Shopkeeper Zhang picked up Fu Wenyu’s manuscript, then put it down. After a moment, he picked it up again to flip through it.

Finally, he made up his mind.

“Here’s what I’ll do—I’ll print more copies.”

As soon as he said this, it was as if he had resolved a great dilemma. His expression relaxed instantly, and he tapped the stack of papers with his fingers, smiling at Fu Wenyu, who was sitting across from him.

“Your story is quite novel, and I’m confident in it.”

“So, I plan to print a thousand copies. Once they’re printed, I’ll keep a few hundred in the city and send some to nearby counties. Our patron is none other than the famous Mr. Tang, one of the top merchants in Liuzhou. His business is vast, with branches in other regions as well.”

Currently, not all storybooks in the Kaiyuan Bookstore were written locally. Some were sent from other places, so Shopkeeper Zhang thought this approach was worth trying.

Having spent years immersed in the storybook trade, he believed his judgment was sound. He genuinely thought Fu Wenyu’s Jiu Occupying the Magpie’s Nest: The True and False Young Masters was an excellent work, on par with Sanliu’s The Woodcutter.

But now it was Fu Wenyu’s turn to frown.

A thousand copies seemed too few!

Fu Wenyu began asking questions about printing and learned that papermaking and movable-type printing techniques were already quite advanced. However, in terms of cost, hand-copying was still cheaper for small quantities. In other words, hand-copying was more economical for small runs, but for runs of more than one or two hundred copies, printing became more cost-effective.

A thousand copies, as planned by Shopkeeper Zhang, was already a significant quantity in the storybook industry. The best-selling storybook in the store—The Woodcutter—had only had an initial print run of two thousand copies.

With a thousand copies printed, Fu Wenyu, as the author, would earn twenty taels of silver. Since this city was the prefectural capital with many literate individuals, five hundred copies would remain here, while the rest would be distributed to other areas.

If the bookstore reprinted the story later, Fu Wenyu would receive an additional share.

But Fu Wenyu still felt this wasn’t enough.

Although a family of four could live comfortably for a month on just two taels of silver, and twenty taels could support his family happily for more than half a year, he still thought it was too little.

Storybooks weren’t essential items like the Four Books and Five Classics. After a period of circulation, anyone who wanted to read them could find a way. Subsequent reprints would have a much smaller market. If it took an entire year to sell all one thousand copies, his earnings would only amount to twenty taels.

He needed to expand the market.

The solution? Turn the completed story into a serial!

Fu Wenyu organized his thoughts and said, “Uncle Zhang, have you ever heard of serialization?”

Shopkeeper Zhang looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Since the other party was unfamiliar with the concept, Fu Wenyu explained in detail: “What I mean by ‘serialization’ is to divide the story into parts and print it segment by segment in the Liuzhou Tabloid.”

“To my knowledge, Uncle Zhang, your store already contributes poems and essays to the Liuzhou Tabloid. If articles can be printed, why not storybooks? If we select some of the best-selling storybooks from the bookstore and print excerpts—three to five thousand characters at a time—wouldn’t more people get to read them?”

“A storybook that costs several dozen wen might be too expensive for some, but wouldn’t they be willing to spend a few wen on a newspaper? If they read today’s installment, won’t they want to read tomorrow’s?”

As someone who had written for years and seen countless readers eager for the next installment, Fu Wenyu wore a confident smile. “And if they read tomorrow’s, they’ll naturally want to know what happens the day after.”

“After a month or two of serialization, we can tell those readers that the complete storybook is available at your store, and they can immediately find out the ending. How could they possibly resist buying it?”

Shopkeeper Zhang’s eyes lit up. “What a great idea!”

He knew very well that for avid readers of storybooks, waiting was unbearable. If he announced today that Sanliu had written a new story, people would be lining up at the store first thing tomorrow morning.

Seeing Shopkeeper Zhang’s interest, Fu Wenyu offered another suggestion.

“Uncle Zhang, we could also print advertisements in the Liuzhou Tabloid!”

He then explained the concept of advertisements in detail. Advertisements were essentially notices. For example, if the Liuzhou Tabloid mentioned that Zhang’s noodle shop served delicious noodles, some readers would undoubtedly want to try them. Wouldn’t that mean we can charge Zhang’s noodle shop a promotion fee for the advertisement?”

Similarly, if the Wang family lost something and wanted to offer a reward, or if a certain embroidery shop or antique store received new stock and wanted to inform potential customers.

As long as the price was low and the newspaper’s readership large, there would always be people drawn in by these advertisements. This would not only generate profit for the newspaper but also lower its price per issue, making it more affordable for readers. In turn, this would create a win-win situation for both customers and businesses.

Shopkeeper Zhang quickly grasped the potential.

Overjoyed, he even stood up abruptly and paced the room before turning to Fu Wenyu. “Nephew, you’ve truly given me an excellent idea!”

“This matter is significant, and I must discuss it with our patron.” He wore an excited smile. “Here’s the deal: we’ll buy your storybook for twenty—no, thirty taels of silver!”

“As for your ideas about serialization and advertisements, once I present them to the patron, he’ll surely reward you as well. Ha! Wenyu, you might not know this, but our patron holds shares in the Liuzhou tabloid.”

Fu Wenyu didn’t care much about the reward. His main reason for proposing the idea was to sell more storybooks and earn more royalties. After discussing the follow-up matters with Shopkeeper Zhang and collecting the thirty taels of silver for his manuscript, he left the bookstore.

Once outside, he headed straight to the tea stall across the street.

