Not long later, the phone rang again.
Zhang Ye was prepared not to pick it up, as he knew it could be someone from the radio station. However, when he saw the number, he gave a wry smile. He had to pick it up.
“Hello, Little Zhang.” It was Beijing Radio Station’s Literature Channel’s Director Zhao Guozhou, “What are you doing? Why did you take so long to pick up the phone? Hur Hur, you can’t still be sleeping, right?”
Zhang Ye coughed, “No, Director Zhao. I woke up earlier on. I had been on the phone for an hour.”
Zhao Guozhou understood, “They were all looking for you to buy your audio, right?”
“Yes,” Zhang Ye said, “You can even guess it?”
Zhao Guozhou said lightly, “I wasn’t guessing. I knew it. I called you because of this matter. Just now, you rejected someone from logistics, right? The higher-ups aren’t willing to let go of ‘Ghost Blows Out the Light’, so they got me to look for you. They also know that you and the station’s management are as unmixable as oil and water, so they got me to discuss the price with you. It is a market economy after all, so they wish to use money to talk.”