Chapter 903 – Wanbi Bookshop
Zhang Dai shook his head. "Whether the Australians are overseas barbarians or descendants of the Song, I wouldn't presume to say. But as for literary talent and learning, they're not necessarily crude and unlettered."
He took out a book from beside him. "Gentlemen, please look."
The others saw he'd taken it from an exquisite bamboo book case—clearly something he treasured. Sun Chun, who was on close terms with him, reached for it first. A look of astonishment crossed his face as he leafed through it silently. After a few pages, he sighed and shook his head repeatedly before handing it to Wen Huai, who had been waiting impatiently.
Wen Huai was also startled when he received it. He first turned it over several times, examining it from all angles, then opened it and read carefully. He read very attentively, oblivious to everyone else, going through a dozen pages before finally slapping the armrest:
"Truly unexpected!"
Wu Zhixiang had been burning with curiosity. He'd mostly figured it out—this was probably an Australian book. Never mind that he frequented Ziming Pavilion and was familiar with all kinds of "Australian goods." "Australian paper" had long been renowned for its whiteness, stiffness, variety, and low price; in the Guangzhou market it had routed all the local papers. But he'd never seen Australian books. As a wastrel by birth, he'd never paid much attention to books and had never thought to seek them out. Now, piqued by the others, he was eager to see this "Australian book" for himself.
But Wen Huai was so absorbed he showed no sign of putting the book down—in fact, he began reading aloud, swaying his head, clearly intending to read straight through. Zhang Dai saw Wu Zhixiang's impatient fidgeting and coughed once. Only then did Wen Huai come to himself and, somewhat embarrassed, hand the book over.
Zhang Dai smiled. "What do you think of this book?"
Wen Huai shook his head with a sigh. "I could never hope to match it."
Sun Chun said, "We few are nothing—but how many among our Society's comrades could match this either? This must be the work of a great Australian Confucian."
While they chattered enthusiastically, Wu Zhixiang could no longer contain himself. He took the book and found it heavy in his hands. The binding was simple yet beautiful; the cover was a kind of thick paper, snow-white with a subtle printed pattern—rather like the high-grade "poetry notepaper" sold at stationery shops. The title was Mengzi Zhengyi (The Correct Meaning of Mencius).
Opening it, he silently marveled. He was accustomed to the exquisite beauty of Australian goods, but he hadn't expected the Australians to be so accomplished at printing as well. Snow-white paper, jet-black Song-style typeface. The characters were much smaller than in ordinary books, and some interlinear notes used extremely tiny characters—yet every stroke was as clear as if carved in iron and silver. The typesetting was clean; the page showed not the slightest smudge of ink. Each page had a number; at the front were a table of contents and abstracts, thoroughly comprehensive.
Wu Zhixiang had never been interested in philological studies and had no expertise in that area. He couldn't evaluate the content, but the diction and phrasing were certainly not "incoherent." What struck him most was that the entire book had punctuation marks.
Who would have thought the Australians capable of this! Wu Zhixiang had always been a "pro-transmigrator" sort; now, seeing this book, his admiration for Guo Yi and the rest grew even greater.
He heard Wen Huai ask, "Zongzi-xiong, where did you get this book?"
"From Wanbi Bookshop in Qinghefang," Zhang Dai said smugly. "I heard it's run by a surname-Zhao fellow from Guangdong. He sells nothing but Australian books and curios. When Mizhi lost his telescope, I sent a servant to see if they had one. Instead, the rascal brought back this remarkable book."
"Wanbi Bookshop?" Wu Zhixiang was puzzled. Up to now, the bulk of Australian goods sold outside Guangdong had gone through the Gao and Li families. Neither house had ever dealt in Australian books. He'd even once procured books for the Australians on Pei Lixiu's behalf—mainly Daoist texts. And now the Australians were printing their own books!
Though Lingao's printing industry had been operating for some time, its books had all been for internal use. Apart from a few crudely made pamphlets, no books had been formally exported to the mainland.
Because of his connection with Pei Lixiu, Wu Zhixiang had invested in several Zizi trading company deals and made a tidy profit. But he'd only ever put money in beforehand and collected dividends afterward—never handled Australian goods directly in business. Who would have thought the Australians had quietly started selling books all the way in Hangzhou!
Thinking this, his curiosity about Wanbi Bookshop grew even more intense. He was just wondering how to go see it when Zhang Dai said, "I've heard this Wanbi Bookshop is built in the Australian style. Very novel. I was just thinking of going to have a look—are you gentlemen interested in coming along?"
With such a Western spectacle on offer, everyone was happy to go. Wu Zhixiang, of course, agreed without hesitation. They settled on visiting Wanbi Bookshop the next day.
