Xie Yan wrote quickly. The content was all familiar to him, but because there was so much to write, plus his regular schoolwork, he could produce about one volume per month. Proofreading was handled by the “God of Wealth,” who was also reviewing his own studies.
Xie Yan planned to complete each volume in sequence; after the second volume, he would continue with the third. For less common question types, he would compile three or four together for explanation. The plan was to finish in five volumes.
With the books coming out quickly, the small workshop couldn’t keep up.
Boss Jin also wanted to print more books. Two sets of woodblocks were being made, and his own workshop was busy printing as well—both sides hustling at once.
Today’s meeting was to reconfirm the contract: once the books went on sale, the terms couldn’t be changed.
Lu Yang had already reviewed it and had no objections.
Boss Jin invited him to sit and explained in advance the risks of selling the books:
“Let’s skip natural disasters and accidents and just focus on business. If the books sell well, other study halls will imitate. Take the prefecture, for example. Someone there is bound to start printing during the exam season when so many students are inquiring. Smart people won’t miss this opportunity. So selling there may not meet expectations.
“Also, because of imitation, similar books will appear. If the imitators are scholars who passed the county exams, that’s even more troublesome. Students blindly trust these books if the author is reputable.”
Beyond these, there was another kind of imitation.
For example, some would claim authorship of Xie Yan’s work without his consent, even without his manuscripts, hiring someone else to write and selling it under his name. If challenged, they’d claim it was a different Xie Yan, giving no details about the prefecture or exam rank.
This sort of fraud usually appeared later. Study halls couldn’t copy successfully but still wanted profit, so such unscrupulous acts occurred. Typically, this meant piracy or imitation.
Boss Jin wasn’t worried about imitations.
He had heard from Master Jin that Minister Zhang praised Xie Yan highly, and ordinary scholars couldn’t compete for attention. Only if someone of higher rank, like a scholar who passed the provincial exam, tried to cash in would it be worrisome.
“The provincial exam scholars are upright and won’t usually do this for money,” Boss Jin said.
“Won’t usually” meant it was possible, just unlikely.
Another risk was market saturation: selling farther away increased transport, tariffs, and labor costs, reducing profits. Boss Jin would cooperate with friends to sell the woodblocks, earning a second round of small dividends—less profit, but better than none.
He mentioned all these risks to temper Lu Yang’s expectations, preventing disappointment if sales fell short. With the cooperation in place, Lu Yang only needed to watch quietly; as long as the revenue met expectations, he wouldn’t fuss.
He also reminded Boss Jin to keep an eye out for good essays, especially those by successful candidates in the provincial exams.
Boss Jin acknowledged. Once the cooperation was set, all contacts would wait for replies, which he would forward to Lu Yang.
Boss Jin added: “As before, Scholar Xie can visit and read anytime he wants.”
Lu Yang heard this and had an idea. Since they were cooperating anyway, he might as well ask Boss Jin to sell him a batch of “soup books” at a low price, minimizing profit.
They would stay a few days at the prefecture’s dock, where many men worked, letting Li Feng set up a book stall. This was faster than hoarding woodblocks, which were expensive. In the future, with more funds, they could print a batch for themselves; for now, they’d squeeze value from Boss Jin’s stock.
Lu Yang, being familiar with printing, knew the costs. Books normally sold for three or four qian of silver each, costing about one qian. He selected about twenty copies of several titles, totaling around two hundred books, asking Boss Jin for a standard price.
Boss Jin paused. He remembered the last extra reward Xie Yan requested—about a dozen romantic novels.
Seeing Lu Yang’s confidence, Boss Jin glanced at the mole between his eyebrows. Unable to haggle with such a husband, he waved and agreed.
Lu Yang generously took a copy for himself and gave one to Lu Lin to study.
The next day, he secretly gave a set to each of the Luo brothers, earning stern scolding from their older brothers—but the books were taken anyway.
At home, Xie Yan saw the books without reaction, calmly accepting them.
Lu Yang needed to conserve his energy, no more late-night reading. Xie Yan would focus on serious study, so these extra books didn’t interfere.
With officials cooperating and the Luo brothers prompting, Master Jin busying himself, the travel permits were soon processed. Originally, they expected to complete everything the same day to ship goods during the summer tax period, allowing the county to account properly.
Once they had the permits, Zhang Tie ran to Li Village to notify Li Feng and others that they could depart.
Lu Yang went home to pack lightly, taking a raincoat. He loaded the horse-drawn cart with goods and one extra person—Wu Pingzhi’s borrowed assistant.
To protect against rain, the goods were covered with straw mats.
Li Feng and his team would enter the city to pick up the goods from their home.
Temporarily, there was no warehouse; the house was spacious, with empty rooms to store items.
Li Feng, seeing Lu Yang traveling with them, asked Xie Yan, “What kind of man is he?”
Lu Yang bristled: “What’s that supposed to mean? Are all men supposed to be like you?”
Li Feng pointed to Lu Yang’s medicine bottle. “You left in April, returned in May, and now going again in June?”
Lu Yang said, “I’ll sleep in the cart. It’s hot, but the wind won’t bother me.”
The assistant also doubled as the cart driver. Before reaching the prefecture, he drove; after arriving, he guided them.
Xie Yan’s birthday was June 21, and Lu Yang, calculating the days, realized he probably wouldn’t return in time, feeling some regret.
Before leaving, he tucked letters under pillows, between pages of books, and behind his portrait.
They had a long life ahead; as long as they were together, every day could be well-lived. Missing this one day wouldn’t matter.
Zhao Peilan gave him two headbands before he left to cover the mole.
A young husband traveling wasn’t as convenient as men. Lu Yang’s small frame made him look like a boy, but his personality compensated. Wearing a headband reduced hassle.
Lu Yang put it on immediately. Zhao Peilan adjusted it carefully, her eyes brimming with tears. A mother worries when her child travels far. She urged him to return home early.
Lu Yang promised, hugging her before departing. “Mother, take care of yourself and A Yan.”
After he left, Xie Yan emerged from the nearby alley. He couldn’t focus on his studies that day.
Returning home, Zhao Peilan was startled. Mother and son looked at each other silently.
The house now held only the two of them. No one bullied them anymore; they were safe. Yet their hearts felt empty, as if missing a core support.
Zhao Peilan asked, “A Yan, are you still going to the academy today?”
Xie Yan nodded: “Yes. I’ll go after a short rest.”
He returned to his room, opening the door to see Lu Yang’s portrait. The figure smiled warmly, vividly alive.
Li Feng had gone to the prefecture. This trip would last longer than the last mountain journey, possibly returning only in July.
He bought Lu Liu a lot of paper and a brush with money earned selling books during deliveries to the county.
Missing him, Lu Liu wrote letters. For characters he didn’t know, he circled them, planning to decipher them when Li Feng returned. Both had important work; they couldn’t let eating chicken delay studies.
Lu Liu didn’t like hearing that—they hadn’t eaten chicken for a long time.
He felt the days would be busy, with little time to write. From dawn to dusk, it was work or sleep. After several days, when he finally looked up, Li Feng had already returned.
