The entrance they used was the back gate, tucked into a corner. Passing through it led to a small courtyard, with three side rooms along the wall nearest the gate, and east and west wings on either side.
Through a round moon gate, they entered the main courtyard. At its center was the main hall, flanked by bedrooms and a study, with another set of east and west wing rooms.
Wu Pingzhi arranged for them to stay in the east wing of the main house, farther from the alley, quieter and better suited for study.
After settling their luggage, they took their documents first to the official academy, then wandered the streets to browse bookstores, planning to eat at home that evening, letting Uncle Lei prepare dinner later.
Walking along, Wu Pingzhi told Lu Yang, “Our family hasn’t expanded outward, but the family fortune has grown year by year. My father acquires some property each year. We’ve bought few houses; this provincial residence hasn’t even been lived in twice. Long ago, he wanted a house in the capital, but I couldn’t even get here, so he gave up. If this exam goes well, he might spare some money to get me a house in the capital. You can stash wealth like this too—houses are different from shops or farmland. Once bought, they’re static. If you don’t rent them out, they generate no income. But when needed, you can sell one and instantly gain hundreds of taels of silver. Enough to restart.”
Lu Yang remembered his earlier thoughts about business. A single enterprise could have many workshops, shops, even farmland as production sources. Workshops could also be invested in, dispersing wealth further. He planned to buy shares in some, earning steadily when profitable and absorbing losses back into his own enterprise, increasing his assets.
Xie Yan asked, “Are houses expensive?”
Wu Pingzhi nodded. “Yes. You need to buy a good one from the start to resell quickly. Those who can afford houses have money to spare. They don’t consider subpar ones.”
Lu Yang said, “That’s a long way off.” Business couldn’t expand further yet, and excess money would have to accumulate first.
They went to the academy to register their documents. After the preliminary exams, the prefectural school had compiled rosters, so they simply verified their registration, waiting for the exam entry.
Leaving from there, they hadn’t even walked two streets when they saw two bookstores.
Plans for opening a bookstore had been in discussion for a long time, but Lu Yang had postponed them. Now, in preparation, he still felt something was missing—not in the books themselves, but in the business model.
He didn’t read much himself; his thoughts were on attracting customers. From the county to the prefectural city, then to the provincial capital, the bookstores he had seen were all the same: a small front room, a counter with the shopkeeper behind it, a clerk in front, and two or three bookshelves with ten or so copies of each title, the variety limited. Slightly larger bookstores sold some ink, paper, brushes, and inkstones as well.
In such a small shop, even a scholar lingering for a moment was conspicuous, directly observed by others.
Xie Yan had said many scholars would go to bookstores to read. With a thick enough skin, one could spend a little time daily. Some shops would shoo them away; after being driven out once, a scholar would hesitate to return. In small towns like the county, being expelled once often made a scholar a regular at another shop. In larger prefectural or provincial cities, scholars might rotate among many shops, but it was tedious; most settled on one, buying if they could afford it, or selling a few hand-copied books to buy more.
Lu Yang considered renting a larger shop: the front for normal sales, and a quiet rear space like the prefectural academy’s library, with more tables and chairs for scholars to study on-site.
He was opening a business to earn money, but he could devise a method: like a teahouse, paying allowed entry. Here, paying would allow one to read. Small profits aside, he had to think about accumulating wealth steadily. Little by little, it would grow.
Glancing over, he noticed the lively hall of a restaurant. Everyone needed to eat daily; scholars read daily. Could he make scholars come to his bookstore?
He thought of incentives: coming for several consecutive days might earn a book, or books worth a certain amount of silver, letting scholars choose freely.
Books had high profit margins; extra rent for a larger space was trivial. Keeping scholars reading allowed book costs to be spread, meaning they’d pay a little daily, access many quality books, and even take home a favorite volume. A cost-saving approach for customers—but scholars were prideful, so he couldn’t advertise it that way.
He thought about rebranding it.
Xie Yan suggested, “Call it a Talents Exchange Club. We scholars like being praised as talented.”
Wu Pingzhi said, “…That’s just you.”
Lu Yang looked at Wu Pingzhi: “Master Scholar Wu!”
Wu Pingzhi: “…Fine, I like it too.”
He replied, “No, call it something like ‘study check-ins’ or ‘selection of favorite readers.’ They’re here to read, incidentally earning a token prize. Nothing to do with saving money or proving talent.”
A new business model emerged. Wu Pingzhi couldn’t judge its merit but saw potential.
“You can lend books like the academy. Collect a deposit, refund it upon return. Slightly more expensive than staying in the shop, but even shy scholars will pay.”
Lu Yang gave him a thumbs-up.
“If you work in the Ministry of Revenue in the future, enriching the nation and its people, everyone will call you the God of Wealth!”
Wu Pingzhi didn’t dare dream so far; many jinshi ended up as county magistrates.
Xie Yan said, “If you manage local economies well, others will recognize your talent. With experience in multiple regions, you’ll reach the right position in time.”
Wu Pingzhi felt reassured, smiling, “But I’m still just a scholar.”
Lu Yang looked at him, then at Xie Yan, and felt at ease himself. Compared to the last exams, both had matured mentally, steadier now.
They visited three bookstores; Xie Yan and Wu Pingzhi each bought five books.
Wu Pingzhi offered to pay together, but Lu Yang stopped him. “Forget it; not like it’s food or tea. I’ll buy for him.”
Xie Yan beamed. “So many willing to spend for me!”
Wu Pingzhi was speechless. “Just two—you don’t even need to count on your fingers.”
For Xie Yan, that was plenty. One was his husband, the other his friend.
He wanted praise from friends. He had asked Lu Yang once and now hoped Wu Pingzhi would commend him too.
Wu Pingzhi carried his books out, looked up at the sky, ignoring Xie Yan, and said to Lu Yang, “Making friends depends on fate. I’ve proactively approached dozens—it’s all empty.”
Lu Yang took note. “I understand. I’ll relax and let things be.”
Xie Yan frowned. “Why are you two ignoring me?”
Lu Yang, half-laughing, half-crying, said, “What do you want him to do? Drop a few pearls, cry and say how touched he is?”
Wu Pingzhi shivered at the thought. Impossible!
Xie Yan pretended it was for the God of Wealth’s pearl tears and didn’t tease him further.
“I saved you some money—you should remember that,” he said.
Wu Pingzhi was silent a moment, then imitated Lu Yang and gave him a thumbs-up.
The three returned home. Hot water was ready, attendants brought it to their rooms, and they bathed, washing their hair.
After changing, they came out to dinner. The evening was cool; Uncle Lei had lit a brazier for drying hair and left an attendant to help wipe them.
Lu Yang and Xie Yan were unused to the service, awkwardly enduring it.
At the table, they exchanged words of encouragement, wishing each other success.
After dinner, Wu Pingzhi led them to the study to look around.
