After deciding to go to town the next day, the three of them went to bed early.

By the time they reached the town, the townspeople had only just finished their breakfast.

Mrs. Zhou carried a bundle and stood outside the Kaiyuan Bookstore with Fu Rong. She said to Fu Wenyu, “Wenyu, there are a lot of people inside. Your sister and I will wait for you here.”

Fu Wenyu didn’t insist. Pointing to a tea stall across the street, he said, “Mother, you and Sister can sit over there. I estimate it will take a while before I come out.”

Today, he had brought along a manuscript of twenty thousand characters. Kaiyuan Bookstore was one of the establishments in the city that accepted manuscripts. In addition to negotiating the best possible price for his first storybook, Fu Wenyu also planned to take the opportunity to learn about other authors’ works, so he wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon.

After ensuring that the two were settled, Fu Wenyu headed inside.

Ancient bookstores were different from modern ones in many ways. Most notably, books in ancient times were expensive, so bookstores didn’t display them openly for browsing. Instead, the books were neatly stacked behind the counter. If a customer wanted to purchase one, they would ask the clerk to retrieve it.

Moreover, bookstores didn’t only sell the Four Books and Five Classics needed for imperial examinations. They also sell calligraphy, poetry collections, writing supplies such as brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, as well as storybooks and tabloids, which were what Fu Wenyu was most interested in.

With the intention of knowing the competition, Fu Wenyu asked the shop assistant, Zhang Er, to fetch the two best-selling storybooks. After flipping through them, he found that one was about a poor scholar and a wealthy young lady, while the other was a supernatural tale.

The story about the poor scholar was written by someone named Sun Xiucai.

In the story, the protagonist managed to attract the attention of a wealthy young lady with a few mediocre poems, and she ultimately married him despite their class differences. She supported his studies by sewing and selling her dowry. In the end, the scholar became a top-ranking official, but the young lady died in childbirth. Mourning her loss, the protagonist wrote a few more poems, which caught the attention of a princess, leading him to marry her.

Fu Wenyu: “…”

What a terrible book. He immediately handed it back to Zhang Er.

The other book, The Woodcutter by Master Sanliu, was much more interesting. It told the story of a woodcutter who, while chopping wood in a dense fog, encountered a forest spirit. The spirit wanted to eat him, while he desperately sought to return home safely. Thus began a series of clever battles of wits and bravery between the woodcutter and the spirit.

Fu Wenyu was quite fond of this one.

Although the fight scenes weren’t as exciting as those in the later generations, the story was logical and well-constructed. The author’s writing was humorous and engaging, making readers curious about what would happen next.

What delighted him even more was that The Woodcutter included many illustrations, particularly of the key battle scenes, which were vividly and skillfully drawn.

Noticing how engrossed he was, Zhang Er smiled and asked, “Wenyu, are you here to buy storybooks?” Since Fu Wenyu had never purchased storybooks before, Zhang Er couldn’t help but ask.

Fu Wenyu returned the book and explained, “Brother Zhang, I’m not here to buy books. I’ve written a storybook over the past few months, and I want to show it to the shopkeeper.”

Zhang Er raised his eyebrows. “A storybook?”

He placed the two returned books back on the shelf and said, “Well, you’ve come at an inconvenient time. My uncle hasn’t arrived yet.”

“How about letting me take a look first?”

With a smug smile, Zhang Er continued, “I’ve been helping my uncle run this shop for seven or eight years. I’ve read all the storybooks here. I can tell at a glance if your storybook is something my uncle would like.”

“Thank you, then.” Fu Wenyu handed over the manuscript.

At first, Zhang Er didn’t take it too seriously. His uncle was known for being fair and treating scholars with respect, so the bookstore always did good business.

Storybooks were a part of this. Each month, they received several storybook submissions.

If a book was good, his uncle would buy it, print it, and sell it in the shop. If sales were good, it would be distributed to county towns and other provinces. For less impressive works, the shop would sell them on consignment, requiring authors to deliver handwritten copies regularly or hire someone to copy them.

