Ink and Brush Studio

The next day.

Early that morning, Jia Heng rose from bed and practiced a set of punches and kicks in the courtyard. Only after his muscles and joints had loosened and a light sweat covered his body did he return indoors, take up a towel, and wipe the sweat from his temples. After breakfast, he settled his mind in the study and wrote an essay on the classics, then planned to visit the Ink and Brush Studio to buy some contemporary examination essays and inquire what a manuscript would fetch in this world.

Over the past few days, he had also been turning over possible sources of income in his mind.

His former self's household still owned a dozen or so mu of poor farmland, which Cai's family cultivated. His former self's mother had also left a sum of dowry silver when she died, but that money could not be touched lightly: it was meant to pay for his marriage and help him establish a household and a livelihood.

Whether he was honing his martial skills or preparing for the imperial examinations, he needed silver.

Perhaps he could write novels to earn some money for his living expenses.

Generally speaking, supporting a scholar who did no productive work required the resources of an entire family. These were the so-called gentry families rooted in small and middling landholdings.

As for scholars from poor households who had no income, their only recourse was to compose essays, write calligraphy, and sell paintings and written works to supplement the family finances. This did not count as engaging in the lowly trade of commerce, and no one could find fault with it. Indeed, if they later succeeded in the examinations, it would become an elegant anecdote to recount.

I could copy out Romance of the Three Kingdoms too. This world's history differs considerably from my previous world's, and many people from earlier dynasties never existed here. Stories of the Three Kingdoms appear here and there in operas. Jin Yong's martial arts novels would be perfectly suitable as well, but before that, I should investigate the market, Jia Heng reflected.

The popularity of novels during the Ming and Qing dynasties had arisen from the early sprouts of capitalism in the southeastern coastal provinces, which also nurtured the beginnings of an urban civil society and thus brought prosperity to publishing. As for the present Great Han Divine Capital, its social structure did bear many similarities, being a successor to Chengming.

The capital is the foremost city of the realm, so there should be plenty of scholars in the Divine Capital. There are also the storytellers in teahouses and taverns. They're potential buyers too. With that thought, Jia Heng decided to look around some bookshops.

He was not doing this to make a fortune, merely to add another source of income.

Otherwise, sitting idle and eating away his savings until the mountain was gone was no lasting solution.

As for Jia Zhen, he certainly had no reason to wait at home for a summons.

Jia Heng told Cai where he was going and said he would return at noon for lunch, then left Ningrong Street at an unhurried pace. The Divine Capital was bustling that morning. People came and went along the streets, vendors called out their wares, and the shops on either side had long since opened their doors to customers.

Jia Heng wore a scholar's blue robe with a sword hanging at his waist. Though not yet sixteen, he was tall and slender, with handsome, open features. The golden autumn sunlight fell upon his youthful face; he was truly like a fragrant orchid beside a jade tree, a young man of striking bearing.

His footsteps brought him to the entrance of the Ink and Brush Studio.

"Good morning, sir." The shop assistant at the entrance had been wiping the doorframe with a towel. Seeing Jia Heng, he stopped and put on a broad smile. "What would you like, young master?"

"Just browsing," Jia Heng said.

With that, he stepped into the Ink and Brush Studio.

Behind the counter, the old shopkeeper was bent over his writing while working an abacus. He raised his head, glanced at Jia Heng, then went back to copying and writing without paying him any further attention.

It was still morning, and the Ink and Brush Studio was quiet, with only a faint fragrance of books and ink drifting almost imperceptibly through the air.

The Ink and Brush Studio was both a bookshop and a seller of brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. It was no small establishment, either: spacious and airy, it occupied several rooms across two full floors. The staff had long since grown accustomed to students like Jia Heng coming and going.

A dozen or so young assistants were wiping down bookcases and arranging books, each attending to his own task. Beneath the quiet lay an air of orderly efficiency.

Only the assistant who had originally been outside followed a few steps behind him.

Jia Heng walked farther inside and stopped before an antique red-lacquered bookcase. Looking over the contemporary examination essays, neatly stacked and sorted by category, he gently picked up a volume and began to read.

