Chapter 43: A Spy in the Jiangnan Bookshop

Xiang Yun’s status suddenly soared.

Originally just a palace maid who should have left the palace upon reaching a certain age, she was favored by Consort Yuan and sent to serve Yuan Cong.

Yuan Cong was very fond of her. Though called a concubine, she didn’t actually hold the status of one.

Now that she was pregnant, her position became significant. Yuan Cong had officially taken her as a formal concubine.

As a senior minister serving three reigns, Yuan Cong held a rank above the third grade. His concubines needed to be registered with the authorities and had official ranks.

They were not the kind of concubines who could be casually bought, sold, or given away. From now on, Xiang Yun truly had status.

Gu Dao paid no attention to such affairs and immersed himself in practicing calligraphy in the study.

Jin Se, simple and pure of heart, was delighted by the joyous atmosphere in the Yuan household. Like a lively fawn, she joyfully bounded into the study.

Seeing Gu Dao, she approached eagerly, her eyes searching the tabletop like a cat looking for fish.

“Brother Xiuzhi, what story are you writing again?”

Gu Dao knew exactly what she was thinking: after finishing "The Injustice to Dou E," she was eager for a new story. But he had no time; his day was packed.

“Sweet words won't work. I don’t have time to write stories for you. If you want stories, go buy some at the market,” Gu Dao gently declined her request.

Jin Se didn’t hide her disappointment; her rosy cheeks puffed slightly.

“The ones from the market aren’t as good as what you write, Brother Xiuzhi. Even my mother, the Consort, cried after reading 'The Injustice to Dou E' and told the Emperor to pay attention to governance to prevent such wrongful cases like ‘snow in June’ from happening.”

Gu Dao paused, puzzled.

“You read it yourself, right? How did it end up in the Consort’s hands?”

Jin Se’s delicate face flushed shyly, her voice tinged with hesitation and regret.

“I got too absorbed and was caught by Mother Consort. Then...” She nervously fiddled with the edge of her clothes.

This made Gu Dao laugh. With a teasing tone, he said:

“Serves you right for not studying properly and sneaking peeks at extracurricular books. It’s no wonder they confiscated it.”

Jin Se’s face fell, clearly unhappy. She tugged at Gu Dao’s sleeve and immediately began to coax him.

“Brother Xiuzhi, will you write me another one? I’ll make you steamed chicken in a herbal pot, and I promise to use the finest medicinal herbs.”

Gu Dao hurriedly stopped her.

“Don’t bother. I’m the one who invented that steamed chicken; why would I need you to make it?”

“And you said you’d use the finest herbs. Are you trying to make me practice swordsmanship all night?”

Gu Dao thought to himself, if you use the finest herbs, I probably won’t have the luck to enjoy them.

His grandmaster was already quite old but had somehow managed to have a late-born son. He, on the other hand, didn’t even have a concubine.

Jin Se looked puzzled.

“Brother Xiuzhi, why would you practice swordsmanship all night?”

Gu Dao looked at her innocent face.

“That’s an adult matter; you should not pry. Hurry and go do your homework. Doesn’t the National Academy assign homework?”

Jin Se didn’t understand what homework was; all her thoughts were about the storybooks Gu Dao wrote.

She turned her big eyes and began to provoke him.

“Hmph, Brother Xiuzhi, I know. You’re just out of ideas and can’t write anymore.”

Gu Dao laughed. The little girl dared to challenge him? Let her learn the harshness of the world.

“You’re right. I am out of ideas. All I have left are ‘The Peony Pavilion,’ ‘The Peach Blossom Fan,’ ‘Romance of the Western Chamber,’ ‘The Departing Soul of the Beautiful Woman’...”

With each title he mentioned, Jin Se’s eyes lit up more, so excited she nearly drooled.

She clung to Gu Dao, begging him to write for her.

Getting both words and stories, how could Jin Se give up?