Zhang Er assumed Fu Wenyu’s work would fall into the latter category because he’d never heard of him writing storybooks before. In fact, it was Fu Wenyu’s deceased father who had written one in the past, but it didn’t gain much attention.

Unexpectedly, once Zhang Er started reading, he couldn’t stop.

When he read about the Wang family frequently performing good deeds—donating rice, building bridges, and delivering supplies to orphanages—he sighed in admiration, “What a benevolent family.”

When he got to the part where the wet nurse Zhang plotted with the midwife to switch babies while the family was distracted, he slapped his leg in anger and cursed, “Outrageous! How can there be such wicked people?!”

As he read about the spoiled and reckless Wang Fugui growing up under excessive pampering, he shook his head and lamented, “The old saying is true—overindulgence ruins children.”

When he came to the section detailing the hardships of Zhang Gousheng, he was so furious that he leapt up, exclaiming, “Too cruel! How can they treat Gousheng like this?!”

Finally, when Gousheng’s fortunes began to turn around, Zhang Er laughed heartily. “Excellent! Well done!”

…

While Zhang Er was engrossed in the manuscript, Fu Wenyu wasn’t idle. He asked Zhang Er to fetch some old tabloids for him.

What he was most interested in was the local publication Liuzhou Tabloid.

After carefully reviewing it, he found that it was exactly as he remembered—containing poetry, essays, and local gossip, but nothing particularly innovative. The only notable feature was that the issue he was holding seemed to have been printed after the provincial exams, as it included introductions to newly recognized scholars.

The tabloids from other regions were much the same.

On the other side, after finishing Fu Wenyu’s manuscript, Zhang Er was still eager for more.

He put down the papers and eagerly asked, “Wenyu, what happens next?”

Seeing his enthusiastic response, Fu Wenyu was confident about the future success of his storybook The True and False Young Masters. Smiling, he replied, “I haven’t written the rest yet.”

“Brother Zhang, what do you think of this storybook?”

“It’s great!”

Zhang Er didn’t hesitate to give a thumbs-up. “Wenyu, I can’t say it’s the best storybook I’ve ever read, but I’m sure my uncle will buy it!”

Fu Wenyu was thrilled, but before he could respond, a voice came from behind him.

“What storybook is so good that it can even make this picky brat praise it to high heavens?”

It turned out that Shopkeeper Zhang had arrived.

Before Fu Wenyu could greet him, Zhang Er called out loudly, “Uncle, you’re here!”

“Come over quickly and take a look! Wenyu has written an excellent storybook. It’s even better than the one Sun Xiucai brought last time. Uncle, you must read it—you won’t regret it!”

“Really? Then I must have a look.”

Shopkeeper Zhang smiled and gestured for Fu Wenyu to follow him.

Once inside, Shopkeeper Zhang placed the manuscript Fu Wenyu had handed him on the table and said, “Wenyu, I’ve heard about your father. Please accept my condolences.”

Fu Wenyu paused for a moment before replying, “Thank you for your concern, Shopkeeper Zhang.”

The shopkeeper hummed in acknowledgment and began flipping through the manuscript.

At first, his plan was to buy the storybook no matter its quality, as an act of goodwill. He had known Fu Qingshan, a fellow scholar, for many years. Fu Qingshan often came to the bookstore to copy texts, and his passing had been a regrettable loss.

Of course, goodwill can only go so far.

If Fu Wenyu’s storybook turned out to be mediocre, Shopkeeper Zhang would pay a modest price. Moreover, if Fu Wenyu brought similarly subpar works in the future, the shopkeeper would only agree to sell them on consignment rather than purchasing them outright.

But unexpectedly, as soon as he began reading, he was captivated.

To be fair, Fu Wenyu’s storybook wasn’t the best he had ever read. However, the content was fresh and engaging, with a major mystery introduced right at the beginning. It immediately piqued the reader’s curiosity about the fates of Wang Fugui and Zhang Gousheng.