It was a collection of examination essays by scholars who had placed among the top three since the beginning of the Chongping reign. Jia Heng read attentively and found their structures rigorous and their prose polished and economical. The opening exposition, development of the theme, preliminary discussion, introductory parallel arguments... in speaking on behalf of the sages, not a single thread fell out of place.

Having lived two lives, he possessed a powerful soul and a memory far beyond that of ordinary people. After reading four or five "model essays," he found them still clear in his mind even with the volume closed. Comparing them, he could not help inwardly admiring the scholars of this age. They truly were not to be underestimated.

Even with his foundation from reading the Daoist canon in his previous life, and though classical prose was hardly unfamiliar to him, he still fell far short when it came to a grounding in the Four Books.

I haven't even entered the government school yet, so I'm not so much as a licentiate. If I want scholarly rank, my first step must be to pass the prefectural examination and enter the Jingzhao Prefecture school.

So I need to find someone experienced in the examinations. If I merely study contemporary essays on my own, I'm afraid I won't get anywhere. Not only would I squander my years, but I'd make no progress. Besides, there are plenty of intricacies to the examinations. Without someone to guide me... As that thought arose, Jia Heng suddenly remembered someone. My former self's mother found him a tutor, a xiucai who had failed the higher examinations. His surname is Zhou, and he lives in the city... My former self hasn't visited him in over half a year.

His former self had not particularly enjoyed studying, preferring instead to wield sabers and spears and practice martial arts. While his mother was alive, she could still encourage him to pursue his studies, but after her death, his schoolwork had fallen by the wayside.

The dynasty has enjoyed peace for so long that the civil officials' power has swollen. Without the status of a scholar, even if I join the army, the civil bureaucracy will still squeeze me out. Looking at the collection of examination essays in his hand, Jia Heng saw it all as clearly as a reflection in a bright mirror.

He was not insisting on becoming the top graduate or placing third. With an age of turmoil approaching, such distinctions would be of little use. Chen Han's current situation resembled the late Ming. Was he really going to enter the Hanlin Academy as a court literary official and grind away for decades?

The imperial examinations were merely a means to obtain the scholarly standing of a jinshi.

Jia Heng selected a collection of contemporary examination essays, then chose an anthology titled "Selected Writings of the Present Dynasty's Hanlin Literary Officials." As for Zhu Xi's collected commentaries and the Four Books and Five Classics, he already had those at home and did not need to buy more.

"Leave these here for now," Jia Heng told the assistant beside him. "I'll collect them when I leave. May I ask where you keep your novels and illustrated storybooks?"

The assistant broke into an amused smile. "Please follow me, sir."

He was evidently familiar with scholars' tastes. Serious books came first, but they also enjoyed entertaining reading such as stories and illustrated tales.

As he spoke, he led Jia Heng into a room to one side. Several rows of bookcases stood there, displaying a dazzling assortment of illustrated editions of The Story of the Western Wing, The Peony Pavilion, Tang Tales, and other works.

There was just such an episode in Dream of the Red Chamber: seeing Baoyu bored and gloomy, his young servant Mingyan had found books like these for him to read.

Jia Heng approached and moved among the bookcases, looking over the titles. Some shelves held only a few scattered volumes; clearly, these miscellaneous books sold very well.

On the whole, the illustrated storybooks in the Ink and Brush Studio were fairly wholesome. There was no "Liu Bei" smut unsuitable for children sitting brazenly on the shelves.

"Do you print these books yourselves, or buy them from elsewhere?" Jia Heng asked casually.

"Of course we print them ourselves," the assistant replied with a smile. "The paper and materials we use are all top quality. Buy with confidence, young master. They'll keep for three to five years without falling apart."

Jia Heng smiled, then suddenly asked, "Do you accept novel manuscripts?"

"Well... what do you mean, young master?" The assistant froze at his words, confusion appearing on his face.

Jia Heng considered for a moment. "If I wrote an illustrated storybook and sold it to your establishment, how much would you offer?"

The assistant smiled awkwardly. "For that, I'm afraid you'd have to ask the shopkeeper. No, perhaps even the owner. But our owner seems very fond of these storybooks. Last time..."

He had thought this young man had merely come to buy books, only to discover that he wanted to sell one as well.

Just then, an old man's cough sounded. "Ahem..." The assistant turned and shrank back in fright. It was the shopkeeper who had been copying and writing behind the counter.