inflated.”

“Then find me evidence that he’s buying his own books,” the boss said coldly. “If you don’t find it, you better fabricate it.”

The editor obeyed and began investigating, but the results baffled him: why were so many Chinese buyers coming to America to purchase David Lee’s new book?

Still, he didn’t need to know why. After all, their specialty was twisting truth.

Excited, the editor reported this to his boss, boasting he would expose David Lee—claiming he bribed Chinese buyers to boost sales, even suggesting a secret deal between David Lee and the Chinese government.

In a time when the world feared the rise of China, such allegations would surely damage David Lee’s reputation.

However, upon hearing this, his boss exploded in anger once more.

“Are you an idiot? Do you know how much revenue Chinese tourists bring to our country every year? Do you know China’s film market is now the largest in the world? Do you think if this article comes out, we won’t be shredded by Hollywood giants chasing the Chinese market before David Lee even gets to us?”

The boss’s fury was so intense he couldn’t contain it by slamming the desk; he smashed his crystal ashtray instead and continued yelling.

“Don’t you know the Chinese love boycotts? Do you know how much Japanese automakers lost during last year’s Chinese boycott when Japanese cars were smashed?”

The editor timidly replied, “But didn’t they continue using Japanese products afterward?”

“Bullshit!” the boss roared, feeling his throat burn. “If not for those boycotts, do you think Chinese carmakers could have stolen so much market share?”

“Besides, we are the Hollywood Daily—Hollywood makes movies. Don’t you know movies have piracy? Do you want to force them to treat watching pirated Hollywood films as a patriotic act?”

Only then did the editor grasp his boss’s point and break into a cold sweat. If his reports caused Hollywood films to flop in China, neither he nor his boss would have any foothold in Hollywood.

They were a newspaper, not an internet forum. They could fabricate celebrity gossip, but some issues were utterly off-limits.

“Do we really have to streak down the Walk of Fame?”

The boss had calmed down. To him, given the circumstances, it was better to bare all than to try to spin excuses.

Americans loved to champion the spirit of contracts. If they boldly honored their bet, perhaps they could earn a reputation for integrity, boosting newspaper sales.

To a businessman, what was pride? Money was king.

“Send the word out: tomorrow morning, the entire staff will streak down the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Anyone unwilling to participate can resign immediately.”

“Boss, are you serious?”

“What else? You can choose to resign.”

Resign? If he quit with the stigma of dodging a bet, which media outlet would ever hire him again?

The next morning, David Lee woke to his phone lighting up with headline news.

“The owner and entire staff of the Hollywood Daily streaked down the Hollywood Walk of Fame at six this morning and were all arrested by the police who arrived on the scene. It is reported they may face charges for disturbing public order… Below is a live video provided by netizens…” (To be continued.)