Another standout feature was Fu Wenyu’s straightforward writing style. Unlike older scholars who loved to show off their erudition, his work was written entirely in plain language, with few literary references. This made the story accessible and immersive, especially for those who were literate but not well-read.

In Shopkeeper Zhang’s experienced eyes, such a storybook would have no trouble selling.

He nodded approvingly. “It’s quite good.”

After some thought, he smiled warmly at Fu Wenyu. “I was good friends with your father for many years. There’s no need for formality—just call me Uncle Zhang. Wenyu, I was worried about how you’d manage your livelihood, but now I see there’s no need to fret.”

Since the shopkeeper had made the gesture, Fu Wenyu readily obliged and addressed him as “Uncle Zhang.”

After a few pleasantries, Shopkeeper Zhang pondered for a moment before asking, “So, how do you plan to continue this story?”

Understanding that this “ancient editor” was concerned about the story’s future development, Fu Wenyu sat up straight and explained in detail: “I’ve finished the first section. In the second part, Wang Fugui accidentally commits murder…”

He proceeded to outline the major plot points: Wang Fugui’s crime, chaos within the Wang family, Nanny Zhang’s schemes, Zhang Gousheng’s entry into the Wang household, Wang Yuanwai’s suspicions, the investigation of the truth, confrontations between the two families, and finally, the climactic blood recognition scene.

When crafting The True and False Young Masters, Fu Wenyu hadn’t invented the plot out of thin air. He had carefully considered the current societal context and the unique appeal of the “switched at birth” trope to create a logical and fresh story. This ensured the story was both innovative and in line with societal norms, making it reasonable yet compelling.

As for the ending, it naturally involved punishing evil and rewarding virtue.

Wang Fugui and the Zhang family received their due punishment. Wang Fugui, guilty of murder, was executed in a public marketplace. Meanwhile, Wang Yuanwai, who had consistently performed good deeds, was finally reunited with his biological son.

To align with the cultural values of the time, Fu Wenyu also arranged for Zhang Gousheng—renamed Wang Yishan—to pass the imperial examination and become a celebrated, virtuous official after years of hard work.

This was his way of expressing his hope that good deeds would be rewarded and evil would face retribution.

Shopkeeper Zhang had no objections to this conclusion but remarked, “From what I’ve gathered, your story has another seventy to eighty thousand words left. If so, this storybook will be too long.”

Fu Wenyu was taken aback and adopted a listening posture.

Shopkeeper Zhang explained that most storybooks on the market were three to five thousand words long. When bound, they had the thickness of a standard book. The “The Woodcutter” storybook Fu Wenyu had just read, for instance, was around forty thousand words.

These shorter storybooks were inexpensive, making them easier to sell. Additionally, their lower word count meant lower printing costs, allowing bookstores to recoup their investment more quickly.

In contrast, if The True and False Young Masters were completed at its current length, it would require three or four volumes. This would push the total price of the set above one hundred wen. Many literate individuals might be willing to spend a few dozen wen on a single storybook, but few would spend one to two hundred wen on an entire set. As a result, excessively long storybooks were harder to sell.

Shopkeeper Zhang considered suggesting that he shorten the story. However, he realized that doing so might compromise the narrative, especially given the straightforward language Fu Wenyu used.

He found himself in a dilemma.

Fu Wenyu, on the other hand, hadn’t anticipated that the issue would be the story being too long.

Was ten thousand characters really that long?

Not at all!

With a computer, he could write ten thousand characters in a week. In fact, if he published such a short piece, readers would likely complain that it was too brief. No one would think it was too long.

Ten thousand characters—this was already the result of his efforts to condense the story, given the limitations of ancient printing techniques. Otherwise, he could easily expand the story to three hundred thousand characters by adding more details!

And so, the two of them sat in awkward silence.

Did this mean he needed to cut the outline?