Paper Bears Its Resonance, Writing Stirs the Earth's Veins

"Fine calligraphy! Truly fine calligraphy!"

Elsewhere, after Qiu Yan left, the students, Confucian scholars, and many others who had listened to the lecture did not depart at once. Instead, they all lingered in the separate courtyard.

Some bent over their desks and wrote furiously, recording everything they had heard during the lecture. Others remained silent, or murmured to themselves, recalling the content of the lecture.

Most, however, had gathered around the desk where Qiu Yan had sat, carefully examining the piece of calligraphy he had left behind.

The writing had naturally been left there for people to see, but what it described was not any classic doctrine or canonical text. It was instead a method for improving printing, something akin to a recipe or a technique, leaving the Confucian scholars rather at a loss.

One had to know that people of this era had none of the convenient means of obtaining information that Qiu Yan had known in his previous life. People of that former world could stay indoors and still learn the rough workings of countless trades, knowing their terminology and concepts. But the Confucian scholars of Great Rui could not experience such things. In this world, professions were separated like mountains; the secrets of many trades were passed only from mouth to ear, never reaching a third person's ears.

Thus, they might understand something merely by hearing about methods of casting, engraving blocks, and printing, but if they truly looked into them and pondered them, how could they possibly find any clues?

Still, even if they did not understand the meaning of the text, they could appreciate the calligraphy itself. Besides, Order now permeated Qiu Yan's mind and thoughts. Any single character, viewed only in its strokes and form, could reveal a spirit, a principle, as though one