Chapter 11: Mr. Luo's Joyful Daily Life

The next day, when Logan arrived at the newspaper office, he saw two stacks of newspapers placed on either side of his desk.

“What’s this...?”

Stanley Houston, the newly hired editor, demonstrating his excellent work ethic, eagerly explained, “These are all the newspapers that mention our Sun Daily. I’ve sorted them out—these ones are criticizing us, and these are praising us.”

Logan was surprised. “There are actually some praising us?”

Looking closer, one stack was actually just two issues.

The other stack, piled higher than Logan sitting down, was obviously the criticism.

Without hesitation, Logan randomly picked a few from the critical stack. After reading them, he just curled his lips.

The attacks lacked any originality—poor reviews!

But it was clear that nearly the entire Chicago press seemed to have reached a consensus: The Sun Daily was the most shameless newspaper in history, bar none!

Oh, and Logan also noticed that Annie Olson’s real identity had been exposed.

A fellow bar girl who sold drinks alongside her had voluntarily leaked to reporters that the so-called “rising star of the future film industry” touted by the Sun Daily was actually just a countryside barmaid who had climbed to fame by boldly shedding clothes, becoming a third-page pin-up.

Naturally, the papers that broke the story mocked the Sun Daily mercilessly: “Full of self-praise with not a word of truth—100% heartless deceivers playing with people’s minds!”

Seeing this, there was little need to read the rest. All were passionate condemnations, aiming to nail the Sun Daily firmly to the pillar of shame.

Logan was not surprised in the least.

Among these, some criticisms came from moral concerns, but more stemmed from a reluctance to see a new player carve out a share of the big pie.

The Sun Daily’s sales for its first two issues had been extraordinarily strong, and after a few days of buildup, it had genuinely impacted the sales of many competitors.

Even newspapers not yet affected instinctively resisted this rising rival.

So, being scolded was expected; what caught Logan off guard was that there were actually some compliments.

He picked up one praising paper. As expected, it was not a mainstream newspaper.

It was also a tabloid, whose editor described the Sun Daily as “having an extraordinarily thick skin,” and said, “When shamelessness reaches this height, it becomes a kind of skill worthy of respect and an example for peers to learn from...”

Logan was speechless, face in hand. Could that really be considered praise?

Well, fine, let’s call it praise, otherwise Stanley Houston might not have been able to find an even number of “positive reviews.”

“Very well said. Next time, don’t say any more.”

Logan shook his head as he looked at the last newspaper. Huh, this one was actually a proper paper.

It was a business newspaper.

“When the mainstream discourse is monopolized by moral puritanism, the public’s suppressed natural curiosity toward ‘taboo elements’ inevitably demands an outlet.”

“The Sun Daily has precisely filled this demand gap and capitalized on the ‘riotous parade’ incident sparked by the mindless imitation of the Wanderer, wrapping it with ‘artistic’ symbolism to further attract eyes.”

“From a business perspective, this shamelessness is nothing short of genius!”

Logan clicked his tongue, feeling that only a newspaper with almost no competing interests against the Sun Daily could objectively state this truth.

One could tell from the Sun Daily’s runaway sales.

The harsher the mainstream media’s criticism, the better the Sun Daily sold.

Many bought the tabloid out of curiosity to see how shameless it could be, ended up dumbfounded, then laughed uproariously.

After all, newspapers had been around for nearly a century. While there were others more shameless than the Sun Daily, none could quite top its level of brazen layering.

People eagerly devoured the mainstream media’s furious condemnations, then compared them with the Sun Daily’s blatant attitude of “I’m vulgar and I’m justified; I’m shameless and I’m art,” strangely forming some abstract sense of identification with the latter.

It claimed “desires need guidance”—wasn’t that true? At least it was better than the protestors tearing clothes all over the streets.

In sum, the bottom line was that Richard would have to urge the printing press to run extra copies again.

Yet Logan did not indulge in self-satisfaction.

He knew readers all too well: a bunch who always want it both ways.

Though the Sun Daily had garnered some recognition amid all the scorn, if it only relied on sensory shock, it wouldn’t be long before those same readers spat on it themselves.

Therefore, Logan was determined to push the paper’s transformation from a makeshift operation into a proper media outlet.

Coincidentally, Donald had stabilized the O’Connor family’s morale and could fulfill his promise to invest a large sum in Logan’s project.

Logan didn’t really need the money, but... well, let him invest—it would be more reassuring that way.

Donald invested $100,000, prompting a corresponding adjustment in the Sun Daily’s shares.

Logan’s original 60% stake became 55%, Richard’s 40% dropped to 35%, and under Logan and Richard’s persuasion, the O’Connor family took a symbolic 10%.

With sufficient funds, the paper upgraded its equipment and finally moved out of the cramped original office.

The new location was a limestone building downtown, occupying an entire floor.

At the same time, the newspaper established formal departments: editorial, news, advertising, distribution, and vigorously recruited editors, reporters, distributors, and even printers.

As staff steadily increased and the new departments took shape, Logan took a significant step closer to becoming an ideal newspaper owner.

By then, Logan had a new private office, sinking comfortably into a tightly enveloping genuine leather high-back chair, feet resting leisurely on the polished edge of his desk.

Behind the chair was a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, with the bustling Chicago streets sprawling beneath.

So delightful!

This was the joyful life of a boss!

He no longer had to handle every little detail himself.

Richard now managed day-to-day affairs, and, yes, moonlighted as a serial novelist.

Logan, under the noble guise of steering the big picture and tackling tasks no one else could handle for the time being...

For example, photographing the third-page pin-ups.

This was the Sun Daily’s core competitive edge—there was no room for slackening!

Annie had no objections, and the shoots still took place in Logan’s bedroom.

As for why the newspaper occupied an entire floor but couldn’t spare a room for a studio, it was likely to save costs.

Indeed, to cut expenses, this time Logan was the only one photographing Annie.

Freed from micromanagement, Logan’s spirits soared, as if he were radiating light.

“...Eyes! Dear Miss Annie, your eyes must tell a story! Not hollow seduction, but the confused struggle on the edge of love and pain, understand?”

Logan stepped forward, gently lifting Annie’s chin with his fingers, subtly adjusting the angle.

Annie stared fixedly at Logan, her eyes unblinking.

“Annie?” Logan met her gaze.

Suddenly, Annie leapt into Logan’s arms, her pale, slender legs winding tightly around his waist like a koala clinging to a tree.

Logan seemed unable to bear her weight and toppled toward the bed.

The moment was perfectly natural, inevitable.

...