The Burning Heart

"Was there still enough ink and paper in the printing workshop...?" Shopkeeper Zhang muttered, setting down the unbound "book" in his hands.

"Of course there is. We haven't opened for business in so long—how could we possibly be out of stock... Wait!" Zhang Yuan's eyes widened as he suddenly came to his senses. "Uncle, what do you mean by that? Don't tell me you really want to print this book?"

The shopkeeper nodded.

"But she didn't pay!" Zhang Yuan stressed. "You told me yourself that merchants can't do business at a loss. What bookstore prints things for people without charging them? Those scholars and literati who came to print poetry collections in the past had to pay too!"

"We can make money from the books themselves."

"By selling the books?" Zhang Yuan could hardly believe it. "Wake up, Uncle. Weren't the only books that sold in the past classics and collected works—the kinds people had to read to earn official honors? How many people would be willing to pay for a common-tongue storybook?"

"This isn't the past anymore." Shopkeeper Zhang shook his head. Having lived in the city for most of his life, he had felt Jinxia's changes more deeply than anyone. Even two or three years ago, most people could not read. Listening to stories and watching plays were activities only the wealthy could partake in. Yet now, if one stopped any child of ten or so on the street, they would know at least a few characters, and quite a few could even write.

The steadily rising sales of the Golden Weekly were proof enough.

Rather than wait for word to pass from mouth to mouth, buying a copy themselves and getting a first look had become the most common choice among the people of Jinxia.

"Read it