Gu Dao teased her but refused to write, unwittingly inviting a cute little trouble.

He had clearly underestimated how starved she was for spiritual nourishment.

And the real trouble was yet to come.

Inside the Imperial Palace.

Consort Yuan held the scroll of "The Injustice to Dou E," crying every time she read it.

There was little entertainment for consorts in the palace, so encountering such a moving and excellent play—both in plot, text, and calligraphy—touched her deeply.

Her emotions rose and fell with the story’s twists, to the point she couldn’t put it down, crying three times a day.

Consort Yuan was a particular person; rather than crying alone, she wanted to share the tears. She lent the manuscript to others.

As a result, throughout the palace—from the Empress Dowager and Empress down to newly ranked noble ladies—everyone had a copy and cried along.

Even literate eunuchs and maids secretly copied the manuscript, and it had begun to spread beyond the palace.

The Emperor, who hadn’t been intimate with the Empress for a long time, entered the harem one day to find the Empress’s eyes swollen like peaches from crying.

She was truly in no mood to attend to the Emperor.

The Emperor then turned to Consort Yuan’s quarters, only to find Consort Yuan and Consort Li both weeping loudly.

They were cursing the corrupt officials in "The Injustice to Dou E" with such clenched teeth that the Emperor found it novel.

The two consorts, upon seeing the Emperor and noticing it was almost dark, immediately dragged him into a discussion.

According to Da Qian law, such corrupt officials should be punished by having their muscles torn and skin peeled.

This left the Emperor baffled, as the two consorts gave him an impromptu law lesson, dampening his mood.

In the end, he only remembered that Consort Yuan wanted to have the play performed by a troupe inside the palace.

The next day, the Emperor was summoned by the Empress Dowager.

“I heard Your Majesty stayed overnight with two consorts last night? How outrageous! What of your reputation?” the Empress Dowager scolded.

The Emperor sighed and replied, “Mother, I am more wronged than Dou E.”

It was true he stayed overnight with two consorts, but it was just to discuss laws; nothing else happened.

“Your Majesty knows of Dou E? The play is truly well written. As Emperor, you must understand what others cannot. Are there such injustices among the common people?”

The Emperor answered perfunctorily, his head aching. He thought, so my mother reads it too.

Upon leaving the Empress Dowager’s palace, the Emperor chatted with Chief Eunuch Yuan Xiang.

“Yuan Xiang, who wrote The Injustice to Dou E?”

Yuan Xiang, having served the Emperor for many years and sensing his frustration, cautiously replied,

“Your Majesty, it was written by Gu Dao for the Second Princess. Later, Consort Yuan took it, and somehow it spread throughout the palace.”

The Emperor became even more annoyed; the harem’s atmosphere, once harmonious, was now filled with tearful eyes because of this play.

“Is Dou E really so wronged?” the Emperor asked casually.

Exhausted the night before, he only heard curses against corrupt officials and didn’t grasp the full story.

This question hit Yuan Xiang’s weak spot, and he immediately began to explain.

“Your Majesty, Dou E was truly a tragic figure. It all started when her father—”

Yuan Xiang nearly finished the story before realizing the Emperor was watching him strangely and silently reaching out his hand, signaling him to hand over the evidence.

“Your Majesty, I swear I haven’t seen it,” Yuan Xiang tried to deny.

“Hmph...” The Emperor expressed disbelief with a snort.

“Your Majesty, my copy is poorly handwritten; the original manuscript in Consort Yuan’s hands was written by Gu Dao himself, with exquisite calligraphy...” Yuan Xiang reluctantly took the scroll from his bosom, hoping to divert the Emperor’s attention.

“Cheapskate. I’ll read it and return it to you.” The Emperor opened the scroll and began to read.

He then forgot to attend the morning court.

The next day, Gu Dao woke to find Yuan Cong blocking the bed with a rattan cane, his face notably dark.

