Chapter 339: The Tianshui Society

“Are you suggesting we try to win over the Donglin Party?” Li Yan asked with great interest.

“That’s right,” Yu E’shui nodded. “Strictly speaking, the Fu She.”

“The Fu She controls the ‘pure stream’ of public opinion. As long as they stop their large-scale attacks on Sun Yuanhua, his political life can be saved. Is that what you mean?”

“That’s the idea,” Yu E’shui said. “Although the censors aren’t controlled by the Donglin, the Fu She’s reputation as a ‘pure stream’ already carries significant weight in the court and among the public. Before his death, Zhang Pu subtly had the ability to sway public opinion. The power of this ‘pure stream’ cannot be underestimated.”

“But will the Fu She even help?” Wang Ding was skeptical. What they were doing, frankly, was similar to an American lobbying group, with the Fu She acting as a powerful political faction.

Ultimately, successful lobbying required two things: a clear explanation of the stakes and a beneficial exchange.

Wang Ding felt that, from a strategic standpoint, it was unlikely the Fu She would go out on a limb to help Sun Yuanhua just to protect Zhou Yanru. After all, Sun Yuanhua and Xu Guangqi weren’t part of the Donglin faction. While Sun’s fall would be a major blow to Zhou Yanru, it wasn’t certain that Zhou Yanru’s own downfall would seriously harm the Donglin. There probably wasn’t a unified view on this within the Donglin and Fu She.

From the perspective of an exchange, the Senate had nothing of value to offer the Fu She. The Fu She was most concerned with gaining power in the court and locally. To this end, they were not above manipulating the imperial examinations to secure positions for their own people. In contrast, the Senate’s current influence on the court was pitifully small—unless it came to warfare.

“No, there’s a high probability the Fu She will try to save Zhou Yanru!” Jiang Shan said. “Wen Tiren is the Donglin’s mortal enemy. If Zhou Yanru is driven out, the Fu She will lose all its influence in the central cabinet. For a group that aims to rejuvenate the Ming Dynasty and reform the government, that would be a disaster.”

Historically, after Wen Tiren ousted Zhou Yanru to become the Grand Secretary, the Donglin’s power at court suffered a heavy blow. Not only did Wen Tiren oppose them at every turn, but the eunuch faction, branded as the “Treasonable Clique,” also made a comeback. To reverse this decline, the Fu She went to great lengths seven years later to help Zhou Yanru return to the cabinet.

This showed that Zhou Yanru was a key ally for the Donglin in the central government. Especially in 1631, when Zhou Yanru had done the Fu She a great “favor” during the metropolitan examinations, Zhang Pu would not be ignorant of the value of a friendly Grand Secretary. Jiang Shan believed that if they explained the stakes to Zhang Pu and the others, a partnership was possible.

Li Yan said, “This task can be given to Zhao Yigong. He’s already established friendships with some of the Fu She’s key members in Hangzhou. He can use these connections to approach Zhang Pu and persuade him.”

“Wouldn’t it be strange for him to get involved? What would be his motive?”

“Don’t forget, Zhao Yigong is also a key figure in the Hangzhou church. Sun Yuanhua is a Catholic. It would be perfectly reasonable for him to come to the aid of a fellow believer out of religious camaraderie.”

“Send a telegram to Hangzhou immediately.”

In the first month of the year, Hangzhou was in the grip of the Little Ice Age. Not only were most of the small rivers frozen, but even the West Lake had a thin layer of ice.

Despite the cold, the streets were still lively. After the fifth day of the New Year, all the shops had reopened. Families with enough food to last were busy visiting relatives and friends to extend New Year’s greetings.

Zhao Yigong was now one of Hangzhou’s “celebrities.” Ever since Zhang Dai and Fang Yizhi had visited his Wanbi Bookstore, it had become a renowned cultural salon in the city. It wasn’t just the scholars from in and around the city; even the common folk knew that the Wanbi Bookstore was an “interesting and good place.”

In particular, some of the Fu She scholars in Zhejiang, led by Fang Yizhi, often gathered there to discuss the “study of the nature of things.” The books Zhao Yigong had gifted through Zhang Dai, such as “An Introduction to Optics,” had been very effective, successfully attracting this group of scholars interested in practical studies to the Wanbi Bookstore. This allowed him to get closer to the core members of the Fu She.

“The New Year celebrations are pretty much over,” Gao Xuan sighed as he stepped onto the steps of the Wanbi Bookstore. Compared to his first visit early last year, he looked much better. His clothes were neat, and he carried a bamboo-ribbed folding fan, a constant companion regardless of the season, looking every bit the scholar. It was clear he had been eating well and dressing warmly, living a comfortable life recently.

Since Gao Xuan had accepted the Wanbi Bookstore’s offer to become a contracted writer, he received two taels of silver a month. His once-strapped circumstances had improved greatly, and he now spoke with more confidence in front of his in-laws.

