Chapter Fifty-Four: Moon Over the Three Rivers, Ten Thousand Silver Coins Flow In

During Xu Jing’s performance, Xu Wenshan managed to get his hands on a poetry collection published by Wang Haoran. He glanced through it and found it rather mediocre, with few truly striking poems, yet each copy was priced at three hundred and fifty coins. Having stayed in Shaxian for several days, he had grown accustomed to the town’s prices and was no longer surprised by such costs, though he couldn’t help but envy them.

Just in the short while that had passed, over twenty sets of this poetry collection had already been sold, amounting to seven thousand coins. Seven strings of cash had been earned so effortlessly, and Xu Wenshan couldn’t help feeling jealous of Wang Haoran. Although only thirty percent of the seven thousand coins would actually end up in Wang Haoran’s pocket, with a portion going to the bookstore, the long-term sales could still amass a considerable fortune.

Xu Wenshan wanted to get in on the action himself, so he approached the bookstore owner to discuss publishing. If he had stayed at the venue, he might have gained Xu Jing’s admiration and the praise of the crowd, but he had no interest in that. He never felt that the poem truly belonged to him; it was written by Lu You, and all the accolades were meant for Lu You, not himself. To him, publishing a poetry collection was merely a way to earn money, a shortcut to accumulating capital. He had no desire to show off by copying poems.

But the words of the owner temporarily shut the door on his dreams of making money from copied poetry.

“Your poetry collection is indeed excellent, but there’s nothing I can do. The imperial edict is clear: without the scholar’s title, you can’t get a book license. Without a license, publishing a poetry collection is considered slandering the court, a crime punishable by death!”

Xu Wenshan made a gesture, indicating money. “Can this solve the problem?”

“It’s not about money. If you’re not a scholar, you can’t even meet the officials in charge, so who would you give the money to? Besides, don’t think that becoming a scholar exempts you from expenses. To apply for a book license, you must queue up, pull strings, spend money, and wait three or four years. So don’t think the money comes easy—everyone’s life is tough.”

After speaking, the owner glanced outside to make sure no one overheard, then relaxed.

Xu Wenshan asked, “Isn’t there a way to publish without a book license?”

The owner thought for a moment and replied, “Actually, there is.”

“What is it?”

“One way is to use a miscellaneous notes license instead of a poetry collection license, but this method is just for the amusement of wealthy families. First, you have to spend a lot of money to buy the license, and second, you can’t get onto Sanjiang.”

“Sanjiang?!” Xu Wenshan almost thought he had traveled back in time.

“You really don’t know what Sanjiang is?” the owner exclaimed in surprise. “Sanjiang refers to the three rivers: Sha River, Chi River, and Le River. These rivers cover the seven southern states—Chen, Cai, Xu, Zheng, Song, Cao, and Wei. Our seven states all rely on the waters of Sanjiang, so that’s what we call it. But when I say ‘get onto Sanjiang,’ I don’t mean literally jumping into the rivers. In our region, there’s the Sanjiang Poetry Alliance, which posts several rankings each year. They evaluate poetry collections annually; the top one hundred by quality are listed, the top one hundred by sales are listed, and so on. People who want to buy poetry collections go by these rankings. If you use a miscellaneous notes license, you won’t get onto Sanjiang and won’t make much money.”

Xu Wenshan nodded. “Of course, no matter how good the poetry is, without a place of recommendation, it won’t gain popularity… Wait, after all that, isn’t this just useless talk? What about the other method?”

The owner replied, “The other way is to publish in the Song or Wei states.”

“What?”

“In the seven states of the southern region, most have various publishing restrictions. Only Song and Wei, two small states, are open to talent and impose no restrictions on poetry publication. If you want to publish, you can try there, but those two states are so small—few people, even if you hold a book fair in their capitals, the influence is only a bit greater than what you’d get here in Shaxian.”

Xu Wenshan pondered deeply.

He had no intention of taking the imperial exam, unwilling to spend his life laboring in this backward era, competing with other scholars for recognition. It was truly a mismatch for his ambitions. For now, the best course seemed to be publishing in Song or Wei.

But he still had many matters to attend to, and traveling too far would hinder his plans for developing Luhe Valley. So the poetry collection would have to wait.

Preoccupied, Xu Wenshan forgot to say goodbye to Xu Jing and returned to the inn. Lu Ze and Spider, the two demons, were already waiting for him.

“How did things go?” Lu Ze asked.

“All settled,” replied Lu Ze. “Here’s a map of Shaxian County, and here’s a map of the area around the county office. All the prominent households are marked.”

Lu Ze spread two sheets of paper on the table. On the paper were neat lines, clearly showing the roads and buildings of Shaxian.

Xu Wenshan studied the maps closely, nodded, and said, “Excellent work. Now let’s discuss our strategy in detail.”

Lu Ze nodded and sat attentively, while Spider was still dazed until Xu Wenshan knocked her on the head to bring her back to her senses.

Xu Wenshan carefully examined the two maps, circling and crossing areas, then drew a curved line.

This arc connected all the major households in the city, including the county office.

Pointing to the line, Xu Wenshan said, “Listen closely, this is our plan.”

…

Night fell.

Shaxian, bustling with trade, had no curfew. During the night shift, a bullock cart quietly rolled out of the city gates.

The cart was covered in felt, bulging with unknown contents. On it sat a dusty, disheveled commoner, his eyes vacant.

The soldier yawned; he saw countless such peasants every day and wasn’t interested enough to check. His duty was only to inspect those entering the city, not those leaving.

Once outside, the cart wandered through winding paths and eventually stopped somewhere unknown. The person on the cart circled back and stood beneath the city wall.

This spot happened to be a blind spot for the sentries above.

She brushed the dust from her face, revealing a woman’s features.

The woman opened her mouth and spat out a white thread, which stuck to the wall. She climbed it slowly, scaling the wall to receive the second batch of goods.

The bullock cart would certainly be reclaimed.

But according to Xu Wenshan’s plan, getting the cart back was only the beginning.