Chapter 135: Wanbi Bookstore

Zhang Dai shook his head. “Whether the Australians are overseas barbarians or descendants of the Song Dynasty, I dare not say. But in terms of literary talent and scholarship, they are not necessarily crude and uncultured.”

With that, he took out a book from his side. “Gentlemen, please take a look.”

Seeing that he had taken it from an exquisite bamboo book box, everyone knew it must be a book he treasured greatly. Sun Chun, who was on good terms with him, was the first to take it. A look of surprise appeared on his face as he silently flipped through it. After a few pages, he couldn’t help but sigh and shake his head. He then passed it to Wen Huai, who had long been impatient.

Wen Huai was also surprised when he took it. He first looked it over several times, then opened it and read it carefully. He read so intently that he seemed oblivious to his surroundings, reading for a dozen pages before finally slapping the armrest of his chair.

“Truly unexpected!”

Wu Zhixiang had long been full of curiosity. He had already somewhat understood—this was most likely an Australian book. Although he often frequented the Ziming Lounge and was used to seeing all sorts of “Australian goods,” and “Australian paper” was known for its whiteness, stiffness, variety, and low price, having already decimated the local paper market in Guangzhou, he had never seen an Australian book. Being a dandy by birth, he had never cared much for books and had never thought about it. Now, his interest piqued, he was eager to see this “Australian book.”

However, Wen Huai was engrossed in his reading. Not only did he not put the book down, but he also read it with gusto, sometimes even chanting the words aloud, as if he intended to read the whole book in one go. Seeing Wu Zhixiang’s anxiousness, Zhang Dai coughed. Wen Huai then came to his senses and, somewhat embarrassed, passed the book to Wu Zhixiang.

Zhang Dai smiled. “How is the book written?”

Wen Huai shook his head and sighed. “I am far from being able to match it.”

Sun Chun said, “Never mind us, how many of our colleagues in the society could match it? This was probably written by a great Confucian scholar of the Australians.”

Their lively discussion made Wu Zhixiang even more impatient. He took the book and found it heavy in his hands. The binding was simple yet beautiful. The cover was made of a thick paper, with a watermark on its snow-white surface, somewhat resembling the high-grade “poetry paper” sold in stationery shops. The title was “A Correct Interpretation of Mencius.”

Opening it, he couldn’t help but be amazed. He was used to the exquisite beauty of Australian goods, but he had never expected the Australians to be so outstanding in book printing as well. The paper was snow-white, the Song-style characters were jet-black. The characters were much smaller than in ordinary books, and some of the annotations used extremely small characters, but the strokes were as clear as if they were carved in iron and drawn in silver. The typesetting was even cleaner, with not a single smudge of ink on the paper. Each page was numbered, and there was a table of contents and a summary at the front, all very thorough.

Wu Zhixiang had never been interested in “philology” and had not studied it. Therefore, he did not understand the content of the text, but in terms of wording and sentence structure, it was difficult to say that it was “illiterate.” The biggest difference was that the entire book had punctuation.

To think that the Australians had this kind of skill! Wu Zhixiang was already a “pro-transmigrator” type of person. Now, after seeing this book, he was even more in awe of Guo Yi and the others.

He heard Wen Huai ask, “Brother Zongzi, where did this book come from?”

“It was sold by the Wanbi Bookstore in Qinghefang,” Zhang Dai said proudly. “I heard it’s opened by a man from Guangzhou surnamed Zhao. They sell only Australian books and curios. When Mizhi lost his ‘thousand-li mirror,’ I sent a servant to see if they had one there. I didn’t expect the rascal to bring back such a rare book for me.”

“Wanbi Bookstore?” Wu Zhixiang was somewhat surprised. So far, the main distributors of all Australian goods outside of Guangdong were the Gao family and the Li family. Neither of them had ever sold Australian books. He had once been entrusted by Pei Lixiu to procure some books for the Australians in Guangzhou—mainly Taoist books. Now the Australians were printing their own books!

Although the printing industry in Lin’gao had existed for some time, the books were all for internal use. Apart from a small number of crudely made pamphlets, no books had ever been formally sent to the mainland.

Because of his relationship with Pei Lixiu, he had invested in several deals with the Zizhihao and made a lot of money. But from beginning to end, he had only ever put up money beforehand and received dividends afterward; he had never directly handled the business of Australian goods. To think that the Australians had quietly started selling books in Hangzhou!

At this thought, his curiosity about the Wanbi Bookstore grew even stronger. As he was wondering how to go and see it, he heard Zhang Dai say, “I’ve heard that this Wanbi Bookstore is built in the Australian style and is very novel. I was just thinking of going to have a look. I wonder if you gentlemen would be interested in going together?”

With such a Western novelty to see, everyone was of course willing to go. Wu Zhixiang naturally did not refuse. They agreed to go and see the Wanbi Bookstore the next day.

