How Are We Still Short on People? [Monthly Ticket Request]

After finally managing to talk Cui Xiao into leaving, Shen Tang sprang up as if her backside were on fire. She rummaged out a blank bamboo slip, dipped her brush in ink, and swiftly wrote a whole lot. While holding the slip over the fire to dry, she muttered to herself.

"There's too little space to write on a single bamboo slip. Sending messages by bluebird is much more convenient..." With bluebird messages, she could write two or three thousand words at a time, ramble on without worrying about running out of room. Bamboo slips were heavy and awkward to use, and passing them around was inconvenient too. Unfortunately, bluebird messages had a limited range, and the more she wrote, the more literary energy each kilometer consumed. She couldn't afford it.

Her paper workshop was ready to start production, at least.

The craftsmen had spent the past two years experimenting countless times, trying all sorts of material ratios, and had finally produced high-quality paper. The trouble was, output was limited, and quality control wasn't very stable. For now, part of the workshop's production went first to government offices and archives across the prefectures, where large numbers of people were being assigned to recopy local gazetteers, case records, and collections of books. Gradually, the hard-to-preserve bamboo slips were being replaced with paper, which was easier to preserve and carry. The rest went to Xu Xie to sell, bringing in more funds for research...

Even as a prefectural governor, Shen Tang couldn't bring herself to do all her work on paper.

For most things, she still used bamboo slips.

She carefully checked the letter to Qi Shan, making sure there weren't any typos for him to nitpick, then rolled it up and tied it with a special knot. She wrapped it in