Chapter 1096 - Going to Taicang

Gao Xuan drank the porridge and consumed two youzhagui, then cast a longing glance at the fried dough stick belonging to Master Huang beside him. Master Huang invariably ate only one, saving the second to enjoy with tea in the afternoon.

Gao Xuan was young and possessed a healthy appetite after all. A single stick felt insufficient to sustain him, so he wrapped several more dried radishes in paper, preparing to have them with his afternoon tea.

The servants waited until everyone finished eating and collected the utensils. Then the staff got down to work—some reviewing drafts, others writing. Gao Xuan had been recruited as a creative writer, and his job was specifically to write novels for the Classic of Mountains and Seas Pictorial. He had been assigned a particular topic: Zhao Yingong wanted him to write about strange phenomena. In the classification system of the old timeline, this would be fantasy fiction.

Gao Xuan had never written a novel before, but the Editorial Department maintained a library collecting various storytelling texts dating back to the Tang Dynasty. Most had been purchased by Zhao Yingong's people from bookstores in Nanjing and elsewhere; some rarer volumes had been shipped from Lingao's printing house.

What most captivated Gao Xuan were several locked bookcases. These cabinets housed "Australian Rare Editions" unavailable anywhere else. These books could not be borrowed—they could only be read in the reference room, and copying required a special application.

Among these treasures, the work that most enchanted Gao Xuan was a sword immortal novel by someone called "Master of the Huanzhu," which he simply could not put down. So consuming was his fascination that Gao Xuan rushed to the library to "study" during every lunch break. The bookcases also contained many notebook novels specifically featuring ghosts and foxes. His favorites among these were the works of two "Australian Great Confucians," Ji Xiaolan and Pu Songling. Not only that, but Gao Xuan frequently drew nourishment from their writings. In truth, many of the so-called fantasy novels he now produced were expansions and retellings of these short stories.

Generally speaking, Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, Notes from the Hut of Close Scrutiny, and What the Master Would Not Discuss served as thematic sources, while Legend of the Swordsmen of Shu Mountains and Nineteen Swordsmen of Qingcheng served as writing material and stylistic textbooks.

Gao Xuan spread out the square-grid manuscript paper specially provided by the publishing house and began drafting. His quota was three thousand words daily, sixty thousand words monthly. The magazine's appetite was enormous, and the texts he produced could not only appear in the Classic of Mountains and Seas Pictorial but also be printed as pamphlets. The Tianshui Society irregularly published a 16-kai pamphlet called Story Session, dedicated exclusively to various street news and ghost stories, rendered entirely in vernacular Chinese and vulgar characters. It enjoyed tremendous popularity among the citizenry.

"Mr. Gao, tomorrow is the deadline for this issue. The Editor-in-Chief asks whether your manuscript for 'Three Battles of Zombies in the Back Garden' can be ready by noon?" A child responsible for running errands and relaying messages for the editors came to inquire. Zhao Yingong had installed speaking tubes made of thick bamboo between floors to convey simple messages, but within the department, communication relied on human messengers.

"Tell the Editor-in-Chief I'll have the first episode ready before noon. I think this project could work as a serial."

Gao Xuan sent the child away and resumed his Zombie War. Just as he wrote about zombies rushing into the garden and the Green Bean Hero obtaining the Repeater Grass—capable of firing four flying swords at once—and beating the zombies into a flowing rout, a thunderous roar suddenly erupted outside, like a cannon shot. A Red-eyed Giant Monster came from beyond the wall...

He sighed as he wrote. Though he did not hate this work, and earned a considerable income from it—finding himself feeding both himself and his family with words for the first time—he still felt what he was doing was low-class and "insulting to gentility."

By comparison, he envied the "Editors" in the neighboring "Current Affairs Department." As the name suggested, the old gentlemen staffing that department were all masters of the Eight-legged Essay. Their compositions were brilliant flowers; their examination poems rhymed to perfection. Though these old gentlemen had "observed the field" multiple times and remained Xiucai, their writing and commentary on current affairs essays were superlative. Thus Zhao Yingong had hired them specifically to compile collections of examination essays, gathering papers from the entire examination sequence—child examination, provincial examination, metropolitan examination, and palace examination—for them to organize and critique.

Zhao Yingong had delivered a guiding speech to this cohort of old gentlemen. At present, many famous masters compiled such essay collections. Though this group was talented, they could not match the appeal of compilations by Jinshi or Juren. Therefore, Zhao Yingong suggested taking a unique approach: rather than simply compiling and commenting on winning papers, they would also select failed submissions and analyze why they had not passed. Then they would identify papers that everyone agreed were excellent and should have passed but did not, publishing a separate commentary collection for these. Whenever the prefectural school held an examination, Tianshui Weekly would also publish a special issue of current affairs essay commentary—containing analysis of examination topics, biographies of the chief examiner, background environment analysis, and so forth.

These old gentlemen had always made their living this way, but their reputations were limited and their incomes modest. Now that someone provided a dedicated venue, complete with good food and drink, for them to pursue this work, their sense of self-importance had grown enormously. They threw themselves into their tasks with enthusiasm. Every day, one could hear them reciting those current affairs essays with their "Zhi Hu Zhe Ye" flourishes.

Roughly speaking, it was like the College Entrance Examination exercise sets or Civil Service Examination preparation materials of another timeline.

Still, however insulting to gentility his own work might be, it did not quite sink to the miserable level of ghostwriting letters for hire. As for what he produced at the Tianshui Society, he could simply avoid discussing it.