Early the next morning, the group gathered at Zhang Dai's residence. After breakfast, they took sedan chairs to Qinghefang.
Wanbi Bookshop was located on a rather quiet street in Qinghefang. Though Zhang Dai hailed from Shaoxing, he'd resided in Hangzhou for many years. Being fond of excursions, he often explored streets and alleys in search of historic sites—even the poorest lanes. He was thoroughly familiar with the urban landscape. He knew there was a large ruined garden somewhere nearby. A large bookshop would most likely have been built on its grounds.
The sedan chairs had barely reached the street corner before they recognized Wanbi Bookshop. Indeed, the bookshop was so distinctive it stood out immediately from the surrounding houses.
A stone building with a semicircular domed roof stood before them. A stone arched entrance sat atop three stone steps. The façade wasn't large. Because the building wasn't constructed in the Chinese column-and-bay style, it was hard to say how many bays it comprised. Wu Zhixiang estimated it was roughly two bays wide.
There were no door panels at the entrance—just an arched gateway. The gate itself wasn't tall, but the stone ornamentation and carved floral patterns on either side gave it an imposing grandeur. Beside the entrance hung a vertical wooden plaque, white with black characters reading "Wanbi Bookshop" in Song typeface. There was no other decoration. The signboard was so understated it verged on austere, but paired with that entrance, it looked dignified.
The gate stood open. On the steps flanking the entrance were two enormous planters containing dark-green sago palms, grown lush and full. Everyone was puzzled—what sort of style was this?
Wen Huai laughed. "I find these Australian customs strange! Who plants giant sago palms in pots and sets them flanking the main entrance like this?"
Zhang Dai smiled. "Perhaps there's a deeper meaning." He glanced at the characters "Wanbi Bookshop" on the signboard and gave a thoughtful smile.
The group ascended the steps. Several attendants had already emerged from within to greet them warmly. Zhang Dai laughed. "No need for all this fuss. I find chatter most tiresome." Seeing they were people of consequence, the attendants hastily withdrew; only one quick-witted fellow remained nearby, ready to serve at a moment's notice. The visitors paid little heed and walked through the entrance. Just inside the doorway stood a large glass screen, mounted on a marble base, with no other decoration. A landscape had been etched onto the glass in frosted finish. With his vast erudition, Zhang Dai recognized it at once: A Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains, by Jiang Shen of the Song dynasty.
They never forget to invoke their ancestors, Zhang Dai thought. But this building could never be Song construction. He toyed with the fan in his hand.
Beyond the screen lay the main hall. Zhang Dai frequented various bookshops. Because their customers were all scholars, bookshops always displayed their wares with great ingenuity, hoping to win the favor of literati.
But they had never seen a bookshop like this. It looked less like a shop than a great hall. From outside, the main entrance seemed quite narrow, but the interior was vast. There were no pillars in the hall. From the circular stone vault hung wrought-iron branched chandeliers on iron chains. The walls on either side had many tall windows, framed by curious decorative patterns. Every window was glazed with large panes of glass. Sunlight streamed through, casting bright patches on the blue-brick floor.
The hall was so well-lit that scholars accustomed to dim interiors blinked involuntarily. Wu Zhixiang was used to Australian-style buildings, but the Zizi houses had all been modifications of traditional architecture—nothing so thoroughly novel as this. He found it quite refreshing.
This is no Guangdong man—this must be a genuine Australian! The thought flashed through his mind. But he kept his expression neutral. Australians occupied a peculiar status in the Ming right now; whether to expose them or not could have serious repercussions. Better to feign ignorance.
"Truly extravagant!" Wen Huai couldn't help exclaiming. "Just this glass alone—how much silver would it cost! Even the palace probably can't afford this..."
Realizing he'd spoken out of turn, he fell silent.
Zhang Dai didn't mind. "All this glass—even with money, you couldn't find it! Transported all the way from Guangdong, the shipping costs alone would be staggering!"
Wu Zhixiang, however, knew that glass meant nothing to the Australians. He'd heard that they had a huge glass workshop in Lingao, producing vast quantities every day. In Lingao, even ordinary merchants had glass windows.
Sun Chun remarked, "Glass is just a matter of money. But this hall, this dome—built without a single beam or pillar, all assembled from stone—how did they construct it?"
Zhang Dai wasn't surprised. "This is Western building technique, not an Australian secret art. I've seen Catholic churches built in a similar manner. When you think about it, isn't it similar to a stone arch bridge? We use the principle for bridges; Westerners use it for buildings."
Author's Note: The Mengzi Zhengyi was authored by the Qing scholar Jiao Xun.