Mrs. Zhou and Fu Rong were quietly waiting there, with half a bowl of clear tea placed before each of them.

When Mrs. Zhou saw Fu Wenyu approaching, she didn’t ask how the storybook sale had gone. Instead, she stood up and said gently, “Wenyu, come and have some tea.”

Fu Wenyu had already had a round of tea in the bookstore, so he naturally declined.

“Mother, I’ve already had some tea.”

“This tea is for you.”

Not wanting to reveal his wealth, Fu Wenyu didn’t take out the twenty tael silver note and two small ingots he had tucked away. Instead, he shared the good news with them.

“Mother, Shopkeeper Zhang said my storybook was very good. He plans to print one thousand copies. Five hundred will remain in this city, and the rest will be sent to nearby counties.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!”

Fu Rong jumped up in excitement. “Brother, I knew you could do it! Your story about Zhang Gousheng is so interesting!”

Fu Wenyu was also very pleased. He watched as Mrs. Zhou finished the remaining tea, then walked with the two of them to a nearby embroidery shop. Along the way, Fu Rong kept chattering about the plot of The True and False Young Masters. One moment she was denouncing Wang Fugui for his evil deeds, predicting he would eventually face retribution; the next, she was angrily condemning the Zhang family for bullying Zhang Gousheng, leaving her completely occupied.

Fu Wenyu was happy to see his sister displaying such a cheerful side and occasionally chimed in with a few comments.

Before long, they arrived at the embroidery shop.

The shop, called “Li Embroidery,” was not very large. Because all the shopkeepers and customers inside were women, Fu Wenyu stayed outside.

This time, Fu Rong also stayed outside.

Mrs. Zhou had asked her to accompany Fu Wenyu at the door, and she didn’t seem upset about it. Instead, she eagerly answered her brother’s questions.

“Brother, you’re asking what this shop sells?”

“Oh, all sorts of things.”

“There are clothes, fabrics, pouches, handkerchiefs, cosmetics,” Fu Rong, who only came up to Fu Wenyu’s waist, counted on her fingers one by one. “Oh, and there are also velvet flowers.”

“The shopkeeper, Lady Li, came from the capital. Her daughter, Sister Xin, is also very talented. Both of them make beautiful velvet flowers. I’ve heard that people from the neighboring prefecture come here just to buy them.”

As she spoke, Fu Rong instinctively looked up at Fu Wenyu.

But Fu Wenyu didn’t notice. When he heard the term “velvet flowers,” he suddenly recalled a time in the modern world when a popular TV drama had sparked interest in this traditional craft. Many bloggers had posted videos of themselves making velvet flowers, and TV programs had interviewed the cultural inheritors of this skill. Whether made by amateurs or professionals, the velvet flowers were exquisitely lifelike and stunningly beautiful.

To think that the Li family’s embroidery shop also mastered this craft.

He remembered the process shown in the videos: using fine iron wires to bind threads, dividing them into individual strands, trimming, wrapping, and shaping them into designs. An idea suddenly struck him.

Could he teach Mrs. Zhou and Fu Rong this craft?

Once this thought emerged, it spread uncontrollably. He had been worried about Mrs. Zhou and Fu Rong’s overly soft and dependent personalities. Helping them achieve financial independence would be a great way to address that.

Money was a source of confidence!

And making velvet flowers would surely be less taxing on their eyes than constantly stitching embroidery. Intricate needlework could severely strain the eyes, even more than reading. At home, Fu Wenyu often saw Mrs. Zhou rubbing her eyes, and he had noticed that her vision had already deteriorated. When looking at distant objects, she would unconsciously squint—a classic sign of nearsightedness.

Previously, they had no choice; Madam Zhou wouldn’t have agreed to stop embroidering, and their family wasn’t well-off. But now, with the money Fu Wenyu earned from writing storybooks, the two of them could afford to take things easier.

Determined to act on his idea, Fu Wenyu took out a small silver ingot and handed it to Fu Rong.

“Sister, I know a way to make velvet flowers. Go buy one for me, along with some thread and fine iron wires. Once I’ve tested it, I’ll teach you how to make them.”

Fu Rong hesitated for a moment but eventually reached out to take the money.

Not long after, Mrs. Zhou and Fu Rong came out of the shop together, both wearing big smiles.

Mrs. Zhou handed the silver ingot back to Fu Wenyu first, then looked at him and said with mild reproach, “You! You only needed thread—why bring so much money?”

“Put it away quickly.”

“I actually have a velvet flower at home. I’ll find it for you later. As for the thread, I’ve already bought some. We couldn’t find fine iron wires, but Lady Li said they use copper wires for making velvet flowers at her shop, so she gave us some. But Wenyu, I didn’t know you could make velvet flowers?”

“I learned about it at the bookstore,” Fu Wenyu replied casually.

Fortunately, Mrs. Zhou didn’t press further. After leaving the embroidery shop, the three of them went to the marketplace to buy household essentials, such as oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar, as well as a large basket of eggs.

It was during this time that Fu Wenyu learned that in this dynasty, commoners were only required to observe a mourning period of one hundred days, called “hot mourning.” After one hundred days, they could resume normal activities. The three-year mourning period was only mandatory for scholars aiming for official positions. If they were caught violating it, they could be accused of unfilial conduct and stripped of their status.

This was part of the principle that “rituals do not extend to commoners.” The imperial court was more lenient with the general populace.

So, if not for Mrs. Zhou’s hope for Fu Wenyu to pursue scholarly success, their family could have openly enjoyed wine and meat without anyone interfering.

By the way, eggs didn’t count as meat.

How convenient!