While the entire Tianshui Society busied itself commencing the day's labors, Zhao Yingong had already boarded a boat bound for Taicang. Though the Fushe's principal figures were scattered across Jiangnan and often gathered in Hangzhou, it was currently the first lunar month. Except for Zhang Dai, those with the closest ties to Wanbi Bookstore—Fang Yizhi—had returned to his hometown in Tongcheng, while Sun Chun was at his home in Nanxun. Fortunately, Zhao Yingong had learned from Zhang Dai that Zhang Pu had returned from Beijing for the New Year and was currently at his home in Taicang.

Zhao Yingong hurried to strike while the iron was hot and asked Zhang Dai to introduce him to Zhang Pu.

Zhang Dai was by nature an indolent man, even less inclined to bestir himself during the New Year period. However, having frequently enjoyed the leisure and gatherings at Wanbi Bookstore, he felt he could not refuse. So he summoned his own boat and accompanied Zhao Yingong to Taicang.

Zhang Dai's vessel was exquisitely appointed. He was a person who valued enjoyment in the extreme—even every blade of grass and tree around him was carefully selected. The boat's furnishings were particular, the food refined, and even the serving maids and young servants were attractive and perceptive. Zhao Yingong, however, had matters weighing on his mind; how could he pay attention to such things?

Observing his solemn expression and heavy heart throughout the journey, Zhang Dai ordered a banquet prepared on shore at a halfway mooring point to drink and dispel his companion's gloom.

Zhang Dai was an exceedingly perceptive man. Though he had witnessed Zhao Yingong's various "Australian-style" luxuries at Wanbi Bookstore—incomparable even to those of imperial relatives—he sensed that deep down, this Master Zhao, who vaguely claimed descent from the Zhao Song dynasty, was an extremely frugal person, probably not born into a wealthy family.

"Brother Yingong, this matter cannot be rushed," Zhang Dai said. He likely understood that the purpose of this journey was to help Sun Huodong, and offered comfort accordingly. "Tianru has always respected Grand Secretary Xu, and Sun Huodong is Grand Secretary Zhou's man. Presumably, he will certainly lend assistance."

Zhao Yingong forced a smile and nodded. The probability of Zhang Pu helping was indeed quite high—but did he truly possess the ability to sway public opinion? Even if he did, could swaying public opinion actually alter the court's current deliberations? These remained unknowns. He sighed immediately: "I am merely doing what is humanly possible."

"Precisely. As long as one does what is humanly possible, the mandate of heaven cannot be violated," Zhang Dai laughed. "Sun Huodong's future lies in heaven's hands. We are merely ordinary mortals—how can we peer into creation's secrets? Come, let us drink first!"

Zhao Yingong reflected on these words and felt his mood shift markedly. Rather than agonizing over whether the mission could be accomplished, it was better to relax. He was only a transmigrator, not God. Even with cheats, he might not prove invincible. With this thought, the lead weight that had pressed upon his heart—leaving him disinterested in everything—was lifted. He felt light. Watching the winter scenery of Jiangnan slowly recede beyond the window, his interest in wine suddenly kindled.

"Good, let's drink," he said, his tone brightening. "What fine wines have you prepared?"

"Naturally, there is Lanling wine..."

"That won't do," Zhao Yingong laughed. "I brought wine."

"Excellent, excellent." Zhang Dai was also a great lover of wine. Grape wine already existed in the Ming Dynasty, but it was an imported luxury enjoyed by few. Even Zhang Dai rarely encountered it.

Zhao Yingong instructed Feng Hua to bring out the wine he had brought aboard.

The wine rested in a glass bottle, the crimson liquid shimmering with light and color. Zhang Dai had tasted it at Wanbi Bookstore and knew this was the highest-grade "Australian Wine"—actually brewed by Xue Ziliang and Wu Nanhai at the farm as a pastime project.

Lingao could not grow wine grapes, so they used table grapes instead. The resulting flavor was sweet and tart, more suited to contemporary palates.

Seeing the wine produced, a maid immediately brought out a set of "Australian Crystal Glasses" for pouring. This set had been specially purchased by Zhang Dai from Zizhenzhai in Guangzhou through an intermediary.

"What accompaniments have you prepared for the wine?" Zhao Yingong inquired.

The maid attending them hastened to reply: "There is duck."

She set out cups and chopsticks, first serving small dishes to accompany the wine. Then warm dishes followed: a small porcelain jar containing clear-stewed duck soup. The meat was fresh, tender, and smooth; the broth fragrant and mellow. A plate of lees-steamed whitefish arrived next—no wine lees were visible, yet the aroma of fermented grains filled the air. A few slices of young ginger adorned the fish, and it tasted impossibly fresh and tender. The preparation was masterful. The pleasures of an aristocratic household were indeed extraordinary.

The two drank and conversed, mostly discussing matters within the Fushe. Zhang Dai had no taste for court politics or affairs of state, but he found personnel discussions within the society quite engaging. Zhao Yingong, intending to collect more intelligence on the Fushe, did not interrupt him.

From Zhang Dai's lips, he learned many details about the Fushe's establishment and the conduct of its meetings, as well as the political aspirations, personalities, and relationships of its principal figures. This was extremely valuable material for future court operations.

A few cups in, Zhang Dai grew slightly tipsy. The farm wine, brewed from table grapes, required the addition of generous white sugar as a fermentation aid; it went down easily but possessed deceptively high alcohol content.

When asked about Zhao Yingong's future plans, Zhang Dai advised him to try falsely claiming native status in Jiangnan in order to participate in the provincial examination.

(End of Chapter)