To avoid punishment, Gu Dao hurriedly confessed,

“Grandmaster, please don’t hit. I know what I did wrong.”

Yuan Cong was a bit weary.

He hadn’t fully recovered from the National Academy incident when this rascal signed a bet with the Jiangnan Bookstore.

Now everyone in the capital knew that Gu Dao was sure to lose the bet.

It was said that Jiangnan Bookstore had reserved the best spot at Chujiang Tower and was just waiting for Gu Dao to come and grovel in two days.

Gu Dao knew explanations were useless. Fortunately, Guan Shitou had already brought back the books.

He immediately opened the box and handed over one personally.

Yuan Cong flipped through a couple of pages, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes in disbelief.

He touched the pages carefully and held them up to the sunlight to confirm they were printed editions, not handcopied.

Then he shoved Gu Dao aside, opened the box, and checked them one by one; all were printed.

He carefully caressed the books and called Gu Dao over.

“Such exquisite textures, such unique ink fragrance. This is not woodblock printing. How did you do it? How long did it take?”

“Currently, a thousand copies have been printed—four volumes per set, so two hundred and fifty sets—in less than two months,” Gu Dao replied.

With a thud, the book fell from Yuan Cong’s hands. He stared at Gu Dao in disbelief.

But Gu Dao struck him with another blow:

“This is the first edition. Once the technology matures, it will be even faster.”

Yuan Cong sat heavily on the box.

As a senior minister serving three reigns, he understood better than Gu Dao what this meant.

It meant book prices would drop, cultural dissemination would become easier, and the top bookstore in the world would no longer be in Jiangnan.

“What are the costs?” Yuan Cong asked hastily.

Gu Dao had roughly calculated. If all costs were included, each book cost about two taels of silver.

He held up two fingers.

“Twenty taels? Cheap, too cheap. That’s more than twice cheaper than Jiangnan Bookstore’s price,” Yuan Cong said.

Gu Dao nearly choked—twenty taels? I said two taels.

But then he understood—it was natural. His grandmaster wouldn’t grasp movable type printing or the concept of reuse.

Moreover, future printing would mainly consist of labor costs; replenishment of lead type wouldn’t be much.

For printing a thousand copies, cost per book might be less than five hundred wen.

“So, you’re sure to win at Chujiang Tower in two days?” Yuan Cong suddenly recalled.

“Of course. I’m planning to open a bookstore. Having someone deliver the business to me is perfect,” Gu Dao smiled.

He inwardly despised Zhan Duo, thinking, you sued me? I’ll make you bleed.

“You’ve gotten yourself into trouble, but it’s not a big problem,” Yuan Cong shook his head.

“Trouble? On Da Qian’s turf, do they dare not pay their debts?” Gu Dao said confidently.

“Is it that the people from Nanyue have become arrogant, or that you can’t wield your sword anymore?”

Yuan Cong was amused by Gu Dao’s quip but felt deeply reassured.

Gu Dao’s playful words showed closeness and trust.

“Jiangnan Bookstore is not just a bookstore; it’s a Nanyue spy agency,” Yuan Cong said.

Gu Dao’s scalp tingled. What? Jiangnan Bookstore not only prints books but also plays undercover?

“Then Mei Zisu must be the head of agents?” Gu Dao asked.

“What do you mean by agents?” Yuan Cong asked in confusion.

“People who carry out special secret missions—agents, in short,” Gu Dao explained.

“Hm, that title fits. But whether he is or not, I don’t know. That’s the court’s business,” Yuan Cong replied.

Gu Dao immediately realized something was wrong.

“If you know Jiangnan Bookstore is a Nanyue spy nest, why let it openly establish itself in the capital?”

Yuan Cong smiled.

“The court has its arrangements. Very few know about Jiangnan Bookstore. You must keep your mouth shut.”

“But you’re right. Even if they’re formidable, once in Da Qian, they have to be controlled. Don’t worry, if you need to take their building, don’t hold back.”