Bearing the blue sky

Chapter 299 The Rapidly Developing Newspaper Industry!

"Today I flap my butterfly wings, but who knows if tomorrow a monstrous wave will rise?"

Zhu Ge stood in the courtyard, looking in the direction where the silver eagle puppet had disappeared, and murmured to herself.

Liu Jianjian stood beside him, tilting her head: "Master, how can butterfly wings create such huge waves?"

Zhu Ge smiled and said, "It's a metaphor. It means that something that seems small can trigger a big change."

.

"Like that mulberry tree you planted in Jianshan Village?" Liu Jianjian asked. "Did it grow into a large grove?"

"That makes sense," Zhu Ge said.

He offered no further explanation and turned to walk into the bookstore.

It was late at night, but a few oil lamps were still lit in Wenyuan Bookstore.

Li Han came all the way from Qinjiang to help and is sitting behind the counter organizing the manuscript.

Seeing Zhu Ge enter, he put down his pen and stood up: "Sir."

"Thank you for your hard work." Zhu Ge walked to the counter and glanced at the pile of manuscripts on the table. "Are there more submissions this time?"

"It's 30% more than last time." Li Han's eyes showed a hint of satisfaction: "They came from all over the country. Some were sent through Mr. Mo's puppets, some were delivered by people, and some were delivered by people walking over."

Zhu Ge nodded and asked, "Any good ones?"

"There are a few very well written ones." Li Han pulled out a few sheets of paper from a pile of manuscripts and handed them to Zhu Ge: "Take a look at this one, sir."

It was written by a fisherman who said that the river in his hometown had been polluted by a salt merchant, causing all the fish to die. Unable to catch any fish, he had no choice but to go to the city to do manual labor.

Zhu Ge took the manuscript and read it through.

The writing is simple, and some sentences are even a bit awkward, but the anger and despair are palpable through the pages.

"Publish this article." Zhu Ge nodded slightly. "Put it on the front page."

"Yes." Li Han took the manuscript and made a mark on the back.

Zhu Ge then flipped through several other articles.

One story was written by an old woman who said that her son was conscripted to build the city wall and died on the construction site. The government did not provide any compensation and even forced her to pay taxes.

She had no money to pay, and the few pieces of furniture she owned were all taken away.

One of the stories was written by a peddler who said he traveled all over the country and saw people suffering everywhere.

But no one dared to speak up, because he had once said in a teahouse, "The taxes are too heavy," and that very night he was arrested and imprisoned for three days.

Another article was written by a teacher, who said that there were fewer and fewer students in the school because people couldn't even feed themselves by farming, so how could they afford to send their children to school?

After reading those manuscripts, Zhu Ge remained silent for a long time.

Then he said, "Put all of these on."

"All published?" Li Han was taken aback. "Then this issue of the newspaper will be much longer than before."

"It may be long, but it's still worth reading," Zhu Ge sighed. "The people's words, no matter how long, are worth reading."

Li Han nodded, said nothing more, and began to organize the manuscripts, preparing for typesetting.

Zhu Ge walked to the entrance of the bookstore and looked at the quiet street in the night.

The moonlight shone on the bluestone slabs, giving them a silvery glow. A few barks of dogs drifted from afar, followed by the sound of the watchman's clapper—it was already past midnight.

How many people in this world are still suffering?

he does not know.

But he knew that every article he published would allow one more person to see these sufferings.

Only by seeing can change be possible.

What you can't see, you can never change.

The next morning, when Zhu Ge finished practicing his technique, he heard a commotion outside.

He walked out of the room and saw a crowd gathered at the entrance of the bookstore.

Some people were talking loudly, some were arguing loudly, and some were shouting loudly.

"What's going on?" Zhu Ge walked to the door.

Li Han was maintaining order in the crowd when he saw Zhu Ge arrive. He quickly squeezed through the crowd and said, "Sir, these people are all here to submit their manuscripts. There are too many people; the bookstore can't accommodate everyone—"

Zhu Ge looked at the crowd.

There were farmers, fishermen, craftsmen, merchants, old and young, men and women.

Some held paper, some held cloth, and some simply held a wooden board with crookedly written words on it.

"Sir! I have something to say!"

"Sir! Look at what I wrote!"

"Sir! My situation is even worse than theirs!"

The noise was deafening, with everyone talking at once.

Zhu Ge raised her hand to signal everyone to be quiet, and then said, "One by one! Hand your manuscripts to Manager Li, and he will select the best ones.

The crowd quieted down a bit, but it was still very crowded. Li Han got two helpers to barely maintain order.

Zhu Ge retreated into the bookstore, looking at the people rushing to hand over their manuscripts at the door, and a feeling that was hard to describe welled up in her heart.

These people were all forced into a corner before they thought of using words to express themselves.

They had suffered before, but no one gave them a place to speak.

Now that they have it, they've come.

"Master, there are so many people!" Liu Jianjian peeked out from behind. "It's more lively than a market."

