Bearing the blue sky

Chapter 312 Enlightenment! "The Butterfly Lovers"!

Cultivation knows no bounds of time.

But hunger knows.

Zhu Ge straightened up after finishing her cultivation and turned to look at the neatly stacked scrolls and ores at the edge of the boundary.

He glanced again at the array patterns slowly flowing in the direction of the spirit rice field, confirming that everything was still progressing at its own pace.

Since there were no immediate problems to deal with, they went out for a big meal.

As he grows, he needs more and more food.

Eat more, or eat well.

Otherwise, it simply cannot keep up with the body's demands.

Fortunately, he currently has quite a few spiritual items in his collection, such as cured pork leg from a second-realm wild boar and smoked meat from a first-realm sika deer.

That should be enough for him to eat for a while.

After eating, leave the area.

Liu Jianjian was sitting next to the carriage, with a stack of folded papers spread out on her lap.

That was a sample copy of the latest issue of the Human Race Daily, the edges of the pages still carrying the dry ink scent of just being taken from the printing press, and the corners were neat.

It can be seen that the printing workers' skills have become quite stable.

She was looking down, silently reading the printed words line by line with her finger.

Zhu Sisi leaned on her shoulder, chewing mulberry leaves more slowly than usual, her gaze fixed on the pages, as if participating in the reading in her own way.

"The new issue is printed?" Zhu Ge walked to her side, bent down and glanced at the stack of papers.

Liu Jianjian raised her head, her tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible satisfaction: "It was delivered last night. Mo Shou had the Silver Eagle Puppet deliver it overnight, saying that the printing workshop has started using the bamboo paper made by Old Man Cai. This batch of paper is thinner than before, but it's tougher and feels different to the touch."

Zhu Ge took one of the pages and flipped through it.

The paper is indeed thinner than before, and the edges are cut more neatly, indicating that the printing process is gradually stabilizing.

The writing on the paper is clear, the ink is even, and there is no ink bleeding or blurring.

The layout is also more compact than in previous issues, with moderate spacing between words, showing that the person in charge of layout has accumulated a lot of experience.

Zhu Ge asked, "How many copies were printed this time?"

"Mo Shou reported 3,000 copies," Liu Jianjian said. "That's 500 more than last issue. Apparently, the number of submissions is also increasing. In some places, people have started copying down the contents of the newspaper and posting them at the entrances of markets and teahouses."

"Copy it?" Zhu Ge was somewhat surprised.

"Yes. Some people said one newspaper wasn't enough to circulate, so some people copied it by hand and posted it in crowded places for everyone to see." Liu Jianjian nodded: "Mo Shou also said that his Silver Eagle puppets have added two more flight routes, covering more areas."

Zhu Ge looked down at the paper in her hand again, making sure that the main articles did not contain any obvious biases or errors, before folding it up and putting it back in its original place.

Then he sat down next to Liu Jianjian, his gaze falling on the edge of the woods in the distance, which was being illuminated by the morning light.

"The newspaper is still expanding, which is a good thing," Zhu Ge said with a smile. "However, have those new routes encountered any obstacles?"

"Mo Shouxin mentioned two things." Liu Jianjian's expression was solemn: "One is that an official from a county in the north sent someone to the printing shop to inquire about the origin of the newspaper, but after asking, he did not take any action."

"Another incident occurred in a more distant place, where someone intercepted an entire shipment of newspapers in transit. After the contents were leaked out, the newspapers were sent back."

"Was it sent back?"

"Yes. It was sent back, still in its original packaging. Apparently, the person who intercepted it decided there was no need to stop it after reading the contents," Liu Jianjian said.

Zhu Ge remained silent for a moment, pondering the meaning behind her words.

He stood up, went into the carriage, and took out a manuscript from the corner.

Those were a few paragraphs he jotted down casually while organizing his things in his own space.

It lacks a systematic approach and a complete structure; it consists of only scattered fragments.

I jotted it down and left it there without making any effort to organize it.

He flipped through it for a moment, confirming that several paragraphs could be edited into a formal manuscript. Then he took out a blank sheet of paper, wrote the title on it, and sketched a few lines of draft in charcoal below the title.

The handwriting is somewhat messy, but the sentences are generally fluent and can be gradually corrected in subsequent transcriptions.

He put down his pen, folded the draft paper in half and put it away, got out of the carriage, and handed the rolled-up manuscript to Liu Jianjian: "These materials can be compiled into a complete manuscript. When the Silver Eagle Puppet returns next time, send it back to the printing house along with the sample copy."