Gao Xuan was an “editor” and a staff member of the bookstore. The attendant at the door didn’t greet him, simply letting him pass through the main hall and head towards the “editorial department” in the back.

The editorial department was located in the “Wanbi Building,” a three-story “Australian-style” blue-brick building with a garden. It had about ten rooms upstairs and downstairs, used by the entire team of editors, writers, and proofreaders—Zhao Yigong had established the “Tianshui Society” within the Wanbi Bookstore.

The main task of this publishing house was not to edit the books printed by the Wanbi Bookstore—those were printed using molds shipped from Lingao and required little editorial work. Besides proofreading some of the traditional book templates from Lingao, the publishing house’s primary job was to edit various popular publications, especially magazines.

These popular readings were all printed using lithography. This printing method allowed for fast plate-making and combined text with images, making it very suitable for small-scale, multi-batch printing. China’s first popular magazine, the Dianshizhai Pictorial, used lithography. It was this pictorial that had inspired Zhao Yigong’s publishing business idea.

However, his scope was much broader. There were three regularly published magazines, each targeting a different audience. The first was the Tianshui Life Weekly, aimed at intellectuals like Zhang Dai and Fang Yizhi. Most of them held the rank of Juren or Xiucai, some were even Jinshi who had served as officials. They were well-off, many were famous literary figures, and they belonged to the upper-middle class of scholars with a considerable demand for intellectual stimulation.

Tianshui Life Weekly was divided into four sections: Current Affairs Commentary, Reading Notes, Culture and Entertainment, and Curiosities and Anecdotes. Its positioning was roughly similar to the old-time Sanlian Life Weekly or Phoenix Weekly: it had a certain level of class and depth while remaining accessible to the general reader.

Zhao Yigong knew that although the target audience was the upper-middle class, they were well-known and influential among the literati. Their reading habits would inevitably influence many others. Just as white-collar workers unconsciously emulated business elites, if he put in the effort to build a reputation among this target group, the magazine’s influence would radiate throughout the entire intellectual class.

As for scientific introductions, Zhao Yigong temporarily placed them in the Curiosities and Anecdotes section. Changing the mindset of the scholar-gentry was not something that could be done overnight. Furthermore, trying to popularize brand-new scientific concepts among traditional intellectuals who had no basic scientific knowledge but considered themselves masters of knowledge was too difficult. It was better to start from a humanistic angle to slowly shift their perspectives.

The second publication was the Wanbi Pictorial, an alternate-dimension pirated version of the Dianshizhai Pictorial, with a mix of text and images, focusing mainly on the latter. Its content consisted of strange tales from overseas, social anecdotes, and popular science, targeting urban citizens with some disposable income. The content was easy to understand.

Both pictorials were printed in a 16mo format and were beautifully produced. Because they were aimed at a higher-class audience, their prices were also higher. For the lower classes, Zhao Yigong launched a third magazine: the Shanhaijing Pictorial. This publication minimized paper and printing costs by using cheap paper and simpler lithographic plates. The format was reduced to 32mo.

The content was mainly social news, mixed with folk legends and social fiction, supplemented by a small amount of popular science. It was primarily presented in the form of a comic strip—with very little text, just a few sentences in vernacular Chinese using common characters. This was an excellent form of entertainment for the common people who were semi-literate or completely illiterate.

Hangzhou was a commercial city with a large population engaged in the tertiary sector. Its citizen culture was very developed, and the urban commoners had a great demand for entertainment. The Shanhaijing Pictorial, a kind of “comic book,” perfectly met their needs.

Zhao Yigong hired a group of down-on-their-luck scholars for one to two taels of silver a month to work for the publishing house, grandly calling them “editors.” Some handled the writing, while others were responsible for the illustrations.

Gao Xuan walked into the courtyard. The servant at the gate was sweeping the floor. Seeing him enter, the servant quickly and respectfully called out, “Mr. Gao!”

Gao Xuan nodded politely and asked, “Has the master arrived?”

Zhao Yigong made it a point to come to the “editorial department” every three days in the morning to “guide the work.” By his calculation, he should have been here today.

“The master didn’t come today,” the servant said. This surprised Gao Xuan. Although Master Zhao had some strange mannerisms, he was very methodical in his work and wouldn’t change his habits without a special reason.

Gao Xuan went into the small building by himself and arrived at his “office.” The sign on the door read “Social Department.” This department was responsible for writing social news and stories of the marketplace. It was also the department with the most local scholars.

The room had already been swept clean. Several rows of old-time-style desks were arranged face-to-face and back-to-back, a familiar sight to any transmigrator. However, on the desks were the “four treasures of the study”: a brush, ink, paper, and an inkstone.

Several “editors” were already in the office. They greeted each other one by one. As soon as Gao Xuan sat down, a servant brought him breakfast.

Master Zhao was a very good person. Because most of the editors were not well-off, he always provided breakfast for those who came to work in the morning. Although it was just fried dough sticks, white congee, and Xiaoshan pickled radish, it was enough to warm the hearts of the poor scholars.