At first, the feedback from the various bookshops was only scattered here and there.
This shop had sold twenty copies.
That shop had sold thirty.
It wasn’t exactly an astonishing result.
But by the third day, things began to change.
A middle-aged man in a suit rushed into a chain bookshop and asked straight away, “Do you still have Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone?”
The clerk pointed toward the children’s literature section.
“There are still three copies over there—”
Before he could even finish, the man had already strode over, grabbed the last three copies, and hugged them all to his chest.
The clerk froze.
“Sir, you’re buying all three?”
“One for my son, one for my nephew, and one for myself,” the man said, perfectly justified.
Similar scenes kept playing out all across London.
A young woman walked into a bookshop, originally intending to buy the latest mystery novel.
Then, at the entrance, she saw someone holding a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, reading it with complete fascination.
By the time she left the shop, she too had a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in her hands.
A retired old professor happened to pass by a bookshop and noticed a book with a rather distinctive cover displayed in the window.
He went in, flipped through it for a moment, and when he came back out, there was a book in his hand.
A repairman wandered into a bookshop during his lunch break, originally just wanting to rest for a while.
But after casually picking up the book and leafing through it, he stood there reading until two in the afternoon and nearly got scolded by his boss.
By the afternoon of the fourth day, the managers of the major bookshops had begun to panic.
“Hello?
Is this Bloomsbury Publishing?
I’m the manager of the Oxford Street branch.”
“The two hundred copies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone we ordered have already sold out.
Can you send us another batch?”
“I’m sorry, but the first batch has already been fully shipped out.
The reprint will take another two days.”
“Two days?!
Do you know how many people will walk into my shop asking for this book in the next two days?!”
“We’re already printing as quickly as possible.
Please be patient—”
“I can’t be patient!
Expedite it!
I’ll pay whatever it costs!”
The same conversation repeated itself in different bookshops.
Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool, Edinburgh…
Bookshops all over the country were frantically chasing stock.
And the smaller bookshops that hadn’t managed to secure the first batch were even more anxious, like ants on a hot pan.
“Why did you only order thirty copies?!” one bookshop owner roared at his purchasing manager over the phone.
“Do you know how many people came in asking about this book today?
I don’t even have one copy left!”
The purchasing manager said aggrievedly, “Who could’ve known it would sell this well back then…”
“You didn’t know?
If you didn’t know, couldn’t you have ordered a few more just in case?!”
After hanging up, the owner stomped his feet in anger.
He picked up the phone again and dialed another fellow bookseller.
“Hello, Old John?
Do you still have any copies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone on your end?”
“None.
Sold out ages ago.”
“How many did you order?”
“Fifty.”
“All fifty sold?”
“Yes.
They were gone by yesterday afternoon.
I’m regretting not ordering more myself.”
The owner sighed.
I only ordered thirty.”
“Thirty?
You were far too conservative.”
“I thought it was a debut author, fantasy genre, too risky…”
“And now?”
“Now I want to slap myself.”
Both men sighed over the phone at the same time.
Calls like this kept ringing out.
Bookshop owners across Great Britain began phoning one another to complain and commiserate.
“Don’t even mention it.
I ordered eighty copies, and they were gone by noon today.
Now the publisher says the reprint won’t arrive until the day after tomorrow.
I’ve already got people queuing at the door.”
“You sold out eighty copies?
You’re doing much better than me.
I only ordered fifty.”
“Fifty isn’t too bad.
Old Simon’s the one who’s really miserable.
I think he only ordered twenty—”
“Twenty?
Your information’s out of date.
I heard he ordered five hundred!”
“What?!”
When the bookshop owners learned of this, they were all shocked and immediately called Simon to confirm it.
When Simon answered the phone, his voice carried an unmistakable, barely suppressed delight.
“Of course.
It’s good news—I ordered five hundred copies in the first batch.”
The other end of the line fell so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
“Five hundred?!” the bookshop owner on the other end practically squeaked.
