In an instant, Wang Lan identified a contradiction. Having attended a regular high school, he understood all too well the hostility students harbored toward the Antu Prose Collection. When they hated it, they wished they could chew the Antu Prose Collection to bits and swallow it. Yet, they had to buy it, read it, and learn the profound metaphysical ideas contained within the prose. So, every time a new edition of the Antu Prose Collection was released, they would basically purchase it at the first opportunity.
Today, the billboards at the school gate were all announcing the launch of the new Antu Prose Collection, indicating that this book must have only arrived on the Suzhou City market in the last couple of days. Then where did the copy on Chang Yu's desk come from?
With that thought, Wang Lan went to the bookstore.
"All sold out... The new shipment won't arrive until the day after tomorrow."
"Really! It's all gone just like that?"
"Disperse, disperse..."
