The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

The next morning, the thin fog had not yet dissipated, and the air in Bianjing was still damp and cold.

The main lecture hall of Jingshi Academy has been completely changed.

The desks that were once filled with classical Chinese writing were cleared out, and hundreds of chairs were arranged in a crescent shape, creating the impression of a modern-day "theater premiere".

In the center of the high platform, a giant scroll was tightly wrapped in red silk, and thick red candles around it were burning brightly. The flickering flames created a sense of mystery that made it seem like something you could look down on but couldn't afford.

At the entrance, Qian Duoduo was guarding the makeshift ticket gate, sweating profusely but with his eyes shining.

"Ten strings of cash for a ticket? That's robbery!"

A portly merchant dressed in fine silk stamped his foot in anger, his hand trembling like someone with Parkinson's disease as he clutched the banknotes. "Even Li Shishi's tea at Fanlou isn't this expensive! Has Jiang Lin gone mad with greed?"

"Come in or not, this is the launch event for 'Imperial Tribute Paper'." Qian Duoduo didn't even lift her eyelids, the abacus beads clicking away.

"Limited seats available; even standing room only, if you arrive late."

"You..." The merchant gritted his teeth, but the allure of the words "tribute paper" was too deadly—was that something an ordinary person could touch? It was a ladder to heaven!

"Buy it!" The merchant slammed the money on the table. "If it's not genuine, I'll tear your academy down!"

Despite the barrage of criticism, the lecture hall remained packed.

Merchants in Bianjing have a keen sense of smell, even more so than dogs. News of someone transferring Chengxintang paper from the Imperial Treasury yesterday had already spread throughout their circle.

Everyone wanted to see what kind of trouble this academy was up to, using paper that was more expensive than gold.

"Here it comes!"

A commotion broke out in the crowd.

The gate was pushed open, and Wang Wenxuan, waving his newly replaced ivory folding fan, swaggered in, surrounded by a group of servants.

He wore a smile, but his eyes held a sinister glint. He had been holding his anger in all night after being humiliated by Zhao Lingjun with a plaque at Tingyuxuan yesterday.

He heard that Jiang Lin was going to do some kind of "investment promotion" today, so he came here specifically to see the joke.

"Wow, that sounds pretty convincing."

Wang Wenxuan walked straight to the center of the first row—the "supreme VIP seat" that Jiang Lin had specially reserved for him.

He plopped down, crossed his legs, and his voice just loud enough to drown out the noise.

"Jiangshan Changshu couldn't understand it, so he switched to opera? Besides trying to attract attention, what else can he do?"

A low chuckle rose from the surroundings, and several merchants who were dependent on the Wang family spoke with sarcasm: "Young Master Wang is right, they've lost all civility, they're all just money-grubbing!"

Backstage.

Su Shi peered through the gap in the curtain at the sea of ​​heads below, and his Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

"Headmaster, is that really what you mean?" He held a slip of paper covered in writing in his hand; it was a "brainwashing script" that Jiang Lin had hastily prepared overnight. "These words... aren't they too arrogant? Won't we get beaten up?"

"Arrogant? Zizhan, you must remember, we're not begging for food, we're giving them a chance to 'go down in history'."

Jiang Lin slumped in his rattan chair, leisurely cracking sunflower seeds, spitting out two shells: "Go on, today you're the most eloquent person in Bianjing. Can the future prime minister be intimidated by this kind of situation? You need to broaden your horizons!"

Su Shi took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently recited those strange words he had never heard of before. With a determined heart, he suddenly lifted the curtain and strode onto the stage.

"Snapped!"

A jet-black Duan inkstone was slammed down like a gavel, the crisp sound of which instantly silenced the entire hall.

Su Shi, dressed in a deep purple round-necked robe with wide sleeves, stood tall and straight. In the candlelight, he truly exuded an air of commanding the world.

He remained silent until he spoke, but when he did, his words were as resounding as a great bell:

"What does one seek in this life? Nothing more than the three things that will ensure lasting legacy: establishing virtue, achieving merit, and leaving behind a legacy of words!"

The businessmen in the audience looked at each other, completely bewildered. Weren't we supposed to be discussing business? How did this turn into a philosophy lesson?

Wang Wenxuan scoffed, toying with his folding fan: "Su Zizhan, stop spouting nonsense. Spit it out, I'm off to cockfighting, I don't have time for your recitation."

This time, Su Shi completely ignored him, swiftly unfolding his folding fan and pointing to the scroll covered by red silk behind him, his tone suddenly turning to pity:

"You are all business leaders with immense wealth. But a hundred years from now, how many of you will be remembered? Besides chests of gold and silver that you can't take with you, what will you leave behind? A handful of dust? Or a forgotten silhouette?"

Upon hearing this, many businessmen's expressions changed.

Among the social classes of scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants, merchants held the lowest social status. Even if they were as wealthy as a country, in the eyes of officials they were still fat pigs waiting to be slaughtered.

What do they lack most? Reputation! The kind of dignity that can be written into the family tree and be praised by others!

The time is right.

Su Shi suddenly turned around, grabbed a corner of the red silk, and pulled hard.

"Splash!"