"Yes," Zhu Ge laughed, "it's even more lively than a market."

For the next few days, Zhu Ge was busy at the bookstore.

-

He handles everything from reviewing and writing manuscripts to typesetting and proofreading each issue of the newspaper.

The manuscripts varied in length, some were prose, some were poetry, some were angry accusations, and some were calm narratives.

But each one carries the power of truth.

He turned those stories into lead type, printed them on paper, and then sent them to various cities through the Mo-Guan Silver Eagle puppet.

The fifth issue of the Human Race Gazette received an even more enthusiastic response than the previous issues.

A reader wrote in saying that he cried all night after reading the newspaper.

A reader wrote in, saying that the things reported in the newspaper were things that happened in his hometown.

A reader wrote to me saying he wanted to write an article exposing the scandals of a corrupt official in his hometown.

Li Han counted that within half a month after the fifth issue was published, he received more than 300 letters from readers.

More than three hundred letters.

This number surprised even Zhu Ge.

"More than three hundred letters—" He held the letters in his hand and couldn't help but think, "It seems that the power of this newspaper is greater than I imagined."

"That's because the gentleman's articles are well written," Li Han said.

"It's not that my writing is good," Zhu Ge shook her head. "It's the people who submitted their work; their stories are good. I just printed their stories on paper."

Li Han thought for a moment and then said, "Sir, will you continue to publish this content in the next issue?"

"Publish," Zhu Ge said. "As long as people are still submitting articles, keep publishing them. Continue until no one submits anymore."

"Won't that cause some trouble?" Li Han asked, somewhat worried.

"There will definitely be trouble," Zhu Ge said, "but if you're afraid of trouble, you won't get anything done."

Li Han remained silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

But Zhu Ge can't stay here forever.

If everyone relaxes for a few days, no one will say anything.

But the stay is too long?

Then some people will disagree.

Many people are waiting for Zhu Ge to arrive in Shengjing before proceeding with the next steps.

"The next step is to deal with the transport golem."

Zhu Ge stood in the backyard of Wenyuan Bookstore, looking up at the sky.

Mo Shou had been working seven consecutive all-nighters, his eyes were sunken and his beard was stubble, but he was unusually excited.

On the worktable in front of him was a half-finished puppet.

It was larger than the previous silver eagle, with a wingspan of two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters). It was made entirely of lighter star iron, with three spirit stones embedded in the joints, and the capacity of the hidden compartment in its chest had doubled.

"Sir, this Silver Eagle II can fly two thousand miles a day." Mo Shou wiped the oil off his face, his eyes bloodshot. "It can carry three hundred newspapers at a time. If we set up several relay stations along the way and send small puppets to take over, it can cover the entire Qin territory at its furthest point."

Zhu Ge circled the silver eagle, then tapped its breastplate: "It's considerably heavier than Number One. Will that affect its speed?"

"No." Mo Shou shook his head: "I added wind pattern arrays to the wings, which allows me to use the wind when flying, making it more energy-efficient than Number One."

"Has it been test-flown?"

"I tried three times." Mo Shou nodded: "The first time, it crashed halfway down. The second time, the engine overheated after flying 300 miles. The third time—it didn't crash, but the spirit stones were consumed 40% faster than expected."

"That's not successful yet." Zhu Ge shook her head.

Some things are just a little bit off.

No means no.

"Soon." Mo Shou's eyes were firm. "Give me three more days."

Zhu Ge looked at his bloodshot eyes, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Go get some sleep first."

"I'm not sleepy." Mo Shou looked extremely excited.

"Your hands are shaking," Zhu Ge said helplessly.

Mo Shou looked down at his fingertips and saw that they were indeed trembling slightly, a symptom of staying up all night and overdrawing his spiritual energy.

"Go to sleep." Zhu Ge patted his shoulder. "You can continue after you wake up. The puppet won't run away, and neither will the newspaper."

Mo Shou wanted to say something more, but Zhu Ge had already turned and walked towards the bookstore.

He stood at the door, watching the people lining up to submit their work, listening to their local accents, and smelling the scent of paper and ink. He felt as if he were standing at the source of a river.

Where will this river flow to?

He didn't know either.

But he knew that since the flow had already started, he couldn't let it stop.

"Master, those people are all looking at you." Liu Jianjian leaned over and pointed to the people at the door.

Look at the blessing song.

Indeed, quite a few people were looking at him, their eyes filled with curiosity, awe, and something else that was hard to describe.

"Mr. Zhu!" An old farmer squeezed to the front, clutching a crumpled letter in his hand. "I wrote a letter. Could you please see if it can be published?"

Zhu Ge took the letter, unfolded it, and read it through.

The letter stated that the village head colluded with the county tax officials to falsely report acreage every year, thereby collecting 30% more tax.

The villagers dared not speak out against their anger because last year a young man went to the county to file a complaint, but "disappeared" on the way.

