"Seven copies?"
A sharp voice broke the silence.
The old editor Qian Zhenyu calmly put down his enamel cup, making a soft "click" sound.
He adjusted his reading glasses and looked at Sun Ping.
"Chief Editor Sun, did I hear that right? Seven copies?"
"Last issue, we sold seven thousand copies at the same time."
Qian Zhenyu stood up and paced to the middle of the meeting room.
"I have said it many times, what do readers want to see? Heroes! Soldiers! The clashing of weapons on the battlefield!"
He pointed at the magazine with a laboratory on the cover on the table, unceremoniously.
"Not these people in white coats fiddling with bottles and jars! Who wants to look at them!"
"And now look, the sales have plummeted! Chief Editor Sun, you have ruined our newspaper's decades-old reputation by trying to promote one person!"
"Can you take responsibility for this?!"
Sun Ping's face turned ashen.