The red silk fell to the ground like clouds, revealing a specially made sample copy of the "Great Song Morning Post".

For a moment, everyone in the stadium fell silent, even their breathing stopped.

Because it wasn't ordinary paper.

Under the illumination of dozens of whale oil candles, the paper was as white as jade and as fine as skin, as if it were bathed in a holy light.

Just hanging there, it exudes a royal aura that makes people want to worship it.

"Hiss—Chengxintang paper!"

A discerning jeweler in the front row immediately stood up, his eyes practically glued to the canvas. "This...this kind of divine object, actually used...for printing?"

"That's right!"

Su Shi raised his voice, his tone highly inflammatory: "This is the special paper supplied by the Imperial Household Department, the Chengxintang paper that the Emperor uses daily to review memorials and write imperial edicts! Starting tomorrow, the entire *Da Song Zao Bao* will be upgraded to be printed on this paper!"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Reading the news on paper meant for the emperor? This isn't reading a newspaper, it's touching the dragon vein! From now on, even wrapping fried dough sticks in this newspaper will make you feel like a royal chef!

"So what?" Wang Wenxuan interrupted coldly, his face dark. "Do you really think you can make money by selling paper? Well, I'll buy it all and use it to shine your shoes."

"Good question!"

A lazy yet magnetic voice came from the side curtain.

Jiang Lin slowly walked onto the stage. Today he was dressed in a smart blue shirt, holding a slender pointer in his hand, and stood next to the huge sample magazine.

He didn't even glance at Wang Wenxuan, and lightly tapped the pointer on the conspicuous blank space at the bottom of the newspaper.

"Please take a look, everyone."

Jiang Lin's lips curled into a playful smile, his eyes like those of a wolf eyeing its prey.

"Here, I will not write poetry or discuss national affairs. This most expensive, most prominent space, printed on Chengxintang paper—I leave it to you."

"Leave it to us?" someone in the audience asked in confusion.

"That's right." Jiang Lin held up three fingers, his voice steady yet firm. "On the first day of the resumption of publication of the Great Song Morning Post, the estimated print run is 10,000 copies. These 10,000 copies will appear on the tea tables of Fanlou, in the brothels of the entertainment district, and even... on the desks of high-ranking officials in the imperial court."

"A newspaper is circulated among at least ten people. That's close to one hundred thousand eyes!"

Jiang Lin slammed his pointer against the drawing board, making a crisp "snap" sound that seemed to strike the hearts of everyone present.

"Ten thousand eyes are fixed on this tiny place. If you sell wine, these ten thousand people will know that your wine is the best; if you sell cloth, these ten thousand people will know that your cloth is the most beautiful."

"This isn't just paper; it's a path leading to the minds of all 100,000 people in Bianjing!"

boom!

These words were like a spark, completely igniting the atmosphere in the audience.

The doubts in the merchants' eyes disappeared, replaced by a red glow called "greed".

What does this mean? Even if you hired a hundred people to go out on the street and beat drums and gongs, you still couldn't summon 100,000 people! And this was printed on Chengxintang paper! How prestigious is that?

This is like hanging your own signboard on the face of royalty!

Wang Wenxuan's expression changed drastically.

He keenly sensed that the atmosphere was spiraling out of control. These usually shrewd and calculating businessmen were now looking at Jiang Lin on the stage with an even more affectionate gaze than they would at their own father.

We must not let him succeed!

"Nonsense!"

Wang Wenxuan suddenly stood up, kicked over a chair, pointed at Jiang Lin, and shouted angrily, "Who doesn't know that the Wang family calls the shots in the paper trade in Bianjing?"

"Jiang Lin, stop spreading these rumors! Anyone who dares to buy a spot here is going against the Wang family! Let's see who dares to make a bid!"

These words were like a bucket of ice water being poured over the previously restless crowd.

Yes, the profits may be huge, but you need to be alive to spend them. Everyone has experienced the Wang family's methods; cutting off supplies and running on banks are commonplace for them.

A deathly silence fell over the lecture hall. Only the crackling of the candlelight filled the air, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Su Shi's palms were sweaty, and he subconsciously looked at Jiang Lin.

Jiang Lin remained calm and composed, even picking up his teacup and blowing away the foam, as if Wang Wenxuan were just a buzzing fly.

He is waiting.

"Since no one has made a bid, the first 'Official Store Special' spot will be sold without a bid, starting at 100 strings of cash..." Su Shi said, his voice dry as he forced a smile.

A sinister grin spread across Wang Wenxuan's face. Trying to fight me? So what if you're backed by the imperial merchants? I'll make sure your goods rot in the pot!

Just as Su Shi was about to bring down the gavel and announce that the item had failed to sell.

"Who said no one's here?"

A broken, awkward Chinese sentence abruptly broke the silence.

In the corner, a burly foreign merchant with a full beard and wearing a turban stood up.

He ignored Wang Wenxuan's murderous glare, pulled a heavy leather bag from his pocket, and slammed it heavily onto the table in front of him like trash.

"Clang!"

That was the sound of metal striking a table—heavy, melodious, and deadly.

The merchant untied the bag and poured it onto the table.

With a whoosh, a burst of golden light instantly stung everyone's eyes.

"I'll buy this location!"