“Are you mad?!”
“Where did you get the nerve to order five hundred copies?”
Simon leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and wore a broad grin.
“I just felt this book would be a hit.
Mm, instinct.”
“Instinct, my arse!
You just got lucky!”
“Luck is part of skill, you know,” Simon said leisurely.
“Don’t be too upset.
Just remember to order more next time.”
His tone sounded as though he were comforting them, but anyone could hear the bragging hidden inside it.
The bookshop owners on the other end listened through gritted teeth, sour and jealous, yet unable to say anything in reply.
After all, he really had made the right bet.
After hanging up, Simon was in an excellent mood.
He picked up the teacup on his desk and took a sip, feeling that even an ordinary cup of black tea tasted especially sweet today.
“Boss!”
A clerk’s shout came from outside, followed by hurried footsteps.
Simon put down his teacup and asked unhurriedly, “What is it?
More customers asking about the book?”
“No—”
The clerk rushed to the doorway of his office, panting for breath.
“Boss, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is sold out!”
“Sold out?”
Simon smiled and waved a hand.
“Don’t worry.
I ordered five hundred copies, remember?
There are still more in the stockroom.”
“The stockroom copies are sold out too!” the clerk practically shouted.
“Several groups came in this afternoon.
Some bought two or three copies at once, and someone even bought ten copies in one go, saying they were for relatives and friends.”
The stock behind the counter was snatched up before I could!”
The teacup in Simon’s hand nearly slipped.
He stared at the clerk with wide eyes.
“What did you say?
All five hundred copies are gone?”
“All gone!
Not a single one left!”
“It’s only been a few hours since this afternoon—”
“I know!
But they’re gone!” the clerk said, sweating with anxiety.
“There are still seven or eight customers waiting outside right now, asking when we’ll restock.”
“When I said I didn’t know, they refused to leave.
They said they’d wait in the shop until the new stock arrived!”
Simon stared blankly for several seconds.
Then he sprang up from his chair, grabbed the phone on his desk, and quickly dialed Bloomsbury Publishing.
“Hello?
This is Simon’s Bookshop in Manchester!
I need to increase my order of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone!”
A tired voice came from the other end.
“Hello.
At the moment, reprint orders are already scheduled three days out—”
“Three days?!” Simon’s voice almost cracked.
“I can’t wait three days!
I need them today!
Do you know I’ve still got customers queuing here?”
“I’m terribly sorry.
Our capacity is limited.
We’re already printing twenty-four hours a day without stopping—”
“Then put me at the front of the queue!
I’ll pay extra!”
“It’s not a matter of money—”
“Then it’s a matter of attitude!” Simon roared.
“Do you know I ordered five hundred copies in the first batch?
Five hundred!
And they’re all sold out!”
“What does that prove?
It proves the market demand for this book is far beyond expectations!
If your publishing house can’t keep up, you’re throwing away opportunity for nothing!”
The other end of the line was silent for several seconds.
Then the exhausted voice said, “Sir, I understand your urgency, but there really is nothing I can do.”
“Why don’t I register your request first?
As soon as stock arrives, I’ll notify you immediately.”
Simon took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
“Fine.
Register it.
I want two thousand copies.”
“Tw—two thousand copies?!”
“Yes, two thousand,” Simon said through gritted teeth.
“If you can print them, I’ll take even more.”
After hanging up, Simon collapsed back into his chair, a fine layer of sweat on his forehead.
The clerk asked cautiously, “Boss, what do we do now?”
Simon rubbed his temples and gave a bitter smile.
“What else can we do?
We wait.”
He lowered his head and looked at the sample copy he had kept on his desk.
On the cover, the little boy still wore round glasses, his smile bright and radiant.
“It’s only been four days…” Simon murmured to himself.
“Just how far is this book going to reach?”
~
Push the book forward by Adding to library and sending powerstones~!