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

"Zizhan, remember what I'm about to say. This book is more than just a tool for making money."

Jiang Lin walked to the edge of the corridor, pointed to the streets of Bianjing City in the distance that were not yet fully awake, and pointed to the peddlers and laborers who were busy carrying their loads in the morning mist.

"The powerful families are suppressing our newspapers in an attempt to regain control of the discourse. They want to build a high wall and tell the people that if they don't read the classics, they are just commoners, they are not respectable, and they have no right to speak."

Jiang Lin turned around, looked directly into Su Shi's eyes, and spoke in a voice as sharp as a knife, each word ringing with conviction:

"And what I want you to do is use this novel to tell the world—"

"Even commoners and laborers have their righteousness, and many are as lowly as butchers! Even without studying the classics, as long as one has courage in their heart, one can become a true hero! I want these eight words, 'The greatest heroes are those who serve their country and its people,' to be engraved not only in the hearts of scholars and officials, but also in the very bones of every citizen of the Song Dynasty!"

A morning breeze blew by, ruffling Su Shi's disheveled clothes and hair.

He stood there, stunned, the manuscript paper in his hand rustling in the wind.

In that instant, he seemed to see in Jiang Lin's seemingly lazy back a kind of arrogance and ambition he had never seen before.

That kind of ambition is called—equality for all beings.

Su Shi felt a surge of heat rising in his chest, a feeling of pride that excited him even more than writing a magnificent article.

"Master, this disciple... understands."

Su Shi took a deep breath, stopped his joking and smiling, and solemnly bowed to Jiang Lin as a disciple. Then he turned around and strode into the musty little dark room.

"Bang!"

The door closed again.

This time, however, the door was locked from the inside. Immediately afterwards, a more rapid and forceful grinding sound came from inside the room.

Hearing the sounds inside, Jiang Lin's lips curled up slightly, and he resumed his lazy demeanor.

"The Wang family wants to monopolize the discourse? Ha."

Jiang Lin stretched and squinted at the rising sun, his eyes full of mockery. "Then let the people of the Great Song Dynasty see whether your 'classical Chinese' is more interesting, or my 'Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms' is more powerful."

He beckoned to Qian Duoduo, who had been waiting for a long time.

"Order the printing press! Print an additional 5,000 copies of today's *Great Song Morning Post*! Make sure to clear out the largest space on the front page for the headline!"

Jiang Lin pulled a pre-written slip of paper from his sleeve and handed it over. "Print this title. Make sure the font is big, dark, and bold! Make it so that people can't help but notice it at first glance!"

Qian Duoduo looked down and saw a line of shocking words written on the note—

Shocking! The most popular scholar in the Song Dynasty secluded himself at night and wrote this...

"Also," Jiang Lin pointed to the bottom of the note, a devilish smile spreading across his face, "be sure to add a small note where the story abruptly ends—"

To find out what happens next, stay tuned for tomorrow's episode.

"With this strike, I will cut the lifeline of the Song Dynasty's literary world, and I will also cut the lifeblood of those old fogies in the Wang family."

……

In the early morning of Bianjing, before the fog had even dissipated, a war without gunpowder had already begun on the Imperial Street.

Today marks the launch of the "Great Song Elegant Gazette," a publication created by the entire Wang family, and also the first day of the revamp of Jiang Lin's "Great Song Morning Gazette."

Outside Donghua Gate, atop Fanlou Tower.

Dressed in fine clothes, Wang Wenxuan stood by the railing on the third floor, fanning himself with a folding fan, looking down at the bustling crowd below, who seemed like ants. Behind him, several impoverished scholars who depended on the Wang family surrounded him like stars around the moon, their faces full of fawning smiles.

"Young Master, look!" a scholar pointed to the street. "Our men have been deployed! Five hundred servants are being distributed to everyone they meet! Every literate person will receive a copy of the *Elegant Gazette*!"

A disdainful smile curled at the corner of Wang Wenxuan's lips.

At this moment, the Imperial Street was almost entirely submerged in snow-white paper. The Wang family had spared no expense this time; although not using Chengxintang paper, it was still top-quality bamboo paper, its ink fragrant and its layout spacious and elegant. More importantly—

free.

"That scoundrel Jiang Lin dares to sell a lousy newspaper for fifty copper coins!" Wang Wenxuan snapped his folding fan shut, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Does he really think he can live off those sensationalist headlines forever? Common people are greedy for bargains, and scholars are concerned with their reputation. My 'Elegant Gazette' is both free and refined; let's see how he tries to compete with me!"

"Young Master's insight is brilliant!" the scholars echoed in unison. "After today, that money-grubbing 'Morning Post' will be so obsolete that nobody's going to use it to wipe their backside!"

Wang Wenxuan laughed heartily, his laughter filled with unwavering confidence in victory.

However, he failed to see that a subtle sense of unease was spreading beneath the seemingly bustling scene of newspaper delivery.

……

A breakfast stall on a street corner in the west of the city.

Several porters were squatting on the ground drinking murky mutton soup, while clutching a free copy of the "Elegant Gazette" that they had just snatched from the servants.

"Hey Lao Zhang, what does this say?" A dark-faced man flipped through the newspaper several times, looking completely bewildered.

The man named Old Zhang, though literate, read haltingly: "Confucius said...learning...in this...in that...cultivating oneself and regulating one's family..."

"Pah!" The dark-faced man spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground. "These sour words again! Haven't I been scolded enough by my private tutor every day? Do I have to suffer like this just to drink a bowl of mutton soup?"

As he spoke, he crumpled the beautifully printed "Elegant News" into a ball and placed it under the leg of the always wobbly stool.

"Don't throw it away!" A vegetable vendor nearby snatched it away quickly. "This paper is thick and strong. It'll be great for pasting windows or wrapping pickled vegetables! Since it's free, it'd be foolish not to take more!"

Thus, a bizarre scene unfolded on the streets of Bianjing.

The Wang family servants were enthusiastic about distributing the food, and the common people were even more enthusiastic. Some people took it to make fried dough sticks, some took it to wipe tables, and some even lined up to get dozens of portions, which they then resold to scrap collectors.

The sales figures are astonishing, but nobody reads them.

Meanwhile, just across the street was the entrance to "Jiang's Bookstore".

There were no hawkers or freebies, yet a line stretched for two miles. The line included not only peddlers and laborers, but also scholars in long gowns, and even many women in carriages, all bundled up and accompanied by servants.

"Don't push! Don't push! I want to buy one too!"

"Ten coins a copy, pay first, then you can take the newspaper!"

Qian Duoduo stood on the counter, waving a freshly printed copy of the "Da Song Zao Bao" newspaper, her voice hoarse from shouting.

A young man in fine clothes finally managed to squeeze to the front of the line, slamming a string of copper coins on the counter: "Quick! Give me one! That title is so enticing—'Shocking! Top Scholar Secluded Himself at Night and Wrote This Kind of Thing…'! I just want to know, what exactly did Scholar Su write? Is it that kind of… hehehehe?"

Qian Duoduo grinned mischievously, skillfully taking the money and handing him the newspaper: "Of course... hehehe."

The young master eagerly unfolded the newspaper, ignoring the guys, and his eyes immediately locked onto the novel column that took up half the page.

Chapter One: A Sudden Change in the Snowstorm...