Taichang Ming Dynasty

Chapter 781 The Scripture Weaving Hall (Part 2)
The guest's eyebrows twitched slightly; the shopkeeper's suggestion had indeed tempted him. However, after a moment's thought, he handed back the eleventh volume of "The Complete Annotated Analects of Confucius."

"Let's forget about it." The guest waved his folding fan, his tone tinged with regret. "I'm not really from Tianjin. I only came here because I heard about the newly opened port in Tanggu. Afterwards, I have to go back to the capital to prepare for next year's imperial examination. Buying so many books now will be quite a hassle to move them around later."

The shopkeeper took the book, casually put it back on the shelf, and continued to persuade, "What's so difficult about that!" He pointed towards the counter, "If it's convenient for you, give us your address in Beijing or your hometown, and we can find a shipping company to send it to you."

"Hehe." The customer chuckled. "Sending it is easy, of course, but the shipping costs along the way must be considerable. Who will pay for it?"

The shopkeeper's expression faltered slightly. "Of course, you'll have to pay for it yourself."

"Haha. Let me think about it some more." The customer shook his head with a smile, his gaze returning to the low shelf where Cheng Mo and Fang Manuscripts were placed: "Shopkeeper, how much are these books?"

Seeing that he had changed the subject, the shopkeeper stopped bothering him and said, "A book costs four qian of silver and contains the best essays selected by the examiners." The shopkeeper picked up a book at random, opened it, and showed it to him. "There are also these annotations. Although they are not printed, they are all written by Hanlin scholars. If you buy them and study them carefully, they will surely be of great help to you."

The guest nodded and picked out two Cheng Mo books from the early Wanli period that he didn't have at home from the pile of books. Then he took out a one-tael silver note from his sleeve: "That's perfect. These two books are worth eight qian, plus the two qian of the official gazette from before, making it a full tael. I'll save myself the trouble of taking advantage of your little bit of money."

The shopkeeper smiled and accepted the silver note, but didn't respond to the customer's question. He simply said, "Sir, where are you staying now? It's difficult for you to carry so many books by yourself. I'll pack them up here and have my assistant deliver them to your residence."

"I live at 'Pillow Moon Pavilion' outside the South Gate. It's easy to find once you leave the city," the guest thought for a moment and said.

The shopkeeper went behind the counter, took out a blue-covered memo book, and then took a small calligraphy brush. After dipping it in ink, he wrote the three characters "Zhenyuelou" on the paper: "I'll have to trouble you to tell me your name, so that it won't be delivered to the wrong person and cause you any trouble."

“Qi Biaojia. My name is Qi Biaojia,” the guest explained, “'Qi' is the ‘Qi’ in ‘Spring day is late, picking mulberry leaves is abundant’, and ‘Biao’ is the ‘Biao’ in ‘bright and magnificent’, as for ‘jia’, the guest paused for a moment, “That’s right! It’s the ‘jia’ in ‘The Great Strike’, ‘Beautiful and magnificent, beautiful and only’.”

The shopkeeper was well-versed in the Book of Songs, but not so familiar with the Songs of Chu, so he unfortunately wrote "佳" as "嘉".

Qi Biaojia walked to the counter and immediately noticed that the shopkeeper had misspelled his name. But he wasn't annoyed; instead, he felt a little smug.

"Shopkeeper," Qi Biaojia extended his hand. "May I borrow a pen?"

"Please." The shopkeeper realized what was happening and quickly handed over the pen, then turned the memo around.

Qi Biaojia took the pen, crossed out the previous three characters, and then wrote his name in his carefully honed official script: "It should be this Jia."

"I'm sorry, Master Qi," the shopkeeper said apologetically, bowing. "I am not very knowledgeable and have not read the article you mentioned."

“The *Chu Ci*. You must have read it, you just can’t remember it right now.” Qi Biaojia put down his pen, turned around, and pointed to the hardcover *Chu Ci* he had glanced at earlier. “Isn’t that it?”

The shopkeeper blushed and chuckled awkwardly, "Hehe. Master Qi is right."

"Oh dear, don't call me Master Qi, Master Qi." Qi Biaojia waved his hand, "It sounds really awkward."

The shopkeeper smiled obsequiously and said, "You are a scholar with official rank, so where would anyone not address you as 'Master'?"

"No, no, no," Qi Biaojia insisted. "Let's use a different way of addressing you. This way of addressing me always reminds me of my father."

"Since you put it that way," the shopkeeper's eyes darted around, and he continued, "may I dare to call you 'Young Master Qi'?"

"Okay." Qi Biaojia nodded.

"Young Master Qi." The shopkeeper held out his hand: "Could you please give me those two volumes of Cheng Mo? I'll wrap them up for you so you won't have to carry them."