Liu Jianjian took the manuscript, but didn't look at it. She just weighed it in her hand and said, "I will arrange for the paper to be transported properly, and I will also remind Mo Shou to control the length of the manuscript."

"There's no need to deliberately shorten the length, as long as the content isn't rambling," Zhu Ge pondered. "Those who are willing to read newspapers don't mind if there are more words; the key is to make them feel that they've gained something from reading it."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Next, tell Mo Shou to keep his focus on maintaining the current printing capacity and not to rush into expansion."

"Won't this be too slow?" Liu Jianjian asked.

"No," Zhu Ge shook her head. "Consolidating first and then expanding is actually faster."

Some things can't be rushed.

Especially when it comes to things like ideas.

To achieve a breakthrough in thinking, it's necessary to shake up some deeply ingrained ideas.

This kind of leverage cannot be achieved through violence; it cannot be used to directly tell others what they should or can only do.

Instead, it influences and changes things in a subtle and gradual way.

You tell people directly that marriage should be free and romantic.

Others will think you're being presumptuous; marriage has always been arranged by parents and matchmakers.

However, if you publish a story titled "Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai".

Others will feel sorry for you, pity you, and heartache for you, and then they will begin to reflect on their own actions.

This is why it is said that the seeds of thought are always sown in literature and art.

The West experienced a similar period of intellectual enlightenment, for example, by starting with painters.

The painting "Mona Lisa's Smile" is not so much about being incredibly amazing or awe-inspiring in terms of its depiction.

However, during a time when religion was rampant and all literature and art were praising religion and gods, a painter set his gaze and brush on an ordinary woman.

This is a breakthrough in thinking.

While all other works are telling people to be obedient, submissive, and loyal, the monkey in "Journey to the West" showed everyone a rebellious spirit and an upright character.

When everyone is saying that we should be filial to our parents, obey them in everything, and blind obedience is everywhere, "Nezha" establishes an image that opposes patriarchal authority.

Everything originates from this.

This time, Zhu Ge wrote "The Butterfly Lovers".

He did not attempt to eradicate outdated ideas directly, but instead wanted to skirt the edges of the issue first.

Love is beautiful.

On the surface, it does not actually oppose monarchical or patriarchal power, but in reality, free love itself is a form of resistance against monarchical and patriarchal power.

"I don't know what the effect will be."

Zhu Ge pondered the matter of the newspaper, feeling a sense of anticipation.

Sun Chuan squatted on the stone steps at the entrance of the teahouse, holding half a hardened biscuit in his hand and gnawing on it.

He is fourteen years old, short, and as thin as a bamboo pole.

When he squatted down, he shrank into a narrow strip, and the front of his old shoes had two small holes worn out, revealing the edges of his toes.

He didn't pay attention to any of that. He just quietly squatted on the edge of the steps, broke the biscuit into small pieces, and put them into his mouth one by one, trying not to make any noise while chewing.

This teahouse is located at the crossroads of the county town. There is an old locust tree in front of the door, and at noon the shade of the tree can just cover the small steps at the entrance.

The owner of the teahouse was a thin, fifty-something-year-old man surnamed Liu, who had always turned a blind eye to Sun Chuan.

As long as he doesn't block the way to the door or steal anything from the guests, he can stay on the steps.

-

Sun Chuan has been here for three days.

He was originally from Willow Village outside the city. This spring, his parents were eaten by a monster, and his few acres of meager land were divided up by the villagers.

He then wandered to the city.

However, the shops in the city were unwilling to hire a young boy who was not strong, had never traveled far, and could not read.

He survived each day on half a cake and the free hot tea provided by the teahouse, waiting for work while listening to the conversations of the people coming and going in the teahouse.

There were more people in the teahouse than usual today.

Sun Chuan noticed that several people did not rush to order tea after entering the teahouse, but instead went to the backyard of the teahouse first.

That's where Old Liu put his newspapers.

In the past two months, a wooden board for hanging newspapers has appeared in the backyard of the teahouse.

It is said that a person named Mo Shou will send out Silver Eagle puppets to deliver a new issue of the "Human Race Gazette" every few days.

Old Liu would clip it onto a wooden board so that tea drinkers could see it for themselves.

For those who couldn't read, those who could read would read it aloud in the teahouse. Sometimes, the person reading would speak loudly enough for people at the door to hear.

Sun Chuan has been able to "listen" to a few newspapers on and off recently thanks to this.

He had heard people talk about things in Qin and Shu.

He didn't understand most of what was being said, but that didn't stop him from squatting on the steps and listening intently to every word.

