Wu Pingzhi glanced around, letting Xie Yan take the spotlight. The kid rarely got a chance to show off in front of his husband, and now he was practically walking on air.
Wu Pingzhi flattered Xie Yan with his words: “His language was venomous today, shattering their literary hearts. We must strike while the iron is hot.”
Lu Yang was clever. Though he knew nothing of books or writing, he excelled at irritating people.
His eyes gleamed as he suggested, “We can’t berate them daily, but we must devise a way to make Xie Yan’s name haunt them constantly—so relentlessly that they dream of being cursed!”
Wupingzhi echoed this strategy: “How’s the book printing progressing? How many copies for the first batch?”
Lu Yang replied, “We’ve settled on two hundred copies. Any more than that and we’d be overwhelmed. We found a small workshop, but they’re short on both manpower and funds.”
Too few. Wu Pingzhi did the math and told them, “There aren’t many scholars in the county. Only about a thousand take the preliminary exams. We need to print eight hundred copies. Besides those taking the exams, other scholars will buy them too—like the teachers.
“This concerns the imperial examinations—these people can’t afford to gamble. Before, no one had the Answer Manual, so it was all good. Now, some have bought it while others haven’t, and that creates a gap. Scholars will be anxious before the exam, resorting to last-minute cramming. In the past, monks and Taoist priests even sold talismans for the Star of Literature to possess them, promising it would help answer questions. They sold thousands of those.
The Answer Manual is tangible and real—we can’t reduce the print run. If silver is short, raise the price. If hands are scarce, hire more workers. Rush production—at least eight hundred copies. Only then can we create enough buzz that wherever those few go, they’ll hear Xie Yan’s name. Then, when they see the sample question analysis and Xie Yan’s scathing words directed at them, they won’t be able to forget it.”
This way, those few candidates who came complaining would regret it bitterly.
Originally, one hundred and sixty wen could secure a copy of the Answering Manual with a scholar-official’s guarantee. Now they’d have to find another guarantor.
Even if they got the guarantee for free, the book wouldn’t cost just one hundred and sixty wen.
What book could one buy with 160 cash?
As long as they created a scene of scholars across the city scrambling for books, they’d have to spend this money, however reluctantly.
This method would both teach them a lesson, shattering their confidence, and net a hefty profit.
Lu Yang found the plan quite appealing, but his own scheme was far more unsettling.
He turned to Xie Yan, inviting him to guess his intentions.
Xie Yan lowered his gaze in thought, his mouth never stopping as Lu Yang kept feeding him twisted dough sticks.
Based on past experiences, Xie Yan knew Lu Yang preferred direct confrontation and never shied away from trouble.
Selling books felt too roundabout—not Lu Yang’s style.
He said, “I’ll write annotations using their articles and send them to the county academy for review. They’re there—they can’t escape.”
Lu Yang raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
Xie Yan hesitated, unsure: “Well… isn’t that a good idea?”
Lu Yang offered him another crispy pastry. “Excellent. I like it. I’m impressed. Let’s do it!”
Xie Yan smiled, his posture straightening.
Wu Pingzhi poured them more tea. “Once this matter passes, it’ll be the imperial examination results. What they strive so hard to achieve comes easily to Xie Yan. While they’re fixated on those six taels of silver, you’ll be raking in six hundred.”
Six hundred taels—truly a number fit for dreams.
After finishing their tea, Xie Yan and Wu Pingzhi headed to the private academy to register.
Lu Yang returned to the shop, prepared a carriage, and made a trip to the East District to discuss the reprint with Old Master Lu.
The silver came from Wu Pingzhi. This brother was generous, refusing Lu Yang’s offer to share profits. He only said that all business carries risk. Lu Yang trusted him, and Wu Pingzhi was sincere about investing this much silver.
If this venture didn’t turn a profit, they’d share the loss equally. Should it succeed, they’d discuss partnership terms later. For now, their priority was securing a solid income. With ample funds at hand, future plans would be easier to discuss.
Otherwise, dividing profits piecemeal would leave his household perpetually short of money, always needing others’ help. That wasn’t sustainable.
Lu Yang thanked him.
