1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

After spending more than forty minutes and successfully dodging several "attacks," Michelle finally arrived at her destination, Fleet Street.

Fleet Street, named after the nearby Fleet River, was the headquarters of the British newspaper industry until the 1980s, where almost all of London's well-known newspapers were located.

Before me stood a row of printing plants and typesetting workshops, the cries of newsboys rose and fell, and the smell of printing ink permeated the entire neighborhood...

(Fleet Street in 1890, with St. Paul's Cathedral in the background and a crowded public carriage on the street.)

1836 was a special year for the British newspaper industry. In that year, the knowledge tax, which had been in effect for over a century, was finally reformed, reduced from four pence to one penny—a reduction of three times! This policy immediately ignited the entire newspaper industry, with many newspapers lowering their prices and significantly expanding their readership. The newspaper industry experienced explosive growth, with most newspapers seeing their sales double. It can be said that this was a year of rapid development for the newspaper industry.

It's important to understand that in London at that time, a newspaper cost as much as sevenpence, far beyond the reach of the average citizen. Its readership was predominantly upper-class, and its content consisted mostly of serious news and business commentary. In fact, this was a form of invisible knowledge monopoly. The upper class monopolized knowledge and information.

But humanity's thirst for information is unstoppable; where there's a will, there's a way, so some people still manage to exploit loopholes. British law stipulates that only regularly published newspapers are required to pay a knowledge tax, so many illegal newspapers package themselves as irregularly published 'pamphlets' or 'collections of commentaries,' priced at just one penny, and finding a considerable market among Londoners.

It can be said that the significant reduction in the knowledge tax is not unrelated to the proliferation of "illegal newspapers"...

With newspaper sales soaring, the demand for content naturally increased significantly, and a good piece of work could greatly boost newspaper sales. If I remember correctly, Dickens' serialized "The Pickwick Papers" rode this wave, selling 40,000 copies in a single volume and making a fortune.

Michelle stood on Fleet Street, gazing thoughtfully at the bustling scene before her.

Now that I'm also standing at this cusp, I might as well take the opportunity to make some money.

After all, even a pig can fly if it stands in the right place at the right time.

However, these are all plans for the future. Right now, the most important thing is to meet the editor the professor arranged, impress him with my manuscript, and get my first payment so that I don't freeze to death on the street.

Michelle pulled herself together and hurried through the buildings of Fleet Street, searching for her destination: the London Express.

Compared to the gleaming facade of the iconic Fleet Street newspaper, The Times, the London Express was considerably more shabby and dilapidated. It merely rented a three-story neoclassical building for its offices, and the surrounding streets reeked of urine.

Michelle took out the letter of recommendation, still warm from his body, from his pocket and handed it to the doorman. After his identity was verified, he was allowed into the building.

"Editor-in-Chief Michael is in the third room on the left on the second floor, already waiting for you," the doorman said.

After nodding his thanks, Michelle stepped into the building.

The newspaper office was just as crowded and chaotic, with stacks of manuscripts and newspapers piled high on the floor. Michelle carefully stepped over these obstacles and arrived at the third room on the left on the second floor.

The words "Editor's Office" were hanging on the door of the room, but the lettering had faded and was no longer legible.

He was about to knock on the door when he heard voices coming from inside.

"Michael, how about we grab a coffee later?"

"No, I have an appointment with an author, at ten o'clock."

"Is he still a student recommended by Professor Joseph?"

"Yeah, I think his name is Michel. Ugh, that name screams French. What can the French do besides brag? Can they even write anything? Besides that damn 'French disease.' Oh my god, and he's a university student? That makes it even worse..."

"So, I've encountered 19th-century 'racism'?"

Michelle's hand, which was about to knock on the door, froze.

Yes, the name Michel is common in France but quite rare in England. His grandfather was a 17th-century French Huguenot refugee. After the Edict of Nantes was repealed in France in 1685, many Huguenot Protestants fled to England, and Michel's grandfather was one of them…

Although they have become completely British, the family still retains names with French characteristics.

This also meant that Michelle received a lot of different looks as she grew up...

He waited a while before gently knocking on the door of the room.

Not long after, a young editor opened the door carrying a stack of manuscript papers.

Michelle asked softly, "Is Editor-in-Chief Michael here?"

The editor's office was just as messy and crowded as the outside. When he heard his name called, a middle-aged man poked his head out from the table piled with manuscripts.

He had a square face and a full beard, and his appearance could only be described as decent. What was most striking about him was his pair of bright and sharp eyes, but at this moment, there were some heavy blood vessels in his eye sockets.

"You're the student Professor Joseph recommended, right? Where's the manuscript?"

Michael glanced at him; the young man was quite good-looking, tall, with a handsome and gentle face, chestnut eyes, and curly hair. His literary talent wasn't yet apparent, but he certainly had the potential to be an actor.

However, this is a newspaper office, not a theater; ultimately, the works themselves speak for themselves.

Michael casually extended his hand, not even needing a brief introduction from Michelle, clearly not expecting a French immigrant university student to write anything worthwhile. If it weren't for Professor Joseph's influence, he wouldn't have wasted his time meeting Michelle.

He'd even planned out the rest of the plot. After a quick glance at the manuscript, he'd say, "Your basic writing skills are decent, but the plot is too clichéd and completely unreadable. Go back and rewrite it properly, young man." After all, young people are often arrogant. The ones Professor Joseph had recommended before were all dressed smartly and brimming with confidence, but their manuscripts were essentially...

Michelle suppressed her dissatisfaction and handed Michael the neatly folded manuscript paper she was holding.

Michael caught the manuscript with one hand, casually flipped through it, and muttered, "Let me make this clear from the start, I'm only helping out because of your teacher, I can't guarantee you'll get it published..."

"Hmm, this handwriting is quite pleasing to the eye. It's somewhat like Italian italics, but with some differences. Although it lacks a bit of elegance, it's more neat and clear, making it convenient for writing large amounts of text while remaining easy to read..."

Just for that beautiful handwriting, it's worth taking a second look.

Upon opening the manuscript and seeing the handwriting, Michael's face showed a hint of appreciation, and he also became more interested in the manuscript.

Actually, it was from practicing the "Hengshui style" of writing essays for the college entrance exam... Back then, teachers always said that good handwriting would earn at least ten extra points, so I practiced hard and developed it.

Michelle smiled but didn't explain, so Michael continued reading the content.

The Last Leaf—could this be an essay describing natural scenery? Michael frowned as soon as he saw the title.

He had intended to skim through the story, but what followed captivated him completely...