“Brother Zhang” had always been proud—especially when it came to spending money. He’d never backed down!

Not buying? Not a man! Not buying? A scoundrel!

Don’t buy now—you’ll toss and turn all night! Buy early, enjoy early. Don’t buy, don’t enjoy!

Smack! “Brother Zhang” slapped down half a string of cash. “Give me four bags!”

And with a flourish, he added, “Keep the extra thirty wen—go buy yourself some pastries!”

Change due: twenty wen!

Xianjin screamed internally. Half a string was 500 wen; four bags cost 480 wen; change should’ve been twenty wen. She pressed her lips together, speechless, and glanced toward Qingcheng Mountain Academy.

Their math curriculum clearly needed work.

“Brother Zhang” handed over the money and drew his numbers. Zhou Ergou matched the numbers and brought out four cowhide paper bags. Xianjin respectfully handed them over. “Would you like to open them now, or take them home?”

“Open them now!” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Brother Zhang” rubbed his hands together, took the paper knife Xianjin offered, and opened the first bag, pulling out sheet by sheet.

Bamboo paper… bamboo paper… bamboo paper… bamboo paper… bamboo paper… bamboo paper…

The first six sheets were all bamboo.

The crowd had grown thick—three layers deep. Dozens of eyes stared as “Brother Zhang” pulled out paper. A few troublemakers started jeering.

“Total loss! Rough-edged bamboo paper goes for two or three wen a sheet! Zhang Wenbo, Young Master Zhang just spent 120 wen on scrap! Hahaha! If your dad finds out, he’ll beat you to death!”

Zhang Wenbo’s face flushed. He stiffened his neck. “What nonsense! At most, my dad’ll smack me two or three times! He wouldn’t kill me!”

Xianjin: … That comeback was pretty weak.

Zhang Wenbo kept pulling out paper. Nine sheets—all bamboo.

Manager Dong instinctively grabbed Zhou Ergou’s sleeve.

Zhou Ergou was confused. “Isn’t all bamboo paper good? Aren’t we making a profit?”

Manager Dong groaned. “Profit, my foot! If the first bag opened is full of cheap paper, who else will buy? We’ll be stuck with all 500 bags!”

His face turned pale with worry. He glanced at Xianjin again. The girl’s expression hadn’t changed—still smiling, brows relaxed, lips gently curved. She looked sweet, sincere, and harmless.

So calm! Manager Dong couldn’t help but admire her.

Zhang Wenbo, face red as a beet, pulled out the final sheet. The last sheet was a palm-width slip of pale reddish paper.

Xianjin exhaled deeply in her heart and exclaimed theatrically, “Take a look—what does it say?”

Zhang Wenbo read aloud, “One sheet of Six-Chi Gold-Splashed Xuan!”

Xianjin beamed. “Congratulations! That’s a fine piece of paper! Your household’s New Year couplets and seasonal poems are sorted!”

She raised her voice to address the crowd. “Due to the limited size of the cowhide bags, wider and larger sheets are included as paper slips. If you draw a color card, please bring the numbered bag and card to Chen Paper Shop on Shuixi Street to redeem your sheet!”

“If you’re busy or distinguished, Chen Paper Shop also offers home delivery. Just send word through someone, and we’ll bring the paper to your residence. If you’d like to order additional items, let us know in advance—we’ll prepare everything properly.”

Riding his lucky streak, Zhang Wenbo opened the remaining three bags.

Across four bags, he got: 31 sheets of bamboo paper, 3 Jade Plate, 3 Tribute Blend, 2 Lanting Silkworm Paper, and one prized Six-Chi Gold-Splashed Xuan.

Among the scholars were some from humble rural backgrounds who had never seen such fine paper. Each bag Zhang Wenbo opened drew gasps of “Wow!”

It felt like the scent of ripe rice.

Having basked in the spotlight, Zhang Wenbo generously gave his “heart-comforted” friend some bamboo and a Lanting sheet, and gave the “Laozi-quoting” scholar a Jade Plate and Tribute Blend. Then he pulled out another half-string of cash to buy four more bags, asking Xianjin repeatedly, “…Will you still be here at noon?”

Xianjin smiled warmly. “We’ll be here, we’ll be here! Whenever you want us here, we’ll be here. The academy breaks for the New Year on the 28th of the twelfth month, and we’ll be selling here until then. But only 500 bags a day—you know how paper is different from other goods. Food and daily items—you buy them, you use them. But our paper, once used well, can be seen for generations!”

Xuan paper is famed for its “thousand-year lifespan.”

Zhang Wenbo nodded enthusiastically. “…I’ll send my servant home to get more money—if my dad finds out I spent money on paper, he might even reward me with a few strings of cash!”

Xianjin’s smile grew even more sincere. “Through wind and rain, Chen Paper Shop awaits you!”

From the outer edge of the crowd came a low chuckle.

“Baoyuan, what are you laughing at?” asked the man beside him.

The one called Baoyuan had a broad forehead, flat crown, dark eyes like lacquer, thick brows, a straight nose, fair skin, and a tall, well-proportioned frame—pleasant to look at and naturally approachable. He looked friendly, but his words had an edge.

“I laugh first at the boy’s cunning, second at the scholar’s naivety, and third at the joy found in petty tricks.”

This was Qiao Baoyuan—courtesy name Qiao Hui—carrying the same academy satchel as Zhang Wenbo. His brows were thick, but his expression was mild. “Look how happy our dear Bo’er is.”

The scholar beside him chuckled too. “He drew a Six-Chi Xuan and several fine sheets—of course, he’s happy. Say what you will, Chen Paper Shop’s paper is good and expensive. He hasn’t even passed the county exam yet, and he’s never used paper like this before.”

Qiao Hui shook his head. “This math doesn’t add up.”

Four bags cost 480 wen. Bamboo paper at five wen each—31 sheets total 155 wen. Tribute Blend and Jade Plate are mid-tier, 10 wen each—6 sheets total 60 wen. Lanting Silkworm Paper—2 sheets, 40 wen. The most valuable, Six-Chi Gold-Splashed Xuan—let’s say 30 wen. Altogether, just over 280 wen.

Zhang Wenbo paid 200 wen more—for a moment of joy.

Chen Paper Shop’s “blind bags” weren’t selling paper. They were selling the thrill of impulse, the suspense of opening, and the joy or disappointment of the reveal. In short, blind bags sell sensation—and addiction. The more you buy, the more you want to buy. The more you open, the more you want to open. You always think the next bag will be better. Eventually, it’s not about the paper anymore—it’s about chasing that uncertainty.

It’s no different from gambling. The only difference is: this gamble might actually pay off. It might even make you feel like you’ve hit the jackpot.

Qiao Hui crossed his arms and gazed across the crowd at the stall’s obvious leader—a young girl. Almond-shaped chin, slender upturned eyes, pale lips. Her features were cool and delicate, yet she radiated a vibrant, upward energy.

A strange contrast—and a striking beauty.

“Didn’t the Chen family send their Third Master back to Jing County?” a scholar whispered. “Why does it look like this girl’s in charge?”

Qiao Hui withdrew his gaze, grabbed his satchel, and tugged the scholar’s headscarf. “Why can’t a girl be in charge? You’re hopelessly old-fashioned! Let’s go! If the teacher catches you, he’ll make you copy 300 classics—all on bamboo paper!”