The next morning, the group gathered at Zhang Dai’s house. After breakfast, they took sedan chairs to Qinghefang.

Wanbi Bookstore was located on a not-so-busy street in Qinghefang. Although Zhang Dai was from Shaoxing, he had lived in Hangzhou for many years. He was also a man who loved to travel and would often explore the streets and alleys for historical sites, even visiting poor and remote alleys. Therefore, he was very familiar with the city’s environment. He knew there was a large abandoned garden near this place. If a large bookstore was to be opened, it would most likely be on the site of this abandoned garden.

As soon as the sedan chairs reached the street corner, they recognized the Wanbi Bookstore. Indeed, the Wanbi Bookstore was so distinctive that it could be recognized at a glance from the surrounding buildings.

A stone building with a semi-circular roof stood there. The stone arched doorway sat on a three-tiered stone staircase. The storefront was not large. Because the house was not built in the Chinese style of using pillars to define bays, it was impossible to say how many bays wide the storefront was. Wu Zhixiang estimated it to be about two bays wide.

The main door had no door panels, just an arched entrance. The door itself was not high, but the stone decorations and the stone carvings on both sides made it look majestic. Beside the door hung a vertical wooden board with the words “Wanbi Bookstore” written in Song-style characters on a white background with black text. There were no other decorations. Although the sign was plain to the point of being shabby, it looked very solemn in combination with the grand doorway.

The main door was open. On the steps on both sides of the door were two huge flower pots, planted with cycads that were so green they were almost black, growing very lushly. Everyone was puzzled, not knowing what style this was.

Wen Huai laughed. “I find the Australian customs strange! Who would plant a large cycad in a pot and place them on either side of the main entrance like this?”

Zhang Dai smiled. “Perhaps there is a deeper meaning to this.” He glanced at the four characters “Wanbi Bookstore” on the sign and smiled thoughtfully.

The group ascended the steps. Several shop assistants had already come out from inside the door to greet them warmly. Zhang Dai smiled. “You don’t need to attend to us. I dislike it when people are too talkative.” Seeing their distinguished appearance, the assistants quickly retreated, leaving only a clever one to wait nearby for instructions. The group paid them no mind and walked inside. Just inside the door was a large glass screen. Apart from the marble base, there were no other decorations. A large landscape was sandblasted onto the glass screen. Zhang Dai was extremely knowledgeable and, with a quick glance, recognized it as “A Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains” painted by the Song Dynasty artist Jiang Can.

“They certainly never forget their ancestors. But this house is by no means a Song Dynasty building,” Zhang Dai thought to himself, fiddling with his fan.

Behind the screen was the main hall of the shop. Zhang Dai often frequented various bookstores. Because the customers were all scholars, bookstores went to great lengths in their displays and furnishings to win the favor of men of letters.

But they had never seen a bookstore like this. It didn’t look like a shop, but more like a grand hall. From the outside, the main entrance was not very wide, but the interior space was very large. There were no pillars in the hall. Under the round stone vaulted ceiling hung a large black iron chandelier suspended by iron chains. On the walls on both sides of the hall were many tall windows, decorated with many strange patterns. The windows were all inlaid with large panes of glass. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting shadows on the blue brick floor.

The abundant light in the shop made the scholars, who were used to the dim light inside houses, blink involuntarily. Wu Zhixiang was used to the style of Australian houses, but the houses of the Zizhihao were still improvements on traditional architecture, not a complete overhaul like this. So, he also found it very novel.

“This is no man from Guangzhou, but a genuine Australian!” This thought flashed through his mind. However, he remained expressionless. The identity of Australians was special in the Ming Dynasty at the moment. Revealing it or not carried great risks. It was best to pretend not to know.

“Truly extravagant!” Wen Huai couldn’t help but click his tongue. “Just these large panes of glass, how much silver would they cost! Even the palace probably couldn’t afford them…”

Realizing his slip of the tongue, he fell silent.

Zhang Dai, however, was unconcerned. “So much large glass, I’m afraid it’s not something money can buy! To transport it all the way from Guangdong, the cost of the journey alone would be staggering!”

Wu Zhixiang, however, knew that glass was nothing to the Australians. He had heard people say that the Australians had a large glass workshop in Lin’gao that could produce countless pieces of glass every day. In Lin’gao, even ordinary merchants had glass windows.

He heard Sun Chun say, “Glass is just a matter of money. But this hall, this vaulted ceiling, without a single pillar, all made of stone, I wonder how it was built?”

Zhang Dai was not concerned. “This is a Western method of construction, not an Australian specialty. I’ve seen Catholic churches built in a similar way. If you think about it, isn’t it similar to a stone arch bridge over a river? It’s just that we use it to build bridges, and the Westerners use it to build houses.”