Although I can't remember most of them, the lingering echoes of some sentences will stay in my mind for a while longer, like fallen leaves blown by the wind to the eaves, not yet drifting away.

This afternoon, a middle-aged man in a gray long gown came out of the teahouse, holding a newspaper in his hand. He stopped by the steps, cleared his throat, and began to read.

"In this issue, there is a story titled 'The Butterfly Lovers' ———"

Sun Chuan was eating his third small piece of pancake when he heard the question. He didn't look up, but stopped eating.

Liang Shanbo? Zhu Yingtai? Such beautiful names—Sun Chuan felt envious.

His name was chosen randomly by his parents.

"It is said that in ancient times, there was a woman named Zhu Yingtai who was exceptionally intelligent from a young age and longed to study. However, at that time, women were not allowed to attend school, so she disguised herself as a man and left home to study—" the middle-aged man read aloud.

Sun Chuan put the pancake back in his pocket, placed his hands on his knees, and listened attentively.

He didn't quite understand what "dressing as a man" meant, but he knew what "leaving home to study" meant.

He wandered around the city for the past three days and saw young people wearing scholar's gowns and carrying books.

He sometimes thought that it would be nice to sit in the school, even if it was just to listen for a day.

"Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai were classmates for three years and developed a deep friendship. When Zhu Yingtai was about to part ways, she hinted at her feelings to Liang Shanbo."

The person reading the newspaper continued reading in a steady voice, pausing occasionally as if turning a page.

Sun Chuan listened intently. He couldn't quite imagine what it would be like for the two to be classmates for three years, nor did he understand why Zhu Yingtai didn't just tell Liang Shanbo who she was.

But he could sense that there was a distance between the two names, like a river separating them. He could see the other side, but he didn't know where to wade across.

"—Later, Liang Shanbo learned that Zhu Yingtai was a woman and went to propose marriage, only to find that Zhu Yingtai had already been betrothed to someone else."

"After he returned home, he died in despair. On her way to get married, Zhu Yingtai passed by his grave. A storm arose, the tomb split open, and she jumped into it, transforming into a pair of butterflies that flew away into the distance."

The reading of the newspaper stopped.

There was a moment of silence at the entrance of the teahouse, then someone sighed, someone whispered something, and someone even wiped their eyes.

Sun Chuan remained squatting on the steps, not moving.

When he heard "transform into a pair of butterflies," the image of a butterfly did not immediately come to mind.

However, he instead recalled the day he carried his parents' severed limbs to the mass grave.

That day, many butterflies flew by, and he chased them away.

He thought the butterflies were "eating" his parents.

But at that moment, the butterflies suddenly floated up from the cupboard.

It was as if it was reminding him that some things don't really disappear, they just continue to exist in a different form.

Are they not eating their parents' remains?

Sun Chuan suddenly felt like crying and wiped his eyes.

"Is it over?" someone asked.

"It's over." The person reading the newspaper sighed, "There'll be new stuff in the next issue—poor thing, poor thing, sigh—"

The people outside the teahouse gradually dispersed; some went back in to drink tea, while others walked along the street.

Sun Chuan squatted on the steps, clutching the crumbs of the half-eaten biscuit in his hand. He didn't put any more in his mouth, but instead looked down at his fingers.

He suddenly felt a strong urge to find the full text of that story and read it, even though he didn't know many words.

He had never actively sought out anything to read, but at this moment he felt he should do so.

He got up, wiped the dust off his trousers, and went around to the back of the teahouse, where he stood in front of the wooden board where newspapers were hung.

The newspaper was still clipped to the top; he stood on tiptoe and looked up at the printed words.

He recognized some of the characters, such as "mountain", "water", "person", and "flower".

He looked at each word carefully, but couldn't piece together a complete sentence.

But he could sense an order in the words when they were arranged together that he had never encountered before, like stones that had been carefully placed and were waiting for someone to walk over them in order.

He stood in front of the wooden board for a while, not disturbing Old Liu who was sweeping in the backyard, but quietly looking up at the characters he couldn't recognize.

He looked at them for longer than before, his gaze slowly moving over the unfamiliar characters, as if trying to memorize their positions.

"What's your name?" Old Liu walked in from the side, a broom still in his hand. "I've seen you standing here for quite a while. Trying to learn to read?"

"My name is Sun Chuan." Sun Chuan nodded earnestly: "I want to learn a few characters."

He added, "It would be good if you could recognize a few more."

Old Liu neither refused nor agreed. After sweeping the area and folding the newspaper, he turned to leave and said, "If you really want to learn to read, come every afternoon and I'll teach you a few."

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