"Oh, okay, thank you." Qi Biaojia handed over the book, and then began pacing around the study.

The shopkeeper took the books, first wrapping the two volumes of Cheng Mo and the copy of Di together with a clean sheet of Xuan paper, then wrapping them again with a waterproof oil paper, and finally pulling out a hemp rope and skillfully tying a cross knot. To make it easier to carry, he also tied a small loop at the knot.

After wrapping the books, the shopkeeper opened a drawer and took out a standard receipt bearing the red seal of "Zhijingtang". He filled in his name, address, and the books he had purchased, then approached Qi Biaojia, who was slowly pacing around the bookshelves: "Young Master Qi, please keep this receipt. When the clerk delivers the books, you or your servant can give the receipt to him. When would be a convenient time to deliver them?"

"Let's do it this evening," Qi Biaojia said, taking the signed document and glancing down at it. "I should be heading back by then."

"Alright!" the shopkeeper nodded immediately.

Qi Biaojia folded the signed receipt and tucked it into his sleeve, then turned to leave. The shopkeeper followed behind him, ready to see him out. But Qi Biaojia had only taken two steps when he suddenly turned back and asked the shopkeeper, "By the way, shopkeeper, do you... publish books here?"

The shopkeeper stopped in his tracks, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, before becoming serious: "Publish a book? You mean a traditional book?"

Qi Biaojia nodded: "That's right."

"Then may I ask if it is privately made or commercially made?" the shopkeeper asked again.

“Of course it’s Shangke,” Qi Biaojia said.

Upon hearing "business," the shopkeeper's face immediately broke into an even warmer smile. He turned and waved towards the stairwell, saying, "That's business! Young Master Qi, there are private rooms upstairs. Shall we go up and discuss this in detail?" As he spoke, he called out to the backyard, "Chen San'er!"

The shop assistant who had been taking down the awning earlier immediately ran out from the backyard, holding a cloth in his hand: "Manager, did you call me?" "You watch the shop for now," the manager instructed, "and have the kitchen send up a pot of Longjing tea and two plates of almond shortbread to the private room on the second floor."

"Okay!" Chen San'er replied crisply.

The shopkeeper turned to Qi Biaojia and gestured for him to come upstairs: "Young Master Qi, please come upstairs. Let's talk slowly."

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Qi Biaojia followed the shopkeeper upstairs, the wooden stairs creaking softly under their footsteps. Along the wall, antique shelves displayed many old, thread-bound books, their slipcases bearing the faded yellow of age.

Turning the corner, Qi Biaojia immediately saw the light blue curtain embroidered with several green bamboo stalks at the entrance of the private room. As he lifted the curtain and entered, a faint scent of ink mixed with the aroma of camphor wood wafted towards him. Two paintings hung on the wall: one was a poem in running script, with free and unrestrained strokes, and the other was a light-colored landscape painting depicting the scenery of the Haihe River.

"Young Master Qi, please have a seat here." The innkeeper led Qi Biaojia to a seat by the window, and after he sat down, he turned to open the window. The window latch clicked, and the light from outside, carrying the fresh scent of the rain, rushed in.

After the rain, the street downstairs gradually became lively. Farmers carrying vegetable baskets, wearing straw sandals, waded through one puddle after another, calling out as they went. A peddler, shaking a rattle drum, squatted on the street corner, surrounded by several noisy children. The bustling voices, mixed with the "roller" sound of wheels rolling over the bluestone slabs, drifted into the elegant room, adding a touch of vulgarity to the refined atmosphere.

The shopkeeper sat down in the chair opposite Qi Biaojia, intending to exchange a few polite words before getting to the point after the waiter brought the tea and snacks. However, Qi Biaojia couldn't hold back any longer. He put down his folding fan, placed one hand on the table, and leaned forward slightly: "Shopkeeper, I wonder if you've ever heard of Feng Menglong?"

The shopkeeper, Feng Menglong, blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as if searching his memory: "I do feel like I've heard of him somewhere before. Has he published any books?"

“You should remember the ‘Mo Han Zhai Definitive Edition of Legends’, right?” Qi Biaojia said. “Mo Han Zhai was his self-chosen name. That book of legends included ‘The Tale of Two Heroes,’ ‘All Things Are Satisfying,’ and ‘The Flag of Loyalty.’ There are already troupes in Tianjin performing it. They all have his own scripts. In addition, he also wrote ‘Hanging Branches,’ ‘Mountain Songs,’ and ‘Laughing House.’ Although they are not very elegant, they are all interesting folk tales.”