This Qin region is pretty much the same!

There are countless exorbitant and miscellaneous taxes!

"Noto." Zhu Ge nodded: "But the letter didn't mention the village chief's name or the tax official's name, so it's as if it didn't say anything at all."

The old farmer paused for a moment, opened his mouth, but hesitated to speak.

"I know what you're worried about." Zhu Ge looked into his eyes: "I'm afraid that if I write my name down, they'll retaliate against you and your family."

The old farmer lowered his head and remained silent.

"Okay then," Zhu Ge said, "Tell me your name, and I'll have someone check it. Once it's verified, I'll register you online; you don't need to leave your name or show your face."

The old farmer looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes: "Really?"

"Really." Zhu Ge smiled. "If you trust me, I'll do it for you."

The old farmer hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Zhu Ge and whispered two names.

Zhu Ge noted down the name and nodded: "Come back to the bookstore in three days and see if there's anything you want to read in the newspaper."

The old farmer thanked him repeatedly and then turned and squeezed out of the crowd.

Zhu Ge watched his retreating figure and said to Li Han beside her, "Li Han, send someone to investigate these two people."

Li Han took the slip of paper with his name on it and nodded: "Don't worry, sir. I know a few old men who have worked in the county government. It won't be difficult for me to find out these things."

"Go quickly and come back quickly."

"Yes."

Three days later, the Silver Eagle II, which had been waiting patiently, finally succeeded in its test flight.

That afternoon, Zhu Ge stood in the backyard of Wenyuan Bookstore, watching the silver eagle puppet with a wingspan of two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters) rise from the ground, circle twice in the sky, and then suddenly flap its wings, transforming into a streak of silver light and flying north.

It was extremely fast and quickly disappeared into the clouds.

Mo Shou stood in front of the worktable, looking in the direction where the silver eagle had disappeared, his eyes reddening.

"It's a success," he said.

"Congratulations." Zhu Ge patted him on the shoulder.

OK!

With postal vehicles available, how far away can home delivery be?

The next day, the people Li Han sent to investigate returned.

It has been verified.

-

The village chief and tax official did indeed overreport the acreage every year, collecting 30% more tax than they should have.

Li Han handed the investigation results to Zhu Ge: "Sir, should we publish it?"

"Go ahead," Zhu Ge said. "Write it in more detail, clearly stating the time, place, and people involved. Let them know that someone is watching them."

The seventh issue of the Human Race Gazette generated a greater response than the previous six issues combined.

The report caused a huge uproar, not only in the local area but also in several nearby counties.

Some applauded, some gritted their teeth, and some were filled with unease.

The village chief and the tax official were reportedly dismissed and investigated.

When the news reached Luoyang, the entrance to Wenyuan Bookstore was once again packed with people.

This time, I'm not here to submit an article, but to express my gratitude.

There were people of all ages, men and women, some holding eggs, some carrying vegetable baskets, and some simply standing empty-handed at the door, bowing to the bookstore.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Sir, you are our great benefactor!"

"Sir, may you live to be a hundred!"

Zhu Ge stood at the entrance of the bookstore, looking at those sincere faces, feeling no pride, only a heavy sense of responsibility.

He only did a small thing.

But this event changed the fate of many people.

"Master, they are all thanking you," Liu Jianjian said softly, standing beside him.

"It's not about thanking me," Zhu Ge said, "it's about thanking this place that allowed them to speak."

He turned and walked back to the bookstore to continue reviewing the manuscript.

The crowd at the entrance was still there, but the noise gradually subsided.

They stopped scrambling and pushing, and instead lined up to hand their manuscripts to Li Han one by one.

Order was established silently.

A few days later, Silver Eagle II brought back the first batch of replies.

There were messages of thanks, submissions, and inquiries.

One of the letters caught Zhu Ge's attention.

The letter contained only one sentence: "Sir, I have several dozen men here who all want to work for the Human Race Gazette."

The signature was an unfamiliar name: Chen Feng.

The address is a small town in Hebei Prefecture.

Zhu Ge held the letter and looked at it for a long time, then said to Li Han, "Li Han, write down this address."

"What does the gentleman want to do?"

"Write a letter," Zhu Ge said. "Tell him we welcome him."

He walked to the table, spread out a piece of paper, and picked up a pen to write—

"To Mr. Chen Feng: I have read your letter and am delighted to learn that you and the others are willing to serve the *Human Race Daily*. The world is vast, and no one can change it; the world is changing, and no one can accomplish it. If you are willing to join me, please come to Wenyuan Bookstore in Luoyang. Best regards."

After finishing writing, he put down his pen, waited for the ink to dry, folded the letter, and handed it to Li Han: "Have Yin Ying deliver it."

"Yes."

Li Han took the letter and left.

Zhu Ge stood by the window, looking at the sky outside.

The silver eagle has flown away, but more silver eagles will fly back.

This river is getting wider.

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