Wu Pingzhi didn’t need extravagant gifts—just a bowl of mushroom sauce to go with rice would suffice.
This guy was like a god of wealth. Lu Yang could only tell Xie Yan to study his writing carefully.
“You can’t curse the god of wealth. Even if his writing sucks, you still have to speak well of it.”
Xie Yan wrinkled his nose, oddly finding the nickname “God of Wealth” more appealing than “Top Scholar.”
After wrapping up the day’s business, they closed shop and rested.
Dinner was just the two of them tonight, which felt unfamiliar to Lu Yang.
After tidying up as usual, since he didn’t need to drink the herbal concoction tonight, he didn’t have to wait for digestion and went to bed early. Yet, no matter how he tossed and turned, sleep wouldn’t come.
Since marrying Xie Yan, they had only been apart twice.
Once was when Xie Yan copied books and stayed overnight in the study.
The other time was tonight—Xie Yan had gone to school.
Lu Yang remembered how he’d once wanted to roll around on the bed—and indeed had rolled, unable to sleep.
He gathered his bedding and knocked on his mother-in-law’s door, sharing her bed with two separate quilts.
In front of Xie Yan, he was bold and uninhibited, freely expressing affection and feelings. But before his mother-in-law, he felt shy. Even his longing came out softly. When Zhao Peilan didn’t catch what he said, Lu Yang simply replied, “I can’t sleep.”
Zhao Peilan thought for a moment and asked, “Do you like songs? I used to hum them to put Xie Yan to sleep.”
Lu Yang wanted to hear it.
He’d never heard a lullaby before.
His heart filled with anticipation as Zhao Peilan hummed, “Sleep, my child, grow tall and strong, grow up to be a top scholar.”
Lu Yang stifled a laugh beneath the quilt, his eyes brimming with tears.
Zhao Peilan didn’t match his fantasies of a mother.
He didn’t like people like Lu Sanfeng either.
He used to wish his mother were a capable woman—someone who could hold her own in the outside world and take good care of her family at home.
Back then, he was too young to realize such fantasies were utterly unrealistic. To shield against storms while tenderly caring for family—even an iron man couldn’t manage that.
No one could shoulder such a role. As he himself moved toward that ideal image, he couldn’t see what he had become. But he discovered he liked a mother who wasn’t forceful. He also liked men who shed tears.
Their time together was brief; he didn’t know when his guard had dropped.
Perhaps it began with the illness, or maybe even earlier.
He was a person, treated like a treasure. Medicine cost no thought, sleep came with soothing words.
It turned out genuine heart could earn genuine heart.
How wonderful.
Chapter 70: The Leader
After the Lantern Festival, the New Year celebrations were over.
Lu Liu was busy stir-frying sauce, with Shun helping him—stoking the fire, washing and chopping mushrooms and diced meat.
The weather was still chilly this time of year. Lu Liu offered to switch shifts with him, but Shun Ge refused. He stoked the fire when cold and returned to chopping when warmed—content as he was.
Last time, Lu Yang mentioned this sauce could be made in bulk. The next day, Lu Liu gathered numerous empty jars.
Li Feng collected them throughout the village, washing them clean and drying them in the sun until ready for use.
Most of the empty jars in the village were small liquor jars, holding two jin each.
There were also a few large liquor jars, holding twenty-five jin.
They cleared these out, combining them to prepare for sending 150 jin of sauce to the county in one shipment.
They were big sauce consumers here. When households ran low on vegetables, a spoonful of sauce mixed with wild greens would make a satisfying meal.
The mushroom sauce contained diced meat, yet the price wasn’t inflated, so sales weren’t an issue.
Lu Yang had mentioned that once they produced a large batch to send over, he could set up a small tasting stall for passing customers to sample.
Lu Liu picked up on this. Village life naturally involved exchanges of goodwill—sharing this or that was commonplace. When he floated the idea at the dinner table, Chen Guizhi didn’t send it out but placed a bowl on the small shop’s counter instead.
During mealtimes, neighbors would drop by with their bowls, grab a bite with their chopsticks, and all exclaimed how delicious it was. Word spread, and soon more people brought their own flatbreads and steamed buns to dip in the sauce.