“Guazhier…” The shopkeeper’s brows furrowed even more, and he tapped his fingertips lightly on the table: “I think there is such a book.” The shopkeeper was already certain that he had read this person’s work, but he just couldn’t remember anything else.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. It was a kitchen worker bringing over tea and snacks.

The waiter carried a wooden tray with a pot of hot tea, two upside-down small cups, two plates of almond cookies sprinkled with powdered sugar, and a small plate of candied fruit.

The shop assistant silently placed the items on the table and was about to leave when the shopkeeper called him back: "When you go down, tell Chen San'er to look in the storeroom and see if there are any books by Feng Menglong. No matter which one, bring it up when you find it."

"Okay, all done." The waiter replied, and quietly closed the door and left.

The shopkeeper poured Qi Biaojia a cup of tea, the steam carrying the delicate fragrance of Longjing tea into the air: "Young Master Qi, are you planning to bring this Mr. Feng's book here to discuss its engraving and publication?"

“Exactly.” Qi Biaojia nodded his thanks, took the teacup, and took a small sip. “Last year, before I went north to take the imperial examination, I got a newly published copy of ‘Stories Old and New’ from Brother Feng. This book was written in the 48th year of the Wanli reign. The stories in it are all fresh, and they talk about the human relationships and customs in the city. If it is published, I guarantee it will sell for a good price.”

The shopkeeper's eyes flickered, and he lightly traced his finger along the rim of the cup: "You just mentioned 'new publication'?"

"Yes."

"So," the shopkeeper asked, "this book has already been printed once?"

"It has been published." Qi Biaojia nodded frankly. "Brother Feng originally found Tianxuzhai in Nanzhili to print and sell it, but he sent me a letter a while ago saying that Tianxuzhai had a fire and all the printing blocks in the warehouse were burned, so it has to be revised and reprinted."

"Hmm," the shopkeeper picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then slowly said as he put it down, "Young Master Qi, is it really appropriate for you to pay for his book?"

"Hey, what's wrong with that?" Qi Biaojia waved his hand casually, saying nonchalantly, "Even if Tianxuzhai's printing blocks weren't burned, I'm still helping him carve an extra edition in the north, which is also establishing his reputation. Besides, I'm not after his money. In the end, after selling the books and splitting the profits, I can just send him the money from the book sales, right?"

The shopkeeper looked at Qi Biaojia, a smile playing on his lips, but caution lurking in his eyes: "Young Master Qi, it's not that I don't trust your character, it's just that words alone aren't enough. If we go to the trouble of printing the book, and then this Mr. Feng comes knocking on our door accusing us of plagiarism and suing us, that would be a huge problem."

"Hey, don't worry about that!" Qi Biaojia leaned forward, raising his voice slightly, "If you can't trust me, Qi Biaojia, you should be able to trust your father, Qi Cheng, right?"

“This…hehe, I,” the shopkeeper paused for a moment, then laughed, “I don’t know your father either.”

"Tsk, sigh. His official position is still too low, and he's not famous at all." Qi Biaojia pursed his lips and muttered under his breath. "Shopkeeper, my father was a Jinshi in the thirty-second year of the Wanli reign. He was the same year as Sun Zhongcheng, the governor of Tianjin, and Xu Dazongbo, the minister of rites. He was recently promoted to assistant minister of the Ministry of War and is on his way to the capital right now." Mentioning these two only made Qi Biaojia feel a sense of regret for his father's unfulfilled ambitions.

The shopkeeper's brows furrowed slightly, his teacup hovering in mid-air before he finally set it down. "Young Master Qi, I understand your meaning. However," he didn't directly refuse or express his doubts, but instead used a delaying tactic: "...Publishing a book ultimately depends on the quality of the book itself. You don't have the book with you right now, so even if we talk until the end, we won't reach a conclusion. How about this, let's put this matter aside for now, and discuss the production schedule and pricing in detail when you bring the book over? What do you think?"

Qi Biaojia pondered for a moment, then nodded and said, "That seems to make sense. I'll go back and get the book first, and come back in a couple of days." With that, Qi Biaojia stood up.

The shopkeeper's expression softened slightly, and he stood up as well, but he said, "Young Master Qi, please sit for a while before you leave. At least have a couple of snacks."

Qi Biaojia reached out and grabbed a handful of candied fruit: "I appreciate your kindness, but I'll go to the yamen and submit my visiting card first."

"A visiting card?" the shopkeeper asked with a smile. "Is Young Master Qi going to the yamen to pay a visit to Vice Minister Sun?"

“My father and he were born in the same year. I swam into his territory, so I should at least say hello,” Qi Biaojia said, popping a candied fruit into his mouth. “Whether he has time to see me or not is another matter.”

(End of this chapter)